Where is it that your support system can stand up and be recognized? Why is it that you can stick yourself out there and offer yourself up and in the end you are basking in the deep end of Eden's Irony Water park?
I tend to think of my social life as a series of intertwined circles where all my different groups of friends are on different circles and the common point is me. I know this plays right into the six degrees of separation theory but that's just how I see it.
The women that are on these circles (with few exceptions) that I have tried to form relationships with all seem to having one thing in common. They don't give a fuck about me. Even if they think or say they do they end up having the most obscure or sublime way of showing it.
I usually deal with like I do most other things and that is to find the humor in it. To add to them the list of characters out there on some intertwined circle that I can never seem to relate to but am always willing to help out.
I try to chock all this up as another learning experience and try not to harbor any Costanza like bitterness.
Sometimes life progresses so slow it is hard to realize that you may be moving forward. Couple this with the fact that everyone has a different opinion of what it means to be moving forward. I still find myself relating to the younger generations and sometimes feel that my social evolution train stopped somewhere around the time when I turned 25. Yet I have taken on all the other responsibilities of the typical 37 year old. I struggle to find exactly what this means and if this point of view somehow holds me back. I think often about the relationships I have bulldozed through and can't help to reflect that most of the time my maturity level was on par with the common 7 year old.
And then there is the other side of me that has kicked and scratched and clawed his mind out in order to keep up on the mortgage and other responsibilities of the modern 37 year old. This leads me to the question of why can't I put the same belief in my personal relationships as I can with all my other obligations?
I am not complaining I take complete ownership of my actions and for the most part look back on things with great fondness. I just find myself trying to put meaning on it all.
Here I am D-Day plus 765. What a learning experience this has been. I used to pride myself as being someone who never really showed a whole lot of emotion. It is not that I didn't have any emotions I just thought they were none of your business. They were for me only. It is funny that it took the death of my mother and the loss of my career to really make me question my life choices. To anyone who says that loosing your job and starring into the face of loosing everything else isn't an emotional battle I truly beg to differ. I have been cursing longer than I care to imagine and for the most part I love a good barrage of curse words. But lately with my current situation I find that there is one curse word that seems to be making a move from bad to good for me. The love I have been shown over the last two plus years has been nothing short of extraordinary. My friends and family have shown me more support than I ever knew was possible. Without their love I would not have made it this far and have had the strength to go forward. For this I will forever be grateful and I love you all.
This is the first of a series on what it sometimes means to be unemployed.
Growing up I never wanted to be rich. I never had aspirations of being wealthy with money. I always wanted to be comfortable, have nice things and work hard to get it. Now here I am two years from having last cashed a legitimate paycheck and I find Poverty and his friend Frustration have been showing up uninvited to dinner a lot lately.
Not that this layoff hasn't been without it's upside. I have learned a lot about myself and have realized that I have a lot of family and friends that have supported me in a myriad of ways. For that I am completely and everlasting grateful and hope someday I can return the ten-thousand or so favors that have shone upon me.
But what I have also learned is that I can find some humor in the frustration. I know it is just a rouse and it will soon pass, that all this is, just a test of wits.
When this is over and I am back to work it should take me around three years of solid cooking and restauranting to repay the free meals I have received from friends and family over the last two years. These meals have been gifted in many forms. Be it the straight forward "come on over for dinner" or the grocery purchase, or what is usually my favorite the gifting of meat. I am above most things, a carnivore. Here again the gifting of meat comes in many forms and species and all is welcome with open arms and a clove of garlic.
As time has worn on I have been reaching deeper and deeper into freezer and pantry for nourishment. I have stocked up enough canned goods and frozen meat for just such a "back burner" or "rainy day" type of situation such as this economic climate.
I have been a member of Weight Watchers for about a year and a half and have had slow, but fair success with the plan. The eating regime that comes with loosing weight does not always bode well with canned ravioli or wild game and it is here where my dinner guests Poverty and Frustration remind me of that.
This past Friday I got some Deer Steaks out of the freezer. My normal diet has consisted of chicken breast covered in chicken breast with broiled chicken breast on the side and chicken breast pudding for dessert. Clearly my body is not used to and influx of wild game but times are tough the meat was free and tasted incredible as it came off the grill. Plus there was plenty left over for Saturday so it was an economic win-win.
Ah Saturday, yes well I opened the day as usual with two cashew granola bars and a glass of skim milk. Out to the barn for the changing of the snow plow and mower deck. Finished by one o'clock I had to run some errands and stop to see a few people. I Grabbed a handful of peanuts on the way out. At the first stop a friend of mine gave me some smoked deer sausage. Not exactly the pinnacle of Weight Watcher friendliness but a delicacy nonetheless. This sausage was made by an "oldtimer" friend of his who has mad skills in the cured meat department.
Now it would seem that about this time some sort of fuse had been lit and the gas build up in my lower abdomen was approaching critical mass. But, being a man, I enjoy the gifts of life, the simple things. This day's food combo provided farting and burping, both in spades. The gas was tremendous, a wretched stench that if properly concentrated could remove paint. Now I have always been more of a skilled burper and consider myself a pro in burp circles, so the things there were coming out of my top half were welcomed and of equal power as my farts.
Arriving home some four hours later (five-thirty P.M.) I skarffed the last of the leftover deer steak. It was about this time that duty called and I had to sit on the throne. It would have seem impossible with all that gas build up that this particular movement was going to be anything short of spectacular. It did not disappoint.This particular blowout was nothing less than nuclear.This must have looked like an upside down Old Faithful.The discharge was somewhere between cake batter and oil slick.The relief however was unprecedented.
Before I go much further I should also mention the potential of an additional catalyst.Between breakfast and the deer sausage I drank a beer.Now, I don’t regularly drink beer anymore but still like to have one once a month or so.Today I looked in the ice box and reached for a Schlitz.Now I know what you are thinking and the answer is yes, they still make Schlitz.
I originally did not think much of the blast as given the combination of things that I had eaten that day stranger things have happened.
Around eight P.M. I ventured to my friend Richie’s for a little get together he was having in his barn.It was soon after my arrival that I felt the pressure building yet again.This time there seemed to be a heightened since of urgency associated with the bouts of gas pains.I retired to the house and locked myself away in his bathroom for what was to be another round of nuclear warfare.
As I sat on the pot I realized that most of the things I had eaten that day would not have been consumed in the same combination or quantity/frequency had I been employed and not been on the reserves of my pantry.Now don’t get me wrong I am glad I got what I got and more than thankful for the support of the family and friends alike.But the fact remains that I would not of had cooked a whole package of deer steaks just for me.I would have had bottled water in the fridge and not had the Schlitz.Clearly the poor house has been the helping hand in this recipe for disaster.
I digress, after round two I felt even more invigorated and felt as though the worst had to be behind me. (No Pun intended)The rest of the evening was uneventful and I was home by 12:30am.Just before I laid my little head down on my pillow the sounds and pressure that were emanating from my guts was unreal.Borderline cause for concern really.Off to the office I go.KA BOOM round three reminded me of the Iraqi war footage of all the bombs and missiles going off in Baghdad.The smell was somewhere between rotting meat and leaf fire.Again euphoria.Surly I must be on empty.
I slept like a rock.Awake by 8:30am I got up took my morning urination and retired to the living room for some TV.It was about 30 seconds into channel surfing when again the pressure built.Again same effect.
My bout with the splatter poops lasted about thirty-six hours.Along the way ample amounts of Desitin were needed to squelch the burn.Thank god for Zinc.I don’t blame the bad food.I blame the economy.
Sowing some early seeds of something that could be very promising. Something I have never been good at but really feel as though I could finally throw myself at this time. To early to tell if proper germination has taken a foothold. Yet has my interest peaked. I swear i won't over water or under fertilize this time.
