Category: personal

magnus

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One year ago, we lost my good boy of twenty years. He wasn’t the first cat we lost (we love you, Loki and Nyka), but he was the first I raised from a baby (with all respect to Jooky – my first boy, who stayed with my parents when I left home. Also a good boy and king shedder – at least until we got Mazy).

I got Magnus at six weeks, and for the next nearly twenty-one years, he curled up in my lap and as tight as he could in bed, in between terrorizing everyone else.

Most people thought you were the devil, and you certainly could be a real dick, but I loved you. I’m sorry that doctor gave you a clean bill of health, when you were clearly on your way out.

I miss you, buddy. We’ve gotten a new cat and two new dogs (dogs!) since you’ve been gone, and we love them to death, but nothing can ever really replace the unlimited and unconditional love you brought me. You would have loved Mazy; she probably would have reminded you of that neighbour’s boxer Dakota you loved when you were a kitten.

You still exist, in my mind; as long as the memory of you lives, and your atoms are floating around, you’re still here. Maybe the religious folks will be right and there is something beyond this life, and you can curl up in my lap in the hereafter.

Target: 200 words
Written: 1517 words, short story: Get Back Again

Read: Start With Why, Simon Sinek
Comics: Fanboys Vs. Zombies 1-4
Music: Yellow Blues, Rollins Band and Yellow Submarine, The Beatles (kinda went the other way there, right?  Frozen Man has such Fight Club vibes.)

regress

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There’s always the chance of regression. One gets too lost in one’s regrets or some wrong that’s been done to us (more often than not either petty or legitimately wrong, but no longer truly a factor in our lives, save us making it one), and boom, suddenly, you’re that insecure, angry, neurotic, obnoxious loser all over again.

We work so hard to move on, only to be anchored in cement by the shame of our past.

No matter how we try to move forward as a society or individuals, there’s always someone who wants us back where we started, in to the familiar, the old, the no-longer-the-best-way, because they fear change or the thought of improvement.

Then, there’s the others of us, so desperate to get away from the old, to rocket ourselves into the future, that we forget sometimes – things may work the old way; I doubt a single person in this world feels more present or happier with our hectic, crazy making technology – there’s something to be said for being disconnected, lost to time on the edge of a lake with a bonfire and some friends. Present, instead of captured on a screen.

Wherever we are, we want to be somewhere else.

Target: 200 words
Written: 323 words, short story: Get Back Again

Read: Start With Why, Simon Sinek
Comics: The Legacy Of Luther Strode 5-6 (what a series.  "Do better."  I feel that in my gut.)
Music: Year Zero, Nine Inch Nails (the real deal now), Years May Come, Years May Go, Irish Rovers

frustration

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I don’t know what it is about today, but focus is not my friend. Everything seems off, except the music this morning. Like I’m out of phase with reality.

Fogged up.

I hate this feeling, because it brings out that angry, sad, spoiled brat that couldn’t hack it and hates everything about life, and thinks the universe is out to get him.

Depression can be a real bitch, and it doesn’t always show itself in tears or an unwillingness to get out of bed.

Mine’s often seething anger, obsessive distraction or simply laying on the floor unable or unwilling to move.

I like that part.

It’s relaxing, even if it is just an accumulation of anxious memories from the past.

Oh, and cool. Just noticed. Hives.

The good news is I’m a pacifist and know everything returns to the Tao.

The bad news is the frustration of life’s constant little fuck-yous never seems to truly go away.

Spend too much time looking at your past and it seeps into you. It becomes you.

I think I need to sever.

Target: 200 words
Written: 264 words, short story: Get Back Again

Read: Start With Why, Simon Sinek
Comics: The Legacy Of Luther Strode 1-4
Music: Year Of The Crow, State Radio (easily one of the most underrated bands I've ever heard.  I could listen to this album on repeat for days)

christmas parties after the fact

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Last night, it was time for my yearly dose of post traumatic stress. My wife and daughter still work at the place that nearly put me under, and so, once a year, we trudge out to their Christmas party, always held after Christmas, because the owners are cheap.

Every year, it is the same; there’s a sense of tension, a fear of being pulled back in, a desire to get the fuck away. It’s so synchronous with the short story I’m working on (based on a Tragically Hip song called Get Back Again), about being unable to get past the past, and unable to let things go, that I couldn’t help but laugh (and consider weeping).

I can’t wait until they are retired or have new jobs, so I never have to think about that fucking place again.

I never want to get back anywhere near it.

Target: 200 words
Written: 300 words, short story: Get Back Again

Read: The Power Of Less, Leo Babauta
Comics: The Legend Of Luther Strode 3-6
Music: Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, Wilco

pas(t)sed

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I don’t like to think about the past. The past has some fun memories, but mostly those only come up with friends (which rarely happens anymore) and usually revolves around someone (as often me as anyone) doing something very stupid.

I admit to missing those days; when memories of fun, dumb things weren’t things to recall, but things actively happening.

I also remember doing things without thought; most of those memories are rife with shame.

Indeed, a look back on the life I’ve had is to see one filled with waste and regret, myopic, self-deceptive and toxic behaviour, stupid decision after stupid decision justified by the flimsiest of ego-driven excuses.

Some would tell me to focus on the positives of the past – the friends, the adventures, the good times. It’s not terrible advice, but I’ve always been poor at connecting and when I was young, I was so delusional with insecurity (and hiding insecurity) that almost everything I did was fraught.

Some would tell me to forget it; I’ve learned from it. Time to move on with new lessons.

This has more value; what’s done is done. The only thing left is to learn.

Still, the sheer embarrassment of it all, the shame of my own stupidity…

These aren’t the things we laugh about. They’re the things we want to leave in the dust, but remain tied to us like anchors in the ground.

Target: 200 words
Written, 666 words, short story: Get Back Again

Read: 5 Steps To Controlling High Blood Pressure, Mayo Clinic
Comics: The Strange Talent Of Luther Strode 1-4
Music: A Quick One Box Set, The Who (yeah.  Not a gem.  A couple of okay songs, but yeah.  Not their finest.  Barely listenable.)