It's been said that over the past couple of years Brett Favre has tarnished his legacy by retiring and un-retiring with the phases of the moon. I've heard friends and experts say that my favorite football player of this or any other lifetime should just call it quits, that he should have gone out on top and quit while he was ahead. Well, I just don't think it's that easy.
When you realize that your relationship with a true love is over, it's a tough pill to swallow. Trust me. Mine left me after nearly twenty years of glorious days in the sun and nights in the lights. When you've spent your whole life dedicated to this one thing you are so deeply passionate about that everything else has been put on hold or pushed aside just so you could be with your love, it's nearly impossible to imagine a life without this relationship. It's been how you've defined yourself since your earliest childhood memory. It's given you your sense of worth and a place in the world. You met all of your closest friends through it. Every major decision in your life has been made in an effort to bolster and strengthen it, to give you more time together. It has been your everything, your Alpha and Omega.
It's not that it catches you off guard, you see it coming. When your passion requires youth, it inevitably ends far before your life does. Even the greatest and most fortunate only get to compete until around the age of 40 (Favre will turn 40 this October). That still leaves about half of life left to live. When the only thing you've ever really cared about deserts you with half or more of your life left to live, what do you fill the rest of it with? That's a lot of time to fill with something ...else. The best response is of course is to find something else that matters, a new passion, but what if there isn't anything? What then?
And just because you've gone your separate ways does not mean that your paths are never to cross again. It's like that pesky ex that keeps creeping back into your life at your most vulnerable and lonely moments. The separation wasn't mutual, but you've talked yourself into believing that it was for the best by listing all of the reasons that she wasn't right for you and why you deserve better and how you're better off now "sorting things out," and "spending time on yourself." Then, when all that stuff stops working for a couple of days, when you start to get tired of hearing everyone else talk about their great relationships and all the fun they're having and all the love that they're in, you hear from her, out of nowhere. You resist. It's happened before. You know better. You've learned your lesson. People break up for a reason. But the truth is, you miss it. You miss the person you when when you were together. You miss having someone. You miss being someone. You miss having something to occupy your thoughts and actions, a vessel to be the object of all of your efforts and good intentions. Then, against all better judgment, you get your hopes up. Maybe it can work. It worked once. At least you thought it did. It wasn't you that ended it afterall. Maybe she's changed her mind. Maybe this is the way it's supposed to be. "The more you suffer the more it shows you really care, right? Yeah." So you give in. You open yourself back up and let those thoughts start creeping back in. You make plans to get back together. To meet up and see how things go. Just a cup of coffee. Nothing major. Nothing serious. You show up and play it cool. You say you're doing really well. You try your hardest to make it seem like you mean it. You're fine. You don't need it. Just curious to see how it'll go. But the truth is you've been absolutely miserable since the separation. You're lying through your teeth and you know it. She probably knows it too. But you've got to play it cool. You're not desperate. Not you. So you show up. You drink your coffee. You try it out. It hurts like hell. Like it's never hurt before. It's been a while and you realize you're in way over your head. You've gotten ahead of yourself. But you've missed it so much that you can't stop. You're finally back where you know you're supposed to be. Where things felt so right. Where you have a purpose. Then the meeting ends because it has to. It went alright. Started out really well and you felt really good and things just seemed like they were back to normal. But as it wore on you began to feel that first hint of awkwardness creeping up. You were too eager. You jumped the gun. You shouldn't have done this. You blew it. But the beginning was okay, so you hope that there will be another. Maybe you've earned your way back into the game. You part ways with a semisweet taste in your mouth. Chocolate chips. It went okay. There's hope yet. It's not over. You go home to hope and wait.
She wants to stay friends. You know that it's impossible. From your first introduction you've known you wanted to spend the rest of your life with her as so much more than just friends. But you agree. Anyway to keep her in your life. It's got to be better to at least see her and know what's going on than to completely lose touch, right? So you try. You are a great friend because you know her so well. Your whole life together, of course you make a good friend. You act like its going well, but it's killing you. Every time you see her is like a tiny dagger stabbing you right through the heart, twisting every time you see her eyes light up and shine on someone else. But there's got to be someone else. This has been going on forever. There's always going to be someone better, somewhere, some time down the line. But she is all you've wanted and you can't move on. Seeing her only reminds you of what it was like back when things were good. When her good graces smiled on you. You were blessed with her heart and you gave her every last ounce of yours. You weren't meant to be friends. This isn't the way it was supposed to be. Finally, you can't take anymore and you work up the courage to say something. You want her back. You want to go back to the way things were. When you knew who you were because you were with her and she was good to you. You let your guard down again and let those feelings come back full force. You tell her you need to talk. She says okay and you'll get together sometime soon. She knows what you're thinking.
You don't hear from her. It's happened again. Goddammit it's happened again. You knew better. What were you thinking? You'd moved on. You'd parted ways, made your peace. But now you've tore open an old wound and it hurts like hell. The painful realization that the past is gone sets in again, more intense than ever before.
Never again.
...Keep telling yourself that.
So, if I could give one piece of advice to ol' number 4, who seemingly everyone is sick of hearing about yet still intriqued and fascinated by, it would be to keep it going as long as you're able. Even if you know the relationship's on it's last legs and the end is inevitable, ride it out until it's completely exhausted, regardless of what anyone says. There's no more chances after this. You only get one shot at life, so make it count. One day, probably soon, you'll be forced out by something or other. But in the meantime, make the most of whatever you've got left, because it doesn't get any easier on the other side.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Long may you run...
In September of 2000, I received what is perhaps the greatest material gift ever given: two-thirds (I paid a portion) of a four-door, powder blue, 1986 Chevrolet Celebrity. The Celeb.
I promptly bought and installed a CD player, an essential element to any 16-year-old anxious to cruise along the open road with windows down and music blaring.
"Israel's Son," by Silverchair was the first song to spring forth from the speakers. (It was the first track on Frogstomp.)
The Celeb provided countless memories. The time McGaffic crammed an orange down over the antenna that was left to rot for months. Driving to State College through a blizzard for a Weezer concert only to have something go wrong on the way back, limiting the Celeb's top-speed to a mere 40 miles per hour, causing semis to pose a serious threat to her. Getting caught and subsequently yelled at by Mrs. Ward doing donuts in the parking lot prior to basketball practice. Driving friends around---Steak 'n' Shake, the Southern Park Mall, Pittsburgh, wherever. Countless drives to and from Cene Park for those sweet summer baseball nights. Skipping school to drive to Best Buy and buy Weezer's Green Album---that I'd been waiting on for five years. Jamming to Good Charlotte on the way home from school with Cramer and Kayla in tow, which brings me to what was the greatest achievement of the Celeb's long list of accomplishments.
The Celeb was the place where my sister and I became close. We'd always had a pretty good brother-sister relationship. We got along well. There never was much fighting. But the freedom that the Celeb provided was the freedom that allowed us to really get to know one another. One of my greatest high school memories is flying down Metz Road on the way to school every morning, screaming at the top of our lungs to whatever CD happened to be in that day. Oasis' The Masterplan, Good Charlotte's self-titled debut, Weezer's first three albums, Ozma's Rock and Roll Part Three, The Return of the Rentals, Eve6, and countless others. These drives were priceless.
My sister and I have remained close since then, and it's perhaps my most treasured relationship. I just realized a few weeks ago when she came out with my friends and I that the fact we are truly friends is something of a rarity. An older and wiser friend from work made the comment that "we seem like a blast together," and that couldn't be more spot-on. We are a blast together.
I don't know what became of the Celeb; I can't even remember who we sold her to or if we even sold her. Her age was starting to show, but I will forever be grateful for the wonderful experiences and newfound freedom that she provided. So, Celeb, if you're still out there somewhere carting some new teenager or old man to and from school or work or wherever, this one goes out to you:
We've been through some things together,
With trunks of memories still to come
We found things to do in stormy weather,
Long may you run.
Long may you run,
Long may you run,
Although these changes have come.
With your chrome heart shining in the sun,
Long may you run.
I promptly bought and installed a CD player, an essential element to any 16-year-old anxious to cruise along the open road with windows down and music blaring.
"Israel's Son," by Silverchair was the first song to spring forth from the speakers. (It was the first track on Frogstomp.)
The Celeb provided countless memories. The time McGaffic crammed an orange down over the antenna that was left to rot for months. Driving to State College through a blizzard for a Weezer concert only to have something go wrong on the way back, limiting the Celeb's top-speed to a mere 40 miles per hour, causing semis to pose a serious threat to her. Getting caught and subsequently yelled at by Mrs. Ward doing donuts in the parking lot prior to basketball practice. Driving friends around---Steak 'n' Shake, the Southern Park Mall, Pittsburgh, wherever. Countless drives to and from Cene Park for those sweet summer baseball nights. Skipping school to drive to Best Buy and buy Weezer's Green Album---that I'd been waiting on for five years. Jamming to Good Charlotte on the way home from school with Cramer and Kayla in tow, which brings me to what was the greatest achievement of the Celeb's long list of accomplishments.
The Celeb was the place where my sister and I became close. We'd always had a pretty good brother-sister relationship. We got along well. There never was much fighting. But the freedom that the Celeb provided was the freedom that allowed us to really get to know one another. One of my greatest high school memories is flying down Metz Road on the way to school every morning, screaming at the top of our lungs to whatever CD happened to be in that day. Oasis' The Masterplan, Good Charlotte's self-titled debut, Weezer's first three albums, Ozma's Rock and Roll Part Three, The Return of the Rentals, Eve6, and countless others. These drives were priceless.
My sister and I have remained close since then, and it's perhaps my most treasured relationship. I just realized a few weeks ago when she came out with my friends and I that the fact we are truly friends is something of a rarity. An older and wiser friend from work made the comment that "we seem like a blast together," and that couldn't be more spot-on. We are a blast together.
I don't know what became of the Celeb; I can't even remember who we sold her to or if we even sold her. Her age was starting to show, but I will forever be grateful for the wonderful experiences and newfound freedom that she provided. So, Celeb, if you're still out there somewhere carting some new teenager or old man to and from school or work or wherever, this one goes out to you:
We've been through some things together,
With trunks of memories still to come
We found things to do in stormy weather,
Long may you run.
Long may you run,
Long may you run,
Although these changes have come.
With your chrome heart shining in the sun,
Long may you run.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
And if it's crowded all the better...
...because we know we're gonna be up late.
I want to go out. I want to see people. I want to laugh. I want to have fun. Here I sit on Sunday afternoon, another weekend having passed me by without even leaving the house, let alone having any sort of fun. My mom offered to take me to the Pirates' game yesterday. I declined. This is what wallowing sounds like.
Wallowitz.
Waldorf.
Warhol?
Weird.
Anyway, there is an end in sight, a light at the end of the tunnel, a glimmer of hope on the horizon. Soon, my life will pick back up and I'll be having fun again and much happier with my situation, setting, and surroundings. I am excited for this. I do wish that there was something to bridge the gap between now and then, but I just don't think there is. Summer's coming. Maybe I've got an old bike laying around here somewhere... I'll have to check.
I just discovered two really great mixes that I made in the month of April on my computer. I'd completely forgotten about them, and apparently never made them into CDs for the car. The worst part about school being over thus far has been the fact that I miss that hour of driving time every day. My car, whatever it's been at any given time---the celeb, the van, the explorer, and now the impala---has been nothing short of a refuge and place of great solace for me. Especially now that the weather is warming up and the sun is coming out, very few things beat riding down the road with all the windows down and some great sing-a-long tunes blaring from the speakers. I miss that.
But the end is nigh, and a bus trip even closer. These are good things.
Where would I even ride a bike? The park? Why?
I could wear a helmet. Maybe a Vikings helmet like in that one commercial a few years back. Yeah! Vikings helmet. Viking helmet. Even better. And a horn. I'll need a horn. Not for the bike, not the squeezy kind. The kind you blow in. The kind that Vikings used. Yeah! A helmet and a horn.
...God loves his children, yeah...
I did watch The Godfather for the first time this weekend. Helluva movie. And I also realized that I have a friend who looks exactly like a young Diane Keaton. Very strange. She doesn't look anything like the current Diane Keaton. Aging is so weird.
...I don't hold you responsible all the time I'm alone...
I wonder if she got a nose job or something? I don't think so. Is she related to Michael Keaton? Is he an alcoholic?
...Here comes those big ideas again...
I watched the second season of Californication the other day. Friggin amazing. Just like the first. Well, probably not as good as the first, but still really good. Great great show. Television on the internet is an amazing thing. TV on the Radio is a band. I think they won some shit for their last CD. I couldn't get into it that much myself. Ah well.
So, I'm reading Richard Brautigan right now. Trout Fishing in America, to be followed by In Watermelon Sugar. I'm enjoying it, but not really getting it right now. We'll see how it goes. All I really want to do is re-read The Great Gatsby. Ever since I read this critical analysis of Don DeLillo's Underworld that compared Nick Carraway with Nick Shay and the both of them with "The American Adam," (I'm assuming Nick Adams falls into this category as well) I've been compelled to re-read Fitzgerald. As much as I'd like to read a whole bunch of new stuff this summer, I think I'm probably much more likely to re-read some things that I consider my favorites, or at least did at the time. My sister is borrowing The Sun Also Rises right now, but I'll probably re-read that as soon as she finishes. And A Farewell to Arms, and maybe check out some other Hemingway stuff. Now that I've read some more stuff, I'm anxious to see how well these books read now, a few years after I read them initially and they became my so-called favorites. We shall see. As for Gatsby, I read it in high school. I think pretty much everyone does. I wasn't crazy about it. But after reading all this stuff about the American Adam and reading all these other books that are apparently some sort of retelling of the same story, I'm really looking forward to reading it again. Some things are meant to reach those who are at a certain point in their life, and I think that Gatsby might be right for me right now. High school was probably too young. I don't really think that I got it, just as I'm not getting Brautigan right now. Perhaps I should put him on hold until a later period in my life, when I'm doing more reflecting. Right now, I'm trying to make those stories and memories that I will eventually reflect back on. If I don't do that now, there will be nothing to do later. You've got to fill your life with plenty of things to keep you entertained when you're old, because then it's too late. If you don't have enough the same thing will keep replaying in your head like that rerun of Everybody Loves Raymond that they keep playing. I don't want that. I want to look back and see new and fresh episodes. I'm sure it won't happen, but all you can do is try, right?
I want to go out. I want to see people. I want to laugh. I want to have fun. Here I sit on Sunday afternoon, another weekend having passed me by without even leaving the house, let alone having any sort of fun. My mom offered to take me to the Pirates' game yesterday. I declined. This is what wallowing sounds like.
Wallowitz.
Waldorf.
Warhol?
Weird.
Anyway, there is an end in sight, a light at the end of the tunnel, a glimmer of hope on the horizon. Soon, my life will pick back up and I'll be having fun again and much happier with my situation, setting, and surroundings. I am excited for this. I do wish that there was something to bridge the gap between now and then, but I just don't think there is. Summer's coming. Maybe I've got an old bike laying around here somewhere... I'll have to check.
I just discovered two really great mixes that I made in the month of April on my computer. I'd completely forgotten about them, and apparently never made them into CDs for the car. The worst part about school being over thus far has been the fact that I miss that hour of driving time every day. My car, whatever it's been at any given time---the celeb, the van, the explorer, and now the impala---has been nothing short of a refuge and place of great solace for me. Especially now that the weather is warming up and the sun is coming out, very few things beat riding down the road with all the windows down and some great sing-a-long tunes blaring from the speakers. I miss that.
But the end is nigh, and a bus trip even closer. These are good things.
Where would I even ride a bike? The park? Why?
I could wear a helmet. Maybe a Vikings helmet like in that one commercial a few years back. Yeah! Vikings helmet. Viking helmet. Even better. And a horn. I'll need a horn. Not for the bike, not the squeezy kind. The kind you blow in. The kind that Vikings used. Yeah! A helmet and a horn.
...God loves his children, yeah...
I did watch The Godfather for the first time this weekend. Helluva movie. And I also realized that I have a friend who looks exactly like a young Diane Keaton. Very strange. She doesn't look anything like the current Diane Keaton. Aging is so weird.
...I don't hold you responsible all the time I'm alone...
I wonder if she got a nose job or something? I don't think so. Is she related to Michael Keaton? Is he an alcoholic?
...Here comes those big ideas again...
I watched the second season of Californication the other day. Friggin amazing. Just like the first. Well, probably not as good as the first, but still really good. Great great show. Television on the internet is an amazing thing. TV on the Radio is a band. I think they won some shit for their last CD. I couldn't get into it that much myself. Ah well.
So, I'm reading Richard Brautigan right now. Trout Fishing in America, to be followed by In Watermelon Sugar. I'm enjoying it, but not really getting it right now. We'll see how it goes. All I really want to do is re-read The Great Gatsby. Ever since I read this critical analysis of Don DeLillo's Underworld that compared Nick Carraway with Nick Shay and the both of them with "The American Adam," (I'm assuming Nick Adams falls into this category as well) I've been compelled to re-read Fitzgerald. As much as I'd like to read a whole bunch of new stuff this summer, I think I'm probably much more likely to re-read some things that I consider my favorites, or at least did at the time. My sister is borrowing The Sun Also Rises right now, but I'll probably re-read that as soon as she finishes. And A Farewell to Arms, and maybe check out some other Hemingway stuff. Now that I've read some more stuff, I'm anxious to see how well these books read now, a few years after I read them initially and they became my so-called favorites. We shall see. As for Gatsby, I read it in high school. I think pretty much everyone does. I wasn't crazy about it. But after reading all this stuff about the American Adam and reading all these other books that are apparently some sort of retelling of the same story, I'm really looking forward to reading it again. Some things are meant to reach those who are at a certain point in their life, and I think that Gatsby might be right for me right now. High school was probably too young. I don't really think that I got it, just as I'm not getting Brautigan right now. Perhaps I should put him on hold until a later period in my life, when I'm doing more reflecting. Right now, I'm trying to make those stories and memories that I will eventually reflect back on. If I don't do that now, there will be nothing to do later. You've got to fill your life with plenty of things to keep you entertained when you're old, because then it's too late. If you don't have enough the same thing will keep replaying in your head like that rerun of Everybody Loves Raymond that they keep playing. I don't want that. I want to look back and see new and fresh episodes. I'm sure it won't happen, but all you can do is try, right?
Thursday, May 14, 2009
The world is such a wonderful place...
La di da. La da di da da.
I had a conversation with a girl at work the other day about some of life's finer and more enjoyable things. We are both approaching a change in geography, and this prompted a discussion of some of our favorite places we'd ever been. The places that breathe life into your lungs, that fill your spirit with the overwhelmingly satisfying feeling that this world is a wonderful place, and make you wonder just how much more there is out there to see.
Though I've been to many places that elicit this glorious sensation in a myriad of ways, there were two specific locales that prompted the strongest and most intense feelings of joy, each appealing to a different sense: the stupendous sight of the New River Gorge provided by the northern hemisphere's longest steel-arch bridge, the second highest vehicular bridge in the world, that spans across it, and the sweet scent of the air in Vidalia, Georgia.
I've attempted to post a picture of the New River Bridge, but that will not do it any justice. Crossing this bridge at any time of year provides the most beautiful view that I have ever seen. It was a staple of trips to and from Johnson City during the incredible years that I spent there. It was the bright spot of the entire trip, and I am thankful to U.S. Highway 19 and the entire crew that constructed this modern marvel in the mid-1970s.
As for the smell of Vidalia, it is sweeter and more prevalent than the sweet onions of its name. I remember nothing of Vidalia's view---I cannot recall the name of a single street or sight in the town---but the smell is one that I will never forget.
The world is a wonderful place. These are two things that I try and keep as constant reminders of just that. Add them to a list of places to see/smell during your time in this life. If you're anything like me, you won't regret it.
I had a conversation with a girl at work the other day about some of life's finer and more enjoyable things. We are both approaching a change in geography, and this prompted a discussion of some of our favorite places we'd ever been. The places that breathe life into your lungs, that fill your spirit with the overwhelmingly satisfying feeling that this world is a wonderful place, and make you wonder just how much more there is out there to see.
Though I've been to many places that elicit this glorious sensation in a myriad of ways, there were two specific locales that prompted the strongest and most intense feelings of joy, each appealing to a different sense: the stupendous sight of the New River Gorge provided by the northern hemisphere's longest steel-arch bridge, the second highest vehicular bridge in the world, that spans across it, and the sweet scent of the air in Vidalia, Georgia.
I've attempted to post a picture of the New River Bridge, but that will not do it any justice. Crossing this bridge at any time of year provides the most beautiful view that I have ever seen. It was a staple of trips to and from Johnson City during the incredible years that I spent there. It was the bright spot of the entire trip, and I am thankful to U.S. Highway 19 and the entire crew that constructed this modern marvel in the mid-1970s.
As for the smell of Vidalia, it is sweeter and more prevalent than the sweet onions of its name. I remember nothing of Vidalia's view---I cannot recall the name of a single street or sight in the town---but the smell is one that I will never forget.
The world is a wonderful place. These are two things that I try and keep as constant reminders of just that. Add them to a list of places to see/smell during your time in this life. If you're anything like me, you won't regret it.
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