On adulthood

As a child I always thought adults knew it all. That's not so strange, considering all authority figures, teachers, and clergy all happened to be adults.

Adults ran the world.

They kept the government working. They kept people healthy. They produced products for consumption. 

Adults took care of me.

It made sense.

And I couldn't wait to become one.

As I grew older I kept waiting for it to happen.

When I turned 18, I got to vote and go to college. I still felt the same. But I was still a teen, so I had to wait I suppose.

When I turned 21, I got to legally hang out at a bar and drink. No difference noticed in how I felt or saw myself. I was considered a "young adult" and still "college age", so maybe it was still in my future.

When I turned 26, I became engaged to get married. However, when I looked in the mirror, I saw that same scared kid who needed a grown up's approval. 

When I turned 30, I was married, had a job with benefits, and had bought my own home. I still didn't feel like a person that had it all together. I still didn't feel like an adult.

I'm now 37. I get called ma'am. I don't get carded when I buy alcohol or cigerretes. I think I can safely call myself an adult.

But I don't feel like one.

I'm still unsure of myself. I don't know what I'm doing. I'm making things up as I go along. And I'm scared because there are no grown ups to take care of me... Because *I* am the grown up.

Is this what adults feel? If so, I changed my mind. I want to be a kid again.

Why the ukulele?

Lately I have been somewhat obsessed with the ukulele. Maybe it's residual teenage ambition to play the guitar that still lingers.

I was never very good at the guitar. I don't know if I lacked talent or ambition. I do know I lacked the physical dexterity to hit the chords just right. I have short fingers. I'd go so far as to call then "stubby." That's not exactly a trait any guitar player would wish for, much less have. If they did have it, well, they wouldn't be guitar players would they?

I thought this craving would somehow be sated thanks to "Guitar Hero" and video games of this ilk. But instead it has grown. That's not good for a person with admittedly no rhythm, and what can only be described as "tone deafness." And that is being kind.

So where is a person with no sense of rhythm, no ambition, no real musical talent, and stubby fingers to go? Especially if they are haunted by the spectre of Les Paul?

There's only one place... The ukulele.

1) Thin neck for stubby fingers- check
2) Only four strings for the untalented- check
3) It's a cheap toy which requires no major investment for the unmotivated- check
4) It's a freaking ukulele (for those without rhythm)-check

I think I need one.

If only to exorcise these guitar hero demons still lurking in my heart.

*isms

I don't quite understand *isms.

I speak of course of racism, sexism, and the rest of the ugly *isms we encounter on a daily basis.

To outright dislike someone based on race, sex, sexual orientation, nationality, or the family they come from makes no sense. There are SO many reasons and things to possibly dislike about a person; why focus on the one trait they were born with? It's imbecile.

You can dislike a person's malformed opinions.
You can dislike the disgusting manner in which they slurp their soup.
You can dislike their undersized or oversized apparel.

You can dislike all manner of stuff. It's very easy to find something to hate about another person. Humans are notorious for annoying the bejesus out of each other.

I guess I don't get why you'd want to pigeonhole yourself to an *ism. There's a world of hate out there ready for the plundering!

On Mortality

It's not often one is faced with their own mortality.

It's rather an interesting thing.

You think to yourself, "Well, if I knew for certain I was going to die in X amount of days, weeks, months or years, I would react like so." But when the time comes you find your reaction to be, well, different for lack of a better term.

The Kübler-Ross model or DABDA, if you will, is rather accurate in my experience:

1. Denial
2. Anger
3. Bargaining
4. Depression 
5. Acceptance

Although, I find that it is not an easy step by step linear process. 

It's more of a cycle. 

A rinse and repeat type of cycle.

Denial never showed up to the party. There was no need. He was never invited, he never showed.

Anger shows up in small spurts, gets tired and goes home only to return with a fervor the next night.

Bargaining make an occasional appearance but is usually pushed out of the buffet line by Depression. 

Depression likes to hang around quite a bit, and usually shares his woes with Anger.

Acceptance hangs out on the porch and sticks his head into the party every so often as though to tease those in attendance that he may indeed commit to the party. But as much as he wants to, he never seems to make it past the front porch.

And then the next night, it begins again.

And again.

And again.

I often thought when faced with my own mortality I would do something spectacular, something awe inspiring, something, I don't know... loud.

And yet, as I sit here facing it with open eyes, all I want to do is sleep.

I do need my rest after all, I have guests coming over later tonight. 

There's going to be a party.

Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance and I will be celebrating my short life, and laughing at Denial.

On the art of politics

When I was younger I followed politics with the fervor of a wolverine. I knew all the movers and shakers, read all the important books, watched CSPAN during house votes, etc...

Perhaps you might say I was idealistic in my youth, but that would be completely and utterly wrong.

I was as conservative as can be. I registered as a Republican the moment I turned 18 and could register to vote.

What I never subscribed to social conservatism, my argument involved fiscal conservatism. I believed and still do believe in a federal government that kind of just worked to keep the states getting along, but that ultimately the states get to do what is best for the folks that live there. The important issues one faces in New York, may seem trivial to one that resides in Omaha. I mean, we are not a "one-size-fits-all" nation.

But lately over the course of the years, I've begun to question my "loyalty" (for lack of a better term) to the GOP. I dislike the course the party has taken, with the whole "Family Values" label they've tried to pervert. Again, we are not a "one-size-fits-all" nation. What I consider a "family" may vary from what you may consider a "family." Yet we are both right.

I cannot for the life of me consider myself a liberal, as I do have issues with some of the Democratic Party stands in regards to fiscal issues, but at the same time I do find myself agreeing on many of the social stands.

So my question is, what am I?

I believe in a small federal government that does not interfere with an individual's rights to make money or to live their life in whatever manner they choose.

I believe in having a strong military and federal funding of NPR and Planned Parenthood.

I believe in abstinence as an ideal, but agree with the reality that teens NEED to know alternatives.

I believe that those that worked hard to make a fortune should not be penalized to making it by being taxed to death, but I do believe it's gotten out of hand.

If we were talking sexuality, I'd be a bisexual.

Am I a Bipartisan?

What's the logo? An Donkey riding an Elephant? A small elephant with donkey ears?

I prefer the latter.

I hereby proclaim the official bipartisan logo for others of my kind to rally behind is Dumbo.

Dumbo.

Makes as much sense as anything going on in this country anyway.

To state the obvious

"You know wrestling isn't real, right?"

Why does everyone ask me this when they find out I enjoy wrestling?

I don't ask them, "You know American Idol is rigged, right?"

I don't see how telling me how "fake" it is will change my opinion. Although, I am fascinated by folks' interpretation of "fake" is.

Is the lack of reality the fact that wrestling has a predetermined ending? A lot of shows on TV do. Does something being a work of fiction automatically carry the stigma of being "fake"?

Or is it because it was long believed to be a work of nonfiction and a true athletic competition? The problem with this argument is that it has LONG been known that the ending were predetermined. How long? Before TV came into the picture. Think on that for a minute.

Maybe because wrestling is a live performance, without retakes, it cannot be categorized among regular fictional TV fare. Theater, ballet and the circus do not fit that category either, but no one would argue that because they are also live performances, they should not tell fictionalized stories.

Perhaps the term used to describe wrestling in the new media universe, "sports entertainment" is what causes people to fail to get over it. I guess the Ice Capades in the 70's and 80's, based on the sport of Ice Skating, but telling fictionalized stories would not be considered "sports entertainment" in today's day and age, correct?

My point is, yes I know wrestling is "fake" you moron. Asking me only exposes your stupidity to the world, dumbass.

What do dogs dream about?

Sometimes I sit there and watch my dogs sleep. They're funny little dogs that like sleeping on their backs.

They look so peaceful, and calm... and then the twitching starts. It usually starts with their whiskers. Then it moves on to the upper lip, as though they are trying to look vicious, baring their itty bitty teeth.

The next thing you know, hind legs start kicking, and front paws flap, and then something along a high pitched whine turn growl will come out and they'll wake up with a start.

I often wonder what their dreams are about. Obviously they start out pretty good, but by the end I know they must turn scary as when they wake up it takes them a few seconds to calm down.

Do they dream of running in wide open fields chasing bunnies, only to have those bunnies turn into giant semi trucks with teeth that breathe fire that chase them until they fall off a cliff... and then they wake up?

Do they dream of being a tiny puppy surrounded with sausages and hamburgers and all the food they could every eat only to have those giant sausages and burgers turn into giant semi trucks with teeth that breathe fire that chase then until they fall off a cliff... and then they wake up?

Maybe they're dreaming of spreading a fun day with me, playing ball outside in the yard... only to have ME turn into a giant semi truck with teeth that breathes fire that chases them until they fall off a cliff?

I guess I'll never know.

But I am certain of one thing: There's giant semi trucks with teeth breathing fire chasing them until they fall off a cliff.

I'd bet money on it.