Resolved

WHEREAS, your faithful blogger has had the worst year of his life; and

WHEREAS, in two days, the year 2010 will finally, thankfully, be dead and buried; and

WHEREAS, this shit gotta stop.

RESOLVED,

In the year 2011, your faithful blogger shall finish his casebook, finish his novel, eat healthier, start living his life more on schedule, learn to relax more, ponder less, and be more connected to the world at large.  Maybe even get a fucking job.

Feel free to begin placing odds on how soon I crap out on these goals.  Sous Chef suggests setting up a pool.

Tote that barge

I have a confession to make.  Being a lawyer can sometimes be tedious.  It can be even more tedious when you aren't getting paid to do the work.  But, at least research and writing can keep the circuits sharp and clean.  Wouldn't want to forget what it is I get paid to do.

I used to think that doing professional association work was a good way to network.  And for some, I suppose it is.  I know a lot of lawyers in my field and they know me.  I like many of them, respect nearly all of them.  But I have never gotten a client or an engagement out of it.  It's never gotten me a job. 

Feh.

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Post-Christmas

Well, the brisket came out well.  The weather cooperated so it didn't take an extra 5 hours to get it done.  I made a killer sauce to go with it.  The kids were a lot of fun.  Wife was civil.  For the most part.

I got my Kindle.  It's great for reading on public transportation.  Lightweight, and it carries a big library.  I love it already.  Oddly enough, they've cleaned up my part of town in the last couple decades.  No hookers, no dealers, not even more than a couple of homeless drunks.

Fortunately, they live far enough away that the trip home took almost the whole evening.  By the time I got home, there was only a couple of hours left to notice that I was all alone on Christmas.

Why Believe in God

Ricky Gervais is currently getting alot of media attention for his discussion of why he is an atheist.  It's printed as an op-ed piece in the Wall Street Journal and getting big hits on YouTube.

One has to admit, the humanist view he expresses, that there is no God because science purports to prove He doesn't exist, or at least that no omnipotent, immortal, entity that may or may not be vaguely anthropomorphic does exist, has a certain persuasive feel.  A similar view was taken by Bertrand Russell a generation or two ago, and the argument is no less refutable now than it was then.

However, it strikes me that not being able to prove God exists, even being able to prove the near-impossibility of a God-type deity existing is no more proof that God doesn't exist.  It comes down to a question of faith either way.  The humanist approach places its ultimate faith in Man and the spiritual approach places its faith in God. 

As it happens, science, at least theoretical physics, is getting closer to proving the that God and science are intertwined, inexorably.  Higgs Boson, or the God particle, is coming closer and closer to being discovered every day.  This brings us ever closer to finding a Unified Theory of everything.  Will we find that everything includes that undefinable bit in back of it all that can neither be explained or explained away?  And is that undefinable the God that the spiritualists, myself included, believe in.

Working up That Holiday Cheer

I am beginning to get some sense of holiday spirit.  I was wondering how this was goiing to play out, with me hitting the bricks three weeks before Christmas.    And I know it's going to be tough taking a train home from the house on Christmas night.  I was thinking about this last night as I was drifting off to sleep.

I flashed on a Christmas 26 years ago.  I was taking the Clark Street bus down from Evanston, where I had jumped off the Metra train from Wife's parent's house.  I hopped off at Clark and Deming and the only person on the street was a hooker.  It was really, really cold and she was looking for a chance to get inside for a while.  I could have had my bells rung for about $20.

But I wasn't up for it.  I was in love, I was cheap, and I wasn't comfortable with the idea of paying for sex.  Of course, I became more comfortable over the years, which is one of the reasons I am where I am today.

So that's why I was wondering whether or not this Christmas was going to do it for me.  I think I'll still be bummed out riding that bus.  But I will have a good time all day before then.  And I'm not going to cut a deal with the hooker.

What Time Does the Cafeteria Open?

I'm getting cabin fever.  I can tell I'm getting cabin fever because I'm starting to act like I did when I was in college.  Any time is a good time for a nap.  Even if you just woke up and brushed your teeth.  I lived for three days eating nothing but the pizza I ordered on Sunday.  I almost allowed myself to watch Friends on Lifetime.


What it comes down to is simple: men need structure.  Give us too much free time and we will become fat, lazy lummoxes watching tv reruns. 

It's not like I don't have work to do.  I still have my class materials to finish up.  But class doesn't start until January and I don't have anybody to check in on me and make sure I'm staying on task.  I know I'm not the only one with this problem.  And I know many women who procrastinate, too.  But nevertheless, there it is.

Some structure is necessary in my life or I start to drift.

You Don't Need to Worry 'Bout Me

Sorry.  I was just channeling Peter Scolari for a moment there.  Odd, thing really.  I haven't thought about doing the drag thing for years.  But I digress....

I am doing okay.  I miss my kids.  I miss Wife.  But I am getting used to the quiet.  It forces me to occupy myself.  That could be smoking pot and hanging out in fron of the tv.  But it hasn't.  I'm getting work done.  I'm keeping my own house.

It wasn't my choice.  But it hasn't been life-ending, either. 

Which is good, because it's been fucking cold!  Sub-zero wind chills mean something when you're right on the Lake and those winds have raced hundreds (if not thousands) of miles with nothing to break them.  I started to go down the street to get a loaf of bread and the wind gave me angina.  I gave up after half a block.

At the moment, it isn't necessarily a bad thing not to have any place to go.

Settling In

I'm moved in to my new apartment.  Well, except for the boxes and shit.  It will take a few days to get those out of here.  But I slept my first night in peace.  I fell asleep easily and awoke late.  Moving took a lot out of me.  Some shopping today and I  can now stop eating out every meal.  My wallet and my doctors will appreciate that, I'm sure.

I have to get the cable package improved, but my roommate and I are negotiating that.  I am willing to pay for the tawdry sexx and violence that is HBO and Showtime.  Of course, there's nobody in the bed beside me.  But that's been the case for years.  Even when there was.

Back on the Lakefront

I am not wild about starting out on my own again.  At least one benefit is that I am living within walking distance of the lakefront.  That and I am not far from Lincoln Park.  There will be a a lot of photo opportunities.  I plan on doing that to keep from going crazy.  I'll be putting them online and maybe try to sell a few prints.

That, and I can finish the novel I didn't write this month for National Novel Writing Month.  I start every year and generally go about 10 pages before I give up or just go blank.  This year, I had a good story, characters that were more develped than they have been in the past.  But things got in the way.

All in all, I'd rather be working, or rich and famous. I'm flexible.  I can go either way.

I'm Trying to be Thankful

Spent Thanksgiving in the hospital.  Prostate infection had me backed up like Holland Tunnel at rush hour.  I spent the whole night before sitting on the toilet or curled up in a fetal position on the floor, wishing I would die.  I did get a turkey (processed) sandwich at around 10:30 Thursday night.

My first wife suggested that I should have gone to her room and told her I was sick in the middle of the night, because she stilled wanted to be there to take care of me.  The next day, she was reminding me of how she couldn't wait for me to get out of the house.

So next week or the week thereafter, I will be moving into my tiny apartment.  It will make it hard to go to First Wife's bedroom when I am having chest pains, or anything else.  But enough of feeling sorry for myself. 

It's a new world.  Hope it's better than the one I'm in right now.

Welcome to My Happy Home

I went to look at an apartment today.  It was in my old stomping ground, only a couple blocks from where I lived when I was single and Arthur was King of all England.

It's small, but it'll do.  I don't require a lot of space. 

It will be strange being single again.  At least I'll be able to eat my dogs with onions again.

The End of the Line

Wife has told me she has no interest in reconciliation.  Divorce is coming, it's just a matter of me getting a job so I can get a lease.  I'm sad, but then, I have to confess that few people have worked as I hard as I did over the last 20 years to ensure this outcome.

I'm looking at apartments, furniture,  appliances and kitchen provisons.  It makes me wonder, would it be tacky to throw myown divorce shower?  Register at Ikea and Williams-Sonoma, invest in some good booze and pull together a "bitches be crazy" playlist on my iPod. 

And the funniest thing is that I've spent most of the weekend thinking about all the stuff I'll be able to cook that Wife never cottoned to.  Onions, eggplant, lamb.  I'll be able to learn how to cook Indian food! 

I'll miss her.  I wish it didn't have to be this way.  But I've been reading her online journal and it's pretty clear that she decided this a long time ago and I am just getting the news late.  I'm thinking that the New Year is really going to ring in some big changes.

This is Going to Hurt You a Lot More Than it Hurts Me

So, I've been sitting on my hands for weeks now to keep from dialing, emailing, or otherwise harassing a potential employer.  They've displayed more interest in general than other places, and I think I've scored well in the interviews so far.

But they have this one last guy I'm supposed to talk with and he hasn't called.  It's driving me nuts.  Don't these guys ever remember what it's like to be on the other side of the equation?  Yes, I probably need the job more than he needs to interview me.   Today.  But what about in two weeks when he's getting slammed and thinking "Fuck, I wish I had someone to share the load."

Besides, if I don't get out of the house soon either me or my wife is going to wind up dead, hacked into little bits and simmered in a lemongrass-saffron broth.

Got any hearts?

They're evaluating me for a transplant.  I've been getting tested every week for the last month. They're looking at how much I pump, where it gets pumped, how much oxygen is in it, what size it is, everything.  The reason is simple enough: I'm breaking down.

I have a hard time getting to sleep.  I have a hard time waking up.  I get winded standing up.  I need to rest after going up a flight of stairs.  It affects my memory.  I'm not as funny, I'm not as quick-witted, I feel at times like I'm not as smart.

I used to be terified someone would find out.  But I'm not afraid of that any more.  Because I've figured out that I'm not fooling anyone. 

So I'm waiting to find out if I'm sick enough to get a new heart.  If not, maybe I'll just get a motorcycle.  It's not like I will need to worry about getting killed riding one.

Hello, Old Friends

Well, now, it has been a while.  One of the big problems with being a depressive is that one tends to et depressed on occasion.  And I have had more than  my fair share of things to be depressed about.  Job loss.  Impending divorce.  Health issues.  It's been enough to make me ponder (not seriously) sucking on the barrel of a shotgun.

I have come more and more to realize how much of my own self-defeating behaviors have led to these problems.  That doesn't change the fact that they exist and need to be overcome.  It also doesn't mean I am doomed to repeat the cycle.  I am learning to recognize these patterns and overcome them.  Hopefully, the next time around, I'll make changes and spot danger before I step on my dick.  The Journey from Abandonment to Healing: Turn the End of a Relationship into the Beginning of a New Life, a book I have been reading, has been a big help.  If any readers have similar issues to the ones I have whined about incessantly, it may be useful.

Anyway, I'm hoping to hear good news on the job front this week.  Once that happens, I can get my house in order, separation-wise.  No matter how things turn out, I know that Wife and I need time apart.  The angina is good for one thing, too.  It let's me know I still have a heart and it's still beating. 

Oh, and if anyone is feeling insanely rich and generous and wants to bring a smile to my face, I really want one of these: 

Job Hunting Sucks

I'm still looking for a job.  I know.  In this economy, you're all amazed that a whole month haqs passed and I am not yet firmly esconced in a corner office.  It's just that every day I spend unemployed is another day I spend at home.  It's not easy to repair a marriage when one has to constantly be in contact with one's spouse. 

If it's true that absence makes the heart grow fonder, it's doubly true that familiarity breeds contempt.

I Don't Write As Much As I Should

I started this blog thinking I would have a lot to say.  Silly me.  As it happens, My personality type is such that I am not inclined to share, nor am I naturally attuned to things to let enough in to talk about if I were the sort to talk a lot anyway.

I am extremely introspective, so Shrink says, and I find sharing to be a risky and dangerous activity.

I suppose that the idea here is that the blog affords enough anonymity to allow me a sense of safety.  I can say what's on my mind, because nobody knows me.  I'm still working through it.

I Gotta Get Out of This Place

The worst thing about being unemployed is that you have no place to go most of the time, so you end up sitting at home, driving your family crazy and having them do the same to you.  It's kind of like The Shining.  At least I haven't started seeing twin girls in period costume yet.  But I'm not ruling it out.

I'm getting a lot of yardwork done, but that's hardly the sort of thing that inspires bold and beautiful blog posts.  Hang in there, kids.  I'll think of something to say worth reading soon enough.

Sorry, We Don't Love You Anymore

I got laid-off today.  Made redundant, as our mushy--mouthed friends Across the Pond would say.  Canned, as the workers say.  I saw it coming, but that doesn't really make it any easier to take when the ax comes down.  I'll be okay.  It's not the first time it happened and, as much as I'd like to believe I'm wrong, it may not be the last.  Thanks to foresight, I had already begun looking around, so I have a few irons in the fire.

And it's Friday.  So I'll relax this weekend, post to the blow once or twice, maybe have a bloody mary or two on Sunday at brunch, and come Monday morning, I'll wake up and start hitting up connection, friends, and anyone else I can get to take my call for leads.

Getting re-employed is a job, just like any other.

Mood Swings

I go back and forth about God a lot.  I don't mean that I'm an agnostic, or that I'm not sure if I want to accept Jesus as my personal saviour.  (I don't.  No offense, but he's dead). It's in the Bible; check it out.
 Holy Bible, King James Version Old & New Testaments (with Book and Chapter Index, Searchable)

I mean I go back and forth over the idea that God is an active, present force or is more of a presence in a more passive, general sense.  I am in crisis, in a multitude of ways.  I have been looking around for various ways to guide me out of it.  Prayer, meditation, pharmaceuticals, therapy.  I've done it all. I'm still doing most of it.  But I have come around to the notion that Jim Morrison was right.  "You cannot petition the Lord with prayer."

But I'm still reading and staying open to the notion.

Each Thing's Dying is Another's Birth

A notion as old as history itself.  There is no knowledge of God upon this Earth, but merely supposition.  We cannot know what is beyond our ability to know.  This has been the notion put forward by Bhudda, by Vishnu, even by the ancient Greeks.

Orthodoxy is the enemy of us all.

The Peasants' Gods are More Fun

At least, that's what we learn from the ancient Jews, the Greeks, the Romans, and other early civilizations.  And yet, that's also true to some point today.  Try walking into an Evangelical church in the South on a Sunday morning, and then compare that to First Presbyterian in NYC or Chicago.  As the rich folks walk in to church, you can literally hear the sphincters slamming shut.

Of course, for someone like me who has spent his entire life scorning ritual and worship, convinced that the dogma and the rest would slowly cruch the life out of my soul and the fight out of my spirit, I feel somewhat at a loss.  If I find myself on a Sunday morning sleeping in, and then waking up and playing with the cat, am I celebrating God in the form of a small, joyful creature, one who shares with me the miracle of life?  Or is she just one of the little toys they use to distract you in the waiting room at Hell?

I like to listen to the radio when I actually get up early on Sunday mornings.  I like "Breakfast with the Beatles" on WXRT-FM in Chicago (they also strream on the net, for you who live in less fortunate locations).  Either way, I feel closer to God than I would in some stuffy chapel in a coat and tie, tryiong to stay awake for brunch.

Anybody Hiring?

As if my life isn't in turmoil enough right now, I'm looking for a new job.  I see the handwriting on the wall.  When the phone stops ringing, you know it's only a matter of time until the ax falls.

Nothing like being in your late 40's and looking for work.   It's so invigorating.  Like juggling flaming torches.

Misdirected Anger

What is it that causes us to take anger at ourselves and turn it against others?  Especially against people we supposedly love and would want to protect. 

I have spent a lot of time doing this.  Most of my life, in fact.  And now, having been confronted with that fact and having been hit over the head with it so hard that I can no longer deny it.  So how do I find a new way to live?  And how do I convince my former victims that I will not turn around and do it to them again?

I need to find out who I am now.  And then I need to learn how to be the new me.

But, Mom......

According to Russell (and other soruces, but I'm too lazy to look any up right now), most of the early cultures had a strong female god, who generally was associated with birth and the Earth.  I guess there is a pretty direct line between these older faiths and Gaia. Gaia: A New Look at Life on Earth

Male gods in many of these cultures are ascribed an inferior status and power.  I wonder how the shift from the females gods of the Egyptians, Sumerians, Babylonians, etc., transformed into the fiercer, less nurturing, more punitive God of the Jews and the Abrahamic faiths that followed?

Consider my first loose thread.  I'll drop others along the way.  Hopefully, I'll manage to remember to come back and pick them all up.  If I don't, feel free to remind me.

I have been reading A History of Western Philosophy by Bertrand Russell and Carl Jung's Memories, Dreams, Reflections.  Both books talk a lot about god.  I use the little "g" god because there are a lot of gods being discussed.  I'm not sure where I stand on all this, but be on the lookout for some god talk coming soon.

Kick Off

So.  New beginnings are such clean things.  Let's pray that a fresh start will yield greater fruit.  Not so much whining, a bit more discretion, and, maybe, just maybe, a sense of direction will develop.