faking it

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There is an abundance of material presented daily for us to read and absorb.  Some of it is straight forward news – local, national, international – presented by dedicated news people in unbiased reporting.  Some of it is pure entertainment, while a growing segment is opinion representing viewpoints regarding every issue under the sun.

The internet, blogging in particular, is a godsend for those of us who are driven to write and share.  Whether you or I want to compose a book and be published or write just a few lines to vent and reveal pieces of ourselves, how we use our creativity is a personal decision made every time sitting down at the keyboard.  Sometimes, having a game plan is irrelevant – we merely type one letter after another until words, then sentences, then paragraphs are created.  We are not censored and should not be discouraged from sharing what our minds have fabricated.  That’s what blogging is all about for many of us.

All too often, when I limber up my fingers, I assume the role of opinion writer.  And that would be fine if that is the type of writer I aspire to be.  But, it’s not.  Many others in our blogging world do a fine job of sharing opinions just as many others are fine news reporters, but my opinion, as pertinent as it could be, is not what I want to share.  My views on politics, society, religion are as valid as yours, but as my wise old grandpappy said, “Opinions are like a certain body part.  Everybody’s got one.”

2019 finds me struggling – emotionally and physically.  Life ain’t what it used to be and certainly not what I hoped it would be.  So, what do we survivors do?  We take stock, adjust our binding underwear, grab the appropriate ball cap with a message and wear it proudly.  Early AA friends always said, “Fake it until you make it.”

And that’s what I’ll do because I’m too damned stubborn to quit.

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time for R&R

Just another traveler on life’s highway hanging out in the slow lane.  It’s quiet.  It’s peaceful.  Beyond the horizon is rest calling my name.  Green pastures, still waters, my cup overflows.

My blogging friends and assorted readers, I appreciate your interest in my writings and I have thoroughly enjoyed your creativity in the blogosphere.  Life can become unnecessarily challenging for those of us who forget that, although important as social issues are, in the end we do not control the outcomes.

That also applies to faith and eternity.  The truth which I realize and express in my posts might not be the garage in which you park your car and that’s absolutely cool.  Jesus said in his Father’s house are many rooms (John 14:2).  Life is a rainbow of varying faiths and identities and that’s what makes our walks so wonderfully colorful.

I thoroughly enjoy writing and sharing thoughts and ideas, so I invite you to visit me on my second blog Gabby’s Place. Gabby is a laid-back, sometimes irreverent version of me who has no qualms about jumping into the issues of religion, politics and society.  He loves to eat, so be ready for swapping of favorite recipes and information about differing foods.  I need to spend some R&R time with Gabby and find a healthier, perhaps lighter, perspective on life.  Have a blessed and productive 2019.

EEEEEEEEEEHAW

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AULD LANG SYNE – home free

My New Year’s Resolutions
  • To procrastinate as much as possible in doing the things that other people think I ought to do.
  • To eat as much ice cream as I want today because in today’s social turmoil tomorrow could see dairy cows going on strike.
  • To rest my muscles and watch TV from my recliner  more frequently because the latest scientific studies prove that the theory of exercise is a conspiratorial hoax promoted by 1) Democrats, 2) Republicans, 3) Independents, 4)Libertarians, 5) idiots, 6) all of the above.
  • To stop screaming at the TV while watching the day’s headline news and scream instead at my 1) neighbors, 2) significant other, 3) cat , 4) garbage man, 5) congressman.  (Folks, there is only one correct answer here)

Yes, 2018 has been less than most of us wanted.  2019 could be worse.  Buckle up and pay attention to the road signs.  Let’s try our best to make it serene and prosperous.

WISHING EVERYBODY SUCCESS IN 2019

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it’s my party

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A friend asked this morning, “How are you getting along these days?”

“Just fine and dandy, couldn’t be better.”

I lied.  But I truly could not put a finger on what I was feeling.  Where was my head floating?  Was I sad, depressed, melancholic?  Or was I just lazy and unmotivated?  Then, those thoughts that help us decide whether to get up and function or just lay around accomplishing nothing, yes those thoughts that are familiar to everyone, swirled through my brain and before I knew what was happening, I was engaged in a full throttle emotional crisis. What in tarnation is wrong with me?

I ran a few more words through my brain.  Nope, not that.  No, that’s not the problem.  Well, maybe I’m just over-tired.  Yes, I could be playing the control game again, I’m very good at that.  And then like a bolt of lightning it hit me.  I recognized what the problem was.

Irrelevance.  I have another birthday next month and I realized how irrelevant I have become to society in year 2018.  This old caveman from the 1960s simply does not like 2018.  Oh sure, girl scouts still try to help me across the street and 50 year-old men call me sir.

“Sir can I help you, may I get that for you, sir?”

“Bug off, sonny, I ain’t dead yet.”

They are just being nice, but they don’t need me for anything.  They still have a purpose in this world.  My life has become….well, jaded and irrelevant.   I want to go back to 1968 when life had meaning, when the future was bright and promising.  Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix cranked me up every morning and the Doors put me to sleep every night.  Life was good.

I don’t own a smart phone because I refuse to have a device that can make me swear like a sailor.  I watch ads on TV for services and electronics about which I haven’t a clue.  What’s that thingamajig for?  My vehicle is a 22 year-old pickup truck.  It has a key to open the door and start it, and a cassette player.  The dashboard shows speed, RPMs, gasoline, oil, and voltage.  Yes, they are the old fashioned gauges just like pop had on his car.  If I should ever need to buy another vehicle I will need operational lessons to simply drive it.

My 8 year-old neighbor spied me talking on my flip phone and immediately turned to his mother,  “He’s really old, isn’t he?”  AARP has stopped mailing me applications for membership.  The stores which I shop give me the senior discount without asking if I am a senior citizen.  Out on the highway, younger folks pass by flipping me the bird because I’m driving the speed limit.  I get phone calls from local funeral homes asking if I’m ready to prepay my final expenses.  People automatically raise their voices when speaking to me thinking I’m just an old deaf man.

Yep, I’m irrelevant in this world.  I haven’t left my mark nor have I made my fortune.  There are no children nor grandchildren to aggravate me and my friends are moving into assisted living or rehab centers.  Now, does anybody really think there’s any rehab going on in those rehab centers? Heck no!  They put you in a bed aside a total stranger with a severe case of flatulence, they feed you food that Grandma would have thrown to the hogs in the pigsty, they make you participate in silly games or arts and crafts, and than you die.  Old Mr. Irrelevant gets two or three lines in the obituaries, ashes get tossed in the ocean, and in about a month people will ask, “What ever happened to old man….ah, what was his name?”

Irrelevant, totally irrelevant.  Unnoticed, unnecessary, unconnected.

Phew!  Well, I’m glad that pity party is over.  Was it as much fun for you as for me?

“Self-pity is one of the most unhappy and consuming defects that we know.  It is a bar to all spiritual progress and can cut off all effective communications to our fellows because of its inordinate demands for attention and sympathy.  It is a  maudlin form of martyrdom, which we can ill afford.”  Bill W. AS BILL SEES IT

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the doormat

angry emojiI’m sure you have seen innumerable variations of me laying in front of the entry door to your friends’ houses.  We come in all shapes, colors, materials, configurations, and sizes.  Some of us are woven, some are shaggy, some sport a “WELCOME”  in large white letters. I am a luxurious green astro-turf square about 2 feet by 3 feet with a lovely white daisy in the corner.  My well-to-do cousins cover the playing fields in various stadiums.

Yes, my task is to collect the grime and dust off dirty shoes as they enter the house.  Most visitors are considerate enough to wipe several times before crossing the threshold, although a few will step over me in attempts to avoid my purpose in life which is to keep my owner’s sanctuary free of unwanted mud and dirt.  Although just a lowly piece of manufactured green astro-turf, I see and know every one who enters my house.  I am the front door sentinel who extends a welcome and says good-bye.  I am just a doormat.

I recently overheard my owner exclaim excitedly, “What am I, just a doormat?  Do they think I am here for them to walk on?”

I don’t understand it.  I am a proud doormat who provides a  valuable service to everyone who enters the house.  Without me the home’s floors would be filthy.  Without me the soles of visitors’ feet would probably never get cleaned.  Without my lush grassy texture people would miss the massaging action of my fibers.  What’s so wrong with being a doormat?

I guess humans simply don’t like being used as a doormat.  They don’t enjoy being stepped upon and used indiscriminately by selfish visitors.  Being a depository for other people’s dirt, grime, and bad habits doesn’t fulfil their reason for existence on earth.  Humans were not created to be good doormats.

That makes me happy.  It’s job security.  As long as the people in my house place value on their inherent integrity and as long as they maintain a reasonable level of self-esteem and respect, I don’t need to worry that I will be replaced with a talking, moving, thinking human model any time soon.

Next time you visit my house, don’t mistake the owner for me.  He’s the bald-headed guy living inside.  I’m the bright green piece of astro-turf with a daisy laying outside the front door.  I am much prettier.smiley 3