Full Up with...Nothin'

Hi strangers! Long time no see.
Well, guess I’ll just jump right into it...

Sometimes I feel empty and I look forward to nothing. Not all the time, mind you. This morning just feels worse than usual, hence the return and the venting.

I know I shouldn’t feel this way: life’s pretty damn good and fairly easy—I’m lucky to have a loving wife that also doubles as a best friend; I’ve got the toys I want to play with; my job, while admittedly boring and frustrating and occasionally demoralizing at times, is a relative cakewalk...and the pay’s decent; I have a home, two working cars, an adorable, if not stubborn, pet, and I get to travel—“life is good,” but at times none of that seems to matter. Life can still feel acutely lacking.

This sounds a whole lot like a symptom of depression. That begs the question, with so much going in my favor, why the fuck am I depressed?

I have a pretty good idea why, but it seems crazy...and petty, and selfish, and unreasonable. That such a outwardly small thing could bring so much good to nothing boggles my rational little brain. Yet, it’s what stares me in the face, day after day, awaiting resolution that may never come. It’s not only bringing me down, it’s frustrating as hell, because there’s little I can do about it, save for possibly destroying the aforementioned things that currently make my life as good as it is, which, for obvious reasons, is not on the table. And it’s not like having it would or should jeopardise the life I’ve carefully built...but that may be just how I see it.

Even if I were able to “have my cake and eat it too” there is absolutely no guarantee this thing troubling me, once remedied, would endure, for I have as little control over it as I do my current circumstance. Also, if you know me at all, you know I can be quite effective at unintentional ruination. I suffer from foot-in-mouth disease, among other things. And, for as annoyingly observant as I can be with many things, there are certain things that elude me, most of them having to do with interpersonal communication...and apparently at all levels. While I’ve gotten better, there are simply things I do not see, and I don’t know why I don’t see them when others seem to see them clearly.

Maybe that’s why I’m in a funk, because when I look at it from different angles, there’s a good chance this particular thing won't pan out the way I’d like it to. Or possibly not.
Maybe all of these thoughts are muddled by my overall crap mood, which lends itself to crap thinking, with little to no hope in sight.

Yes, I realize I may be overreacting, but it’s how I feeling at this moment, and I will not apologize for how I feel. I do my best to deal with my emotions—those around me will have to bear with me, because as hard as I try, and as good as my best is, I can be as terrible at is as anyone else, so I will and do apologize for any handling done poorly, because, being “only human,” I’m certainly going to have moments when that will be the case.

I came across a saying a while ago that has stuck with me: those that matter don’t mind, and those that mind don’t matter. This is mostly true, because those that matter can also mind, particularly when it affects them. So, to those that matter and do mind, know that I love you and ask for your patience and understanding—one way or another I’ll get through this.

As for the overall depression I seem to often have looming over me, I’ve begun working on that with a "professional." Who knows, maybe I can be “cured” of my general and recurring malaise with just a professional’s help.

But, maybe this thing I feel I’m lacking is part of that “cure.”

I’ve got zero answers here, people. But I am trying to work toward some.

And look at that, by the time I’ve gotten to the end of this (which I’ve been working on, off and on, the past couple hours) I already feel less shitty. Hope has started to creep back into my brain. Ahhh, the magic and wonders of time. Crap—maybe I’m a wee bit bipolar. Oh well, that's another problem for another day.



….Now I’m wondering if I should even post this thing….

Meh, why the hell not—it’s not like anyone will actually see it, and, even if they do, read it.

Who knows, maybe someone will stumble across it when it’s in some historical whole-internet archive, long after I’m dead….and think to themselves, “wow, what a little bitch.”

Yeah. Probably.
Hi, future person!! Sorry I suck.

Until next time!

Dacotah Rose

For my Grandma.

A blossom fine— Dacotah Rose
whose bloom inspires fragrant prose
has graced the world with beauty true
as pure and bright as morning dew

Her sweetly essence filled the air
enfolded us in tender care
Her gentle smile, which gleamed with grace
incited joy upon one's face
And heartening heart, both deep and vast
imparted love that's unsurpassed

The heart, still full; the face, still joy’d; the air, still sugary sweet
will each remain forevermore, until again we meet

Love (with all of my heart) your Bobby

Mountainous Molehills

I'm broken—as most are.
"Only human," but far more than simply imperfect.
Unwhole.
Incomplete.
Unrealized.
I am not what I could be, only what I am.
Just shy of fatally flawed, but well enough to get along with little trouble or effort; and therein lies the problem: I get along, and that's all it really takes, so that’s as much as I give.
I could travel the troublesome road, or put forth greater effort, but why bother when this is so much easier?

Why climb when I can coast?

The tougher path is always more interesting, and ultimately more rewarding an experience, and I'll certainly be a better person for having walked it.
And more effort on my part will often, if not always, yield more desirable results, again, making for a more rewarding experience, bettering me as a person.
But doing either, or both is difficult, and at times excruciating, and so I often choose to do but one, or, more often, neither.
I'm not proud of it, this is just the way it is; and from the look of things, I’m hardly alone.

You can’t see much from down here, only what lies immediately ahead, often taking the curves faster than we should, despite the signs, or possibly in spite of them.

I hear the view from above is amazing, with an entirely new and enlightening perspective, showing you not only what lies far ahead, but other roads, and the their destinations.

Here’s hoping I have it in me to see it for myself someday.

"Pest" "Control"

caught off guard and frozen by light
came sudden a dash and unnatural flight
hurled through leaves, then onto the ground
writhing, unable to right myself—bound
as shock overtakes me, and struggle for breath
I’m pounded to pulp for a “merciful” death

Naomi

bumbling ballerina
whose grace is left to chance
she’ll stub a toe as soon as go
but, oh, to see her dance

fire in her footstep
fierce passion in her eyes
she wields her dress with such finesse
you'll clamor for reprise

off the stage she's pleasant
both rascal and refined
more goof than grace, many a place
but always sweet and kind

brimming sanguine fluid
which drains to just half-full
in times of trial she maintains style
and seldom loses cool

a girl others envy
who seems to have it all
shows humbleness, ‘spite all success
has reason to walk tall

"Hachi Machi!"

Of light and life and merriment
seldom deployed, yet heaven sent
uplifting spirit high aloft
beyond the clouds below so soft
from whence she flew on gentle wing
where trumpets sound and choirs sing
thusly came she down to earth
filling life with boundless mirth
pervading all with puerile play
perverting prim and proper sway
but sadly soon again we'll part
and bid farewell with heavy heart
yet take heart also in this truth
I’ll meet again, this precious youth

Rabbitat

The Rabbit Habitat

'Fore day's first light the birds arise,
heralding in dawn's reprise,
glow eastern skies of royal hue,
illuminating morning dew.
The sun then crests the mountains low,
dousing all in warming glow,
creeping slowly ‘cross the sky
in painful measure, by and by.
spattered sun spills through the tree,
morphing with the canopy,
and ever still the birds they sing,
including those with metal wing,
who’s song is deep and unsublime,
jetting swift to keep the time,
and stop they not til darkness falls,
muting slow the varied calls—
as each of them doth drift to sleep
the air is filled with one less peep.
Silence soon consumes all things,
save for the whispers that wind brings;
a gentle breeze thus sways the tree
and make its leaves dance gracefully.
Clattering spades applaud Earth's sigh,
which shimmer soft in moon-lit sky,
while cool air stirs around one slight,
uplifting senses all but sight.

Then all is still—all is right,
and all is safe throughout the night.

Miss Match

Kind and caring, when not cruel and callus
Intolerantly tolerant, especially of one’s stupidity
Blind in faith, but flagrantly observant in all else
Sweet, yet never synthetic nor saccharine...when not shrew’dly bitter
Hard as nails; delicate as nails
Ostensibly obedient
Accidentally amiable

Long Live The King!

I am Figbert—
King of my Nation.
Ruler of all within its expansive borders.
I can change anything and everything on a frivolous whim.
If I come across any unpleasant task needing to be done, I don't do it, setting aside duties that may very well be for the betterment of all, including myself, for my own selfish indulgences.
While others toil, I play.
I am looked upon with envious eyes as I wield my terrible power over all, shamelessly.
Yet, at the moment of truth, I, Figbert, King of this great Nation, somehow, and against every perceivable odd, am able to achieve what some may deem minor miracles, and have in fact completed the loathsome, tedious task which had been set before me; for as unsavory as any undertaking may be, it is never far from thought, but always just under the surface of all I do, like an insatiable itch I mindfully refrain from scratching.
I am able to achieve such feats with apparent effortlessness because I am Figbert, King of this great Nation.
Loyal, disloyal subjects, all: bow to your irreverent king, for I have deceived you all with my cunning and oft reluctant reverence.
Bow to your mighty King, Figbert—
Lord and Master of Procrasti Nation.

When the Moon Hits

The moon tonight was quite a sight—
bathed in tepid citrus light—
it loomed so large and low in sky,
and being alone I thought that I,
with none to show, would surely die,
yet here I am, I did survive,
and know you of the pizza pie
that hits you right upon your eye...that's amore.

"From Flustered Love To Lustered Love"

or "What A Difference A Work-Week Makes"

I love my wife.

I've known that for over six years. But with the near ceaseless bombardment of each others company, carpooling day-in and day-out, since August 4th, 2007 (yes, that is actually the date it all began), we’ve worn on the others nerves for far too long, and that bright, glorious luster of love seemes to have diminished somewhat over time, tarnished by the continual wear of ridesharing.

It's like the slow, incessant flow of water working it’s way through stone; the softest of things eroding the hardest of things: it takes a long time, but it’s effect is evident, and at times, blindingly brutal.

We each needed a holiday from the other. We both knew it and looked forward to it. But as that day grew nearer the gravity of the arrangement began to weigh on me, and my exuberant anticipation quickly waned. A few days before we parted it suddenly dawned on me: for the first time in a long time, and for an extended period of time, I would not have my charming and incomparable companion by my side. That day of “freedom” I had been so eagerly awaiting was fast approaching, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Ticket’s bought. Pick-ups arranged. Promises made.

I reassured myself: it’s only a few days; I’ll be fine, she’ll be fine, life would go on as usual; besides, we could still talk on the phone, that’s nearly as good as talking face to face.

I was mostly right.

It was only a few days, but that didn’t seem to matter nor make it any easier—one day was quite enough, thank you very much. Both of us were, in the grand scheme of things, fine, but I felt...off, as if some vital part of myself was missing, and she, at the very least, was cold and didn’t sleep well with no one to cuddle (I kid—I know this was no cakewalk for her either, but it's not my place to speak for her). Life did go on as usual, but it seemed wanting. We did talk on the phone, but it was certainly no substitute for having her physically with me.

That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy myself. I did. But, she never left my thoughts, and there were countless moments I wished she was there, experiencing what I was: the wonderfully wacky family fun, the splendid sights and stirring sounds of nature, the relentless rain...oh, the rain!...and the tasty treats I continuously stuffed into my insatiable cakehole.

But more to the point of this whole experience, I found myself reliving situations alone with a great deal more grace and patience than I remember having with her, and I was overwhelmed with guilt upon this realization. The minor delays and foibles that everyone cause and possess were magnified in her and always seemed to touch on my last nerve more than they ever should have.

I’ve been an intolerant ass. I’ve been a impatient jerk. And I apologize for my shortcomings, and vow to do and be better. She deserves it.

In her absence, I’ve rediscovered the boundless love I’ve had for her from the beginning, in all it’s brilliant glory; it has slough off the oily veneer that’s accumulated over years of endless, and occasionally careless handling, and has restored it to it’s true radiance.

Yes, it stinks that it took what it did for this epiphany to manifest itself, but I’m delighted things unfolded the way they have. I think we could all use a good kick in the pants like this from time to time to truly appreciate what we have. It’s too easy to get caught up in minutiae of day-to-day life and lose sight of what’s important.

Go out of your way to show someone you care about that you love them—saying it is easy.

My Own Worst Nightmare

A little, 'pēdal, creature swiftly ran into the scene;
then, somehow, latched on, piggyback, and sent me galloping.
The moment overtook me as we flew across the grass,
my heart aflutter, with her locks, both thrilling, yet, alas—
she’s not my own, and I, not hers: a truth, lost fleetingly;
for once we part my sullen heart yearns unexpectedly.