Category Archives: Personal

Today Only

07/15/2021 X Teri Leave a comment

My favorite cousin posted this to social media today. I made it at least a couple of decades ago. I once made a LOT of this sort of thing. She has a hoard/treasure trove of such memories that’s she sorting through. It warmed my heart and is still making me think back.

Despite giving away a large number of my “Get-out-of-jail-free cards,” I still have some left. It always surprises me when people who know me say they won’t need it. Duh! A disproportionate number of people who’ve been in my proximity have, in fact, needed one. Or two. I try to keep one under the floor mat at all times. Because if I’m going to get arrested, I’m definitely going to want to see the look on the policeman’s face when I hand it to him. Yes, I know that the cards on top are “Go to Jail” cards instead of “Get out of jail free” cards.

Epictetus: “He is a wise man who does not grieve for the things which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has.”I have: Life. Choice. Opportunity. Whether I squander them is entirely my choice or fault. This has been true for my entire life, whether I believe it or not. At 54, I believe it. Love, X

Knowledge you won’t find in a textbook: “Never complain about not having a shoulder to cry on if you’re around cannibals.”

When I met the new Latino coworker, I couldn’t quite put my finger on why I didn’t like him, although something about his name, Adversario, gave me pause..

I ain’t saying his hair is a mess… but, you know how people talk about tearing their hair out? He looks EXACTLY like he both failed and succeeded at doing just that.

Some people worry about getting pulled over for speeding or drinking. My biggest concern is getting pulled over after someone discovers my latest artwork. I could post a picture of it, but I’m not going to. I like to think that someone out there will see something creative or beautiful and accuse me of having done it.No matter where it is.

For those who need a good groan…Today’s tear-off flyer..

The yellow conical sign in the middle of the hallway indicated “Wet Floor.” So I did.

Compatibility Comparison: If during the night there is a strange and inexplicable noise from anywhere inside or outside the house…. if one person says “whatever,” and the other person always jumps out of bed as if WWIII is starting, it’s over. Both people think the other is crazy.

Lovesakes, both new and old, juxtaposed, filled with light and nuance. The bird’s silhouette transposes a heart; whether it’s wounded or promise-filled depends on the beholder..

I made a tear-off sheet of compliments, for anyone needing one… I’m uncertain which is my favorite:
“you smell like cheese”
“even IRS agents smile around you”
“you’re totally kidnappable”
.

When I heard someone say, “She has an infectious laugh,” all I could think of was penicillin.

At 54, I went to my first rave last Saturday. I walked in and punched the first person I saw. Hard. Middle-aged people should not be unleashed to new experiences absent a brief explanation that the words naming activities often have ZERO overlap with how they sound. Technically, though, the guy I sucker-punched did indeed ‘rave’ quite a bit afterward.

Sometimes you can tell when somebody has had an unimaginably bad day. I left a 102% tip.Whatever preoccupation previously existed, it irrevocably vanished, leaving a huge smile behind.

Caveat emptor! I spent $199 on a WWF Wrestling Starter Kit….

Life accelerates away at a pace I can’t fathom. It boggles my mind that I’m at the same weight I was in 1985.I wish I could travel back and tell myself that the only thing that matters is that love seldom looks like we expect it to.Love, X

Some clichès have critical hidden flaws.”When you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.” For all of y’all who have never dug a grave, that’s some pretty good cardio and intense exercise. If you can dig one, chances are you can dig forty seven.

Humor, Mental Health, New Word, Opinion, Personal, Social Rules

Carpe Vinum Like a MoFo

07/11/2021 X Teri Leave a comment

This morning, I drove across town, heading back. I felt like I had been on another planet for a day. In a way, I guess I had. Whenever you find yourself in a transition in life, try to take a moment to snapshot how you’re feeling. That feeling later morphs into comfort or consolation, no matter what the ‘after’ you find yourself in looks like. Life is going to sneak up on you anyway. And no matter what you’re planning, some of the things that you dread reveal hidden treasures – while other certainties end up fizzling or filling you with disappointment.

Yesterday, to my horror, I realized that pink fuzzy dice are prominently featured in the amazing book, “The Encyclopedia of Bad Taste.” It’s a good thing my set of pink fuzzy dice can’t read English, or their feelings would be hurt. To my delight, many things I like had their respective pages. “Everything is in bad taste to someone,” I like to remind myself.

I also became a fun memory for someone yesterday. He’d never had someone come in and say, “I want however much pico de gallo $20 will buy. I ain’t here to negotiate. Whatever it is, it is.” To my surprise, it was a LOT. And they threw in two bags of unrequested chips and salsa for free. After I paid for my order, a shorter Latino man came around the corner. The cashier pointed at me. (He didn’t know I was looking at him askance.) The Latino man looked in my direction. I waved like I was recently injured in the head. It was apparent to me that he had poked his head out to see ‘who’ ordered so damn much pico de gallo. He hastily retreated as I waved to him. I told the cashier in Spanish, “Does spying cost extra?” He laughed.

I’m also 100% sure that the two workers in the liquor store I entered thought I was trying to steal. Naturally, I made at least five needless and random tours around the smaller store. I thought about ducking below the top to REALLY draw their interest but don’t want to be banned from another liquor store.

On my walk yesterday, I discovered so many hidden gems, hideaways, and unexpected pleasures. On one dead-end side street, I discovered new and fabulous houses. The style was so odd that I realized I loved it. It’s not something I would ever choose, but now that I’ve seen it, I’m impressed. At the outlet of that street, I stopped and did pushups. The smell of the towering mimosa tree was unbelievable. I stood under it as the purposeful wind swirled the scent around me.

I also got reminded this weekend of how much turmoil some people have to endure. Some suffer so much invisibly that they don’t come out of it alive. Having done the one wise thing I’ve done in a year and going to counseling gives me an entirely different appreciation for those who don’t go when they need it. Right now, I am sure that someone will read this and be one of those people who secretly have a private feedback loop running in their head, the one telling them that there’s no point or that maybe they shouldn’t be here. Counseling isn’t what you fear it might be. But it can be the starting point. And so many people would benefit from getting a handle on their issues now. We don’t realize we’re at the beginning of an avalanche until we’re half-buried in snow. The best gift you can give someone is the confidence you need in yourself to be able to tell them that they would benefit from getting help. And if you’re the person needing help, give yourself the gift by confiding in someone that you need help.

I stopped this morning and bought two containers of chalk, one of which I almost entirely used, making a ‘small’ homage somewhere in Springdale. A couple of people witnessed me in action but said nothing to discourage me. It’s too bad I wasn’t wearing pants. (Just kidding about the no-pants portion. Although that much chalk residue is a real problem at times.) It’s not like chalk is graffiti; it’s as impermanent as we are, though we cavalierly pretend otherwise as we move around on the face of this planet.

Leaving the grocery store, I saw an older Latino man ahead. Both arms were weighed down with liquor store bags. I slowed, checked behind me, and tossed the myriad mess from my passenger seat into the back. Pulling up alongside the man, I rolled my window down. (Yes, my Spark has roll windows, which is something that I love the idea of.) “Hop in,” I told him in Spanish. He politely declined. I insisted and repeated my first line with a bit of salty language. He laughed and put the bags on the floorboard as he climbed inside. I saw that he had Harps bags tucked inside each liquor store bag. (For those few people who don’t drink, black liquor store bags are much stouter than their grocery store counterparts.) About halfway inside, he realized how small the car was. “Where are you headed? I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.” It turned out he was staying a couple of miles up the road. I asked him he needed anything: money, food, a ride somewhere else… “No, but thanks,” he said. He told me he was working twelve hours a day and sleeping in the garage of one of his friends. I didn’t pry, but he volunteered that the last year was the worst year of his life. Without thinking, I said, “You’re paying the price now to have your life back.” He looked at me, and I realized that I probably touched a nerve. “Verdad.” He got out, picked up his bags. He nodded his head as a farewell as he walked up to the house.

I opened the garage door and fired up the grill to make grilled chicken breasts and portabello mushrooms. Almost immediately, a dog wandered up. For a brief second, I thought he was going to attack. Unexpectedly, he ducked his head and began to wag it back and forth, his eyes downcast. I kneeled and petted him like he was my dog, oblivious to the initial idea he might bite. After I finished petting him for a couple of minutes, he laid on the garage floor, content. I found some old smoked turkey breast and put it on the ground. He ate it, his tongue working across his snout long after he finished it. When I finished grilling, Guajolotero, as I named him, still was sprawled out on the garage floor. I cut up one of the huge chicken breasts, along with a portabello mushroom, and fed them to him. He ate slowly but thoroughly. Even though he still licked his chops, I petted him again. Afterward, he casually plopped down to rest again. Apparently, he adopted me. If that’s the case, I will hope he doesn’t expect freshly grilled chicken and mushrooms on the daily.

Two hours later, he’s still in the garage, chilling.

.
.
.

“It doesn’t matter who you’ve been with, it matters who you end up with.”
Anonymous wisdom
.

“It doesn’t matter what you’ve done, if you’ve made amends as much as you can, it only matters who you end up to be. None of us are ever finished – and those who think they are, well, they are ‘finished’ in quite another way.” – X
.
.
.

Something I learned in counseling.

Do you feel like you failed today, or worse, that you were a failure?

If you’re alive, you succeeded in doing something, even if it is the minimum necessary.

Tomorrow, survive again.

Stop expecting a dramatic crescendo of satisfaction from each of your days and eventually, gratitude for JUST the minimum will take root.
.
.
.

I hope to get my hands on this door, to help in transition into something else.

Love, X

Personal, Romance

Uncertain

07/08/2021 X Teri Leave a comment

Redacted. Or no comment. I hope you’re uncertain, no matter who you are.

Diet, Exercise, Opinion, Personal, Social Rules, Weight Loss

Consistency

07/08/2021 X Teri Leave a comment

“You show up for work every single day regardless of whether you’re motivated or not. You do that because you’re a responsible adult, but when it comes to your training or nutrition, you allow your consistency to rely on your motivation. You have to get to the point where you realize your health and confidence are just as much your responsibility as something like your finances would be as well. When you finally make that mental switch, your actions will no longer be dictated by your emotions, and you’ll start making real progress.” – Chaz Spackman
.
I’m 38 days into my pushup challenge. (And NINE months into my year-long eating commitment!) When I started, my right shoulder was hurting like a rejected suitor on prom night. Because I’m not too fond of the idea of ritual workouts (and gyms), I opted for pushups, even though my job robs me of most of my physicality. I do them in increments, no matter where I am and no matter who might be watching. (It’s more natural than standing there with a cellphone.) Some days, I stop counting. My friend Joe says none of them count until it hurts, anyway. I promised myself I’d do at least six weeks of this craziness. My shoulder feels much better, and I know something positive is coming from doing this, even if it’s to lose more self-consciousness. Whenever you make significant changes, you’re always going to draw scrutiny.

It’s transformational to make a goal, any goal, and just do it. I wish I’d had my epiphany twenty years ago; that time is gone. No matter who you are, surely there is some change you’d like to see in your life.

I’ve been accused by a couple of people of being suddenly vain. That’s not it at all. I’m a 54-year-old man who has acquired a renewed sense of confidence thanks to luck and a commitment to consistency. I want everyone to experience what it feels like not to recognize themselves and realize that so much of what stops us is between our ears.

Pick a goal. Walk. Run. Bike. Learn Spanish. Be kinder. Eat better. Write your story. Read more. Stop voting like an idiot (no matter which camp you vote for).

Acquire consistency in whatever it is you aspire to.

Almost all consistency is a decision.

PS No matter how successful you are or you become, remember that life is going to hit you with a hammer anyway. You can’t avoid the hammer but you can avoid wasting all the opportunities you have in front of you.

Humor, Personal, Social Rules, Springdale

Five Dollar Finger

07/07/2021 X Teri Leave a comment

This morning, I put the assorted nonsense I use during the day in my pocket. For some reason, I had a $5 bill and put that in my right pocket too. I never do that, especially since I would usually drag it out accidentally and lose it.

After eating lunch/supper, I drove back toward the house. I waited at the light on Emma and Butterfield Coach. It’s challenging to get good visibility on the left, an issue exacerbated by people pretending they’re racing in the Indy 500 as they come around the long curve. An SUV crossed the intersection doing at least 70. I waited, craning my neck to check again. Before you say anything, waiting until the light turns green IS an option. Still, it is just as likely to get you killed – and for two reasons: people have no patience waiting on someone to legally and safely turn, and a red light is often just encouragement to speed through an intersection illegally. I forgot to mention that East Springdale’s residents are less likely to have both a driver’s license and insurance at any given moment. It’s one of the many reasons I advocate that the city uses the actual roads for the annual Demolition Derby.

As it turned out, my light turned green, and I pulled out quickly. (That’s what she said. My apologies. That was a reflex TWSS there.) A couple of seconds later, I looked in my rearview mirror. A cobalt blue Hyundai was coming up behind me exceedingly fast, probably going 75 mph. As they passed, I noted that the car had five younger people in it, two of whom shoved their arms out the window, using their middle fingers to wave hello.

I concluded that I had interfered with their driving progress for zero seconds while they sped and failed to stop at a red light. I wasn’t quite sure what to do with that information.

The blue car, of course, caught up with a throng of traffic. A throng, whatever that is. So I followed them up Butterfield to Friendship. I turned left as they did. At this point, their guilty conscience probably convinced them I was angry about getting flipped off. I wasn’t. I was amused. They passed my normal turn into the neighborhood I live. A block further on, they turned into one of the dirt driveways on the side. The other side of the road isn’t part of Springdale city limits – and it shows. The high class you’d normally associate with Springdale diminishes considerably on that side of the road. (I apologize for the snark there, Rodeo fans.)

I stopped across from their driveway. I got out of my absurdly blue car and walked across. The driver’s eyes widened. Yes, it’s true someone could have shot me. I can think of no better way to die than by pranking someone in East Springdale unless it is to be shot by a jealous husband in bed. I handed the guy in the passenger rear seat a $5 bill and said, “Get yourself a 6-pack. And stop driving like pansies.” I laughed.

Someone inside the Hyundai said, “Dude, what the f—?” in a high-pitched voice.

I drove away, smiling like an idiot.

I like to think that this merry band of miscreants will be flipping off MORE people, expecting others to tip them for the honor.

Personal, Social Rules

Begin… Or End

07/06/2021 X Teri Leave a comment

“To get something you never had, you have to do something you’ve never done.”

The message continued: “These are not my words. But they are my mantra. You’re going to be scared. You’re going to be uncomfortable. And even when you did everything safe, you always ran the risk of total, absolute failure, losing everyone and everything you’ve ever had. Even though you already lost everything once, you allowed your mind to buffer you away from those considerations. The risk was real. You just didn’t consider it. You said, ‘Life is for the living.’ And whatever new thing you do today or tomorrow carries that same risk. Get over it. You could do everything right and still fall in a well. Now imagine that you turn back from new actions, new thoughts, and new habits because it’s safer. And you fail, playing it safe. I promise you that you will be filled with regret and self-anger. You told us to tell you when we see that you’ve forgotten this lesson. The point is that there are no guarantees, other than one day sooner than later, you will be dead. People will say whatever they’re going to say, and they’re going to write histories about you that are wildly inaccurate. But if you proceed with confidence, there is a guarantee that you’ve changed your outcome despite your fear. Whether it results in a better life or not, it roots itself in a positive decision. X, I’m counting on you to show me that it’s worth all the effort. If you fail, how can I expect to succeed?”

Well, sh!t.

I suspect that’s about the best calling-out I could imagine.

I wasn’t going to share this.

What’s the worst possible outcome, though?

Someone will read this and find something with which they identify.

Others will read it and feel uncomfortable.

I hope that discomfort focuses them to look for a purposeful life.

Love, X

Personal

Sun Red Memories of Fire

07/04/2021 X Teri Leave a comment

I leaned over the railing, watching the red-orange sun as it dropped below the trees in the distance. Seeing familiar sights in new surroundings is a sublime pleasure. Even if you wouldn’t know it by looking at me, I’m inevitably introspective when I recognize such truths. Below, excited kids and one unsupervised Dad continued to bend and light an array of fireworks. Some of the pyrotechnics were small, others were cacophonous grenades, ones which exploded with such force that the l-shape of the building almost bent with the sound waves produced. Occasional squeals and constant happy commentary punctuated the evening. The air was permeated with the pungent and welcomed clouds of gunpowder smoke. The hybrid mix of sight, sound, and scent took me back to many of my youthful days and nights with fireworks. As is the case in so many Southern families, even those populated with violence and addiction, fireworks were a common denominator that brought many of us happiness. The possibility of losing a finger or an eye was no greater than the risk of simply being part of the family. As I watched the kids participate on the cooling cement below, I hoped they’d one day remember this. Several of the kids had dangerously clambered up on the back of a minivan, their legs dangling and kicking. Whether anyone of us realized it or not, we’d formed an impromptu community, one flung together by the beauty and violence of fireworks. When I looked back toward the horizon where the sun hid, I found that night had fallen, surreptitiously and totally. I breathed deeply and inoculated myself against loneliness by filling my lungs with the acrid smoke filling the air. I could get used to this, knowing that life can be a kick in the shins but also a present for the moment if you’re receptive. It’s impossible to know who is making new memories, even as they blink away the unhelpful past that tells us we don’t deserve more moments. I took mine with me and even now, trying to express my love for the moment, I feel the acrid scent of fire in my lungs.
.

Humor, Personal, Springdale

Too Much Blue

07/04/2021 X Teri Leave a comment

Saturday, I was driving on 412 East, near the airport. Because I hadn’t eaten much, I pulled out a bag of sea salt PopChips, and ravenously and enthusiastically began eating them. (As if there’s any other way to eat these!) I noticed something in my peripheral vision to the right. I turned my head and found myself stopped in traffic alongside one of the toughest-looking Latinos I’ve ever seen, as if Danny Trejo woke me up by sticking a shotgun in my mustache. I probably froze for a second. The Latino turned his head to his right. A second later, the woman in the passenger seat leaned forward and craned her neck to see around her huge boyfriend/husband/kidnapper. And laughed. The Latino driver then laughed and pointed at my car. He then gave me an enthusiastic thumbs up and grinned ear to ear. I laughed, gave him the thumbs-up in return, and kept eating my PopChips. I briefly considered challenging him to a race but opted to leave him with his dignity.

Biographical, Fayetteville, Marriage, Mental Health, Personal, Springdale

A Personal Update

07/02/2021 X Teri 2 Comments

This is a personal post, so scroll past if you’re not interested in learning new and terrible things about me. I’m always one for transparency, even when it’s complicated. Especially when it’s difficult. I’ve not been silent out of apprehension or shame. I always feel free to tell my own story – because I own it. Being compassionate, I also realize that other people don’t want a rock dropped on their heads simply because their story overlaps with mine. I’ve waited to say anything specific out of deference to the other people involved. It’s my story now, though.

I’m getting divorced. Because people need to assign blame or frame such things in their heads, you can place the responsibility for the divorce directly on me. Of course, there’s more to the story – but it would be wrong for me to evade the finger pointed at me. Adding explanatory caveats would be equivalent to ruining an apology by offering excuses. Those who know me well know the story. When my marriage faltered, I turned my attention to another woman. While I did not consummate the relationship, I fell in love with her. That’s entirely on me. Not that anyone is entitled to know the details. But I’m not so stupid as to think that people don’t know. It’s human nature, and whispers travel faster and more loudly than headlines.

For the lurkers who are tempted to write something snarky, go ahead, but please take a moment to be creative in your attempt. I don’t mind contempt or passive-aggressive tomfoolery so long as it’s both authentic and distinctive. I can get run-of-the-mill snideness from several sources. Chance are your two cents won’t affect me. I’ve already paid the price for my choices; a few words can’t possibly inflame anything medieval lurking in my heart.

In so many ways, I failed and succeeded simultaneously over the last year. I hurt people who shouldn’t have been. I realize that my intentions are meaningless and irrelevant when compared to the consequences of my choices. I’ll try to take the successes and amplify them. Whether I’ll learn anything from my adventures and misadventures is always the critical question.

My wife is keeping the house. Evidently, homes and property should remain in the hands of responsible people. I’m not sure where I will end up. I much prefer having a roommate, but so far, that has been a bust. You wouldn’t know it, but I’m not nearly as crazy in person as you might think. (Admittedly, though, there is a disproportionate likelihood of tomfoolery.) If I move from Springdale, I’ll miss it terribly. I’ve grown to know it very well, especially during the pandemic. Barring something surprising, I will probably get an apartment in Fayetteville that’s too expensive for me, primarily because of work – and probably without a roommate or someone I know. I’d rather not live alone, even if doing so might be beneficial to me somehow. I’ve somehow managed to stay in the same job for 16 years without one of my co-workers murdering me. To be clear, I’m pretty sure there have been discussions, but luckily, no assassin has been hired, at least not that I know of.

As tough as things have been, I’m glad I had counseling. I was lucky. I put the pin back in before I made my life worse, as well as learning how to sleep again. Counseling didn’t fix all of my problems, of course, but it might have saved me.

My story isn’t particularly original and certainly not so during the pandemic.

There’s no need to react or comment if you don’t want to or don’t quite know ‘how’ to do so. This isn’t something you see on social media very frequently. It’s certainly something that happens all the time, though. By posting this, I’m removing the taboo of openly talking about it.

Love, X