Oh God! Not another depressing Blog!

The problem with suffering from narcoleptic-dyslexia (Finding yourself unexpectedly waking up) is the startling realization that who you were just being is not really who you think you are. Huh?

Man, my delete key is getting a workout today!

Its been a rough week. I’m starting to reconsider the paramount burden I’ve put on myself. My mind and my body are not playing well together.  For example, I start out the day naively looking forward to doing all those wonderful things that will make me complete. Alas, my real job drains me so much that I’ve been having to shelve some, if not all, projects until a time when I have the strength to do them.  Actually and truthfully I start out the day waking up thinking that I can’t wait until I’m going back to bed. Sheesh, talk about clinical chronic DSM IV tm certified depression. Anyway, I need to do the things I need to do. Huh? again.

It’ll never happen. Succumbing to the desire to quit that is. This blog is a manifestation of the desire/passion to keep going. Even as I write I can feel strength returning, it’s like the Krytonite is slowly being withdrawn and I’m back baby!

So, let’s look at this realistically. I am working daily on writing my future mediocre best selling non-fiction book. I am still excited about it. My research in designing a recovery program continues to produce results. Still enthusiastic. Hell, why am I complaining? Everything is going according to plan. Ha! Ha! The world will be mine! And when I am the benevolent leader of this brave new world I will be a just and merciful leader. Well, I don’t go to the gym as much, but who hasn’t screwed up that goal? Just ain’t an Alpha-dude. Just blowin’ off a lot of hot air!

 

Wish I had a Velcro suit

Wish I had a Velcro suit, maybe I could stick to what I’m doing.  You know, I start out all piss and vinegar, writing all the time (well, once a day anyway), now it’s “Hey, let’s schedule a day/time for blogging like everything else!”. I always talk to myself in the third person. Not quite mumbling bag lady talking to myself, but you know. Back to topic, I am one of those guys whose closet is full of ephemeral experiments.

Take astronomy in collage – buy a telescope – put in closet.

Take black and white photography – buy camera and darkroom equipment – put in closet.

Add your list here _____________________________________

It’s not like that with everything. I never abandoned playing guitar, but it has been a hell of a long time since I’ve played a complete song. Kind of musical masturbation. Play with and by myself cause it feels good, then finish off prematurely, disappointingly, and back in the case it goes – till I get musical again. Sheesh! What are we talkin’ about here?

Got a membership at the gym cause I needed to do some resistance stretching. Start off Tuesday and Thursday and maybe Sunday workouts. No ifs ands or buts! Ha! That lasted about 2.9 seconds. I mean I still go, but that old nemesis – rationalization – rears it’s ugly head and  Blam! schedule trashed. The end is near. That sucks.

I used to be schizophrenic, but we’re OK now.

Why I am the way I am

I sincerely hope that anyone who takes the time to read my posts does so with a grain of salt. I know they are cynical sometimes, sarcastic sometimes, but mostly pretty manic. Such is my life.

You see, as I get older I look at who I am, what I have accomplished, why I am the way I am, and just how in the Hell did I get that way. The answer: Stan’s kid.

Stan was my dear old dad. And, let’s face it, we don’t fall far from the tree. You want to know what your spouse will be like? Look to their parents. It is what it is. Anyway, my old man was a mixed bag o’ tricks fer sure! Unfortunately, we, my brothers and sisters and I, were all raised with the same dogmatic mantra: A Warfield will never amount to anything. Now imagine that being force fed to ya day after day. So that is why I question my motivations at this stage of the game. I have a lot going on that requires, no demands, a certain amount of self-esteem. Not self-doubt. So, I guess one could say, and rightly so, that I am at war with myself. It is a constant struggle to not throw in the towel, hang it up (or myself for that matter), and just give up. Cause I will never amount to anything anyway.

Consequently, some of my posts are manic for the very reason that if I hesitate for even a moment to believe in myself, accept my accomplishments, and go forth, well then all is lost. Hey, I really feel this way.

Welcome to my Dark Side.

Might as well face it, you’re addicted to blog

Well it’s true. All day long now I think about writing on my blog. Gosh, what shall I write about today? Hmmm?

Let’s see, I could write about my love life, that’s always interesting. Except that my girlfriend called me and said “C’mon over, nobody’s home”. So, I went over and nobody was home! OK, so much for that thriving part of my life. Could write about work, but what’s to say about living to work instead of working to live? Guess I could write about the racist I work with but again, who needs that?

Actually folks, I am married, so no girlfriend, but still interesting enough. The other day my wife thought she would spice-up the ole’ sex-life and when I got home from work she answered the door wrapped in cellophane. I thought – oh God, leftovers again! Just kiddin’, love the wife. Man, I have a lot to write about that adventure, tell ya what.

In the end, I just write whatever comes to mind. For example, I read another blog about not being here to become famous, right. Let’s face it, seeing the stats, getting some comments, sharing your innermost, deepest, darkest fantasies about what you would like to be, that’s what blogging is about. Except of course for me. I wouldn’t do that. Uh uh, no way. Although there is one follower that I look forward to hearing from. Look! I did my first smiley! Ack! Gag!

But seriously, I am enjoying this. I am looking forward to starting some “real” topics and expressing my passions in the blogosphere.  Could be boring. Oh well, that’s a chance I’m willing to take I tell’s ya!

O’ Boy! Can’t wait to write again. Hee hee!

Oh my God, what have I done!?!

Oh man, it all started innocently enough: start a blog, maybe make a couple of friends, use up what little precious spare time I have to stretch those writing muscles. You know, maybe post a couple times a week to let out some frustrations or re-focus on what I’m supposed to be doing. What’s really important to me.  But NO! Now I am faced with reactivating the old Facebook page, delete everything on it – cause I ain’t THAT guy anymore.

Start a Twitter account, yes I need  to tweet about inane things that have no real purpose in the larger scheme of things. “Hi honey, I’m at WalMart reaffirming my belief that humankind has reached the pinnacle of cosmic evolution.”  Oh God! That means I have to buy a cell phone now to stay up to date! Yikes! Now this means paying attention to the never-ending onslaught of TV commercials to determine which carrier I need. What the Hell is a G? Let alone 4 of them. G.M. Chrysler, I’ll have to learn all that annoying shorthand jargon. I barely know LOL. Good Lord! Texting too. I’ll have to get one of those C-phones with extra big pads for my old guy giant fingers. And I’ll have to select a ring tone. Oh man. There’s no end in sight.

Arghh! I’m too old for this (fill in with an inappropriate word, you know the one).

Then again, I am making some friends.

Trying like Hell to do this blog thing

Now that I’ve deleted some posts, changed appearances, switched titles, generally started over, well here I am starting over.

Believe it or not, this blogging thing is overwhelming! I read a lot of other folk’s blogs and it seems so natural to some, yet to me, it’s like trying to balance a schizophrenics checkbook! Hey, I ain’t kidding here. I mean, I am currently developing a relapse prevention program, plus writing a corresponding book and . . . no sweat. I write copy and such for two websites and, again, no sweat. So what is it about writing what on the surface appears to be a simple daily or whatever story?

I have many stories to tell and rants to rant, but for some reason I hit a wall. In fact, I wrote a good one the other night and deleted it rather than publish it. Why? Damned if I know. Maybe it’s the whole saturation with technology thing that doesn’t let me participate in the very thing that drives me nuts. I mean, c’mon. Tweet this, FB that, update that, I don’t know.

Seriously though, I feel left behind. Nonetheless I am going to make the Herculean effort to maintain this blog. It is a major part of my plan for world domination after all.

I get good ideas all the time about things to write about. Part of the eclectic, multifaceted guy we call Steve is a writer. But then when I write them I am reminded of how many emails I have sent that were totally misinterpreted because there’s something lacking in cyber-communication that leads to innocent enough misunderstandings. And, argh! delete delete!

Oh well, don’t want to come off as pedantic.

Back to my room I go. Until next time.

Getting Started

It’s probably pretty obvious that I’m new to Blogging. My computer knowledge is somewhere between a block of government cheese and a Commodore 64. Oh well, it is what it is and I make the best of it.

My whole attitude revolves around getting it done and getting it done right. So, I dive right in and do what I gotta do.

Anyway, this whole thing is an adventure to me. I’ve once again overloaded my plate. I have a “real” job to pay the bills. (Yeah, how’s that going for me?).  I’m designing and web-mastering two websites. Talk about taking on more than one can handle – me webmaster? Go figure. I’m developing my recovery/sobriety program. I’m writing a book about this program. I am doing tons of research. I am married to a Chinese woman and constantly face the challenge of daily communication errors. I started working out. See what I mean?

So, here I am. Daring to enter into the vast universe of blogging. Unprepared, yet undaunted.

In the words of the infamous maritime philosopher,  Popeye, “I yems what I yems, and I can’ts be no more”

More to come . . .