Time for a change

I think it’s time to retool my blog. Since I seem to have lost almost all of my original readers and I would like to offer something interesting to my new readers I think it’s time.

As you may or may not know, I began this blog as a therapeutic exercise to keep the boredom of my new life at bay. By new life of course I mean moving in with my mother in 2017 after a divorce, the loss of my job and house. All as a result of a Chronic Illness. I had blogged before on various sites but this time I stuck with it.

I initially started out by venting about how the dramatic and painful changes affected my new life. Eventually I discovered that my posts resonated with some people, mostly those with a Chronic Illness of some sort. In turn, their stories resonated with me also. In addition to posts related to the ongoing issues with my health I also told my life story in a manner that was often described as “brutally honest”. Not my words. But they are true. I held nothing back in the way of baring my soul, and occasionally my ass as I enjoyed the anonymity of the blogosphere. The blog has made me many friends and there are many out there that I can honestly say I deeply care about, some I even consider friends. Saying that about someone you’ve never met is really something, isn’t it?

But I think I’ve told my story. I’ve pontificated about major issues. I’ve sprinkled in fiction and poetry to mixed reviews. Lately I find myself staring at my screen wondering what to write about.

It’s time to get back to my roots. Talk about what’s on my mind. Write a journal that’s open on the table for all to read. Just write, casting format, concern about likes, comments, approval and agreement aside. If you like what I write, let’s have a conversation. If you don’t agree offer a different viewpoint. I welcome your comments, in fact I LOVE comments. It means you actually read it.

There you have it folks, Superman is still here. I’m still looking for a phone book. But until I find it Ol’ Supes is going to just talk about whatever comes to mind.

It’s time to loosen up the old fingers, instead of hovering over the keyboard looking for a great idea I’m just going to let them rip.


“It’s all a matter of perception.” Boy, you said it.

I’ll get right to it. I’m struggling a bit with the whole perception thing. But that’s not new, to a degree I have my entire adult life. Here’s the rub, I thought that I had finally come to grips with it and I get a shot across the bow. Not life threatening, not necessarily a game changer, not even a “hurt feelings” moment. I’d like to consider it a chance for growth.
Because that’s what adults do.

Like most great stories, it begins with a girl.

I met this girl. A friend of a dear friend. To be exact, my buddies new wife’s best friend. I had met her at a gathering they were having. She was with a guy then but in what I thought was a fortuitous moment they broke up that night. A couple of weeks after that we became friends of FB and then began chatting and before I knew it we were chatting by text during the day and talking at night until we both turned in. Every night.
I asked her out.
She was hesitant.
But she wanted to get to know me, and I her.
She said yes.
We went out and had a great time. Being out of the game for as long as I have (I hadn’t been on a first date since 1990) I thought I did ok. I think she did also. It was after that was the problem. I pushed and I scared her off a bit. The second date was not in the cards. To be worse, she told me over the phone, that I had officially entered the dreaded, cursed, never to be climbed out of “Friend zone”.
Face palm.
In the course of the conversation she decided to give me some constructive criticism to help me with my “next one”, despite my still wanting her. Not the next one. But I listened . Among the many criticisms, the one that stuck, and stung, was when she said that I was “full of myself.”
Really? WOW. That was the moment that either denial or growth would need to occur. I think I chose the right one, I went for growth. With that came the inevitable question…am I?

I have struggled with my identity for as long as I can remember. It was as if the key to who I am was a carrot on a string and I kept chasing it but it was always just out of reach. It wasn’t until I was in my 30’s that I realized that the fucked-up, neurotic, good at a lot but not great at anything, heart on the sleeve wearing guy that hated his own reflection was as good as it was going to get. So I embraced it.
Later in life, as I took hit after hit, some my fault and some not, I finally grew up a bit. While I was still the same fucked-up, etc., (see above) guy, I embraced it and changed what I could. I really worked on myself. I looked for the lessons in every setback, I tried to find positivity in negative situations, I tried to put others before myself whenever I could. As the lessons of Freemasonry taught me, I just tried to be a better man than I was the day before. I embraced spiritualism, my compromise to rejecting atheism years before, and tried to embrace my smallness in the universe. When I got sick I adopted a persona, that of a fighter and an optimist. In the words of some, not my own, I was inspirational. All while my ultimate goal was just to be a good guy.
A guy that means well, charitable, fairly interesting and occasionally funny with something to offer the right person.
With her, I don’t think I came off that way.
It’s bittersweet actually, it wasn’t a total loss. She also told me that she thought I was incredible (not sure what she meant but I like it). We still talk every night. I’m not entirely sure where I stand with her but I still enjoy it. And I can’t ask for a second date even if I wanted to because the world is on hold. When and if I ask her out again I suppose I’ll know what zone I’m in.
Either way, I’ll be ok. I just have the one lingering problem. It really bothers me when anyone gets me wrong.

You can’t undo it. There are no redo’s in life. As my late Grandfather always said’ “You can’t put the shit back in the horse.”

It’s all a matter of perception.