Have you ever heard of combat juggling?

Another thing I find oddly interesting

Thought I’d be done by now with my week but I’m not.

Had an unexpected expense of paying for some critical data I needed for a client project – which was astronomical because I didn’t know I’d need it until the 11th hour. Unfortunately, since this was a new client, it had to be done.

So I ended up agreeing to yet another project that will fill my time until the end of the month.

Maybe it’s just as well as it’ll force me to take some time off from the gym, especially since I’ve injured my rotator cuff.

Getting older stinks.

Speaking of the gym, a friend of mine knows that I fence so sent me the above video on something I’ve never heard of, called combat juggling.

It blends athleticism and strategy in a surprisingly interesting way.

One of the simultaneous pro/con things about getting older is that you really have to be thoughtful with how you spend the days you have left. I’m guessing I’ve got about 11,315 left.

There are any number of things I’d like to be able to try out/learn but my reserve of spare time is getting less and less by the day. I think in my 20s, I might have given this a go; it looks like fun.

On that note, it’s back to some decidedly unfun things.

Location: chained to my desk
Mood: still busy working
Music: searching for good times but just wait and see

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We’re titanium

Riddle me this


A riddle from Good Riddles Now:

Something all men have,
but all men deny.
Man created it,
but no man can hold it.

What is it? – the answer here.

On that note, last week was quite possibly one of the worst weeks of my life. And I’ve had some bad weeks. Got two separate calls for two separate issues; one was horrible, the other merely terrible.

Call 1
Her: It’s the doctor.
Me: S___t.

Call 2
Him: So it’s not good, it’s not any worse than we thought, but it’s still not good.
Me: Let me sit down.

But at some point, you just get tired of being sad/anxious.

So my brother went out to drink, and my wife and I went out to dinner around the way. We sat next to an actress we’d seen a few times on television who was very friendly (good) and very loud (bad).

Afterward, my wife and I took a short walk around our neighborhood.

She also made me some oatmeal cookies, so that’s a plus.

Finally got to have some rum again, too.

Me: We’ll be ok.
Her: We’re titanium, Logan. We’re frick’n titanium.

Location: -3 hrs, shoveling the walk
Mood: deflated
Music: Shoot me down, but I get up
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There’s always room for more down

On my knees again

Doctor: You’re not having a good day?
Me: I’ve had better.
Him: (pause) Well, it’s about to get a lot worse.

So after I wrote the last entry, went on with my day. Later that night, got another phone call for a wholly different reason.

In 40 years, think I’ve honestly been on my knees twice. This is a third time. There are things that one knows but does not truly believe in life.

Like last time, I could handle it all, if it was only one at a time.

Spent the day slogging from offices to offices in the blinding snow, trying to make sense of a litany of things that make no sense; making decisions I’m ill-prepared to make.

Him: Well, you gotta figure that this is rock bottom.
Me: No, there’s always room for more down.

But I went to teach my fencing class last night and for about 90 minutes, I got to put down the things I’d been carrying all day.

It’s a blessing to have things in your life where you can put down the weights you bear.

Student: This wasn’t what I expected.
Me: We’re not here to dance, we’re here to fight. We’re here to struggle. Life’s a struggle we all lose one day. But until then, we struggle.

Never saw that student again.

The thing with leaving things at a doorway is that, ultimately, you have to pick them up again on your way out.

So I do, trudging home in the snow, bearing it.

And I swear that the whole goddamned weight of it all is sinking me deeper into the snow.

———-

If you write or see me, I won’t tell you so please don’t ask. As with last time, I’ll tell you when I’m ready.

 

Location: yesterday, three hours in a frozen car
Mood: heartbroken
Music: It’s true, the suffering shapes you
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We all have our own Black Swans

A Black Swan is an unforeseen event that makes a huge impact

 

A Black Swan is an unforeseen event that makes a huge historical impact. The assassination of Franz Ferdinand, 9/11, and the rise of dot coms are considered Black Swans.

But we all have our own personal Black Swans, yeah? Those events that changed everything about our lives completely unexpectedly?

The ex moved out a year ago this week.

I recorded the above video for my brother after I got back from Baltimore and saw that she, and all her stuff, was gone (nothing risqué; trust me, totally SFW).

I used the spatula to make myself a peanut butter and orange marmalade sandwich. I sat in my empty living room and thought, Well, this is gonna suck. And it did. Really bad.

But it doesn’t anymore. When I do think of a girl, she’s not the one I think of. I never would have believed it.

Time and tide changes everything.

Note to self: If you ever live with a chick again, do not throw out your utensils just because hers matches.

Life is good.

Location: -20 mins, on Broadway, picking grapefruit
Mood: grateful
Music: My heart was broke, my head was sore, what a feeling
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On your knees

Life gives us blows and we do what we can to survive them

(c) AP Photos

2 Samuel 12:22 tells of when: David had a kid with his buddy’s wife, killed said buddy, pissed off God, God took David’s son.

Now here’s why I like the story: David’s a wreck while the kid is sick; David won’t eat, won’t sleep, etc. But when the kid finally dies, he picks himself up and begins to live his life again.

When asked why he was such a wreck when the kid was alive but much better when the kid dies, David goes, “When the kid was alive, there was hope that he would live – that God would be gracious to me. But He was not and I can’t change what’s passed. My son can’t come back to me but I can go to him.”

At times, Life brings you to your knees.

Those phone calls you never want to get:

  • “It’s about your younger brother…”
  • “I’m sorry to have to tell you…”
  • “I thought it best that I be the one to tell you…”

Been brought to my knees twice in my life. I’m lucky because it was only twice.

Dreading the next time.

Thought about this because I went to a wake yesterday. It was my second third funeral experience; sadly, I’m sure they’ll be more.

Today is also the 65th and last official anniversary gathering of the Pearl Harbor veterans. And I’ve also been keeping up with the story of CNET editor James Kim; he wasn’t there when I was there but still…

Despite all the ugliness, we move through life with a balance of hope and acceptance. At least we try to.

Location: @2AM, missing someone I barely know
Mood: Contemplative
Music: you run and you run to catch up with the sun, but it’s sinking

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Not Me

Yes, but it is not I

St. Augustine was a guy who lived a pretty sordid life until he found God. He was walking down the street one day and he ran into a prostitute he used to frequent and she called out to him, “Augustine, it is I.” To which, he replied without stopping, “Yes, but it is not I.”

So I have now been single for 31 days. I woke up yesterday after seven hours of sleep and went into the bathroom and looked at myself and I saw a face I hadn’t seen in years look back me. Last night, I slept for another seven hours.

Today I went to see my doc and I took something called the PHQ-9 test, which is basically a test of depression. 30 days ago, my score was 24 out of a possible 27 meaning I was pretty baked. 15 days ago, I scored 19.

Today I scored 6.

I once wrote that I had been here before and I had. Back then, took about a month to get past the worst of it and another four months to get back the remaining bits and pieces. In between that time, I knitted myself back together again (literally and figuratively). I know from past experience that I’m most likely going to fluctuate between a 3 and a 9 over the next several months, because that’s what happened last time. But that overall feeling of sadness is gone. That’s the good news.

The bad news is that I’m not sure who I am any more. I’m not really sure I ever knew. The last time around, after I picked myself up, I was just a patchwork of pieces. Even No. 6 said I wasn’t ready for a relationship yet and maybe if I listened to her, we’d be happy right now. She once wrote that “It’s like dating two people and I never know which one will come home.” One of these two, she called a “monster” because he was always irritable, tired and moody.

It’s not so much like a split personality where you don’t know what the other you is doing, rather, it’s like when you’re intoxicated: You know what you’re doing but sometimes you don’t know why you’re doing it.

It’s easier for me to know who I am when I’m with someone because I can always blend into the other person – like Samanderic from Lord of the Flies. My college friends always joked that I have a million jobs and a million interests. But it’s not so much that – rather it’s my need to be able slip in and out of work and lives. And when I can’t slip in and out easily, like this past month, I stutter and stall.

I waited a day to write this just in case it was just gas, but no, I’m good again. I’m not great, I’m not whole, I’m still a bit busted up and dented in places, but I’m back.

I just don’t know who’s back.

I guess I’ll figure that out as I adjust to single life. I’m going to work on clarifying what I do and who I am in the next several (weeks? months? years?)

I started some projects, one of which will be a proper blog that will replace this one (yes, Nadya, you have to come with me) but I’ll continue to update here until that new blog is in place.

I’m back, but it is not me.
Location: @12:34 – Scoring a 6 on 71st Street
Mood: relieved
Music: I’m free
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