Sunny Sunday?

Today is Sunday. And it was sunny today. It was very nice outside. I had to do some work on my car; the right front window has ceased to go up and down. That's the downside to power accessories on a car...they're great until they break, then it costs an arm and a leg (whether my time or by paying someone) to fix it. Nonetheless, the car is beautiful. It's a '94 Buick LeSabre and boy, does it sure look good with a washing/waxing. There's just a new coating of oak pollen on it every day lately. Oh well, that's the price of Spring. I'd rather have the promise of new trees than no pollen at all.

Tomorrow is my big day in court. Not for me, yet. This is a US District Court jury selection. I got out of the last one because my wife was sick in the hospital. This time, I suppose, I might get selected to do my civic duty. We'll see. I first have to make it past the preliminary questionnaire. Who knows, I'm fairly opinionated about some things, anyway. No, I'm still waiting for my divorce papers for my big day in court. Joy, joy.

Damn! So it looks like so far I'm using this blog like a journal. Ho-hum. Guess I might be losing a lot of readers. Maybe I don't have any. That would be a shame, but could I blame anyone? I mean, if one wants to experience other people's problems it's a whole lot easier to watch "Cops". Surprising enough to me, though, is that I've posted more than once. Trivial, to be sure, but for me that's good. My family has been telling me to get stuff out of my head anyway. I usually worry too much about what other people think of what I say or write, or how I act, or whatever, anyway. This is nice because once my blog is posted and published, it's out of my head and into the shameless, shapeless maw of cyberspace. Kind of like a garbage disposal or a hungry goat or something. Also, blogging is becoming my way of using my web connection as more than a convenient reference tool and email hub. Still, the connection is mostly just that, though, a convenience. Unless, of course, this MedHunters thing works; kind of like Monster.com for nurses and medical personnel.

Is it obvious that I can't think of a darn thing to write today? It's a shame, really. I can dribble on with drivel for a long time, though, maybe forever. I do have a few writing skills; now I just need a reason to write and something to write about. It happens for other people, so chances are it could happen for me, too. One day soon, hopefully, I will begin to see a purpose coalesce behind the simple motivation of trying to blog more than once per week. In the meantime, I'll try to stick to my loose schedule of blogging every other day.

A friend of mine has been germinating a great idea for a story that could be written into an animated movie. I would almost write about that in more detail, except the idea's not mine and I would be disappointed with myself if someone came behind me and took his idea. It makes me wonder what happened to my ideas. I know I've had some. Actually, now that I say that, I realize that the ideas are probably still there. There's just been a lot of other stuff on my mind lately. Excuse? Maybe. It's hard to tell. I've been double-talking and out-thinking myself now since mid-December. It's beyond time for motivation - way beyond time. I wonder, does everybody have similar difficulty with motivation? If so, then some people definitely deal with it better. I definitely do not. Sometimes I feel like I need a DI all up in my face telling me what to do. I guess some people are just born with that self-DI and others aren't. I am an "aren't", which is absolutely no solace for my parents. Hell, I'm not even going to have my act together enough to give either of them a grandchild in time, either. Some kid I've grown up to be.

Hell, if they had had a class for motivation in high school, would I have even taken it if it wasn't mandatory? Knowing me...no. But they did have a class where you could watch your friends drill holes in their fingers. The alternative was a class where you learned how to make food. Funny. They called that class "Home Economics" but, from what I heard, budgeting money or the appropriate use of financial credit was never a topic. It was all about baking a cake, or whatever, and blowing the opportunity to learn something more useful. Same with shop class. Have I even touched a belt sander since high school? In the 16+ years that have passed I have looked at one (my Dad had a decent wood-working shop going for a while), but I don't recall ever using it. I missed my chance there, too. I should have spent more time with Dad.

That brings up a sore spot. It's been that many years and I haven't heard a peep about a class reunion. I don't think of myself as hard to find. Heck, I registered with classmates.com and so did most of the rest of my graduating class. Maybe people don't take that kind of thing seriously like they used to. I guess I could call the school, but...anyway. I remember one year my Mom was on a reunion committee for her graduating class. Man, she was excited! I remember helping her stuff envelopes. Gawd, I hated the nasty taste of the glue on the envelope flaps! Now, I can understand how George's fiancee died from licking the wedding invitation envelopes in that episode of "Seinfeld".

Come to think of it, this blog is a lot like "Seinfeld" in that it is pretty much about nothing. The difference is that "Seinfeld" was funny. I think that what is funny is that people used to call me funny because they didn't want to call me weird. But then they treated me like I was weird anyway. What was the point? I sure didn't feel funny. I felt weird. I feel envy for the weirdos that made it, though. All of we weirdos stood out because we see things differently than other people. Some of the weirdos have truly blossomed in their own way, once they found their niche. Maybe I am trying to be too Argus-eyed, trying to find this promised land called "My Niche". I can tell you this much, though, when I find it I'm damn sure not going to let go. Not for anybody. I have long thought that opportunity does not, in fact, knock at all; he just kind of sits out in the hall, politely clearing his throat ("Ahem"). If you've got your stereo on too loud, or if you're in the bathroom, he might have been and gone a hundred times. Think of all the people who wear their Walkman while they vacuum. Boy, are they ever SOL!

Not to be too self-deprecating but I hope that I find something more interesting to blog next time - and for your sake as well, reader. Until then, thanks for reading. Namaste.

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To live is to wonder.
To wonder is to live.
sds