Jeffrey Ricker's Blog, page 63

Day Twenty-Three

Something that makes you feel better

If I ever wrote one of those feel-good self-help books–well, in that case I would say, "Shoot me." However, it would probably be titled "Coffee and Schadenfreude for the Soul."

Day Twenty-Two

Something that upsets you

There are so many things I could write for this one, but really, it all comes down to one thing: people. Sartre famously said, "Hell is other people." There's one word too many in that sentence.

I get so angry so easily, these days. (Actually, that's a lie; I remember writing almost the exact same sentence a few years ago.) I'm sure it's not good for me, the stress it engenders. I entertain fantasies (or, as my friend Pamela calls them, dream-based Corrections) of punching stupid people in the throat, kicking them in the nether regions, and stealing their lunch money. It's why I don't read comments on news websites. My dad says I take things too seriously. He's probably right, but seriously, people are fucking idiots sometimes.

Day Twenty-One

Another moment

I close the front door behind me and walk down the steps to the sidewalk. We live at one end of the block, and I walk to the other end. Once I turn the corner, it's time to start running.

Day Twenty

This month (nota bene: I wrote this entry in September)

I've never been a big fan of September. I am even less fond of August, but September is one of those months that's neither one thing nor the other. It's still too warm on the heels of August, but it lacks the snap of October weather. Part of my bias against September may lie in the garden variety back-to-school traumas of childhood. Even if you did well in school, was anyone ever really thrilled to go back? (If you were, keep it to yourself.)

Ever since college, the one nice thing about September has been my friend Mary's birthday on the 19th. She's a force of nature, Mary is. While she may have been a category 5 hurricane in college and she's settled down into a tropical storm, set her off and she'll still rip you off your foundation.

October? Well, that's a whole different story….

Day Nineteen

Something you regret

I don't believe when people say they have no regrets. It's like saying they never hate or they haven't had a prejudiced thought in their lives. Right. And I never lie about my weight.

But.

Early in my career (if my haphazard work trajectory can be called a career), I had a chance to work as a copy editor at an English language newspaper in Prague. A friend from college had taken this job, she was leaving, and I think she put in a good word for me. The pay, by U.S. standards, would have been dirt, but it would have been more than sufficient to pay rent and keep me in beer and food, with enough leftover to do some traveling.

So why didn't I do it?

Debt was one reason. I still had college loan payoff, as well as residual debt from poor purchasing decisions just out of the gate (a car I bought that I should never have owned). I also had a cat, and as ridiculous as it may sound to some, I wasn't about to foist responsibility for her onto someone else just so I could go abroad.

In the end, I don't think I have lacked for any opportunities because of that choice. And so many things in my life would likely have turned out differently—I wouldn't have met Mike, I might not have met so many of the people who have played key roles in helping me get my book published.

It's that whole "two roads diverged" thing. Did it make all the difference? Certainly, but life is abundant with turning points. Maybe things really do turn out the way they're supposed to.

Day Eighteen

Your favorite birthday

My second favorite was 30, sitting in my dining room with my friends gathered around from various different parts of my life as I was about to blow out the candles on a cake, I realized how lucky I was to have all of them under one roof, at last.

My favorite was last year, 40, with a group of friends even larger and just as dear to me. This time the gathering was organized by my other half and themed around two of my favorite things in life: chocolate and cheese. And the cake was shaped like the TARDIS.

Day Seventeen

Your favorite memory
The odd thing is, when you start to think about what your favorite memory is, you discover that your most, well, memorable memories are the truly awful ones. The time someone broke up with you. The day you found out your childhood dog died. The time any single one of your pets died. The day you sat behind the wheel of your car, terrified if you made one wrong move your back would betray you and you'd be paralyzed. (Thanks, alarmist doctor. Fucker.)

Seems unfair, doesn't it, that the good memories seem inconsequential by comparison? They just don't stand out as much. But, if you think about it, maybe that's because the good memories are more numerous than the bad ones. If that's the trade-off, I'll take it.

Given that, I'll tell you, if not my favorite memory, then at least one of my favorite memories is reading to an audience (that wasn't my writing group—not to diss them, of course) for the first time. It may have been a small group, but when they applauded for me, it was an awfully good feeling.

Day Sixteen

Your first kiss

I don't remember my first kiss. Isn't that sad? I do, however, remember the first boy I kissed. He was straight. Which is even sadder.

So instead, you tell me: what do you remember about your first kiss? How old were you then? How old are you now? Do you still know the person you kissed? Why did you kiss him/her? Even if you don't want to post an answer here, just think about it, and consider how much your life has changed since that first kiss, or even, perhaps, because of it.

(The first boy I kissed who was also gay? That was a world-shifting moment. My axis has been discombobulated ever since.)

Day Fifteen

Your dreams

If we're talking about my sleeping dreams, they tend to be odd. The latest one that I wrote down involved a police station, a retirement party, a stray bat, and a construction paper notebook constantly being filled with people's Twitter status updates in their own handwriting. Turning a page was like hitting refresh.

If we're talking about dreams as in "aspirations," I am lucky of course in that one of them will be happening next fall, when my first book gets published. I have...

Day Fourteen

What you wore today

Get out of bed wearing a gray t-shirt and blue check loungy pants. Change into black shorts and yellow St. Louis Blues/Komen race t-shirt to ride my bike to the gym. Get home, take a shower, and change into brown cargo pants, black t-shirt, and yellow button-down short-sleeve shirt. Also, black socks, black boxers, black shoes. All of my underwear and almost all my socks are black. I don't know why this would interest you, but if you feel compelled to buy me some, at least ...