Neighbors down the street have a tree that just explodes with yellow and orange come Autumn. It is my favorite tree in the neighborhood. Soon it will be bare, the colorful leaves having all fallen to the ground.
It's my favorite tree, but I'm damn glad I don't have to rake up all those leaves.
It ended with a question - "What do you think are the most common last words ever said?" I answered, "Hell, anybody can do that."
At one time he thought she had nearly perfect skin
Soft, yet taut, with a caramel color that, in the right light
Glowed like backlit amber
She reflected upon that time in her life
As she looked into the mirror
Her eyes only able to see the scars
She suddenly remembered how it ended
His persistent habit
Coming home drunk, untolerable
The nearly perfect skin he adored
Bruised, battered
Until it was beyond repair
Are you going to sit there all day like a potted plant hoping a little sunshine hits your corner of the room, or are you going to go out and find a sunny spot to stand in?
Action. It's all about taking action, making things happen, doing something, anything, that gets you started on the path you wish to take, the path that will get you to your desired destination.
Having an idea is not enough, having all the sincere intention is not enough, having a goal is not enough...action must be taken.
Just sitting there hoping something, anything, will happen...will get you nowhere. Take a look around at the people who are where you want to be, who are successfully doing what it is you want to do.
While it is possible that some of them were born with advantages you may not have been, that is usually a small minority.
The vast majority of people that you see who are leaders in a chosen field of endeavor that they actually enjoy, or who are at least able to make a decent living in that chosen field of endeavor, have spent hundreds of hours learning their trade, perfecting their art, honing their craft.
Taking action...is the "trick" to it...not sitting around doing nothing.
As a heavy black velvet curtain of night fell over the city a strikingly cold wind howled like a pack of coyotes prowling the deserted streets. The pale yellow light from the streetlamps seemed to swirl over and around the homes and trees as the lightpoles swayed under the force of the aggressive chinook. Shadows danced on the sidewalks and streets like marionettes on strings being mishandled by half-drunk barflys.
Very few homes in the neighborhood directly east of the reservoir evidenced any sign of activity, as the hour was late and the majority of the small communities residents were soundly sleeping in their warm beds.
In one small home on an otherwise completely darkened street the light from an upstairs bedroom broke up the monotonous pitch of late evening. In that bedroom a small old man lay in a large bed, his body covered in heavy blankets up to his neck, his head resting lightly on a soft, down-filled pillow. In a chair in one corner of the room a nurse sat dozing, her exhaustion from the days activities keeping even the loud groans and creaks of the old house from disturbing her slumber.
Suddenly she sat bolt upright in the chair, her eyes wide and her ears alert. She had heard the old man speak, something that had not occurred in two full weeks. She stared in the direction of the bed, her eyes straining to make out the frail figure laying underneath the blankets.
The weak voice of the nearly one hundred year-old man broke the eerie silence again. "He is coming for me, I can can feel him approaching. He is coming for me tonight." The words came out in strained gasps, and after each word the old man paused as if reading from poorly written note cards.
The hair on the arms of the nurse stood on end and a chill shook her entire body. She stood up from the chair and looked into the darkness and asked, "What was that Mr. Hartson? Is there something you need?"
"No," came the quick reply from the direction of the large bed. "I have no use for anything, anymore. He is coming for me tonight."
Before she could ask her charge just who he was referring to, a loud knocking came from the front door downstairs. The nurse turned in the direction of the bedroom door and stood quietly, wondering if her mind was playing tricks on her. The faint light of a small lamp in the hall was visible from under the door, and she forced herself to move toward it.
Suddenly it occurred to Eldon that it would have been prudent to check the potency of the medication before he had injected it into his veins.
Fall is creeping in...
Ah yes, the best advice I ever ignored. Not intentionally mind you, just wasn't able to grasp the significance of it when I was a kid, and there was no one around to hammer it into me until I got it.
Bees fascinate me. They are chubby little flying bugs that do not look at all like they should be able to fly, but fly they do, all day.
What a great existence, flitting from one flower to the next feeding on and gathering pollen and nectar and inadvertently engaging in pollination along the way.
And making honey. That's pretty sweet.
Twister Charlie and Skydiver Mike
Were the best of friends, called each other brother
They drank and smoked and drugged together
And together they never backed down from a fight
Charlie was short & stout
A fire hydrant of a man
His forearms looked like they were wrapped in anchor rope
And his fists looked like Easter hams
Mike was a full foot taller and had a belly as a big as a keg
His weight hid surprising speed though
As many a man learned to dread
She asked me just how sure I was
I replied that I was fairly sure
Which was, I'm pretty certain
Not the reply she wanted to hear
It does not matter that when you first start going to a gym (or even if you have been going to a gym for awhile) that you are only able to lift the lightest weights or use the aerobics machines on their lowest settings.
What matters is that you are making an effort. The lightest weights lifted are still heavier than a bag of chips and a cola. The lowest setting on any of the aerobics machines will still lap anyone slouching out on a couch.
Yoda was wrong, there is value in "try". Try until you achieve "do". That's how it's done.
That is how you work your way to improvement. Making an effort requires trying. You may only be able to slightly budge the weight today, but after a little consistent effort, after a few weeks or months of persistently trying, you will be lifting that weight as if it were a feather. You will have reached the "do".
I once dated a woman who told me she liked to watch the television show "Cops" because she was enamored by police officers. Actually, what she said was that police officers turn her on, and she watched the show "Cops" because it was like porn to her.
Eventually, she left me for a police officer. Man, was I ever not surprised.
Once again I found myself sitting on a flotation device 30,000 feet over the mid-western United States, this time bound for one of the world's great cities, NY, NY.
The flight was much more sedate than most however, no doubt due to the early start every passenger including myself had to make in order to get to DIA in time to make the gate.
DIA is about an hour from my house, and that means getting up well before the crack of dawn in order to get there without having to break numerous laws regulating the speed of vehicular travel.
Which is not that bad, but then again, it is. Oh well, at least it makes it easy to sleep through the flight.
It's election season once again, at least here in Colorado. Someone new will be holding the office of Mayor for Lakewood in another month, and we'll have new representatives from all five wards (or maybe not - most of the current reps are running for reelection, so it might be more of the same ol' same ol').
There is also an effort to increase taxes in Jefferson County to add to Library funding.
Parasites Politicians of every stripe have been shouting their gobbledygook and lies (usually one and the same) for a little over a month now. Nearly everyday an over-sized postcard or two shows up in the mailbox either extolling the virtues of a particular criminal candidate or doing it's damnedest to smear an opponent.
It's all quite annoying. The pandering, the aggrandizement, the complete disregard for facts.
One more month of it to endure. Might be a good month to go TV free.
Her eyes lingered on the couple in the photographs
Two people holding each other tight
In front of the train station at Disneyland
On the observation deck of the Empire State Building
In booths at restaurants or dressed to the nines for a party
A good-looking couple people had said
That looked good together
There was a few of them on the beach in Hawaii
On their honeymoon
Then a few of the wedding, her dress of white satin
With the layers of scalloped lace and the daring, plunging Neckline
He for all the world looking like an esteemed diplomat in his Tuxedo
A shoebox full of 4 X 6 captured moments in time
All the memories she had thought she would treasure forever
All the birthday parties and anniversary celebrations
Thanksgiving, Christmas and European vacations
Each and everyone of them
Evidence of what she thought should have been
A full, rich, and rewarding life
Each and everyone of them
Evidence of what she thought should have been
Enough
Why, she asked herself again and again
Why was she not enough? Why was this life not enough?
Why did he feel the need for more?
Her eyes lingered on the couple in the photographs
The warm glow of the light from the fire
Reflecting off the glossy finish of the curling rectangles
She watched as the bright, happy smiles
Turned to ashes
This afternoon at lunch I was engaged in a conversation with a woman about diets. This woman has probably been on every popular fad diet to make the news since I've known her these past eight plus years.
She made the comment that she feels the most in control of her life when she can stick to a diet, even if for only a few days.
That struck me as odd.
He wasn't a rebel
But he liked to live his life his own way
He wasn't an iconoclast
But he didn't care what the old gods had to say
He wasn't the type who liked to turn in early
But he greeted the sunrise everyday
He was young
But he was a man
He liked to live in the moment
But he always had a plan
He drank a bit, he smoked a bit
He could throw a mean punch
He could take a wicked hit
Time was when we were thick as thieves
Time was when we only had ourselves to please
Time has come and gone
And still on this day
I grieve
