I am very sad about the death of Philip Seymour Hoffman. Generally, I don't much care for or about the lives of celebrities, but this was a man with a monumental talent. And, apparently, a hole in his heart that he tried to fill with heroin. How does it happen, that a person with so many gifts feels so empty inside? This, by the way, will not be a rant against the evils of drug use. I know people who died of drug overdoses and, frankly, if it hadn't been drugs, it would have been something else. Sad as it is to face, the truth is that they were not going to live very long.
Personally, I'm not much for New Year's Resolutions. It's certainly a tempting idea to start anew and make changes at the dawn of a year. The problem is it's too easy to get off track and then it becomes a promise to start again tomorrow, no Monday, that's the start of the new week and if I can't start from day 1 of the year, at least I can begin the week on the right foot. Wait, does the week start on Sunday or Monday? Calendar week or work week? What if I just start on Sunday? No, that won't work because we have dinner with friends on Sunday evening and I won't have time to workout/don't want to be weird and high maintenance at the restaurant ordering everything plain with lemon on the side/will want to have a cocktail or a smoke or desert...heroin...what-have-you...insert vice of choice here. And the next thing you know it's May and you've gotten nowhere with whatever it was you resolved to do or not do starting January 1st.
I know, right? It's been forever and what have I been up to in all this time? Not much of anything really.
That should be the official motto of Las Vegas. Sure, it's a neon-lit, 24-7, anything goes free-for-all but all that really means is that there's no lifeguard on duty or any adult supervision and you are on your own to regulate your own behavior. Inner children running amok. And every second of it is on security camera. Big Brother is watching and he agrees that you should not be wearing that.
In the same way that I believe
the universe takes us to the places we need to go, I also believe that
people in our lives, the really important ones, the game-changers, they
do not come to us by accident. Sometimes the place a person holds in
your life is easy to understand - parent, child, spouse, love of one's
life. Others may be more difficult to define, but no less significant. I
have a dear, dear friend (DDF) whose role in my life seems to be
something along the lines of oracle. He is, among other things, adept at
helping me face things I might otherwise be inclined to leave
unexamined. This should annoy me, but it doesn't.
Recently, DDF and I had a conversation that took me to a place I really didn't want to go. It started out normally enough - we're working on a project together, I had a pretty good idea what needed to be accomplished on this particular afternoon and it took DDF all of about three and a half minutes to steer the conversation down a completely different path. A path I was fine with conceptually, but actually made me squirm.
Our recent move has, as moving often does, made me re-evaluate my relation ship to my things. Specifically, it has made me want to break up with it. All of it. I want to become more of a Buddhist and have fewer attachments to material things. Except for my shoes. I don't want to give them up at all. Can one be a Buddhist with good shoes? Is there such a thing? Will need to do more research on this. That means the computer stays too. It appears that my path to enlightenment will be cluttered.
Number of months since my hair fell out: 17.5
Number of products (prescription, over-the-counter, supplements) I am currently using to boost hair growth: 9
Number of times I've been called "sir" this week: 3
Number of people I've caught staring at my mostly bald head in public this week: 7 (granted, 4 of them were relatively small children, but still)
Number of times I have been aware of or embarrassed by my lack of hair & eyebrows this week: too many to count
Ever since I first got sick, people have been talking to me about how my world was changing forever and how I would need to adapt to my "new normal". From the very first time I heard that phrase, I hated it. My immediate reaction to the suggestion that I get on the new normal bus was, fuck that. Seriously. My old normal was just fine, I dug it. No need or desire for some new Coke version of my life, especially not one that included the unpleasant realities of being a cancer patient. I liked my normal, I was happy. Well, mostly, kind of. Okay, all it was really, was mine. I wasn't in the market for a paradigm shift, but lucky me, I got one.