Typical Buyer's Remorse

I'm not a good-enough writer to convey the anxiety that has washed over me so many times in the last couple of weeks.

When you put your mind in gear and start saving money it's a discipline. It's something you have to start paying attention to. You have to constantly be aware of it. It becomes a decision-making tool, challenging you to examine your financial priorities during your daily activities. "Do I really need that, or do I just want it?" You have to ask yourself those sorts of questions all the time. Every time you have a success talking yourself out of a purchase it's a small victory.

After a while it becomes almost like a collection. You start to treasure it and monitor it, and you do a little mental happy dance every time the 4th digit from the right clicks over a new number, knowing that your collection is getting bigger and more impressive. You might even become proud of your collection.

Then it backs off a notch, becoming more of a background thing--a kind of comfort zone or mental safety net. It adds a level of self-assurance to your life, knowing that anything short term can happen to you and you've got it covered.

Now it's all going away at once in the name of the home-buying process. While I'm beginning to get over it, I was a nervous wreck at first. What 60 year-old buys his first (well, it's my first solo...) home? Is that even smart? Given the interest rates these days, I'm going for it.

Force of Attraction

Have you ever seen someone that instantly commands your attention for some unexplained reason? Someone that makes you lock onto them, demanding all your willpower just to keep from staring?

It's a powerful thing, and it has happened to me several times over the years. What's odd is that every time it has happened I have failed to understand exactly what it was that caused my thoughts to come to a standstill. It was never some inordinately beautiful model that you only see in a magazine or anything like that. Every time it was a woman that you might see anywhere on any street or sidewalk, or in any store or office. Yet, each time there is something about them--something that held me. Who knows--maybe every time I've had that experience it was my soulmate!

For example, recently I was walking through the produce department at a local grocery store. It was a typical weekday late afternoon when people stop on the way home from work, so it was filled with shoppers. I wasn't there to "people-watch" though, I was there to buy things. Then a young lady walking into the area caught my eye. She commanded my attention for some reason unexplained. She was just your usual mixture of average-looking and nicely dressed, and she seemed indifferent to her surroundings. I couldn't help but look. There was something--some sort of force--that held me. What was it? Her glasses? Her hair? I watched her as she continued on, and when she rounded a corner and dropped out of sight I wondered to myself: what was that about? What just happened? I sighed and went about my business. I kept thinking about her though, as I wandered the store gathering the things I needed. Then, about 10 minutes later I saw her again in a different part of the store. It was the same thing as before, but the weird part was that I didn't see her directly--I saw her out of the corner of my eye. It was like her presence called to me and caused me to snap my head around. Again she had my undivided attention as I gazed on her. She didn't flaunt herself any any way, and I doubt anyone else gave her more than a passing glance as she went about her shopping. I ended up seeing her at least one more time before I left the store. As much as I would have liked to talk to her, she was probably half my age. Besides, what would I have told her--that she might be my soulmate? Haha, that would have gotten me blacklisted as a creepophile.

Still, there is that strange force of attraction that is hard to explain. When it happens to me I find myself drawn to her like there is a light shining on her and only I can see it.

Side note: This pondering reminded of an excellent article about soulmates here at BrainPickings.org. This is the kind of stuff that makes you think:

https://www.brainpickings.org/2014/09/02/the-science-of-soul-mates-xkcd/

~Blink~

I wish I could just ~blink~ myself like Jeannie (yes, that Jeannie). Where would I go?

I don't think it would be so much a matter of where I went, but when how often I ~blinked~!

I would blink myself into southern Utah and walk that long, straight road that goes south into Monument Valley while the sun is coming up. Then I would ~blink~ myself to Paris and sit in the morning sun at a sidewalk cafe and have coffee and breakfast. Then I might want to ~blink~ myself to the island of Socotra to wander among the Baobab and the Dragons Blood trees. Perhaps a ~blink~ to Moscow's Red Square before lunch. Did someone say lunch? I think I'll go to Sicily for pizza and beer! I might sit upon a rocky spire in the of Huangshan Mountains of China and take an afternoon nap...

Oh, the possibilities...

'Ello there!

In the spring of 2015 I joined a new web presence called Ello. I joined partly because it was new (and I love to try new things), and partly because none of my friends or family knew I was there. It was as if I was hiding in plain sight. I got to re-tell all my stale jokes if I chose to. I could stand and scream like a mime, attracting no attention. I went to Ello largely not knowing why I went, but had to anyway, probably much like a moth to a porch light. I didn't know anybody on Ello but I liked it because of that. I gave me a safety buffer of anonymity that was comforting. The funny thing was, it was mildly empty-feeling at the same time. I knew if made new friends I would likely never meet them.

I find myself wondering how often it happens that people find new friends on the Internet and something happens to either of them. The people they interact with never find out what happened to the missing--only that they went silent. They check back often and send them messages, but hear nothing. After a time, they stop checking and move on. That's the tragic side of Internet anonymity: if you don't make noise you don't exist. The same things about Ello's anonymity that I liked also tended to create a feeling of being disconnected. It was like I was a bug bouncing along the outside of a window--seeing what's inside but not able to enter. There's a strange feeling I get about it that I can't quite put my finger on. Like if I did find my way into the room I would find that I didn't belong anyway.

Ello didn't have a true direction when it started, but it essentially morphed into an artists' showcase. I'm not an artist and never will be, and though I do have talents, just posting things for no reason other than to play show and tell feels like I'm tooting my own horn and thumping my chest. That's not my style.

I did find Ello to be a whirlwind of sensory input and I loved that. Actually, I still pop in and look at things from time to time though I no longer am a member. It is full of things that spark my imagination and pull dusty memories to the surface of my mind. The array of daily Ello posts pleases me. They make me think, they make me wish, and they make me wonder. Ello shows me the world through others' eyes. And there are a lot of others' eyes!

Traits

People I admire are unafraid. They proudly wear unnaturally-colored hair, have tattoos, and let their imaginations run wild. They are positive, unpredictable, and they recycle because they want to. They are equally at home in the city or the country. They know what's going on behind my eyes, know what to say at the right time, and can make me laugh when I need it. They love music and might play a cello or an acoustic guitar. They appreciate simplicity and shun the "new and improved" hype. They may not have one of their own, but they love animals--all animals. They have many stories to tell, and know when to tell them and when not to. They are social, and yet they appreciate solitude. They are happy with themselves and will never ridicule someone else.

No, this is not a tall order for the perfect mate. This is just a list I started jotting down one time for fun. Some of these are traits I possess, and others I do not. These are just things I admire in people. I find myself sometimes jealous of other people, but then I tell myself I have things they do not have, know things they don't know, and have had a lifetime of different experiences than the ones they have had. It's all good.

Still... I do admire...

Camera and Toy Rolled Into One

One day I was sitting around doing nothing, and a couple beers later I drifted over to my camera cabinet. I had this fun idea that it might be kinda cool to shoot a month's worth of pictures using the cheesy little Vtech digital camera I had on display there. I couldn't remember much about it, but I knew it took really grainy pictures and I thought I might be able to use the grain in my favor.

I took it out and put some batteries in it. It was grainy all right. Holy crap! It was bordering on what it might look like for someone to make pictures using colored sand. But so far, so good. Like I said, I expected grain. But then I looked at a couple of them on the computer and realized the pictures were only a tiny 480x640 in resolution. That's small. Especially when you view it next to today's smartphones!

Needless to say, I opened the camera up, took the batteries out, and placed it back up in my display cabinet. I think it's put to better use just sitting there among my other bookmarks of photography history.

My Fantasy Aerie

I had a dream when I was young that still surfaces to this day--even after all these years.

Growing up in a fairly large family in a tiny house, I have always been in love with the warm feeling that comes from a little cubbyhole of comfort. To be in a little corner, isolated by couch cushions surrounding me, or enveloped in blankets or quilts on an overstuffed chair--it didn't matter.

I have fantasized about having a special place--a place where I could escape to a book, sit and doodle on a notepad, or just take a nap. It should have regular walls, but only up from the floor to about 2 or 3 feet. At that point they would be glass all the way to the ceiling. The glass would go all the way around, affording me a 360° view. I would have shaded places--maybe under towering plants--that would provide me with respite from the sun's glare during the middle of the day. It would be small and cozy, and would have a couple of chair choices--one for sitting, and one for reclining. It would be toasty warm, carpeted, and strewn with brightly-colored, over-sized pillows of interesting patterns.

It would be a place where I could gaze out at rain streaming down the outside of the glass. Where I could sit with coffee and watch the sun rise in all its glory. Where I could sit with a glass of wine and watch the sun as it faded into night with a last blaze of color.

And here's the kicker: It should be 50 feet in the air. It should be like a small tower or crows nest, with a spiral staircase leading to the top. No sound up there unless I created it. An escape. Sanctuary.

Even though I am 59 years old and can easily be with my thoughts any time I want to, the dream of that special place continues to make special appearances in my thoughts.

The Cigarette Cool Factor

I wish smoking cigarettes wasn't so fucking sexy.

I'm a product of the vintage hot rod/motorcycle world of yesteryear. My dad was a child of the rebellious 50's, and naturally it rubbed off on me. I'll be 60 next year, and I adore primer black, stripped down, thumb-your-nose-at-the-Status-Quo things. Vintage is cool. Old black and white is cool. The 50's were cool. Face it--the coolest, sexiest, I-don't-give-a-shit guys portrayed in any pictures related to 50's primer-black hot rods or Harleys are doing that smoking sneer. You know the sneer: one eye is almost closed and the other one is looking right into the camera--challenging you to be that cool. Never mind that one eye was probably closed because the smoke that was yet to be filtered by still-working lungs was burning the hell out of it. That didn't matter. What mattered was the eye looking at the camera. It was saying, "Come on pussy... see how cool it makes me look? What are you waiting for?"

When I'm browsing the internet for ideas about things I'm still swayed by pictures of guys with "the look." I'll be browsing for something to do with my Harley, some sort of apparel--hell, even when I was browsing possible hair styles they were there. The ads persist. No wait--they weren't ads, they were just pictures. They may as well be ads though--because they were selling the aura of cool.

I remember a comic in Playboy decades ago--a young boy standing on a chair in front of the bathroom mirror with a cigarette in his mouth. Reflected in the mirror was a cool, rugged, handsome man staring back at him. It was who he saw himself as with the cigarette hanging out of his mouth. I did the same thing. I fell victim to the "cool" factor. I started smoking because it was cool and rebellious. When I realized it didn't add a bit of cool, I saw the light and bowed out of smoking. That was decades ago, but still the mystique of "cool" is still out there. The allure, the draw, the power of suggestion.

It pisses me off because everybody wants to look cool. I'm no different. The difference is that I know it's only an illusion. But damn, it's a strong one.

Winding Down

[...I found this draft on my computer that never got posted from last June. Better late than never!]

As I neared home from my 2+ weeks of vacation road trip I had this idea to have a "vacation from my vacation" so to speak. My epic journey of driving was nearing an end, and I was in dire need of some true relaxation. The trip had not been as fun as I hoped it would be. I formulated the idea of taking this little camping trip as an afterthought... before I even got home. When I did get home I did what chores I needed to do, like laundry and lawn-mowing, and purposefully left half of my stuff in the car so I wouldn't have to repack it. This was not a well-planned camping trip. It was almost as if I were in a hurry. My food was poorly-planned, my beer ran out of ice, but you know what? I didn't care.

I love a good camping trip. It's fills me with solitude and the feeling of being completely off the grid. It's a time to reflect. It's a time to notice the little things around you--the smells, the sounds, the creatures. I'm not talking about camping in a campground with other campers (which is most people's definition of camping). You know the ones: each camper with the designated spot that they are renting for the night, and with kids and dogs running around everywhere and music blasting. That's not camping--that's just living like they normally do but with no walls. I'm talking about driving patiently and investigating each road in hopes that it leads to something promising until I finally find that spot--that special spot--that makes it all worthwhile. It's about being in a remote place in perfect weather with no clothes, no cares, and no rules. The only sounds are the wind, the occasional bird, and maybe the sound of an airplane in the distance every now and then. Taking walks wearing nothing but sandals and a smile--a smile that will not go away.

I took out my iPad at one point to do a little reading and found it to be so low on battery it was near death. Did I let that bother me? Nope, I'm camping, remember? That was just another way of driving the point home.

Last night one vehicle drove by. Today, one vehicle drove by. Somehow I ended up spraining my left thumb at one point. I think it was during a session of firewood gathering. I have numerous scrapes and scratches--again from firewood gathering. Do I care? No. I'm naked in the great outdoors. I'm camping. It's worth it.

The various bugs didn't really bother me either. Whether it was the miniature ants that were constantly exploring, the occasional biting insect that wanted to feed, or the just plain stupid winged ones that crash into me because I'm in their flight path. I don't care though.  I'm naked in the great outdoors and I'm off the grid.

Here it is--7:00--and I continue to sit without regard to putting my clothes back on. I think it is a little warmer than yesterday, plus I have a much better fire than yesterday. The wind in the trees now has the relaxing pop & snap of the fire going well competing with it.

It doesn't get much better than this.