Mister A's domain

The latest and (not so) greatest

It’s been awhile since I’ve written, so this entry is more of a life update (rather than having more of a theme to it).

This first holiday season without my father, combined with having major life changes on my plate soon after the new year, has made this a difficult time to confront for anyone (much less someone with my inner demons). Lately I’ve gotten back into sports cards; this time just as a collector rather than a dealer. It gives me something to smile about and I’ve been getting a lot of quality stuff that I’ve both always wanted and that should hold its value (or hopefully even appreciate some).

The thing is though, I’ve been buying more than I expected to. And I can’t deny that there’s another reason why: it provides some stability for my finances. Every dollar I spend on worthwhile cards is another dollar that I can’t piss away because of my still-lingering life discipline issues. And it’s not a comfortable feeling to know that you’ve acquired a safety net to help cushion you from your flaws.

As we get into the new year, I’m still hoping to somehow find the strength, focus, and willpower to improve life. Some of the issues are mid-life crisis related, and some have lingered throughout my adulthood. But all of them need addressed as soon as possible.

Anyway…..I hope everyone has a great holiday season. And to those going through one that will combine sadness, memories, and a new era (like mine), I can relate. And I wish you the best

45

No, not “that” number 45 (doubt I will ever get into politics on here). Earlier this week, that became my new age.

Only my two remaining closest immediate family members (mother and grandmother) remembered, though I expected that since I haven’t kept anyone else close enough in my life to.

With as pronounced as this midlife crisis is becoming, I was glad to get this birthday behind me. But it was still another reminder of everything in front of me. Having to find a new job, new city, (hopefully) new and improved habits. At a stage in life when many people have found stability, I have nothing but a huge self-rebuilding project and plenty of necessary change to deal with.

And the problem is…..I barely even care enough to try and get all that off the ground. When I’ve failed badly before, there was much solace in knowing that I still had most of my adult years left to rebound (and you could try and chalk away some of it to youthful mistakes). But this time, there are no excuses. There is no remaining youth to enjoy any goals that might be reached. And there isn’t nearly as much that I can do with my future (career and otherwise) than there used to be.

It’s very humbling, troubling, and uncomfortable. And a little scary. To know that you can’t continue to survive living this way, but for the first time in your life, you don’t see a light at the end of the tunnel (that may finally motivate some change).

So I’m really not sure if I’ll find a way to hang on (or even improve), or just continue to fall apart even further and the let the “midlife” part the crisis become permanent.

I’d like to be optimistic about it, but I’ve never really had the strength to consistently battle my demons before. So I don’t know.

I really don’t know.

The soundtrack to your life

A lot of us undoubtedly have a song that defines us. Mine is “You Belong to the City” by Glenn Frey. Not just because it’s an 80s song or because I’ve lived in cities my entire adult life; there’s a lot more to it than that.

“The moon comes up and the music calls. You’re getting tired of staring at the same four walls”.

I’ve talked about this in recent blogs. Being such a night person who sits around feeling entrapped in the same place, whether it be inside my mind or the actual walls of whatever apartment I was living in at the time. Often with nothing but the music playing in the background.

“Moving through the crowd in the midnight heat. The traffic roars. The sirens scream. You look at the faces. It’s just like a dream.”

I’ve done this so many times. Out in the city alone at night. The sounds around you. It does feel just like an escapist dream.

“Nobody knows where you’re going. Nobody cares where you’ve been.”

This doesn’t quite describe me now (although sometimes it already feels like it), because my mother and a very small handful of other people would check up on me. But as I get older, that group gets smaller and smaller. And I’m certainly not living (or expect to live) the kind of lifestyle that will expand a family/close friends circle during the second half of my life. As the years go on, that verse will ring more and more true, and it could easily encapsulate my situation literally at some point.

“When you said goodbye you were on the run. Trying to get away from the things you’ve done. Now you’re back again and you’re feeling strange. So much has happened, but nothing has changed. You still don’t know where you’re going. You’re still just a face in the crowd.”

Quite eery how this is now my present. As we speak, I’m on my way back from the city that I left many years ago. The place that I’ve realized should be home for the rest of my life. I expect to move back there early next year. And that line couldn’t express it any better…..much has happened since, but so little has changed.

“Cause you belong to the city. You belong to the night. Living in a river of darkness, beneath the neon light”.

Simply says it all. Past, present, and future.

Being frozen

Many of you who’ve read my blog can probably relate:

You lay around late at night.

Plenty of depression napping earlier, so you’re not tired. But you also don’t have the energy or desire to accomplish anything.

Don’t really feel like listening to music you like. Or trying to talk to anyone (though even if you did, most are asleep or wouldn’t respond anyway).

No new book nearby. Not really feeling like looking at what’s on TV.

Already passed a little time by rolling your eyes at the usual FB pages or sites you sometime frequent. Nothing too interesting at the moment.

So you just stare at the screen. Antsy, restless, virtually motionless. With nothing to do but think of how each moment passing by is becoming more meaningless than the last.

Envious of those who are out enjoying themselves and possibly creating new life memories.

Trapped in time. Feeling frozen.

The magic of sports

Most of my posts have been about my many struggles (which, unfortunately, still continue, which is a reason why I haven’t written much lately). But after watching the last game of the Little League World Series US bracket this afternoon, I was reminded of how different things used to be, and the baseball season that helped set the foundation for some of my past successes.

This is the short story about the best youth baseball season (well, sports season period) in the history of the universe.

When I was 9 years old, my dad coached my minor league team. You didn’t pick players for the league at that age; they were just randomly assigned. When he brought home our roster, it looked like there were more future doctors on there than ball players. And what was this….not one, but TWO girls? And Billy Hood…..who is that? (sounded like what they’d name the goofy kid from the Sandlot). So, needless to say, there were no initial signs of what was to come.

We won our first game. In the second game, we were down by four runs heading to the bottom of the 6th (the final inning in minor league and little league games) and our worst hitters due up. This was no shock, of course, as we assumed there would be plenty of ups and downs for the year. As luck would have it……the opposing pitcher could not throw a strike. Walk after walk after walk; I can still see the anguish on that poor kid’s face, especially since his coach just left him out there to burn. Before you knew it, our dugout was pounding its feet with the winning runs on base and still no one out. By then the heart of our order was up, and when someone hit a gapper to finish off the comeback, the celebration was on.

Little did we know (at the time) that the tone that had been set for the year.

As it turns out, Billy Hood was like this 6′ tall 200 pound nine-year old new kid in town (with the power to match). One of those icky girls ended up being one of the best hitters on our team. And my dad found ways to disguise our main weakness (i.e. those future doctors who couldn’t hit much). A kid named Matt and I anchored the middle of the lineup, the pitching, and the defense up the middle. And it all clicked; we probably weren’t the most talented team in the league, but we did everything well enough and played at a consistently high level.

So as it got late in the season, we still hadn’t lost a game. At that point we weren’t sure if we would, and had our eyes set on something very tough to do: an undefeated baseball season. Naturally, that was the time when it almost ended.

As any former baseball player knows, you will always have that game where nothing goes your way. And for 5 1/2 innings of our next outing, that finally happened. We were playing one of the worst teams in the league, and we never got anything going. I left a truckload of runners on base myself, and when I stranded the bases loaded in the top of the 5th or 6th with two out and just a one run lead, I was so frustrated that I could’ve cracked the aluminum bat. Because I knew we needed those extra runs (minor league games are very high scoring, so a small lead means virtually nothing).

We went to the bottom of the 6th with just a one-run lead. And even better, Matt and I couldn’t pitch anymore that day (we’d both used up our allowed innings). This left our fate in the hands of an 8 year old who’d barely pitched in his life. Needless to say, we were in trouble. Asking him to save that game for us (in this spot) was way too much….wasn’t it?

Turns out that this chubby next door neighbor had some ice water in his veins. The first hitter popped out. The next one hit a ground ball to me, and as I was throwing him out, I remember thinking “ok now it’s looking like we’ll actually escape”. Next guy: strike one, two, and three, and our newly found Mariano Rivera had just retired the side in order and bailed us out.

That was the point when you knew that it could be a special season.

The year finished up with just a single title game to decide the champion (between the teams with the two best records). So even though we’d gone undefeated, we still had to win that extra game to win the title and finish off the perfect season. Before that final game, I wrote in something like “14-0 champs” (predicting a win ahead of time) in my dad’s scorebook. And, of course, was promptly reminded not to count my chickens before they hatched and all those good cliches, blah blah blah.

He probably felt I was too overconfident. But the thing is, that wasn’t true. I knew we were beatable, especially when it came to these two other teams in the league that I considered dangerous. And had we been playing against one of those, I would’ve never assumed victory ahead of time. However…..we were up against someone else. Somehow this other team snuck into the title game against us, and it was one I didn’t have much respect for. THAT was why I fully expected us to get that one last win that we needed.

You might be assuming…..hmm ok, I wonder if this is when our fair writer learned a harsh lesson about humility at such a young age (and watched this other team celebrate what should’ve been their title). Well, that didn’t happen. We grinded out the same type of wire-to-wire fairly easy win that we had for most of the year, and the perfect season was complete.

This, everyone, is an example of why sports can do so much for a young kid. That season may not have been anything much outside of my small hometown that year, but to those of us who experienced, it was much more than that. It taught us how to work together and how to overcome adversity, and, more importantly, how doing so can lead to accomplishments that you never thought possible. Lessons that are vital for young kids to experience.

And just as important….the memory of it all. Experiencing that one magic season where you somehow persevered in every single game, and ended the unbeaten journey with gloves thrown in the air and lifting the trophy.

It still makes me smile to this day.

Escape

Escape. The tool often unhealthily used as a comfort zone for those of us who find little joy from living.

It comes in many forms. Maybe a book from one of your trusted authors. Or turning off the lights at night while listening to ambient music.

Possibly a hotel room alone. That’s one of my favorites. When you’re away from home, you seem more figuratively distanced from your troubles too (and feel less obliged to do anything about them.)

Or, of course, finding a chemical high of some sort. That’s never been my style, but only because my mind and body just don’t respond much to drugs. Which is a saving grace, given how addictive my personality can be.

Even staying up really late into the night (when there isn’t much reason to). Because when most everyone else is asleep, you feel an escape from dealing with others.

But regardless of which method of escape you choose, the underlying reason is usually the same: slowing down time. Because if you can stop time, you don’t have to deal with another energy-sapping day of endless disappointment and frustration with how you’re handling life.

Work, sabotage, and life. Not a good mix

Given my non-traditional career path, some might wonder what I meant when I referred to my discipline issues in my fields. Here are a few examples (and the destructive common theme):

Super Bowl XVI. I was seven years old. This was the first sports bet I ever made (and isn’t it funny how far back we can trace things sometimes.) The 49ers were playing the Bengals, and I bet my grandfather a dime that Cincinnati would win (nope, I didn’t quite have $1000 yet at that point eh. Literally 10 cents). You’re probably assuming that I’m referring to ANY bet being made, especially at that age, as a trend-setting problem. Not at all:

In the back of my mind, I didn’t even think I was going to win. My instincts, even at that age, were telling my that San Francisco would win that title. But I wanted the Bengals to win. I took something that I knew felt like a bad idea, and it was. SF 26, Cincin 21.

Fast forward to around age 16. I had a baseball card business throughout high school (while most teens were working at a fast food joint on weekends, I was setting up shop at sports card shows, buying and selling.) And I loved it. One day on vacation, dad and I were killing time at the local mall while my mother and grandmother shopped. There was a card shop there, so naturally I had a look. Not much going on, so I decided to spend $4 on a pack of ’82 Donruss baseball cards. The prize for that set was a Cal Ripken Jr. rookie card worth $35, and wouldn’t you know, I pulled one from that single pack. Great, right? Happiness, naturally? Nope…..

You see, the $4 investment was a bad idea, because there was virtually nothing of value out there in ’82 baseball sets except for the Ripken rookie. And your chances of getting one in a pack were about 1 in 45. Therefore, spending $4 for that shot at a $35 card was very poor value (in fact, just about the worst value for ANY old packs of any year). And I knew this full well. Even told that to Dad as we were leaving the store. So why on earth did I buy it? The fact that I got lucky doesn’t change how poor the choice was.

Then, about 8 years ago. I was starting to click some with my market trading again, and had just taken a large futures position on the S&P 500 to drop (the type of trade that I usually only held somewhere between a couple hours and a couple days). These futures trade throughout the night, and by around midnight, my position was off to a great start. I was smelling blood, and thinking how that trade might be a final big step in establishing continued success again.

But as the overnight hours leaked into sunrise, I could see that the market didn’t look like any further downside that I needed would happen then. So while my futures contracts hadn’t turned against me yet, it looked like the trade could turn at any time. Finally, around 7 AM, this started to happen. I still remember watching my screen and seeing the S&P spike up about four points at once, and thinking how that was likely the final nail for this trade’s potential. Time to get out of my contracts immediately, right? And based on what I was seeing, even switch to the other side and buy, of course?

You would think so. But that’s not what I did. I sat there and just watched it. Frozen by unfounded hope for the rest of the trade and by mild irritation, I let the market rebound all day against me. And did nothing. Had I exited my trade at around that 7 AM point, things would have still been in very good shape for me overall. And had I switched sides for the rest of the morning then too (as I knew I should), I would’ve really crushed things that day. Instead, I let a fantastic spot turn into a problem (as I’d done so many times before). And never really recovered afterward.

Why do we do this to ourselves sometimes? Why make these mistakes? In my case, a big part of the answer is that, as mentioned just above, I get frozen by hope sometimes. Or I get bored and seek out a high. But that doesn’t cover nearly all of it. What is the biggest part of my destructive habits? Self-sabotage. Read back up to the top again……hell, I was doing the same things occasionally when I was seven damn years old.

For all the time I’ve spent in learning about people (both myself and others), figuring out WHY we sabotage ourselves is still often a sticking point. I know a common argument is that it’s a lack of self-esteem and that, on some level, you don’t feel you deserve to win. But I can sure as hell say that wasn’t a problem for me at age 7. So I think there’s a lot more to it than that. Plus, it’s not like I’m always doing these things by any means. Just like I mentioned about my discipline issues before, you seem to cycle back and forth from the good choices to the bad ones. Though in my case, the deciding factor has been how (too often) I let the bad ones cause more damage than the good ones reward me.

All I know is I’d better get to the bottom of this soon, regardless of how difficult it is to. It’s at the top of my list of life stumbling blocks, so I’ll never turn things around permanently if I don’t.

False guy dating-isms part 3/finale

The worst of the bunch:

“Just be yourself and the right person will come along.”

Ummmmm. Excuse me for a moment……

(there. Had to get that out before saying anything else about this).

Just like with my thoughts on sensitive guys, I can see the defense mechanisms immediately go up here too. But don’t worry; it’s not as bad as it first sounds. I am NOT saying to try and be someone who you’re really not, as obviously that’s not the right path either. The problem is how this advice hints that everything will be fine as is, and just sit tight forever.

And that’s where so many guys go wrong.

Why? Because most of us are not naturals at the fine art of dating, sex, and relationships. Well, unless you’re referring to how much our natural instincts get wrong. There are SO many habits that can be changed and improvements that can be made. Things that don’t change your core; they just make a slightly adjusted or improved version of you.

Some may think that those things really don’t matter that much (and if two people are “meant to be together”, it won’t matter what version of either person is presented). Now sure, that COULD happen. But such an ideal ending is tough to actually end up with in the real world, and you greatly improve your chances of attracting compatible people if you not only:

a. Have a legitimately wiser understanding of how people work (especially when it comes to this subject). And not just others, but also yourself. This also includes realizing that the world is not going to adjust to you. It doesn’t matter if someone “should” feel this way, or if you think you “deserve” this or that. The rest of humanity is not going to adjust to your comfort zone and preferences, so you can either find some compromises or keep being frustrated.

But also….

b. Present the best version of yourself (both physically and psychologically). I know this sounds obvious, but a lot of us just don’t bother to (myself included sometimes). But when I am looking around to date, you’d better believe I’m aware of this. Once again, the ideal view of “these things don’t matter to the right person” just doesn’t happen often enough. A lot of life is about odds and making the most sensible choices, and ms. right is simply more likely to be interested in the best version of you.

A couple of final thoughts. Some might wonder “well how do you do all this”? Between what I’ve described here and the content of my prior two recent entries about this subject, I’ve brought a lot of that up. Or “what happens if you don’t”……..

The answer to that question can be covered in a simple scare tactic: ever noticed all the guys on Facebook in their 50s who hoard women in their 20s and 30s on their friends list? Who desperately grasp for their attention my making mind-blowing compliments such as “stunning” on those women’s pics? Who practically beg them for any response as those women totally ignore them and get more and more uncomfortable from the creepy unwanted attention?

That could be your future. If you need to, save yourself before it’s too late.

Saturday night solitude

At the moment, it’s 10:15 PM on Saturday night (there goes a little bit of anonymity, right? Time zone revealed. They’ll be on to me soon…..)

I sit here alone in the dark, trying out some bizarre ’80s synth music mix in the background. People all around the city here are out and about. Meeting. Having a fun night, or an awkward one, or one that’s yet to be determined. But living. I am not.

Sometimes I think that the depression is a main culprit in distancing me from the word. But then I remember that there are deeper roots to it than that. For example, my grandfather died when I was 12. He was a very close family member. Did I feel the typical sadness or mourning from that? Not at all. You could say that I didn’t even care that much. And as I lost a couple other people very close to me in the last few years (including my father recently), it wasn’t a whole lot different. It hit me a little more (especially that significant life-altering change of losing a parent), but not THAT much. This doesn’t mean that I have no conscience or lots of sociopathic tendencies; I still have a heart for the well-being of those around me. But when it comes to something deeper…..it’s just not there with anyone. Family, friends, or significant others. And it never has been.

That being said, I have always had various people somewhat close in my life. But not in that inseparable way (or in that way where you’re often hanging out on weekends, etc.) That was a part of me for all of about 3 years at college, and for a very short while in my mid 20s later on. Other than that, most of life has been just like it is now. Either choosing to be alone, or involuntarily being the person who is just on the outskirts of a closeknit group. Mostly an outsider.

So I stare blankly ahead. Knowing that more of this empty, fairly meaningless charade of life may continue indefinitely. And without escape, as I’d never be suicidal (another of my few significant fears is death, and none of my troubles will ever override that).

An empty vessel. Wasting away the only life that he’ll ever have.

It’s not an enjoyable existence, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

More false dating-isms that guys hear

I knew I’d end up mentioning more about this subject. Not only does it fascinate me, but it’s a nice break from writing about my troubles. Continuing with where I left off before:

“Shy Guy” by Diana King/triumphant shy guy scenes in the movies. Such a feel good message, isn’t it? Sing along about how “he’s the kinda guy who’ll always be mine”. Or “Revenge of the Nerds” and watching the sweet girl with the sly smirk leading the virgin guy into the bedroom (and him returning soon a new man w/ a celebratory pipe in his mouth).

This subject really hits home with me, since my naivety about it in college became a big problem back then (read back to my first few entries of this blog for more about that). Because these things above do not actually happen often. Guys, you will usually have to make that initial ice-breaking move and first kiss with someone (or put yourself in position for it to easily happen mutually.) If you’ve never crossed the physical line with someone yet, she’s not going to tackle you on the couch first like some funny sitcom scene. If you wait for that, you’ll usually end up on the wall watching everyone else connect. Being passive just does not work (for so many reasons). And the impressive thing about media portrayal of these moments is that they get virtually everything dead wrong: you often see women being aggressive outside of the bedroom (but passive behind those doors), when the opposite is usually what really unfolds. Speaking of…

“Women want a ton of foreplay”. We’ve all seen this endlessly on TV/in the movies: a couple goes into the bedroom and slips into bed. Things are beginning. Music in the background. While she lays there patiently (and virtually flaccid), he slowly works his way around every cubic millimeter of her body (like a land surveyor taking measurements). Eventually, once a full moon has passed and the weather has changed outside, they have sex. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not advocating the other extreme of stereotypical impatient-let’s-be-humping-in-two-seconds guy either, of course. But like many areas of life, there is a happy medium that hits the spot (pun intended). Not only that, but that land surveyor seduction that’s supposed to get her going also leads to men overlooking the best true foreplay, which is the kiss. She will know the difference between the whole “I’m only doing this as the standard first step to get in your pants” and the real thing……if you kiss her right, that is a lot more likely to open up her deepest desires than anything else. And when this happens with someone who is ready to have sex with you and you have good physical chemistry with, it often leads to that behind-the-doors aggression and passion from her that I just mentioned. At that point, the rest of the foreplay does not last until anywhere close to the next moon!

“Women want a sensitive guy.” This one is practically a standard cliche of supposed fact. And nothing could be further from the truth. I can already see some people thinking “But I do like sensitivity! It’s a great quality”. Yes, it is…..but great qualities don’t always equate to dating interest. Sometimes this effect can be pretty severe, too. I have known many women of all different types and dispositions, but the one thing most had in common (regardless of whether things were platonic or we were dating) was this: the only time they looked at me with any disdain or discomfort was when I was expressing concern about them or the world around me. Now I’m not saying that you can’t show any emotions or heart, but there can be a fine line about it. Example: bonding with her puppy and having a soft spot for it = good. Having pictures of yourself smooching three snuggly kittens at once = a no-no. Now I realize that many people still won’t agree with me about this, but it’s what I’ve seen and experienced throughout my life. And if you don’t believe me, test it out guys. If you’re interested in someone, try either being the guy who picks her daisies while reading her poetry and talking about how you’re saving impoverished children in Uganda, or be the guy who is somewhat aloof, always keeping a little something mysterious, who (while still treating her well) challenges her some and who doesn’t wait on her hand and foot. See which leads to becoming another platonic friend, and which leads to a possible connection for more.

Ok, there’s one main one that I haven’t gotten to yet. But it’s a whopper, and I think it needs its own entry for next time.

In the meantime, I ask a small favor. It seems like I’ve acquired a few regular readers already, but I’m still new at this (so I’m not sure how comments work). I haven’t seen any left yet, and I’m curious if they’re even activated or if anything like that needs done.

So if you’re one of those other bloggers who is usually seeing my entries, I’d appreciate a quick test comment here (just to know it’s possible). Thanks!