More music cheese (and the associated life hurt)

Another addition to the music guilty pleasure admissions: I enjoy some Kenny G songs. And yes, I just admitted it.

At this point, I’d probably need plenty of entries highlighting all of the other socially “acceptable” genres that I like (to even things out). But the tone of this blog rarely fits a comparison to, say, when Ice Cube was steady mobbin. Anyway….

I’ve been watching the video for “Silhouette” more and more lately. It’s supposed to be a modest celebration of life and his music. But for me, it just digs the life pain dagger in that much deeper.

You wouldn’t think that the video would make anyone react like that. Because it’s pretty basic: he walks alone (after his concert ends) to a nice restaurant. Says hello to a fellow sax playing doorman and some of the patrons, who are mostly in their 30s. Plays a quick solo for a starstruck woman (which is supposed to be the climax of the song). Then leaves and starts walking home.

Why would that even bother me so much? Because it subtly represents a lot of my unhappy life and what I’m missing.

Because despite his mixing with the crowd, Kenny is still alone the entire time. He’s an outsider to the happy couples and friends having their dinner and enjoying themselves, and then his night ends alone.

And during the restaurant scenes, you see one couple dancing the night away for a few seconds. The joy on the woman’s face encompasses everything that’s good and healthy about life. She’s caught up in the moment and whisked away to that surreal level of happiness that comes with it.

The good times. That socialization. The connection with another person. And the bright smile that emanates from it all.

It’s pretty much everything that my life never has anymore. And didn’t have much of during my 20s and 30s either. Now I’ve just turned 50 (and can only watch others experience those times and years). Even if it’s in the form of a music video from the late ’80s. And that hurts.

So at this point, this “midlife” crisis seems like a misnomer. Because I don’t know if I’ll ever get past this. Being able to accept these older stages of life may never happen. And I may never be able to lose this pain and regret.

Until the bitter end.

Somewhere out there…

…beneath the pale moonlight.

As I was making my latest late night drive home recently, that song came on the radio. On this AM station of various easy-listening 60s to 80s music that I’d just discovered.

The moment I heard it start (especially given the backdrop of being out at night with the moon in front of me), something hit me differently about the song. And I knew it’d take on a new significance for the rest of my life.

Not for the main reason that most would think, though. Naturally the song’s about a lonely soul hoping to finally have loved ones around again. But since I know how hapless the chances are of curing that kinda pain in my life, that part doesn’t even register too much.

So what DOES it mean most to me?

The fledgling hope that life happiness, peace, and redemption could possibly still be out there. Somehow, some way. Even though I know the realistic chances of that are extremely slim.

So when that song comes on now, it changes me for a few minutes. Into that little kid who’s lost (or never had) someone or something that means the most in their life . Who’s sitting outside at night looking at the stars. Making that wish that the sadness will go away someday.

And I need that extra escape. Because things are only getting still worse. Not only do I continue to never make progress on improving any of my issues, but the rest of life continues to deteriorate too. Mom is regressing again. I only get older and unhealthier at an ever-quickening pace. Finances continue to worsen because of my endless string of past and current mistakes. And once my current resume gap gets much longer (which could easily happen since mom will need more back surgery soon, which will require a long time on the road for rehabilitation), then it’ll become that much more difficult to find a new 9 to 5.

With your world crumbling around you, it can feel like that’s all you have left.

To wish on that bright star.

My future life being broadcast now

Recently I bumped into the youtube channel of a single guy (probably around 65 to 70 years old) who makes regular videos about his life in Vegas.

After five years of entries here, may has well let the secret out: yes, that’s my “home” city. In the past a couple times, and likely for good in the future.

As you might expect, there are a number of Vegas residents who have popular channels about their life there. This guy isn’t one of them. He has a relatively small group of regulars, and his videos aren’t as diverse or well-produced as the others.

But that doesn’t matter, because there’s something that stood out to me from the beginning:

He is me. Well, 20 years from now.

Chances are that by then (when I’ll be his age), I will have been settled back in there for awhile and doing the same things he enjoys. A tasty, reasonable lunch at one of your favorite mid-range casinos (as you just relax and take in the ambience). One night staycations at various places in town. Soaking up some sun on the Strip.

And yes, doing it all alone. I don’t know if he has any family around, but all of his activities don’t involve anyone else.

It’s quite surreal to see this though. This preview of your own upcoming existence. Especially from someone who seems to also share this quality:

Embracing the emptiness of that lifestyle.

It may not be healthy, and sometimes we may wish that we could change who we are. Obviously that’s not going to happen though. Some of us are simply made for certain paths. And I hope he makes the most of his.

So to this gentleman: if you’re still around when my life hits that stage, maybe we’ll both need an occasional break from the solitude by then.

I’ll look you up.

Why do we long for a childhood that was painful?

That was a question that someone I was close to (for awhile, anyway) asked once. She is a very bright and very troubled individual.

Actually, many people I’ve known (who have gone in and out of my life) fit that description. They are who I gravitate to. Anyway….

I wondered the same thing for awhile. Because as miserable as much of my adult life has been, I would not want to live through many of my childhood years again either. At least on the surface.

So why do people like us do that? I think I figured out the answer sometime ago. And it’s a somber one:

For those of us living an unfulfilling, painful, depression filled, energy draining life…..not only do we dread the daily responsibilities that we have to push through non-stop, but every day is also a constant reminder of a life that you never wanted to end up with (and probably won’t ever improve enough). Then add in a midlife crisis/lost youth once you hit my age.

But what did even a hurtful childhood still offer? No responsibilities. And most of your life (and dreams) still in front of you. So whether or not you realized it at the time, there was likely an underlying hope for the future that made things feel a little better.

And that’s why we still found ourselves reminiscing fondly about it.

I’d like to tell her this. But even though she actually lives in the same city as I do now (and is cordial with me), she has no interest in being part of my life again. And after how I handled our time together, I understand. Though it’s not all about that at the moment, and how things unfolded then definitely wasn’t all my fault either. That’s another story for another time though.

So we’ll just stay two lost souls here. Same town, but may has well be many miles apart. Another example of my distance from the world.

As we wish for a time that we can’t get back.

The midnight traveler

My visit to the national sportscard show yesterday evening went about as expected. After waiting in line for an hour to get in, I barely spent more time than that on the show floor (before realizing that I didn’t have it in me). There was so little that I was interested in buying, and there were very few options for those needs anyway. Between that and not being in the frame of mind to make the most of the experience, I was heading out before most people would get their first glimpse of it all.

Met up with my “card” friend for a quick dinner, headed back to the hotel room, and napped. Being the night owl that I am, that nap meant I’d be awake all night. At a noisy hotel in a city with nothing else for me. So, I decided to make the 2 1/2 hour drive home right then.

Went downstairs, got a strange look from the guy at the front desk (“checking out, not in?”), and was ready to go.

As I pulled out of my parking spot, the clock in my car said exactly midnight.

I knew this quiet, dark drive back would fit my empty life of solitude’s comfort zone. And sure enough, it did.

After about an hour, stopping to get gas at a service center on the turnpike. No one else in the building but one guy sitting on a bench looking at his phone. As I leave the restroom, I notice that the few restaurants there are naturally all closed at this hour.

Yes, this is my kinda scene.

I walk outside into the mildly cool night air and fill up the gas tank. Not a soul in sight or sound to be heard. Other than the faint whoosh of an occasional truck on the interstate that I was bout to rejoin.

As I get back on the road, my mind returns to all of my current life issues and pain. Tears well up in my eyes (and not for the first or last time during the drive). While they never fell, they did provide an interesting glow/streak to the few lights on the road that came and went.

You know how when you’re on a trip (and there’s that anxious feeling to get get get there, so that you can unwind and relax again)?

Well, that was when the following hit me: this was the opposite. A drive that I wished would NEVER end. Moreso than any I’d ever had before. It made me want to flip a switch right then (and turn my life into a video game). One where the drive actually could have no ending or destination.

Because there’s nothing worthwhile in my life to come home to (or realistically hope for in the future). But as long as I’m out on that dark road in the middle of the night, I don’t have to face the next day yet.

And I can be at peace.

Heading to the National

Nope, not any of this summer’s national political conventions (thankfully). This week, I’ll be making the modest 200 mile drive to the national sportscard show.

It’ll be just the second time I’ve gone. The other was when I was just 15 and had started my small business of buying/selling cards in high school. We centered the family’s summer vacation around it that year. And…how things have changed since. No, not going to go there again now.

I bought the pass late last year, which was right after I left my job and still had some lingering hope about repairing my future. But since that hope is now gone, I really considered not going. Especially since I have no desire (nor the finances) to be buying much now anyway.

The show pass is non-refundable though, and I’ll meet up with my closest friend in the business. And since I will probably have to make a much more concerted effort to liquidate some of my collection soon, it’ll be good to see for myself how the industry looks during its biggest yearly event.

So, despite my usual desire to avoid spending any energy anymore (especially when it comes to being around other humans), I’ve decided to keep the plans. It’ll be interesting to see how I’ll react to being at such a madhouse though. That’s the last thing a depressed recluse wants to deal with, but hopefully it’ll be worth the effort.

Plus it’ll be interesting to see how how my mood is there. This will be the first time I’ve had any social interaction since I pretty much gave up on life earlier this summer. So as bleak as this sounds, I don’t know how much I’ll be able to enjoy much of anything now. We’ll just have to see how I react to it, and if I can forget my troubles long enough to have a good time with my friend.

Especially since I don’t want to put a dent in HIS vacation by being a wet blanket. That’s naturally another part of being so depressed that keeps you stuck in a cycle of isolation: you don’t want to bring others down with you, so you just avoid meeting up with people in general.

Crossing my fingers. We’ll see what happens.

Casino life and the two different versions of me

I just got back from a quick trip to the casino that’s 50 miles away. As usual, there were very few people there (on a weeknight so late). Not exactly a scene that would interest most others.

But for me, it’s one of my favorites. So once every couple months, I enjoy the late night trek.

Why?

  • Have always loved the atmosphere in general. And much moreso when there aren’t very many people around.
  • The solitary late night drive on the interstate. Especially on the way back. Just you, your thoughts, and the occasional truck on the road
  • It’s a good place to get a nice midnight meal
  • I’m able to cash out some player points and check a few particular video poker machines for any crumbs of leftover profitable opportunities.

So while just one or two of those things wouldn’t be enough to bother going, combining all of it makes it worthwhile. But there’s one other main reason why it feels good to visit:

I become the version of myself that doesn’t self-destruct financially.

That wouldn’t make sense on the surface to most. After all, shouldn’t a sometimes degenerate like myself be the most susceptible to the glitz and glamour and everything else there designed to take your money?

You’d think so. But that’s not how my mind works. When I’m in a casino, I usually lock in to the “advantage” gambling/market trading mode that led to supporting myself that way for so many years. A main reason for this is because it’s actually easier to fire away huge from your laptop; it’s not like I enjoy the thought of showing up somewhere with a huge wad of cash and having lots of people (both customers and the casino crew) watch you possibly struggle so badly. Plus there are other complications involved there.

But when you’re sitting around alone in your boxers, there’s little to stop you. A few clicks and you can be whisked away to the escape of quickly trying to hide your life pain (and get back all the mistakes of the last 15 years).

So many someday I’ll figure out a way to make the “casino” version of me into the everyday one. I doubt it could ever work that way, but I’d like to think it’s possible.

Until then, I’ll just enjoy my occasional trips there. And those fleeting moments of escape from my normal hell.

Living with lost hope: the early returns

Been about a month since I resigned myself to the fact that I’ll probably never fix most of my major issues or experience happiness again.

And I wasn’t sure how I’d react to that. Would the depression become even more difficult to manage? What major changes would I feel daily? So far, the best way to describe it is this:

It’s like I’ve been diagnosed with a terminal illness (and have already accepted my fate). But without the timetable of dying any sooner.

I know that doesn’t make much sense. But that’s how it is.

This has both some good and bad. The good is that I feel a little more at peace. Not much, mind you. But every little bit helps. At least I don’t feel any more unstable. And it relieves you of the pressure to try and fix yourself.

Actually, that last one could be bad instead. Oh well.

On the downside, you feel that much more empty and hopeless. Which dents the motivation to do the more necessary self-improvement aspects of life that much more. Pretty much the last thing I need, but an unavoidable result.

So, we’ll see how this continues to go. I doubt any big changes will happen anytime soon, but you never know.

In the meantime, I’ll continue to float through existence for now.

Life as a dream

You know those dreams when you feel like you’re just looking on from the outside at what happens to you?

As I watch yet another Saturday night of endless people living their life around me, an unsettling thought hit me: that even back when I was having some of those experiences (that are supposed to define much of the happiness that we hope to have), that was how REAL life usually felt to me.

I was there in body. And my mind was aware of everything going on. But I wasn’t actually living it. I’ve recently talked plenty about how I don’t connect deeply with others, but this brings a whole new level to it: not connecting with my surroundings either.

And that makes you feel that much more apart from the world.

Typical advice here would be “just live in the moment”. Well, obviously that’s what you should be doing. But it’s not something you can decide on. You either feel that, or you don’t. And most people do.

I am not most people.

Seagulls

I’ve always identified with the sounds of a seagull flying overhead. One reason is because of how I’ve associated them with the beach. Not only does that bring back memories of summer vacations as a kid, but I’ve also been drawn to the ocean.

The warmth of the Atlantic Coast (from Myrtle Beach to Florida). Feeling the sand and water on your feet. The waves crashing and looking out into the seemingly endless water. It’s the closest thing to a calming effect that any atmosphere can have on me.

There’s also the music with them. The Boys of Summer. And one of the videos for “Sailing”.

Yes, I know that yacht rock is considered so soft and cheesy. I don’t care, and will always love that song. Especially that particular video. As the last chorus ends, you see a single seagull flying over a sunset-filled ocean backdrop.

And whenever I see that, my mind stops for a few seconds. And is taken away to the ultimate feeling of escape, bliss, no worries, and freedom.

Despite how extremely unlikely it is, one day I hope I become that seagull. Finally at peace.

As it flies away here: