Personal Instruction

I arranged for web hosting for a domain name I secured a year or two ago, with the objective of creating a WordPress blog. The host allows "one-button installation" of WordPress, which I finally did. But I haven't a clue where to go from here. I have downloaded long and convoluted instructions that I simply cannot force myself to read. I need personal, hands-on, step-by-step instructions on how to get this rolling. I may be willing to provide room and board for my teacher. And maybe airfare. Meals, certainly.

Who will be the first to jump in and offer personal instruction?

No Smiling Where I Can See It.

Thanksgiving is done. It was good here. My brother and my niece joined us. It was good.

But tonight I am no longer happy.

Goddamn it.

Seriously. Why?

Get Over It

Arrogant, self-important pseudo-intellectuals annoy me. You probably know one or more of them. You know, someone who sneers at "authors" who don't see eye to eye with the "intellectual." Or, someone whose interpretations of poetic rectitude MUST be right.

So what? Other people annoy me, too. I'll get over it.

Explosive

I think I understand how people can, under pressure, become terrorists. They feel trapped and unable to control their own destinies. People and/or institutions around them behave badly and abuse them and others. Call it capitalism, self-absorption, or whatever you will, but being surrounded by intense and uncaring greed seems to set alight the fire under the pressure cooker. The only outlets are explosive eruptions, unless the perpetrators of binge-greed quickly back off. But they don't. Hence terrorism.

It may be different in different contexts. But I think I understand it to a great extent. Explosive rage let loose in unproductive ways. I believe I know it. I believe I've seen it. I believe I feel it.

Knowledge

I wonder if it's the same for everyone. You reach a point of understanding and appreciating the reality of one's mortality, which seems like such an extraordinarily grown-up accomplishment. But then, out of nowhere, you run head-on into the real world. The REALLY real world.

For reasons I cannot explain, I ran head-on into the real world. Suddenly, tonight, I became aware of my own mortality. Completely, fully, entirely aware. One day, years hence or just moments away, I will be dead. The switch will be flipped and, instantly, I will be no more. Other lives will go on. My won't. I won't be aware any longer. My existence will have ceased.

I wish I had words to explain this revelation. It's both frightening and freeing. I don't want to know this, but I do.

Am I experienced?

Today was too warm. The skies were too drearily overcast. The humidity was too high. I was in no mood for any of these discomforting excesses. What could be causing all of this ugliness on the day after I very nearly achieved freedom? Being an atheist of immense proportions, it would have been absurd to blame god. But having a seed of agnosticism lodged deep in my soul, I decided it couldn't hurt to consider the possibility that god was to blame. And so I expressed my displeasure.

"God," I said aloud as I drove my deeply unsatisfactory old pickup truck down the splashy boulevards of north Dallas, "this is bullshit! Just because you're an annoying crutch for people with belief in magic doesn't mean you have to punish those schmucks for my disbelief!"

"Son," a tinny voice responded, "you give yourself too much credit. You matter to me about as much as I matter to you. I don't care. The cycle of weather is one I can set and forget. You get what's programmed. Don't assume for a second I'm punishing anyone. You're not worth the ashes of my cigar."

With that, god stepped out of the truck and, with a sharp glance at my right front tire, caused it to go flat.

"Donkey!" I called after him. It was a necessary linguist bomb.

And the next phase is...

Certified letter to XO Customer Care: Check

Copy sent to interim CEO of XO: Check

Copy sent to Exec. VP of XO: Check

Keys returned to office building management: Check

Mail now being forwarded to PO box: ALARM--Forwarding order still not being followed

Old garage refrigerator disposed of: ALARM--Nothing done yet

Mind off of business: ALARM--Emails keep coming

This afternoon, I spent a while looking at all the boxes of crap we brought home from the office. They're stacked everywhere. We have to reduce those boxes to sheets.

And I spent time considering how to reorganize my garage...and what I need to do around the house to get it in the shape I want it to be in. That's more like it. Until I realize I need money to do what I want to do and I no longer have any income. Screw it. I'll do it anyway and figure out a way to make some money to cover the costs.

Tomorrow, if the mood strikes us, we'll hit the road for a day trip. Or maybe not. There's nothing saying we have to do anything.

This will take some getting used to.

Attempted Mellowism

Though there is still more than a bit to be done, we celebrated a little today as if it were behind us. It is, mostly. All that's left is turning in the keys, doing a walkthrough, and giving building management the address to which we, by god, expect them to mail our deposit. So, after I sold 500 pounds of scrap paper to a recycler for $19, we went to lunch at Del's Charcoal Burger. Del's is a tiny dive of a place that looks like it was built out of scraps. And I think it was. I love it. And they have the best root beer in the universe. We had a good, leisurely afternoon.

But it's not all done. There's the telephone crap. XO Communications, which I personally consider the lowest form of corporate rapist, told me today they will charge me for a month beyond November 7 because they claim that's when I told them to shut off my phone lines. Right. I told them in August to kill my account on October 31. But they could not port lines over by then (they claim), so they kept my lines alive. Now, they say they have 30 days after the termination notice to charge me. I didn't put it in writing, but what I told them, essentially, was to go fuck themselves and to expect to be sued if they screwed with me. I went into a bit of a rage as I explained to my wife how I planned to be involved in some form of corporate castration if those assholes played with me. And I vowed NEVER to pay them for another month. Of course now I have to somehow cancel the automatic withdrawals from my corporate credit card. Aha! Just cancel the card! Well, tomorrow I will send the bastards a certified letter informing them that any attempt to take unauthorized money from my account will be considered theft and will be treated as such. Bastards!

But that sort of stuff was supposed to stop on October 31! I know, it won't. It just won't. So I have to mellow and deal with things as they come. I'm very seriously considering something that I think everyone else should consider as well: DO NOT ENTER INTO CONTRACTS BINDING YOU TO A COMPANY FOR ANY PERIOD, FOR ANY REASON! Seriously, if a company providing a service (telephone, television access, electricity, etc., etc.) must have a contract binding you to the company, something's amiss. Consider it a signal that the company is not worthy of any form of commitment, because its requirement that you sign a commitment to receive its service is a very bad omen. The company is NOT to be trusted.

See, it's going to take me some time to mellow. But I will. I want to. I must.

Relax...eventually

Sprains. Bruises. Broken nails. Scrapes. I suppose they're all deserved. It was my decision, after all, to shut things down. It never occurred to me that I'd have to sell all this crap...or give it away...and then help move it.

I'm worn out. Truly worn out. I need some rest. Not yet, though. Give me another couple of days, then I'll relax.

Release

The business of closing things down is grueling and far more time-consuming than I ever dreamed it would be. My expectations that we'd sell our furnishings quickly and easily for a reasonable amount of money were dashed. Reality took its toll on my wishes and dreams. Time will tell, but my expectation now is that we'll probably have to give away most of what's left, which is a significant amount, and will have to pay someone to cart off the dregs.

I was surprised that the Salvation Army, Goodwill, and other such organizations have no interest at all in office furnishings. And even the place that will take used furniture and re-sell it does not guarantee it will take everything; only the things it judges of interest to its prospective customers. Charities simply do not want our file cabinets, desks, old computers, etc. We are having a hell of a had time finding schools, churches, or anyone else to take them. We may well have to pay to have it all carted off. Damn it!

Such is life. So I don't bring much money in. That's alright. We'll just adapt and adjust and get the hell out of Dodge! I am so anxious to get away and decompress! That's hard, though, when you consider real life. Even though we're fortunate to be able to last a year without income, we know the future will require me to work...to make a living. I hope I haven't thrown it all away with this odd step I'm taking. And I learned last night that the husband of a friend had died unexpectedly. One moment, things are tolerable, the next the world explodes into incoherent and chaotic horror. Yet another reason to reach out and take what we want from this world!

There's so much more inside me right now, but I don't have the energy or the words to release it.

Comfort?

Plans don't necessarily transmogrify into realties based on those plans. Maybe they never evolve in quite the way we expect, or hope, they will. Perhaps plans are idiotic responses to wishes...wishes we could control our destinies.

I don't pretend to know, though I have my opinions.

Tears don't necessarily transmogrify into appreciations of what we've experienced in our lives.

I don't pretend to know why they erupt. Some of my friends will offer callous comments about them. Why don't friends understand? Why don't they appreciate that comfort is all we're asking?