I had everything a thirty something American male could wish for: the perfect job in a field I enjoyed; a great boss; a townhouse bachelor pad; girlfriends, a few pals to hang out with; a sports car and club memberships. I had scrupulously followed the prescribed formulas for success. I had cobbled together many of the accoutrements of an ideal life.
Yet I felt restless and unfulfilled.
This is not fun. Of course, life is not all about having fun, but there has to be more fun than this. I’m not referring only to the virus outbreak. I heard Sean Connery saying, while surrounded by his children and grandchildren, that his “third act” (or eighth decade of life) was “Shite.” His statementContinue reading “An Impossible Dream?”
When I’m feeling joy work becomes play.
Every so often, it’s not such a bad idea to give up. The word I really want to use is surrender, but I’m not really sure what that word means in the truest sense. I’m going to barge right ahead and use it anyway. Once every ten years or so, I get to the pointContinue reading “Giving Up to Get Ahead”
All this talk about overpopulation is finally beginning to hit home. Lately, it seems like almost everywhere I go, hordes of people come crawling out of the woodwork. It’s really becoming annoying. Take, for example, a trip to the mall. You have to use a slide rule to calculate the ideal time to go, toContinue reading “Can We Make Fewer Babies?”
Nobody likes it. I am no exception. We’re talking about jury duty, of course. I kept trying to forget the impending date, but something kept reminding me, like, the Jury Summons itself sitting in a corner of the bedroom on my desk.
I like movies with heart. “Duets” is a movie with a big heart that nobody went to see. Well, almost nobody. Despite an intelligent, one-of-a-kind script and a star-studded cast, “Duets” tallied a mere six million dollars at the box office. In terms of Hollywood studio economics this paltry sum is tantamount to a financial implosion.
This is a childhood memory that keeps surfacing. I’m writing about it to better understand what’s happening, and because I suspect there is a point to the story worth sharing. My mother took me to the circus every year as a child. One year, I asked for a pet turtle instead of the chameleon IContinue reading “The Parable of the Pet Turtle”
The Starbucks I now regularly inhabit is not your everyday Starbucks. Management recently retrofitted the place with long tables, benches actually, with stools and a strip of electrical outlets underneath to plug in battery cables. Droves of people come here, not just to chat and caffeinate, but to do WORK!
The name Miss Crisson fit her. Words come to mind, like “crisp,” “sharp,” “cross,” and “criticism.” I remember a six-foot tall, middle-aged woman with regular, Germanic features and wide, hazel eyes peering from behind big-rimmed glasses supported by a clunky plastic frame.