And so it Begins

I just, literally seconds ago, had a facebook messenger conversation via my Android phone. My buddy and I are going to go to a different church.  We do this in the eternal quest for 'holy' women.  I use the word holy not by some hokey allusion to religiosity (well, not directly) but by its meaning,'set apart.'

My buddy, whom in September I will have known thirty years, and I are looking for wives, girlfriends, whatever, and in furtherance of that dream, we are looking for young ladies who are set apart and not just the hoi polloi.  It seems a worthy quest which has been delayed because of reasons.  I was too busy with hospitals and educational institutions to be the Timothy to his Titus.  Realizing that allusion is not precisely apropos, it seems close enough,  I shall play Sigma to his Alpha; 'tis a comfortable position for me, the esoteric outsider. This should be fun, particularly since I've been praying for something like this, in the words of balladeer Tom Jones, 'for the longest time.'


Knowing my Place in the Order; Always Comes back to High School

After much introspection, I've come to acceptance with the realization that I'm a Sigma-male usually, one who is unbound by the classical social hierarchy.  I typically do my own thing.  When faced with routine or conformity, I oftentimes think 'everybody else is doing it (so) why should I.'  That sentiment is born less out of rebellion and the need to be an individual (admittedly there's some of that too) but more from a point of apathy and boredom.

As a Sigma in high school, I clique-surfed.  While maintaining a core-clique anchored by neighborhood buddies from my middle-school bus stop, I tried my hand at hanging with the drama-geeks, the chess nerds, the debate team, etcetera. While my core clique took Spanish, I took Japanese, out of sheer boredom.  Everybody else is doing Spanish,why should I? I wanted challenge of a non-Latinate, non-Germanic tongue.

In classic Sigma fashion, I maintained my personality in each niche.  As my Christian brethren would state it, 'in but not of.'  Skimming the thespians kept me thinking, 'wow, they're inclusive, is this where I should be' but it was ultimately way too libertine for my liking;so, I tried my hand at chess team and debate team and the Ecology Club and Key Club..

'Just when I think I'm out, they pull me back in.'

I was recently contacted via facebook messenger by one pf my core-clique friends.  I've known him thirty years in September.  I'm only 38.  Let that sink in.  We've been weightlifting, maybe doing other things soon.  He's  Alpha-male--at the least a strong Bravo (football team, etcetera).  I'm OK being my Sigma-surfer-self.  No butting heads there.

We're soon going to go questing for wives at a local megachurch. He went through the seminary and knows some of the small group leaders there.  After all, 'it's not what you know, it's who you know.'

We were just discussing it over messenger, milestones.  Yeah, milestones, ya dig?

Stubborn Optimism Pays Dividends or at Least is Less Costly than Pernicious Pessimism

Well today at the gym while mounting the leg press, I noticed that my moustache comb was not in my pocket, but my pen was on my person.  This insight struck me as more than slightly incingiois -- my pen for my checkbook and my comb for my moustache are carried asa tandem pair, ala Paul and Titus.  You see one, the other cannot be far removed. 

Knowing that memory issues are quite common with brain injury has made hyper vigilant about keeping my faculties: wit, memory, locquationskills sharp, with the edge gossamar sharp.

Eventually I thought, 'I can go to the store tomorrow after I go weightlifting with my longtime (~30 years) friend after church -- I even contacted him via facebook messenger.  Serendipitously, I did not make a move directly from the gym, for when I got home and opened my drawer,staring me right in my four-eyes was my .  In my morning haste, I must've missed it.

Who knows, I may just pick up some, dime-a-dozen, spare combs.  Redundancies are a safe thing.


Back to Patterns

Just had Facebook message conversation with my buddy I grew up with from 3rd grade through Freshman high school Sunday are going to weight lift at the EoS around the corner from my house.  Plans will be hatched.


Change inertia

It was once said, "People don't really change, they just get better at it."  It's true.  I tried to change to pursue this one girl, tried to convince myself that I was OK with just dating her and trying to mold her little by little conform her to my wonts; but then I realized, she won't change and I won't change.

I'm a relationship guy with the ultimate goal of a family (wife, kids, the whole ball of wax), when I realized she was uninterested in long-term thinking, that's all she wrote, bye-bye Birdie, I sent her an SMS that would act as a Litmus test.  She broke it off, strangest thing, I don't feel bad about it in the least; a little disappointed, sure, but not even wrought, let alone over-wrought.  As Freddy Mercury sang, "Any way the wind blows, doesn't really matter to me."

Nothing ventured, nothing gained; 'twas worth a roll of the dice.

No Dice

The television still remains off-line; it'll take some time, but I have other modalities (my Chromebook, YouTube, the INTERNET writ large).  In all per Ice Cube, 'I'd have to say, today was a good day.'

Out of the Hole

My heretofore lack of Wi-Fi has been ameliorated.  My Android works fine for SMS, my Chromebook can get on the internet superhighway, good chance my TV is in working order, but I'll wait 'til after dinner to test that assumption.  Little to no doubt that I shall blog about the results of that null hypothesis experiment and inquiry.  Id est, looks promising, all in good time, don't wish to jinx it.


Dark Day

Saturday June 15 will demarcate the 23rd anniversary of the worst day of my life.

It was that day in 1996 that the T-bone car accident caused my brain to be bathed in my blood.

As I learned in my Psychology 101 course that I took one summer before I graduated high school,  blood is highly caustic to the brain. I felt I needed to get a jump start on college. The injury put me behind the eight ball, so much to make up, or so I thought.


Down in a Hole

This past while, my house has been without Wi-Fi, therefore, no internet on my chromebook. I've been reduced to using my smartphone.  Any arrow in the quiver.