A period of mourning.

I walk with no skip in my step, my head hangs a low, my eyes are dull and lifeless, I can barely muster a half-smile... The FIFA World Cup 2014 has ended.  *sigh************* And stupid Germany won.  Whatever, they kicked butt and were a very strong, well organized, and disciplined team.  Part of me feels like Germany shouldn't be allowed to win anything for at least a few more centuries.  I guess they have to prove they can win World Cups since they can't win World Wars.  BOOM!  

I'm in mourning.  

For the better part of four years I waited for World Cup 2014 Brazil.  I talked about it with every foreigner I encountered(lets face it, Americans don't know shit), I dreamed of going to Brazil for the event, and a few months prior I began counting down the days.  I was pre-obsessed in preparation for the true obsession that I knew would take over once the matches began.

Out of the 64 matches, I think I missed two or three.  Sure a lot of them I wasn't able to fully watch, but you better believe they were on the televisions at work.  I spent two weeks of absolutely gorgeous summer days indoors, watching three games in a row during group stage.  In fact when group stage was over and there was a day off, it was strange, I felt lost.  

From the beginning I found myself very emotionally connected to the Colombian team; to this day and for the rest of my life, I will feel emotionally connected to Colombia.  In a country so conflicted as Colombia, soccer is the one thing they all agree on.  The Colombian team went further in the tournament than ever before and one of their young players received the honor of the Golden Boot, having scored the most goals of any individual player in the tournament.  Not bad for a team that went out in quarter-finals.  I cried when Colombia scored their first goal and I cried when they exited the tournament, heads held high.

Another team I ached to see do well was, of course, the formidable and famous footballers of Brazil.  Who wouldn't want to see the home team win a World Cup?!?  But destiny had other plans and Brazil exited the tournament with their worst loss ever.  The 7-1 lashing by the Germans was the only game I deliberately turned off.  Some things are too painful to watch, and being able to literally watch dreams of players and fans alike be crushed in such a ruthless manner was rough.  It was one of those moments that made me very glad I had chosen to not go to Brazil for the tournament. 

As the knockout rounds left fewer and fewer teams, my obsession with each team, each game grew that much stronger.  With fewer teams and games to enjoy, I found myself practically talking to strangers about the tournament.  In the final I was able to watch Argentina, another team I was pulling for, but they couldn't hang on long enough and lost to Germany to accept second place.  And then the mourning began.

I'm not sad that Germany won(sort of not sad), I'm not sad about any one thing in particular.  I'm just sad that it's over.  The anticipation, the excitement, the anxiety of extra time and penalty kicks, the needless obsessing, the Uruguayan biting, the players' goal celebrations, the face painting, the Spanish speaking announcers screaming "Gooooooooooooool!", the emotion, the love, the beautiful game.  *sigh, again*  

I feel like a part of me is gone.  I find myself scouring YouTube and fifa.com for videos, interviews, articles.  I even was on Wikipedia looking up historical facts about the tournament and current player statistics.  It's not the same, but hopefully it can ease the pain of withdrawal.  Even while writing this, I went back and forth to YouTube at least six times to watch goal scoring videos and player interviews...

I will get through this hard time in my life.  It hopefully won't take too long to recover from Post-World-Cup Depression, or as I call it PWCD.  The countdown to Russia 2018 begins today.

                

Rental car.

Being on some kind of permanent rebellion against "the man" I have gone the vast majority of my life without owning a car.  As a teenager I had a couple of cars, both of which ended up in a junk yard, totaled.  And before you ask, neither was my fault.  When the second car was totaled, I was too poor to be able to afford a new one, so I simply began using the public transit in the small mountain town I lived in.    

In my early twenties I took up bicycling as a hobby, pastime and way of life.  I lived, worked and shopped all within a small radius, making bicycling the only thing I needed for transportation.  I thought I'd never need a car!  

Years later, living in Los Angeles, did it become clear to me that having a car would not only help me get around significantly easier, but improve the overall quality of my living experience in that vast, car-dependent city.  Alas, I bought a car for the first time in my adulthood.  I bought a 15-year-old Subaru from my mother with 180,000+ miles on it and that thing got me around LA just fine!  When the road called to this gypsy again, I sold the Subaru to a dear friend and embarked about the globe again, carless.  

Upon returning to Denver last year, I was like, "Sweet, I'm gonna live on Capitol Hill and walk and bike everywhere just like the good ol' days!"  A few months passed and I quickly realized that I was over the good ol' days and I felt trapped in Denver, unable to get out and enjoy the tremendous amount that living in Colorado has to offer.  I knew I wanted a car.  I wanted to feel like and adult, to be able to go where I want when I want, not having to "borrow" someone's car.    

In order to skip over a bunch of details, I got a car, a brand new car.  Brand new was never the intent, but having a car guy for a dad, he convinced me that for what I wanted(another Subaru), that it was best for me to go with new since used Subarus in Colorado are as rare as diamonds and cost about as much(due to demand).  

I am quite enjoying having a new car; the new car smell, the shiny new everything, the fancy dials and buttons.  But I have to admit, it's a bit strange.  I keep wondering when I have to give it back.  I've been so accustomed to cars that I drive not actually being mine, that it feels like I need to give it back eventually.  I've used lots of rental cars, and borrowed friends' and family members' cars so many times, that it still doesn't feel like the new Subaru on the street is mine and I don't have to give it back.  My mother even  made a comment along the lines of, "It'll feel like yours when you start getting the bills for it", and honestly it's not even that.  It's going to sink it that it's mine when I can literally go wherever I want, whenever I want without having to call someone and ask, and without having to pick it up at a rental office.  It took nearly 35 years, but I just may be starting to act like and adult.          

Sleep like a baby.

As I laid in bed for an hour before getting up yesterday(and for 2.5 hours today)I had a thought, "I was born to lay in bed."  As I chuckled to myself about this ridiculousness, I then realized that in fact it's true, I was literally born to lay in bed.  Isn't that what all babies do, lay around in bed?  Lazy babies, they don't even get up to go to the bathroom.

My personal, internal comedy routine continued as I also realized that I was born to lay in the arms of someone else; also something all babies do.  So why do we think that as we get older that we need to sacrifice these essential pieces of happiness and health?  I personally have zero guilt when it comes to laying around, whether asleep or awake.  Fortunately, I do not suffer the same complex as so many Americans of needing to constantly be productive, constantly be doing something.  I will lay around with the best of them!  Guilt is not invited to this lazy party.

I understand we all have lives, jobs, and some crazy people even made kids to take care of, but time for ourselves, just spacing out and laying around is essential for recovery and to process our lives' events and responsibilities.  So next time you're feeling like you "should get up and do something", just remind yourself that you were literally born to lay in bed!  And do your best to have it be in the arms of someone loving :)

Realistic realizations.

Yesterday, I didn't write here.  That means I made it five days into my projected 100 days that I was attempting to write.  Honestly, I didn't even think about it until it was "too late", and I was home late by myself after a night out with a friend, commiserating about our life's recent circumstances.  Quite frankly I came to this conclusion: I can't and shouldn't force myself to write, nor should I feel bad if I can't make it to 100 days consecutive.  Done and done.  Perhaps I can think of a more realistic challenge as not every single day permits a time to sit and write.  As well, oftentimes I find myself frustrated to feel like I'm writing something worthwhile, adding to the stress of the self imposed personal challenge.  This shouldn't be stressful, this should be fun and challenging, but not guilt inducing.  

At least five times each day, a great idea for writing crosses my mind.  However, it's usually at a time, fleeting moments of inspiration, that I cannot immediately stop what I am doing to write down the idea or to even think much further on it than it being an idea at all.  And isn't that what this is all about; simply finding that inspiration in the everyday "normality" that is my life?  I do not need to expand on every single idea I've ever had to write.  I do not need to put into writing any and every life experience I'm having or have had.  What I do need to do is look at life through the eyes and heart as though I intend to share them through writing.  It makes for richer moments, while I'm having certain experiences that trigger the inspiration; somewhere in the vast expanses of my mind, there is a memory being forged, thus being "written" in my life's tale.  Finding that inspiration is far more important than the act of turning it into some form of data to be stored on the internet.

    

Recipe for disaster.

I had a moment yesterday that was the biggest decision that I had made all day: Do I sleep on my couch or do I sleep in my bed?  I literally stood between the two, looking back and forth for minutes, all the while at a true loss for where to lay my tired body.  Ultimately the couch won over; wise choice.  Gotta love a day where "couch or bed?" is the biggest decision of the day.  

MIRACLES!

I saw something yesterday that I have not seen in about six months.  I saw green leaves on trees.  YES!  I also saw flowers blooming, bees buzzing and heard birds singing.  I have done it.  I will toot my own horn about it for a while though everyone else I know also did it; I survived winter.  And I hated probably only about half of it, another grand feat.  Now as a disclaimer: I am aware that the cold, snowy, shitty weather has yet to fully cease until summer comes with her heat, her minimal clothing, her long days, and her cruiser rides, but winter is over!  Nine months winter free begin today.

Poor pathetic winter.  Must be hard to be so cold, so harsh, so dark and lifeless.  Imagine being something that drives people indoors to avoid it, that makes depressions more pronounced and whitens the skin of Caucasians to an impossibly pasty shade the world over.  And all of this in three measly months.  

I have run away from winter and its cold weather for seven consecutive years.  This most recent winter happened sort of by accident as I would never intentionally put myself through the woes of a Denver winter.  But, alas, I made it through and surprisingly, it went faster than I could have expected.  I also know for a fact that I won't do it ever again.  This snowbird will migrate, likely to a Mexican beach for month or two every winter until I die or decide to stay permanently on that beach.

Spring is here with all its new beginnings, life sprouting on every patch of dirt and winter's pasty whiteness being displayed on the chests of men and the legs of ladies in parks all over Denver.  May the longer days drag on and on and on so that the next nine months feel like another seven years free of winter's bite. 

  

Barber Theory.

I have a long standing personal belief/theory about what will

happen to the earth, how it will heal, when humans are long gone: insects.  When humans are wiped out from pillaging every last natural resource we can, and we have heated the planet to a degree that kills us all as fragile, needy mammals, the bugs will be waiting in the background ready to clean it all up.

I was reminded of this today when I saw an article posted explaining that corn worms have evolved to be able to eat the genetically modified corn designed to kill them.  I was honestly elated at this news as it goes to show that us as humans are extremely foolish to think that we can fool nature with science.  Well, insects have much shorter generations than humans, thus evolve at a much quicker rate than we do and it sure didn't take more than barely ten years for these corn worms to evolve past robo-corn.  That is some tough shit.

I remember hearing one time that there were termites discovered that eat fiberglass insulation.  Ouch.  Sometimes I feel that way after eating something too spicy.  Whether this is true or not, someday I'm sure termites will evolve to be able to do so.  And we all know that cockroaches survive nuclear bombs long after we have been vaporized.  Incredible little creatures these bugs!  Six legs and wings!  Lucky!  

I truly believe that insects will evolve to eat everything from Styrofoam and plastic bags to concrete after humans are decimated.  And who can possibly imagine what other toxic remains we leave behind that these critters will evolve to feast on, turning it all back into perfect nature in the form of insect poo.  I love to think about billions upon billions of tiny bugs fixing all the damage that we have caused as a species, one bite of fiberglass at a time.

The reptiles had their day, well more like their eons of years, reigning supreme in the form of dinosaurs.  Mammals currently hold the top spot on the food chain, and have for a few millennium now.  But the common thread intertwined throughout the history of life on Earth is the presence and necessity of insects to clean up messes.  A bit easier for them when it was something actually organic; a dead dinosaur, a fallen tree.  It will be quite the sight when empty skeletons of skyscrapers come crumbling down because thousands of generations of concrete eating insects have had their way with it.

We generally think of insects and their presence in something as dirty, gross, infested.  The world would be a much filthier place without them; they already clean up so much.  Little do we know that they are waiting in the wings(not to be punny)for us to die off so they can eat our flesh and then our civilization.  I'm sure they will be helped greatly by various fungi and bacteria that also evolves to decompose the pestilential leftovers of human existence.  And the circle of life will be complete

I crack up at the thought of us "all powerful" humans thinking that we are so much more than a stupid bug. Insects have capabilities to withstand extreme temperatures, as well as far harsher environments than us weakling humans.  They reproduce extremely efficiently leaving literally thousands of their offspring in their wake.  Insects outnumber us, they eat us, they kill us, they eat our houses, our food(which they also pollinate), our trash, they keep our soil healthy, they rapidly evolve to outsmart us, and we must accept that they are going to survive long after we are gone. 

Congratulations you sneaky bugs, you have proven throughout billions of years that it doesn't matter what goes on, you'll continue to survive and proliferate life on Earth.  I hope you 
enjoy the taste of plastic.  Thanks for cleaning up the shit.