Wednesday

It's going to be one of those days. The slide began about 5:00 last night when I got an unexpected email. It was frustrating, upsetting, and infuriating all rolled up into one. It opened up old wounds and delivered a virtual slap in the face. It is the latest in a long line of trigger events. I drove home from work after receiving it, forgetting all about the stuff I needed at the grocery store. I devoured my dinner, trying to seek solace in food as I always do. I sat on my couch last night, alternately staring blankly at either the television or the laptop monitor.

As I sit here at work on a Wednesday morning, I can not concentrate on anything. I am on edge, waiting for the next shoe to drop. The dull headache has returned, my patience is short. I'll have to fight to keep this in check so I can function. The fragile truce has been broken, the battlefield in my mind has erupted, it's time yet again to go to war.

Independent to a fault

I've always been fiercely independent. I had to be. This was instilled early in my life as a member of single parent home. I shouldn't use the word instilled, as it implies someone taught me to be this way. It was actually self-learned. Living with just my mom and brother, I had to grow up quickly. Mom worked split-shifts as a telephone operator. She'd get us off to school in the morning, then head to work herself. Then she'd pick us up from school, spend some time with us making sure homework was started and dinner was eaten together as a family. Then she'd head off to her 4-hour evening shift while we were left to tend to things like dishes, laundry, feeding the dogs, etc. She's was always home at the end of the night to tuck us into bed. She's a great mother and now you know a little more why I'm so attached to her. You can also see she wasn't around a great deal during the formative teen years.

But this lifestyle left me to fend for myself. If I had questions, or needed help, I was sort of out there on my own. I had to figure out things solo, experiment and make mistakes until I got things right, and generally improvise to make things work out when they weren't exactly the way they should have been. I don't see this as totally a bad thing. In my opinion, many kids these days have too much spoon-fed to them, led through every little thing, and they don't learn how to think on their own. But in my own life, while I benefited from the experience of thinking on my own I also was hurt by not picking up an important skill... knowing when to ask for help. There was never anyone there for me to ask when I needed help, so I plowed on straight ahead and tried to figure things out myself. It didn't always work out (hence the plumber having to fix the shower after my "repair") but on average I did ok. Still, even if I knew I needed help, I wouldn't ask for it fearing I'd be admitting I couldn't handle it on my own and more importantly disappointing someone.

That's why it was such a big step when I finally saw a therapist in the early 2000's. I knew I was messed up. I knew that I had tried to help myself and nothing worked. I knew I had one major depressive episode in 1995 and in researching the subject knew the next one was going to be worse. I knew that if I didn't get help this time it could end with me in a box six-feet underground. So I took the leap and reached out. He wasn't great, but he got me through that time and referred me to a psychiatrist who got me on medication. Come to think of it, we never really addressed the whole subject of my reluctance to reach out for help. Like I said, I guess he wasn't that great.

It's this resistance that's gotten me into so many bad circumstances in my life. My current credit situation, a poor decision about retirement planning, and figuring out a way to dig my way out of those are directly a result of not calling on an expert. Of course, I haven't contacted a financial planner yet. It probably should not come as a big shock that I once contemplated going into court and represent myself for something more serious than running a red light. (I have won in traffic court on my own!) Fortunately, I came to my senses and got a lawyer. I've only taken a couple of golf lessons in my life, opting instead to teach myself what is one of the more difficult games to master. My scores probably haven't improved significantly in ten years. Do you think a few lessons from a professional might just get me over that hump? Do you think I'll seek out one?

This is just one of those things I don't think that I'll ever be able to change. It is too engrained in me on a base level to alter. No matter how many, and how big, the mistakes I make I likely won't reach out until I'm desperate... like my first therapy visit. Although, when I asked for help at my former employer and was roundly ignored and told I needed to work it out on my own it had an opposite effect. I took the snub as a signal that it was time to leave and that landed me out here. How's that working out so far? So much for asking for help!

Ponder Fonder

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder."
Sextus Propertius, Roman Poet, (? - 15 BC)

"Not Always"
just bob, hopeless adult (1967 AD - ?)

I spent a lot of the last two years getting up weekdays at 6:00am. I did this to listen to the Howard Stern show on Sirius. The show was funny at times, amusing at times, and much more worthy than anything on regular radio at that hour of the morning. Anyway... the show took its two-week summer vacation the first part of July. While it was in reruns, I slept in a little later and generally found other diversions in the morning. When he returned, I was off on my week vacation followed by week away at a conference. Of course while I was jumping around the country for two weeks the last thing on my mind was a radio show. Then last week, once I was finally settled back at the Abode of Bobness, I turned on the radio to find the show in reruns for another week. That made five straight weeks without the show. So this morning, I flipped on the radio when I woke up (not at 6:00am) to listen live for the first time in over a month. I couldn't make it through 30 minutes. I had absolutely no interest at all. It wasn't informative, it wasn't entertaining, it had me scrambling to turn on CNN.

As I thought about it more, absence doesn't always make my heart grow fonder. As much as I like the city of Boston, I don't have a compelling urge to return anytime soon. Ditto for where I grew up in South Florida. The further removed I am from them, the less I want to go back. Even with all of the people I know in both places, I'm plenty content seeing them outside of going back. The same applies for such things as television shows I've given up, great restaurants that I've visited, and other people/places/things that once held an important role in my life but didn't grow fonder being away.

Now that's not to say things never grow fonder for me. There are places I've gone and people I've known that I'd very much like to see again. The distance in both miles and time away from them make me yearn to be reacquainted with them. They become dearer because I had so little time with them but made a true connection. But those things are the exception rather than the rule. Maybe it's my general outlook on life, maybe it's my loner nature, but it takes a lot to make my heart grow fonder. I don't know if that's good or bad. I do know I get to sleep later during the week, and that's good.

What did I just eat?

I just finished my big meal of the day. It's 3:30 in the afternoon. So, here is my conundrum. What exactly do you call what I just ate? Those of us versed in the Americanized version of the English language have taken the words "breakfast" and 'lunch" to form the word brunch. Of course, brunch is used to describe a meal which falls between the traditional hours that breakfast and lunch are served. It is a late breakfast and early lunch combined into one.

So why has it taken so long to find a word to describe a meal that takes place during the hours between lunch and dinner? Certainly I'm not the only person in the history of civilization that has chosen to eat a substantial meal between the lunch hour and dinner hour. I'm guessing anyone who has done this in the past is either not as smart as me or too lazy to make the effort to find a moniker for this most rare of meals. Well my ten faithful readers, I have determined that this travesty of the English language can go on no longer. Therefore, I shall submit to you a number of suggestions that could eventually lead to the creation of a new word. Short of siring any heirs (which will never happen for obvious reasons), my sole legacy may be my contribution to the language.

lunner: In the tradition of "brunch," if you take lunch+dinner you have the best candidate for the dictionary.
linner: a variation of lunner, lunch+dinner would yield this option. In my opinion, both lunner and linner have great potential. I personally would opt for lunner as it most closely resembles brunch which has already gained worldwide acceptance.
lupper: For those of you not familar with southern hospitality, dinner is called "supper" south of the Mason-Dixon Line. Therefore, I feel compelled to offer this option (lunch+supper). I can't wholeheartedly endorse this one due to its only regional appeal.
dinch: While not chronologically correct, this approach does need to considered. This is dinner+lunch .
dunch: As above, it is a variation of dinch dinner+lunch. In all fairness, I don't believe dinch and dunch are appropriate because the contractions are in inverse order, placing dinner before lunch which is not correct.

So there you have it. A chance to make history and leave a mark on our society. To qualify for inclusion in any dictionary, a word must gain popular acceptance and frequent use. Therefore, I need you to literally "spread the word" and start using your preferred version of the words above. I'd ask that "lunner" be your choice, but I leave it up to you and your best judgement.

Guess who???

Somebody's birthday is tomorrow...