20 gripes and then some

I'm back. Not so sure that I'll be too active or consistent. I just need to vent. Who doesn't like spewing from time to time, right?

Gripe #1: I thought taking a break from writing might help me focus my mind on things that make me feel more centered, but low and behold, I'm back, worse for wear, with my mind more cluttered than my car. Yeah, it's bad. At least I'm still a non smoker. There's always that... I could start to pollute my lungs again.

Gripe #2: I'm moving to Alaska where the winters get below -60f every winter. I might have a job there. I might not. Allison and I continue to exchange emotional blows back and fourth. I wish we didn't do it, but we do. What can I say, it's probably connected with me being a royal example of a dick.

Gripe #3: I still haven't finished my commercial pilot rating. I still haven't started doing yoga every day. My meditation is spotty, rarely more than a few minutes here and there, I haven't learned to just shut up -- that's what women want-- I'm terribly addicted to coffee... or caffeine, I haven't washed my car in many months, or cleaned the inside, I haven't started cycling again... which means I continue to loose muscle, and gain insulation.

What is going to make me a worthwhile human being? I doubt a threat on my life would get me going. Not that I'm asking any of the creepy internet users to do so, I'm just making a point.

Gripe #4: I have dreadlocks now, and as everyone knows, pilots don't have dreadlocks. I don't know one besides myself. And I don't think I know one person who'd want the pilot in charge of one of those buses with wings we call airplanes to have dreadies. In fact, I might as well wear a shirt that says "Irresponsible Hippie on Psychedelic Drugs." Sadly, I'm not a fan of drugs, I don't even like preservatives. Aluminum cans make me nervous. I live in the mountains to avoid fumes and pollution. I buy organic food only. I try to avoid alcohol (and pilots like to drink, as everyone knows). Yet since I have a few clean knots in my hair, that I put up in a dread tam when at work, I might not nail down a job. I keep teetering on the edge, I might just go wander around, hitch hike, etc.

Gripe #5: I am whining.

Gripe #6: My car now has 140,000 miles on it.

Gripe #7: I have an uneven number of wool socks. Where do they go?

Gripe #8: I have to borrow this computer to gripe. My computer is dead.

Gripe #9: My back hurts, my bad knee is still bad, my vision sucks without contacts or glasses, my broken finger continues to bend... soon the joint will break again and I'll have to have reconstructive surgery.

Gripe #10: I can't afford a dog. I can't afford anything.

Gripe #11: My living situation is not good. That's all I'm going to divulge. You're welcome.

Gripe #12: I can't grow a full beard. Oh, I can grow a killer goatee, and I do. But I want the full mountain-man beard, and instead it grows in all white-trash like Joe Dirt. I might be white trash, but I refuse to look like it. Hippie/granola/treehugger is my signature look.

Gripe #13: Hillary Clinton is a bitch, Rudy Giuliani is scary, John McCain is crazy, Barack Obama probably won't win, Al Gore still isn't ready, John Edwards doesn't matter.

Gripe #14: I don't like politics, but they won't ever go away.

Gripe #15: Anarchy, while super cool, neeeeetoooo, absolutely awesome, what the hip kids like, and my personal favorite, is just stupid idealism , and well... completely impossible.

Gripe #16: I'm an idealist. I'd rather be a pragmatist. Or an orthodontist. Or a pianist. Or any other IST.

Gripe #17: L'ho dimenticato Italiano, e come scriverlo. Merda.

Gripe #18: Musicians. Middle C and B flat isn't that cool.

Gripe #19: Because of me writing this list, I missed getting my check into the bank before it closed. And I'm broke.

Gripe #20: Sweaty feet. Need I even bother to say anything about that? No.



I'm back, and I feel better now.