I distrust epiphanies.
You’re sitting on the couch one day watching the History Channel, eating a bag of Doritos and swigging a 20 oz. Mountain Dew, when a fitness commercial comes on the tube and you suddenly decide you’re tired of your life, you’re sick of being a fat slob couch potato, that you’re going to order that Bowflex and get back into shape, and while you’re at it you’re going to shut off the tv, go outside and cut the grass, clean the gutters, and change the oil in the car while you’re at it.
Afterwards, you’ll whip up a gourmet dinner for the wife and kids, quit your job and go back to school, finish that degree, learn Italian, and – if you have time — perhaps even put in some volunteer work down at the literacy center on weekends.
A few minutes later, after deciding that the Bowflex was too expensive, you relax, go back to the junk food, and finish watching that program on the Nazis, your life-changing epiphany of a few moments before blissfully forgotten.
Epiphanies. Moments of Clarity. Life-changing realizations.
Bullshit.
I’ve been a mopey bastard around the house lately. Just tired, unmotivated, depressed, whatever you want to call it. The planning for the wedding is coming along fine, the baby is doing great, and things have been going well at the club (we’re a bit hit and miss right now, like all titty bars are this time of year, but we’re holding our own and still making money) but I’ve just been down. Tired. Pissy. Moody. I don’t know.
Felicia has noticed and mentioned it several times. I usually mumble some excuse and go on moping the way I was before.
Now she’s about to finish her pre-requisites so she can start school in the fall, and I’m so proud of her for finishing up and doing well on her tests and actually trying to improve her situation; it makes me embarrassed that I’ve become such a slug lately. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I still take out the trash and try to keep the place as clean as possible. I still watch the baby daily for at least a few hours and change dirty diapers and all that. Still cook dinner whenever we eat at home. Still go to work and try to do my job as best I can under what are sometimes less than perfect circumstances.
But I just feel like I’m — well, out of sorts somehow. My yin-yang tattoo on my arm is reminding me that my life isn’t balanced as well as it could be. I haven’t been writing at all, which gets me down more than you know, and even the books I’m reading don’t hold my interest.
Mike South wanted us to go to Miami for Exxxotica and see all our friends in the XXX biz, and we really couldn’t afford it. I know we could all use even a short family vacation, but we don’t really know where to go, and don’t know if we’d have the money to go if we could figure out where it was in the first place.
I was talking to Tod Hunter yesterday online and mentioned some ideas I’ve been wanting to work on — he was full of encouragement, as always. As a matter of fact, he said that if I didn’t start writing more he’d fly from California to Dayton and kick my butt.
I love Felicia and the baby. I love my job, although there are plenty of times when it gets me down — that’s true for everyone, though. I wish I had some decent benefits, but nothing’s perfect. I love books, writing, art, music, cooking, and my friends. I’m marrying my soulmate and my best friend this September. I have a beautiful son who it’s my privilege to raise now that I’m 42. I have two beautiful children from a previous marriage who I also love.
Maybe I’m just whining. Maybe I just need to get back to work on the novel and try to plug away at it for an hour or so each day while Hendrix is napping. Maybe I need to get off this couch, shut off this laptop, and go outside and mow the dandelion farm that was once my yard.
Or maybe I’ll just sit here and finish these Doritos. I wonder what’s on the History Channel right now?
