Decisions Decisions

It really is all about decision making, isn't it.  I mean, everything.  Everything is about making decisions, in a way.
Should I eat pasta, even if it makes me feel sick?
Should I walk down this street, a shortcut through a dangerous neighborhood? Or take the time to be safe.
Red shirt, or white shirt.
Stairs or escalator.

These decisions don't involve life or death.  Most, in fact, do not.
life is not Sophie's Choice.

So but why I write, now, is about making a decision on my part—to be a whiney bitch, or to deal with stuff head on.

I place myself in a situation where I believe I am helping someone. In so doing, I am a good person, or a goodguy. And hopefully will see my friend excel.

The down side is, what do I get.  To see my friend excel?
Do I really just want that, or am I hoping somehow by osmosis, success will somehow rub off onto me as a result?
Or, am I helping the friend, becuase I secretly want them to offer to help me with whatever whatever secret project I might have for myself.

So the decision I must make make is: figure out what I want, and get it. From this situation.  And if I want out, i should step up.  Make the decision, for my own sake. And get out.

But somehow, I'm not making a decision.  I'm taking a wait-and-see approach.  But is that really wise? Won't it somehow lead to anger.

"I'll Call You Back At 830. You Gonna Be Home Then?"

I thought I was lame and irresponsible about calling people back, till I got thoroughly re-introducted to Dee.  I guess its just something to say, when stating, "I'll call you at 830."

 But that statement comes back again and again, and never does said person call back at said time. Never.  My friend Wae once said, "Yes you often don't call when you say you will," and that stopped me from ever promising I'll call.  Unless I know, for certain, that its important and its part of a plan.

I have my moods, and sometimes just do not want to be on the phone, period.  So, I simply won't make that promise anymore, that I'm going to call. 

 But Dee makes that promise, to call, again and again.  And while I'm actually relieved he never fulfills the promise, I get tired of going through the ritual of yes-yes'ing about being home, yes I'll be there, yes you should call, sure. 

In some sense its a totall relief, as I know its just going to be a lot of stories of Woe, some incredible literally almost-unbelievable strokes of bad fortune that have befallen him. And the stories are long, windy, and end depressingly. Generally the person at fault is the teller of the stories, but always there is implicit blame on the others involved, or in The Situation that trapped him in.  These tales go on and on— about having had to pay close to 1000 dollars to visit his brother in Philly,  a 300 dollar cab ride from one town to another, etc.   Just a lot of really really painful stuff to hear.  

And when I say painful I mean it in the sense that its a lot of venting, and mostly no lessons learned, about terrible judgement and sloppy lazy behaviour. Again, the tales end up poorly.  They're tough to hear, because after they are exhausted and explored, these stories will be replaced by more stories. With the same kind of Charlie Brown woe.

Or there's the Highs  The highs of a guy who loves to drink and get high.  Hubris, and Great Possiblity, about a screenplay idea, or a contact made, or just in general something that has become super inspiring and exciting, due to having had a few hits of weed, and some booze down the ol hatcher. 

The question is, Do I really want a call back? Not so sure. 

Fred Is Dead

We all "knew" it would happen, but in fact it did.
It was something we said resenfully -- "Hes killing himself, he wants to die."

Then he did kill himself, he did die.

He left behind a void that only loss can create.  The suddenness left no room for contingency plans.
We all said he was killing himself, yet counted on and expected him to be around anyway.

But thats simply not how it worked out.

All the time in the world

Remember that TZ ep where Burgess Meredith says, "There's time now. All the time in the world.."?

The world has blown up and he has books, and he finally gets to just sit there and read, forever. But then his glasses break. And the irony is - he can't see now.
But has all these books.
I love that.

Meanwhile back in the real world, my friend so-and-so is spinning her wheels at all times, talking about how she needs to do this and to do that. But really she does nothing. Married a rich guy, and has thus been enabled.

To travel to shop to run from this appointment to that one. But essentially of consequence she does absolutely nothing. And yet her mantra, super annoying, is: "Oh we have been so busy!" Drives me up a tree to hear it. And I rarely see her, as she lives the life of the unemployed and well-heeled.

A second friend falls into this category. Trust fund. Runs frantically, hysterically, from one thing to the next.

All social events. A party a gathering a birthday. Running running running. And always late!! When you have no concept of time you have no interest or care, about the time of others. Perhaps you thus aren't capable to act considerate in this area.

"People who know me know and accept I'm usually ten to fifteen minutes late to everything!" Really?  Rude.

Maybe I'll do the same thing to you. See if you enjoy it.

Mark Tries His Smoothest Seduction-Moves

Mark was leaning sideways in his chair, trying to make time with the girl seated beside him. She was attractive and young, just to Mark's liking.

From afar, Steve was observing closely, and leaned in to his buddy Kaye standing beside him at that party.
"Hows that for body language? Just look at that."

And there was the girl, sidtting beside Mark—her arms folded across her chest. Her legs crossed, clamped together tightly and securely.

"If that doesn't scream CLOSED, I don't know what does."

The Eyepatch

It was Kindergarten, and everyone wanted that eyepatch. They were five years old and imagined themselves to be pirates and swashbucklers like they had seen on tv. But I was the one actually forced to wear it—because I was a spazzy little crosseyed retard kid.

The other little kids wanted a chance to feel like a real pirate, to look cool. I on the other hand have to tell you, there was nothing I wanted more in those days than to be rid of the encumbrance that was strapped onto my face each morning before starting my school day. It was a nuisance, and I hated it. So much so, in fact, that the doctor decided it more effective to instead have an eyepatch-shaped band-aid adhered onto my eye socket—to ensure it wouldn't be easily removed. I went from having an annoying strap on my face to a glued-down eye socket cover.

While all the kids in class were, unbeknownst to me, running up to the teacher with, "how come I can't have an eyepatch?" I was likely busy thinking, "why do I have to wear this eyepatch?"

Yeah.  Even as a kid the grass is greener on the other side.

THE FOODIE MOVEMENT 2011

So i have some seriously mixed feelings about the Foodie Movement. The concept behind all this stuff is that good food is to be savored, and can be more expensive, as it is more humane, more in touch with nature and basics, and often the ingredients are locally sourced.

for these reasons, the cost is higher, and so is the attitude. There's a preciousness behind it all that can be hard to take. In brooklyn New York, the chefs and restaurant owners seem to border on smugness. Am I reading into this, i'm not sure.

Yet some very excellent food, at a lower price point, can be found in Queens. More interesting. More diverse and flavorful. More authentic. Essentially, less pretentious in its creation, and less expensive. Just good food rooted in various specific ethnicities. Queens has a very large melting pot when compared to brooklyn.

In brooklyn where I live, certain hot spot restaurants are talked about and talked about, and given all the attention. And the chefs are treated like superheroes and bold visionaries. I'm just not so sure. Not... so... sure. I am a skeptic, and a die hard one at that.