Stuff that bothers me

As I get older I’ve noticed that there are things that bother me enough to where I would just rather not do.


Nope. I had to chase my dog the other day. I can still run. I have had to chase my kids down the street once in a while, and the dog learned just how fast an old man can be on a gravel road while wearing boots. But the next two days after that I could hardly walk. People who run or jog or do marathons voluntarily have my respect, but I think I’d rather walk to my car or bike and greet them at the finish line with a frosty beverage.

Getting my shoes wet

I went fishing yesterday with my son and the dog. They happily splashed around in creeks and rivers and me…I was happy to not have to bend over to take my shoes off, much less just wade in with them. Nothing irritates me more in middle-age than wet socks, or putting dirty, wet feet into dry socks. I just watched them and chucked the line into the river. You know? Fishing?

Talking to people on the phone

Texting has spoiled me. As a writer, I get to put my best method of communication to work in daily conversation (at least when autocorrect isn’t having its way with my words). There are about four people on this planet I don’t mind talking to on the phone. About half of them I actually like video chatting with. But I think years of customer service, tech support, and front desk work have burned me out on the phone. If you need me, text me. I’d rather decipher smoke signals than talk on the phone most days.


I haven’t had cable TV in seven years. Whenever I’m at a friends house or at my parents’, I am invariably stuck in front of the TV at some point. For a 22 minute show, there are eight minutes of commercials scattered throughout. And somehow it’s always the same things. Medicine that won’t* give you gills. Laundry soap (by now, everyone should probably just pick from either Tide or whatever else is in the store). Cars nobody can afford. Cell phone plans (which are all the same, right now we are just going Team Lily or whoever else is shilling the same service). Or tortilla chips for some weird reason.

  • *same as sugar pill. Consult your doctor if a long, long list of side effects occur, in spite of the people in the commerical living their best lives.


I just despise traffic. Stop lights. Train crossings. People who won’t turn right on a red. Left lane cruisers. Campers driving in long convoys at ten miles an hour under the speed limit because for some reason you have to have a full medical checkup, a Commercial Driver’s Licence, and hours of training to drive a truck or school bus but they will let just anybody buy a literal HOUSE on three axles and pull it behind a diesel pickup truck all over the country. These people are a danger to themselves and others. Also, they are too proud to pull over and let people pass for any reason. If the apocalypse comes, you can count on entire highways being choked to a standstill by these jackwaggons trying to have a pissing contest with each other on a three lane interstate as the radioactive ash blankets all of us just trying to get to safety.

Waiting on other people

A big reason I just go and do things myself is because most people are so wishy-washy about making plans. 9/10 people flake on everything. So, I just don’t ask anymore. If I want to do something, I just do it. No coordinating plans. None of that. I just freakin’ go.


The only thing that stays the same is change

Twenty seven years ago, one of my best friends and I drove my 79 Ford Fairmont up a mountain road and got all the way to the gate at the top of a mountain, with Wyoming and Colorado on either side of the ridge we were running. A four door sedan, a light blue juggernaut skimming along through the tundra until we hit snow. Upon turning around and heading back down the mountain, I came upon a decision: to either take the high road which was an ice shelf or hit a section of washed out road. I took the high road and my Ford slid down the ice and into the washed out portion of road. We were stuck for the next three hours with one wheel compressed into the wheelwell and another high in the air, just spinning helplessly.

After lots of digging, bridge building in freezing runoff, and loading the trunk with about 300 lbs of rocks so both back tires made contact with dirt, we got the car moving again, leaving behind a carniverous cloud of mosquitoes that had probably drained us of about eleven pints of blood. A few days ago, I drove my Jeep up into the mountains on Jackson County Rd 8A.

This might be one of the worse sections of “road” I’ve encountered. I suppose it isn’t difficult to imagine that a quarter of a century ago, the road was good enough for a sedan to navigate and now in four wheel drive, I nearly overheated on a couple sections and broke out a tail light backing out of another. It hasn’t been maintained, and year after year of snowmelt is taking its toll. I made it to the top, but it was a pyrrhic victory. By the time I made it home again, I was tired, pissed off for having taken damage to my car, and my dog wanted nothing to do with me after a drive like that.

Yes, my Ford got stuck, but it was a friggin’ sedan! They weren’t made for this! My Jeep just barely made it. So much had changed. It is being left to return to nature.

I’ve taken a lot of these kinds of drives to places I visited all the time when I was a kid. Sometimes I recognize landmarks or something just feels familiar. But more often than not, a place might as well be somewhere I’ve never been before. I don’t recognize it. The landscape has changed, or maybe it’s me that has changed. It is a strange detachment I am experiencing with a lot of things. Maybe it’s my age too.

There are a few things that are decidedly unchanged, like the smell of the post office. But many other things are different. That happened at my old job too. There were some days that I remembered the halls of that building with complete clarity, like I could have sworn for a moment I saw my old friends working in the computer lab just like they used to do. But the building was soon changed and the ICET lab was turned into two classrooms. Forgotten.

I’m working on this house lately. My grandparents’ and home to now six generations of my family. Every time I rip out a wall or ceiling, or update something, it removes that sense of familiarity. The sense of coldness that has hung over my family for generations. My son and I fill these spaces with laughter and when he isn’t with me, I make the place my own, with my office and bedroom, and setting rooms up in ways that would probably baffle my dead forebearers. A bedroom? Here?! *Scoffing sounds* It’s never been done like that before!

I’m not here to do things the way they’ve always been done. There is a bittersweetness to changing this place, and in doing so, fading out a memory of this place. Truth be told, I’ve got much better memories of places. It’s nice to do things differently sometimes. I guess what I’m trying to say is that the places I visit are no longer as I once knew them. And I’m no longer the same.

It isn’t necessarily good or bad. It simply is.

I look back to how my life was a year ago, as many of us are doing. At the time I was experiencing heartbreak I was almost positive I would never recover from. I didn’t care about masks or lockdowns or any of it. I was experiencing a different type of isolation. I felt my solitude was just lost in the mix with everyone else’s. It didn’t matter. And I couldn’t resort to my usual methods of distraction. Chasing. Living it up. I had to sit in my own feelings for a long time. Eventually the fog cleared. It took a long time. It took calls to my mom, or friends, or just feeling wrecked. The strange thing is that by just dealing with these emotions, over time I did feel better. I got to know myself again better. The hits that might have laid me low before were no longer as much of a problem. I got to figure out who was really there for me when the chips were down. I also got to meet myself again.

I was wrong back then. My life is different now, but in many ways better. I find more fulfillment now. I know myself better. I have better people in my life too. Or at least I allow them to be closer now.

I still make mistakes. I still get angry about things sometimes. Frustrated. Fearful. And yeah, maybe I beat myself up occasionally too. But a year ago, the landscape was a lot different than it is now. Familiar now, but my own.

Things that are bullsh*t

In my 45 years on this planet, I have learned that a large number of things I was told while I was growing up are simply not true. So, I decided to make a list.

Blood is thicker than water

Not true at all. Family are people you happened to be around more than other people. Probably because some of them just happened to be at the table when the food was getting passed around. A major clue people should have figured out on this is that everyone knows someone who is a complete asshole. There is a distinct certainty that this person is someone’s son, daughter, cousin, aunt, parent, etc. There’s a good chance they are an even bigger asshole to the people that are forced to pass them the gravy at dinner.

You can’t choose who you love

Actually, you can, and really you should. Truth be told, you do. You make a conscious decision every time you interact with that person whether or not to give them affection. If you aren’t, then you should consider contacting a witch or someone who can remove the spell that has been cast over you. Because if they are screwing someone else, disrespecting you, hurting you, or even flat out ignoring you, you are the one choosing to “love” them. The same applies to all relationships. Kids, parents, spouses, friends, or just anyone. Signs that you aren’t making this choice include small bottles containing nails, hair, urine, or other personal items that you randomly find under your bed or under your porch. Seek professional help.

It didn’t use to be like this

No, it wasn’t. Sometimes it was worse. Though the world is inundated with “woke” people, Karens demanding to see the manager, rabid conservatives, and social injustice at every turn, I have never seen someone lynched, I haven’t watched someone beat a mule to death in the street, the local warlord hasn’t rounded up the town virgins for prima nocte. There aren’t people impaled along the roadside and left to the carrion birds. And the story of the “Little Matchgirl” just sounds like a hyperbolic if not morbid Christmastime story, rather than current events. You aren’t suffering the same ways that people in the past have done. You are usually just inconvenienced.

Karma is going to bite them in the ass

No it won’t. That’s just you hoping bad people will get their just desserts. They won’t. Even if they did, they won’t see it that way. Truly awful people go around in this world reaping the benefits of other people’s misery. The villain is the hero of their own story. The only people “karma” affects are good people who thing they are being punished for something, when it really has nothing to do with anything other than shit luck. They work for a long time to pay pennance. The reality of it is that karma never works because the people deserving the shit end of the stick has no more concept of wrong doings that deserve cosmic punishment than a yellowjacket that stings you for wearing red.

You can only be loved as much as you love yourself

Not true. Sometimes people love us in spite of this. What we can all hope for is we realize we need to catch up before we miss out. Loving ourselves is a good way to make sure that we aren’t making those who love us miserable. And it’s a good way to not be an attention thirsty trainwreck incapable of reciprocating that love.