Now That I'm Forty...


Born in New York and now going to die in New York. Someday.

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Now That I'm Forty...

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Monday, August 23, 2004

Ah HAAAA! NOW I Know What It Is!

I'm LAZY. All along! And here I was thinking I was suffering from all sorts of mental illnesses and childhood traumas. I don't want to work! I want to haunt my apartment all day and night like a revenant. I want to play City of Heroes, then go out and buy Popeye's chicken, then come home and edge my cat over on the sofa for a nap, then wake up and start it all over again. 7 days a week. 52 a year. For the rest of my life.

That being unlikely, I'm taking new steps to improve my future.

I'm going to go for my doctorate. Why would a lazy person think to get a doctorate?? So I can work less and make more money at it. I mean, if I HAVE to work, why do it like a dog? Plus, while I'm controlling the jealous streak running rampant in me during my excursions downtown into Moneysville, I do realize that if I'm going to be a bachelor and live south of here in one of these new apartment highrises, I'm going to need some kind of professional income.

Now, what my audioblogs have failed to say, due to the mysterious lack of their translation to the webpage, is that I had another psych crisis last week. I started out walking to 141th St. at 8pm because I was bored and lonely and nostalgic, and continued walking down Broadway until I was at 72nd St. All along the trip I was audioblogging dialogue that it seems you will never hear. But I accomplished a few needful things.

1) I watched Harlem turn into Columbia University. STARTLING transformation. The Housing projects morphing into collegiate halls. The McDonald's-KFC/Taco Bell turning into sidewalk bistros. Depressed and loud people-of-color transforming into chatty girls on cellphones and white boys in flip flops. (I must have seen six gazillion male Caucasian toes this Summer. White boys LOVE their feet, don't they??)
This part of my journey convinced me to finish my education. Finish as in, not stopping at a Master's degree and only forevermore refer to my friend as The Doctor, but do it my own self.

2) I therapized my depression for the night, which was brought on by a King of Queens ep that made me cry. Carrie thought she was pregnant and was freaking out about their financial situation, and wouldn't tell Doug. Carrie's father moved Heaven and Earth to get Doug to Carrie so she could tell him. Doug spent five of the show's last minutes to convince Carrie that he would take all the extra financial burdens from then on so she would stop worrying and be free to grow a healthy baby. He was such a big charming hero in that scene, and she was such a sweet maiden that I was moved. He was fighting for his lady, pledging with all his heart to slay her dragons of fear and anxiety. He was everything I want to be, and I saw myself saying the same words to my wife-to-be, wrapping her up in as big a hug as I could manage, trying to bury her in me, and adding more besides. I'd tell her how great a mother she was going to be and how great a father I was going to try to be, and she would pull back and tell me I WOULD be a good father because she loved me and believed in me, and of course that was the exact reason I thought the same of her, and we'd kiss each others tears as I realized why I married her in the first place.

Crap had me weeping all into the commercials, and then I set off on my Broadway trek.

3) I called my southwestern mentor and left a message trembly enough that he called me back after I had arrived home (by train, mind you. I hadn't planned on walking that far, and dang sure wasn't going to walk back. So ultimately, I walked 85 blocks and 3 avenues that night). We had another good long talk about my situation and he helped me out again just by caring enough.

4) I saved myself from starting another dangerous relationship. I have a new crush on another fellow colleague in the field, and I was considering asking her out and ignoring some serious considerations. a) She's probably as young as my last girlfriend, which ='s incompatible and I don't care WHAT anyone says, b) I know nothing of her non-professional personality, c) I know nothing of her faith and beliefs--like will she want to get down after at least the third date, and will she not think I'm gay as McGreevey when I don't, thereby catapulting me back into the depression I'm trying to avoid.

5) I burned a bellyful of calories.

As for the book I'm writing--I'm writing it. I can't say anything else about here because then I'm writing it here instead of on my harddrive (and floppies), and "blog" is another term for "Steal My Ideas For Free".

Check you later.

Me at 8/23/2004 12:38:00 PM