I kinda feel like Im gettin stupider as I get older, rather than smarter.

My wife divorced me, my kids dont respect me and my dog pisses on my shoes every mornin.  Doesnt matter how many times I holler at im. 

And I dont do anythang fun.  As a kid I catched them fireflies on summer evenins and ran buck nakid thru the sprinklers.  I shot my mommas soup cans off the pigpen and whistled every afternoon on my way home from skool.

I say no to everythang now. 

I dont whistle anymore. 

 My lips are too busy pressed agensst my coors light as I drive home from work.  Spent some time in jail for that, but like I said, Im just gettin stupider.  

Exhausted. I didn’t really think this trip through—travel time wise. I caught the latest red eye from LA at 11:45pm (so I didn’t have to miss work.) I thought, hey I can sleep on the plane…

There’s a three hour time difference.

That means I lost three hours of sleep.

That means I haven’t slept but a few dozes in and out between shifting head on left arm on left armrest to head on right arm on right armrest. Haaahh, the joys of flying on a completely full commercial flight.

On a really happy note- I AM SO EXCITED to surprise Meme in West Virginia!! (She’s my grandma.) One of the accounting ladies at the office said, “Hope you don’t give her a heart attack.”

Yeah, me too.

I’m also really excited to meet the O’Dell and Dooley clan. How often do we get to visit the towns where our grandparents and their parents grew up? It’s a special trip down the ancestral trail and I’m lucky to sneak away from work for a day and a weekend.

‘Til Monday,
BD

It’s another productive day at work.  Polishing it off with a great catch-up dinner at a yummy LA eatery.  Then it’s back on the road, using my new Waze app to find the quickest route home.  Everything is going fine for a while until I realize that I haven’t moved but three blocks in ten minutes.  I immediately blame it on the app (Thanks Waze.  I thought we were working well together.  I thought we were friends.) and plan to tell Luke that he’s right, it’s a useless invention.  

I finally get on the freeway and traffic is in its glory (yeah…better than the side streets).  I hear sirens behind, a firetruck approaching my right side on the shoulder.  I inch the Mini Coop over to the left and think this can’t be good.  I actually say, “Oh no” to myself.  The firetruck stops about ten car lengths in front of me.  (Maybe this means Waze wasn’t wrong after all since the accident happened just moments ago).  We all start to move little by little and my eyes are anxious to see what stupid LA driver did this time.  As I approach the scene, I see two cars on the shoulder in perfect condition, two firetrucks and then I see what happened.  

A motorcycle lying on its left side and its driver lying on his back.  Very still.  His helmet is off, his eyes to the sky and arms gently open above his head like he was riding a roller coaster.  A man is shining a flashlight back and forth over the driver’s eyes, which remain locked to the sky.  He looks exactly like someone I know.  Exactly. I realize it’s not him…but it looks like him.

There is no blood.  Just stillness.  

I immediately put my hand to my chest and ask, “Please be with him.”  Chills run all over my body.  Once again, vulnerability as a human struck its chord. 

He is so young.  I am so young.  I get wrapped up in such trivial scenarios that when these brief moments of hitting home occur, I soak it up.  I breathe it, I feel it and it changes me.

The actual viewing of the accident happens within 3-5 seconds, but the build up to it is what really takes it outta the park.  The build up supports the strength of the reaction.  This long, annoying traffic-filled journey results in me seeing a kid on the asphalt of the highway.  This certainly overrules my prior annoyance with typical LA traffic and makes me appreciate my existence.  

I often wonder if more people looked at life’s big picture, how would they act?  What would change?  Would materials have less value?  It should.  Would people be kinder? They should.  We come into this world with nothing and leave the same.  I heard that in a song by the rapper Atmosphere and that line pretty much sums it up.    

b.e.d.     

Destination: Czech Republic Part 1

Customer service at US Airways LAX checkin counter is horrible. They ignore people who are asking for help. I decided to check a bag because that was the only way to get someone to come over to me. At security checkpoint, I was picked to go through body scanner. (I never know what kind of facial expression to have in that moment of going through airport security..supposed to play it cool, friendly, but not too much…do I crack a half smile? Do I make eye contact with the guards?) Anyway, I stood there with my arms above my head, self conscious about the stance. Exposing my underarms. My carry-on bag had to get “tested” by TSA. It passed. Our pilot got into an accident on the way to airport, they had to get a replacement pilot. Estimated time 45 mins delay. They were about right. Picked up lost time in the air, but wait. Captain calls overhead, “We are in a holding pattern because the airport is closed. Air force one with the VP is arriving.” Estimated time 30 mins delay. Only ended up being 15 though. 

Arrived in Philly. In the domestic terminal. Had to walk with my shoe untied, two bags and a roll of posters to terminal A, to catch my flight to Germany. Waited 3 hours. Ate some questionable, overpriced sushi, but sort of made up for it with $8 organic, dark chocolate covered pretzels. Hopped on a conference call, charged my iPad, and waited to board. Walked onto a sweaty, smelling airplane. Every seat is full. Really loathe flying coach on this airline. (If flying commercial coach isn’t enough motivation to make lots of money, not sure what is.) Plane started pulling out of gate, on time, then suddenly we stopped. Captain calls overhead, “Our engines seemed to have died. A mechanic is on the way.” 

Oh, good. 

“I think we’re just going to be tired for the rest of our lives,”  she said after taking that last final of college.  It’s true.  I think we’re just going to be tired for a long, long time. We have a lot to do in our short lives. 

So many of us wake up, get ready, drive to work, work, eat, work, drive home from work, eat, watch TV, read one page of a magazine that makes us feel good about starting to “read more,” then sleep.  And the cycle begins again.  Over and over and over and over. And for most people, this IS their daily schedule.  How did we all get stuck in a routine? Is it human nature?  Is it the PLAN?  Do we all need structure in order to prevent chaos?  In a way, yes.  Laws are good.  Structure is good.  Freedom is good, too.  While America has plenty of faults, I do feel very lucky to live here.  I can do whatever I want this Saturday.  Maybe take a jog by myself in the park, watch a movie, lie in bed all day, help in the community….Whatever I want.  I could even skip work next week.  Heck, I don’t even have to work at all (yeah right, but you get the picture).  That’s the point.  I have the choice to do what I want.  I am IN LOVE with my free will!

Being in control of our actions is something so many of us take for granted.  We just do, without thinking.  Or even don’t do, without thinking.  We forget that we can choose!  There are so many paths for each of us, it’s hard to pick the “right” one.  I have faith I can do it.  And you, too.  Maybe I’ll choose the wrong path at first and that’s OK.  But, at least I’m making a decision and then consciously choosing to make another one even if it’s wrong again.  That’s how we learn and grow as human beings.  

b.e.d. 

I think about my past ALL THE TIME.  It happened.  It was there.  There’s no erasing.   It might be a sliver of an instant when I peeled candle wax off a table or left a note for my Grandpa on his pillow or let my Grandma french braid my hair.  Then it might be rock bottom moments in different instances, at different ages (wouldn’t you like to know what they are!).  Those moments are just as memorable and important because I am growing from it.  I am using it for my own benefit.  I can’t erase what I have done or what others have done.  What I can do is unfold new moments.  Fresh moments.  Starting now.  Not tomorrow.  Not the 1st of the month.  

Now.      

See with each word I’m writing, I’m getting the chance to start a new idea.  Start a new sentence or a new day.  I started running two weeks ago - out of the blue.  

I just —- started.

Many people use the same words over and over in their lifetime (yes, no, I guess, sure, because, ugh).  But, it’s how we use them that makes all the difference.  

Are you getting what I’m trying to say?   

When I catch myself forgetting, I try to focus.  Focus on what I learned from it all.  So many times, we forget what we promised ourselves in tough situations.  ”Please. Get me through this and I’ll do ____ more.”  

What was that “____” again??    

Try hard to remember.  

Sitting in my bed, tonight, feels reminiscent of my days in the Islamabad hotel room.  So much lost.  I feel a bit like time, lately.  Literally, TIME.  I haven’t stopped.  The momentum has kept going without me having a chance to see what’s passing by.  My eyesight is blurry and my passion is worn.  

Strength is still growing on my sleeve.

b.e.d.  

Well, I’ve been back in America for almost a month now.  The day after I returned home, I had a job interview at a fantastic production company in Santa Monica.  I got the job and started two days later!  She said I beat 499 other people for the position.  Yay!  That felt really amazing considering I spent the previous three months in the Twilight zone doing pretty much nothing except pondering the meaning of life and writing.  It took a few days to really get used to life again.  Regular life.  Driving my car, washing dishes, shopping for groceries, wearing t-shirts… I missed it.  Just last weekend, I dropped off my Mini Coop for a tune-up and walked to the Metro.  It was raining, I was smiling - happy as could be walking by myself down the street.  The rain was fresh on my skin and it was beautiful.  

I’ve gotten caught up on the foods I so dearly missed.  Plus, tried a few new recipes.  

Semi-healthy chocolate chip cookies - yep that’s what they’re called because instead of using white flour, you use oat and spelt flour.  This is my second batch and these turned out extra good because I took them out of the oven about one minute before it was done.  Mmmm!     

Then…

Six seed soda bread - poppy seeds, sunflower seeds, raw pumpkin seeds, fennel seeds, sesame seeds, and flax seeds (I substituted flax powder to get the most nutrients).  

&&&

Home made butter - sounds fancier than it is - all you have to do is put one pint of heavy cream in a mixer for 10 minutes until the butter is separated from the liquid and that’s it!  

This week, I’m attempting Stuffed red bell peppers, Candied yams, and Celery Cucumber detox juice.  After eating an egg everyday for three months in Pak, I still haven’t eaten one since being home (unless it’s baked in cookies).  

I don’t miss eggs at all.

b.e.d.    

I feel cold.  The air conditioner is on and the window is open — trying everything to ventilate my room.  The cigarette smoke is seeping through the concrete wall into my lungs.  I get so angry that I can’t take one breath of fresh air, so I throw my pillow against the bed.  Then I spray air fresher for about 30 seconds longer than I’m supposed to.  Why do I want to write when I’m frustrated?  Yeah because I want to share my frustration.  I do not want pity or someone to say, “I’m sorry.”  I just want to vent.  I don’t care the response.  I just want to vent.  Why can’t we just vent without getting a response?  That’s another reason why I like writing because I’m writing for myself.  I’m not writing to get a response.  Although, it seems many people write to get a response.  I guess…

Hmm, that poses a worthy discussion.  Does the general majority write to get a response or write to relieve an emotion?       

I’m almost home.  But, really what’s so green about the grass at home?  Oh yes, freedom.  Ironically, that metaphorically (I like adverbs) ties into my initial thought. Ventilation = Freedom.  I’m in a room with minimal ventilation and minimal freedom. It’s really the goal of going home that’s driving me forward everyday and the obstacle of naiveness that’s keeping me here.  I feel quite ridiculous that I haven’t left the hotel (except 3x) in over one month.  My skin is pale, my hair is dry, my muscles are soft and I’m not writing this for compassion.  I’m writing because I want to.  It’s easy to see the physical changes.  It’s that darn inner metamorphosis in murky water. It’s buried so deep, I don’t know when to stop digging.  

We’ll get there, 

b.e.d.