It's simple, in that complicated sort of way...

Is It As Clear As Right and Wrong?

I try to live my life by a very simple code: do unto others as you would have done to you. Admittedly I mess up quite a bit, but nevertheless I do not go out and actively seek moral misconduct or malapropos behavior. And, usually, when I fuck up, I tell people I fucked up in a "stand and face the music" sort of way.

I haven't fucked up, but I know somebody who has. And they are not accountable. By reason of denial or rationalization I am unsure.

At what point does patience give way to anger, anger to frustration, frustration to disappointment, disappointment to neglect? For me, with the people I care about, it takes being humiliated. I don't know why this is the tipping point for me, I suspect it has something to do with being teased in school quite a bit, but humiliation is the Medusa that turns my sad heart cold and hard.

I have always been a line in the sand type of guy. I live my life trying not to fuck with anyone, but, if you start fucking with me I guarantee I'm willing to go a lot farther a lot faster than you would expect. I refuse to be bullied, which may be childish and someday may change, but I don't know.

Granted I give my friends, family and loved ones a bit more room in this area. But, if you take it too far, I'm going to have to let you know. Which is why my friends, family and loved ones usually treat me with the utmost respect. And I do my best to return the favor.

I cannot wrap my head around my current situation. If I say what I believe I must, I risk losing someone I care about deeply. But why would somebody who cares about me deeply have treated me this way? And why is there no accountability for the behavior?

There is a simple reason in here and a simple answer. But love is complicated. Probably because it's blind.

I Want To Tell Ya, But It's Hard To Put Into Words...

I am currently reading the book, All For A Few Perfect Waves by David Rensin. It's a series of interviews collected over a number of years in which people comment on the life of Miki Dora.

Miki "Da Cat" Dora, for all intents and purposes, was an asshole. But he was also an icon, a genius and one of the most gifted surfers of all time. He was surfing Malibu before Gidget turned a quiet subculture into a grandiose identity.  It was Miki's buddies who gave the real Gidget, (half girl, half midget) her name.

Miki was history, vision, transition, spirit, courage, cowardice, rage, beauty and flow. He was selfish. He was a bastard. He rarely told the truth. He knew that his mystique gave him power. He lived to surf and hardly ever worked a day in his life.

In his book, Rensin, deftly writes about surfing. I've tried to write about surfing and Rensin's passage is an excellent summation: "And it's still uncertain how well the world will ever appreciate surfing beyond the bodies, bikinis, acrobatics and commercial appeal, because, as any surfer will tell you, the act is indescribable. You are so in the moment it's like dreaming; you act on instinct."

The same is true, for me, when I'm wakeboarding. I am in the moment. My soul shakes my body with the joy and vibrancy of a child at play. Am I hedonist or am I looking for another plane of what is real? Am I spiritual or merely a bum with a board and cord? Will people ever understand me? Will I ever understand me? Does it matter?

Rensin also chews on differing perspectives like a hungry dog gnaws at his favorite bone: "Part of our limitation is lifelong conditioning; we've bought into the social routine and, like most everyone else, wear the mantle of restraint and resignation without really knowing it's there. It's not so hard to understand why: To break away from family and responsibility is tough. Tougher still is to actually come face-to-face with your own fear-producing and awe-inspiring power to be who and what you want to be. You have to be willing to accept the costs and rewards involved. Try it. Walk out the front door, turn left, keep going... keep going. Don't look back. Don't come back. You're free. Now what?"

How many people would like you if you were truly free? How many times have you ever felt free in your life? Even though I am limited by my skill, technology and nature on a surfboard or a wakeboard, I feel freedom. It's addictive.

It's a powerful force. It tugs at me with a genteel yet iron hand. Simply. Quietly. And I wonder at the cost and reward of a true freedom.

If You Want To Feel Like You're Doing Something With Your Life, Read This!

Kind of a catchy title, huh? Makes you want to read this post and know that you can go on with your day feeling like you actually did something with your life. It's a marketing technique. Unfortunately it's misleading.

I can't, with any sort of honesty, tell you that reading these words here today are going to make you feel like something monumental just happened in your life. However...

Yesterday I was feeling kind of shitty. I got up to write and started pecking away at a re-edit for a book idea. (A book that probably no one will ever buy but, nevertheless, it's at least good practice.) And I was just feeling kind of spent. The creative well had gone dry for the time being.

I also had to work my part-time bar job yesterday. And knowing, all day, that you have a job to go do at 4 p.m. that you despise with nearly every fiber of your being is no way to improve one's outlook on the day's proceedings, let me tell you. (I desperately need the money, though.)

I was feeling useless. I cannot stand feeling useless. I ran a couple of useless errands and then decided to go to one of my favorite places on earth, the bookstore.

Bookstores amaze me. All that literature, knowledge, imagination, fantasy, technique, help, verve, facts, secrets, enlightenment, humor, wisdom, morality, evil, banality, past, future, now, ideas, change, history, just sitting there waiting to be picked up. It's so relaxing to me.

I found some books and spent the next two hours at home reading. I can't tell you when the last time I made room to read like this. It felt great. It felt like I had done something with my day. What I had been reading had fascinated me, captivated me, taught me some new words.

Reading always does that. Always makes me feel like I have actually done something or improved myself. Television and movies never really do that. Maybe I'm watching the wrong programs. Maybe I'm reading the right books.

Maybe, I'm wondering, is it the same for you? For me, books are simple, they rev up my idle time to eleven. And, when I'm reading a good one, I feel like I'm doing something with my life.

So Now That You're There, What Happens Next?

It was always my dream to get paid to write. Today, at 33, I get paid to write. Not enough to make a living (or at least the living I've become accustomed to) mind you, but still, it's a start. Which has gotten me to re-evaluate my situation.

We all have hard times. It's what we do with them (learn from them, accept them, hate them, ignore them, defeat them, be defeated by them) that shows us, irrefutably, who we are. In this particular hard time (possible bankruptcy) I have found myself getting past disappointment, depression and anger (at myself) and accepting, but more importantly, learning from my perceived failures.

I have looked at my life from the outside, in. And I have found myself coming to some conclusions:

What life am I accustomed to? Do I really need the $1400 bedroom set and the $700 sofa? If I didn't have TV, how could TV convince me I was missing something? Have my poor property investments really been worth all the time, effort, stress and self-doubt? I used to get by on so little and have such a great time. Do I really need anything more than my laptop, my books, a presentable wardrobe and shelter? (And yes, smart asses, I am well aware that food, water and air are prerequisites.) Bankruptcy at this stage might be a relief. I can build something out of nothing again. We all do that with our lives, some of us just have a head start. I have never been anything more than average and yet I feel like I've done quite a bit with my life. And there's so much more I want to do.

I regret nothing.

A plan is simple, uncomplicated. It's just a list of things that doesn't happen. Outlines work much better.

Is It Because of the Poor Service?

That's what the lady on the other end of the phone asked me today when I called to cancel my garbage service. "Is it because of the poor service?" That was the only question she asked me.

This amazed me on many levels.

1. Because it was, indeed, because of the poor service. (They never show up to pick up my trash, even after I call them repeatedly.)

2. There was no offer to amend the poor service and keep me as a customer.

3. By asking, "Is it the poor service?" as not only your introductory question, but your only question, you acknowledge that you have a track record of poor customer service and you don't care enough to ask how to fix it.

What if the customer service representative on the other end of the phone was trained to ask their customers, "May I ask why you wish to cancel your service?" If the customer said, "Poor service" then the rep could politely ask if the customer would mind elaborating. Letting people talk through their frustrations is a significant factor in helping them get over them.

And, what if the rep was trained to tell the customer, "I've heard your concerns and must say that I know we can do better. May I offer you a week of free garbage service to prove it? If you aren't satisfied after your trial week you can call back and cancel your service, no questions asked."

This is small community and a small arm of a large disposal corporation. Word gets around quickly. Hear I am telling everyone in my blog that Waste Pro's service is terrible. And don't think I won't be telling anybody else who asks me about which garbage company to use, this story either.

Is it because I live in the South? Does this kind of nonchalance when it comes to keeping customers permeate everywhere? Am I looking at it from the wrong angle or, worse, overreacting?

It just seems so simple. How did it get so complicated? Or is it just apathy?