Maximizing My Inner Minimalist

So one of the newest fads, for lack of a better term, is being a minimalist; living with the least amount of things and getting rid of objects that you already own that you don't need. In this day and age of everything costing way too much, that sort of living can probably save the practitioner of that lifestyle a lot of money. Getting rid of things you don't need and not purchasing unnecessary items in the future is a very liberating concept. Imagine being able to walk down the street with money in your pocket and not being tempted to by a new pair of CK jeans or cologne. You already have a good pair of sneakers so you don't need to buy a new pair of kicks with the name of a professional basketball player on it; not needing to get a new iPhone or Droid because the phone you have is all you need. It would be a liberating feeling to know that, by living a minimalist lifestyle, you can discover a lot about yourself because you can actually see that you need very little to survive. Furthermore, there's also a philosophical aspect to consider. When it comes to emotional baggage, one could do well by being a minimalist in that area of their lives as well.

While it's a novel concept to most and one I'm seriously considering implementing and studying more about, I can't help but chuckle. It's comical to me simply because, as I look back on my life, I've been a minimalist for as long as I can remember. It was purely unintentional but I've always been that way. Hell! My mom raised me that way. We were poor so it came easy because, well, everything was minimal.

I don't think I've ever bought or owned a TV and if I did have one in my possession, it was a gift or hand-me-down type item. I've bought radios and CD players but I've kept them small so that I can travel with them. Speaking of traveling, I've always done so light because I don't own that much in the way of clothes and apparel. Usually one suitcase or duffel bag is all I need to move all of my belongings from one place to another. Hell! I don't even own a car anymore nor do I plan to ever own one lest I win the lottery. Then I'm buying Shelby Mustang I've always wanted, but I digress.

I'm reminded of the movie Fight Club. Two quotes in particular come to mind.

"The things you own end up owning you."

...and...

"It's only after you lose everything that you're free to do
anything."

Makes sense, doesn't it? If it doesn't, that's OK. Choosing to live this way, in the way in which I've read about that people have chosen, is still a little weird to me. I mean, as much as I can say I don't own much, I also don't save money the way a minimalist should and I'm not ashamed of that. Everyone has their vices. Still, to really adopt that lifestyle, I have to start living a little more frugally. I guess I can cut back on the beer and alcohol. I'm trying to better my life by minimizing anyway. I guess I should minimize my alcohol and tobacco consumption. Well, I'll try to at the very least.

I'm going to go to my storage unit today and start seeing what it is that I can live without. If I don't need it, it goes. Moreover, I'm going to include in that list all of the old letters and pictures I've kept from past lovers. I don't need to be haunted by ghosts of the past anymore. Starting today, I minimalize my emotional baggage and, I will shorten my long lists of regrets. God-willing, maybe one day I can get rid of that list once and for all.

Unspoken For.

I'm trying to figure out if I want a girlfriend or not. It may not sound like a difficult question but it is for me. I miss the intimacy, sure. I am quite lonely; that's a given. Nevertheless, am I ready for a full-blown, legitimate, honest to goodness, committed to one person relationship? I don't know. I'm feeling torn and very confused. (And for those of you reading this that are already calling me a dog, FUCK OFF! I'm being honest! Last I checked, women want that quality in a man.)

I always thought that I could be a bachelor for the rest of my life and just enjoy a woman's company when it suited me. However, I'm set in my ways. After awhile, I expect certain things out of a woman and the Good Lord knows no one woman is like another. Each one far too unique to be mistaken for another. That being said, what the fuck happened to blowjobs?! Seriously! Is there like a BJ boycott or something I'm not aware of? If there is, it sucks and, ironically, it's the only thing that does! (That pun was very much intended!) In a weird way, I'm kind of happy that women aren't throwing that out there all the time. That just helps me discern how deep I'm getting into the relationship. (If there is one forming, that is.) Basically, I take the blowjob as the high sign that the chick is digging me but I digress. I think I've stayed off topic long enough.

To girlfriend or not to girlfriend? That is the question and while I want to, I'm a bit apprehensive. The truth of the matter is, even though I've matured a lot since my last relationship, I know I have the potential to fuck a relationship up as if I had a PhD in fucking up relationships. I start off strong and then I somehow manage to screw up a good thing. (Seriously! I've been doing it since the Corps days.) Still, I won't lie. The only reason I'm writing this blog entry is because I have an interest in someone. Perhaps I just answered my own question.

Hangover Heaven

This has been, by far, one of the most entertaining weekends of my life. So much so, in fact, that I have to put it in the Top 10 All-Time Best Time list. Actually, it started way prior to Friday.

I've been in and out of more bars than I can remember and, for some reason, I feel a rejuvenation in my game. Well, maybe not my game because I really don't have much of it anymore but I am actually excited about dating, flirting, etc., a little more lately. That might not seem like a big deal to anyone reading this but it is. For a long time, I was out of it. I didn't see myself with anyone. Still don't but I'm hopeful. That whole incident with me almost becoming a father really put things in perspective.

So there was a make out session last week with someone I really didn't think would be down for it. It was nice. Great, even! I hadn't done the "making out on the couch" thing in a long time. I felt like I was in high school and was making out at a girl's house whilst her parents were out. Sounds corny, I know but it's the little things that go miles and miles with me.


Then the flirting everywhere else...bars, bus stops, bookstores...has been a little out of control and overwhelming by my previously recent standards. I don't know what it is that's gotten into me but I'm riding out this wave for as long as I have it in me to do so.

Oh! And strippers help boost that surge inside me (And YES! I know it's really stupid to think they're after anything but money but I have a wonderful imagination!)

But anyway, I'm trying to calm down. I've drinking everyday for the the past five days; the culminaton coming on Saturday with the mother of all bachelor parties! (Hence the strippers. Stay focused!) I still have two more days off of work so I'm gonna enjoy them in the same fashion even though my funds are beginning to diminish. Hell! I'm writing this blog from BLVD Bar & Grill in Elmwood Park. Got a pint of Yuengling and a shot of Jack Daniels next to me. (I'm nursing the shit out of them but I'm still drinking! So much for "trying to calm down," huh?) Actually, I have to go to another bar to meet up with friends but I can't pry myself from this barstool because, if there's one thing I love better than anything, it's people-watching.

The person I'm watching at the moment is some cat named Freebird (I shit you not! That's his name.) I think he's homeless because I never see him with a beer in front of him and he's always eating people's leftovers but he's a gas to watch. Apparently, he likes jamming to the music on the juke. Right now, he's jamming to (Wait for it!) FREEBIRD! Homeless, in a bar, eating leftovers and jamming to Freebird. I don't know why, but I'm kinda jealous of him! LOL! (No, seriously! I am.)

This whole blog is an exercise in chaos! I know this. However, that's what happens when I'm in super hangover mode. My mind is pure chaos at the moment. I can't make sense of anything nor do I intend to. To quote one of my favorite movie phrases: I'm an agent of chaos!

20/20 Hindsight

I don't know who I was kidding with that last blog. Although I can't stop thinking about the girl and what my baby would've looked like, deep down, I was relieved that I wasn't going to be a father. As much as it pains me, I have to admit that. I mean, seriously, who am I kidding?! I'm still raising myself! Moreover, I'm doing a piss poor job of that. I'm not saving for the future. I'm still living paycheck to paycheck. I have no ambitions. No goals. I'm not even too sure what makes me happy anymore or if I truly ever knew.

So no more brooding. We move on. We push forward. We do all the optimistic crap my friends (Tyger and Bubbles)* always tell me to do. I'm gonna take a vacation next week. Just for me. Just to see if I still know how to enjoy myself. Hopefully, it doesn't involve too many bars or too many gallons of beer but I seriously doubt that. Beer is the cornerstone of a good time for me. I might even try my hand at a few poker tables. As a matter of fact, I'm dying to find some poker action because I need to test out a theory. As the saying goes:

"Lucky at cards, unlucky in love."

If that is even slightly accurate then I should be a natural at poker. Even if I'm not, I love playing that game so it stands to reason that I should play for fun. Who knows? I might even win me some rent money.

All that aside, I still can't get my mind off of that girl. She vowed that she and I would never have sex again. If you don't know anything about me, the word "never" just makes me lock on to you like a cruise missile! It's one of my character flaws.

1) Always want what I can't have.
2) Don't know what I have until it's gone.
3) I always end up hurting what I love.

What's worse, they usually go off like dominoes. They set off a chain reaction that often leaves people (and me) in tears. However, now that the word, "never" was used, I want it even more; I want her even more. It's pure lust, I know but I can't resist.

UGH! What is wrong with me? Man, I can't wait for that vacation time! I don't know where I'm gonna go but I need to get away. Play some games, drink some beers and, God-willing, fuck some other chicks. As I always say: Nothing gets you over the last one like the next one!

*You know who you are!

I Just Lost One.

I've been brooding as of late. Too much on my mind. Since I haven't been around the blogosphere in awhile, I'll just cut to the chase: I got a girl pregnant. Now to tell you that story I have to tell you this one.

A decade or so ago, while I was in the U.S. Marine Corps, I was a communicator and worked with a lot of equipment that gave off a lot of radiation. Nothing murderous (that we knew of anyway) but it was known that it did give most of my sperm a tan, so to speak. Damn near everyone I served with, within my MOS, that had children almost always had girls. The reason being, is that said radiation from the equipment almost always destroyed the Y chromosome that made it possible to have boys. Well, my condition was a bit more severe. Apparently my sperm count was never up to par. At least, it wasn't as strong as when I started fucking at the ripe old age of 14 years old. (Go Mannix!) The docs said that would improve over time and that I shouldn't worry.

A year and some change ago, however, I went for a check up and my sperm count was still sub par. "Oh well," I said to myself. I consigned myself to the fact that I couldn't have kids. It wasn't just because of the opinions of a few physicians either. I was in a 3 year relationship with my then girlfriend and I know we had a ton of would-be accidents (most of them alcohol induced) and before her, I was in an on and off relationship with another woman for far longer that that and, since we were with each other and exclusive for so long, the use of protection was almost a non issue. Furthermore, these were women I had commited to. All that time, in two different, serious relationships and not one accident.

So now, I'm single. Shooting the shit. Having fun. Haven't been with a girl in awhile so, naturally, I jump at the chance when, pardon the term, "pussy presented itself" so willingly. How could I resist? The person in question wasn't a stranger either. It was just someone that I didn't think I would ever bed. A friend, let's call her Dolly*. (And yes, she's in a relationship with another person. Nothing I'm proud of but nothing I'm ashamed of either. It was one of those spontaneous, heat of the moment things and the sex was phenomenal!) We have no intentions of ever getting serious; no intentions of ever starting a family. So naturally, now I have the ability to have a kid. Now my sperm starts wanting to do it's job.

I could blame the new exercise regimen and proper diet I was on or just divine providence for my newfound vigor and "testicular fortitude" but that's irrelevant. What I can't help but find ironic is the fact that I conceived a child with a woman that I knew would never keep my seed.

Seeing my Goddaughter's deadbeat father and knowing of countless other stories of similar deadbeats, I know I would never be that way. Moreover, I wanted the child. Lord knows if this ONE time was just a fluke. That's all that kept running through my mind when I asked her what she wanted to do even though I knew the answer to that question before I asked it. She made a choice and as much as I hated this one particular choice, I respect her right to make it. To her credit, she seriously considered having my child. Knowing full well I may never have this opportunity again, she actually considered pretty much putting the kibosh on her entire relationship just to sire my child.

As depressed as I am about not having the privilege of being a father, I cannot fault her nor can I ever be mad at her. Not many friends, not even close ones, would ever even consider sacrificing so much.

So here I am, still brooding on the loss; still dreaming of the prospect of ever cradling a son or daughter of my loins in my arms. However, as much as I am saddened, I have newfound hope. It very well may be possible that I am still very capable of having a child of my own. Nevertheless, if I regret nothing else, I will anguish over one thing: My baby would've had the most beautiful eyes one could ever hope to gaze at.

*Names have been changed. Honor has to be protected.