Hop's Thoughts

For the first time since my surgery last June, I feel old. The heat and length of the day took its toll. Not fatigue that made me sleep, I still came home, had a drink, took a shower, talked to Swag, entertained the landlord's kids briefly, then watched a movie, before falling asleep around 11 PM. nearly 20 hours awake could explain it, but the fact I only slept four hours last night, feeling somewhat mentally rested, makes me think it's something else. There were little things throughout the day. A disconnect, not with the people in their teens or twenties, but with the one in his 30's. A work ethic, a sincerity, a reasoning for being there. At one point, despite adoring it, I felt as though I didn't belong. Maybe this is simply a continuation of the last blog, which is a continuation of reflection. It's nearly 7 AM, I've been awake for an hour and I've cleaned the kitchen floors and counters while cooking my lunch for the day. Swag and the fish were taken

Finally getting back to work was great for my body and mind. The weekend of sitting, reading, drinking, and reflection was also just what the doctor ordered. Over the weekend, I made a mental list of things that make me happy and another of things that frustrate me. Many of them are truly a yin and yang, with one feeding off the other, causing me glee or anger. I'm working on that too. I won't bore anyone with the tiny things, like being somewhat obsessive about dirty dishes or the fact I never make my bed unless I'm putting fresh sheets on, but even in that area, I am slightly obsessive about clean sheets and towels. I recently shared a bathroom with a guy who didn't clean his towels for six months. No, I'm not kidding. It's little things I do that make me happy but I've also realized I do these things for others not out of overall kindness but a desire not to be frustrated. These things are what most people don't even think about, and yes, I thought

Writers, comedians, professors, scholars, psychologists, and other members of the intellectual elite have all commented, some positively, some negatively, on the art of sarcasm. If you noticed, I called it an art. It isn't simply saying something ironic or mean, it's saying it with precise verbiage, impeccable timing, corresponding look or movement, and of course, intelligence. Is it an act of contempt? The dictionary seems to think so, as do psychologists, but what if it isn't a coping mechanism for an inability to debate or discuss and it's actually who you are? Does that make you a bad person? One thing about sarcasm, for me, is that it takes an incredible level of intelligence to use it properly, and an above average intelligence to detect it. A teacher once said to me, "Sarcasm is wasted in the youth." I tend to disagree as children often use sarcasm perfectly, without even knowing they've done so. The one thing that is true is, it is indeed waste

This is not an epiphany, nor is it being brought up due to a single event. I just have come to grips with the fact that I am terrible at pacing myself. Whether it be work, play, friendships, relationships, relaxing, sleeping, quite honestly, everything. I suck at pacing. Despite being a master of procrastination, I'm actually great at finishing projects. The problem is, I finish them too soon. I work to fast, I play too fast, I drink too fast, I escalate conversations too fast, I pretty much do everything too fast. Insert joke right about here. I cost myself money by continuously doing work that should take a day in a matter of hours, at times, if it's clerical, minutes. Working for hourly pay and hyper-pacing isn't a good mix. It's cost me thousands over my lifetimes. The thing is, when I apply myself, I do very good work and I do it quickly. I'm a boss's dream, because they get the same work from me in ninety-minutes, that most people give them in a day. O

Two winters ago, I was in a bad place. Physically, financially, but especially emotionally. Life, which has rarely been anything I could view as fair, had really begun to weigh me down. I was living in a motel room, paid for by my brother while awaiting a move to another state. A little late research revealed my soon-to-be new home was a bit of a nightmare. Think of Melrose Place with meth and hookers. The idea of flying halfway across the country with my cat, Swag, and less than $200 in my pocket was scary. Leaving everything I knew wasn't what scared me, it was knowing deep in my heart, I'd never return.  It's always easy to put off keeping up with people when you're close, but as I've learned over the last four years, distance tests friendships, even those we view as true. One can't imagine the alienation of being broke, physically unable to walk, and having to rely on a motel staff's daily pleasantries to remind yourself you're alive. At times I q

On Facebook yesterday I asked for topics to write about. As is most often the case, the post was ignored. So I deleted the post and went about my business. While chatting about a movie at the library, I asked the person at the counter. If you had to give someone a blog a random blog topic, what would it be? The person thought a minute and said: "Describe your perfect person." I asked them if they meant friend, partner, or in general and they said "Yes.," then laughed. I thanked them for the books, movies, and the idea then left. So here it goes. The perfect person is someone who likes good food, preferably vegan, and likes to laugh. It's a person who is well read, but more importantly, is willing to read. It's a person who isn't necessarily a cinephile but doesn't turn their nose up at subtitles or silent films. Most importantly it's a person who cares about those others don't care about or those who can not fend for themselves. Children an

As someone who needs a fire under his ass to get things done, I know all about procrastination. We don't always procrastinate over things we dislike, (anyone searching for a Netflix movie to stream knows what I'm saying), but when it's a chore, we tend to exhibit the behavior more. It's not a healthy one, despite its common use. What I've noticed as I get older is, there's an odd offshoot to procrastination that is almost worse: Not finishing! One of the odd things about myself is, I will wait until the 11th hour, once staying up for 107 hours straight to write a Kinesiology paper, I had six weeks to complete. Oddly, when it comes to work, in any field I've been in, I tend to finish my work within minutes, when hours are expected. This isn't always a good thing, as I'm often accused of loafing about, when work is to be done, or even worse, being sent home early, without pay, because there is nothing left to do. It sucks, but it's how I'm wi

The day-to-day grind of being a human being is challenging for us all. Some of us, who care about others, even those non-human creatures, more than ourselves, feel a burden. Ironically, that burden or challenge creates a lull. What we choose to do to relax says more about us than what we do when we stress or strive. I sincerely believe that. I do not judge anyone on the work they do or how they live their lives, as long as they fall in between my own definition of decency. I do not believe my definition is any different or holds others to a higher standard but I'm sure I'm wrong. By simply writing it, or saying it aloud, I'm probably disproving it. I do however judge people by how they spend their supposed downtime.  As I wrote in a previous post, I do reflect upon my actions quite a bit, and it has recently occurred to me that this is not the norm. Most fall into some mindless chatter or silly distraction, and that is fine, but does it make you the person you want to be

No, I'm not talking about VHS tapes. I'm talking about our minds. I don't understand meditation completely, and I'll also add, it's because I'm ignorant on the topic and I can't sit with my legs crossed without being in pain. So I've crossed that off my bucket list. What I do actually partake in, quite a bit, is a daily reflection. It helps and it hurts. We all have those nights where we sit up thinking, but I spend a good portion of my before bedtime, thinking about my day, however mundane it may be and reflect on what I could have done differently. How I could have assisted others, created conversations simply by saying Hello, or how my little spec of dust in humanity could have made a difference. No, this is nothing profound, but something small I do for myself, which I believe may help someone else. Think of watering the plants. If you forget, you tend to over-water them the following day, creating some odd form of guilt release for yourself, b

Has anyone noticed the rage on social media? Twitter is known for its anonymity, so people hide behind this and fire of shots at people they've never seen before. This is safe. The Twitter community also seems to share common bonds, much I assume, like online dating creates. You get to know someone's likes and dislikes and decide whether they're your friend. This is a comfortable place to chat, debate, and defend yourself and your ideologies. Facebook? Facebook is an entirely different animal. Facebook has political posters like myself and, well, everyone else. So why are people on Facebook, who show no interest in politics, so angry all the time? Traffic Customer Service Coworkers Friends Family Acquaintances You name it, they're livid about it. Sometimes it's directed at individuals, other times at everyone involved, but lately, I've noticed that the same people are mad at everyone, all the time. Some hide it well, but their anger comes out at the d

It started with a ring. It gave us communication. It gave us access. It fueled fires and weathered storms. It allowed distance to be overcome. It allowed our message to be received, whether the contact was there or not. It allowed us to share photos and video. It allowed us to search the web It gave us apps. It entertained us in waiting rooms. It helped us learn. It is the computer we always wanted, in the palm of our hand. And today, the most power it gives us is when we choose not to pick it up.