Tuesday Tidbits

How's that for a lame title? Pretty sure I could have tried harder, but sometimes, when the sun starts to disappear, my interest in blog post titles starts to wane. This is one of those times.

I was originally going to do a State of the Buban blog post, but I just don't know what that would entail, so I've decided to shelve it. Plus I tried to find a picture to use for it, and this is all I could come up with. Guess I haven't taken my picture since New Years.

Which makes me hope that certain folks will read this and contemplate the number of selfies they post on Facebook. Nobody gives a shit after a while. We understand that you love yourself more than most love their favorite pet who's about to be put out of it's misery like Old Shep, but turn the camera to something else besides your damned face every now and again...says the person who just posted a selfie. At least I didn't take the photo though. That probably doesn't matter much in the grand scheme of irony.

Anyway, it's your typical Tuesday night over here on the wrong side of town. Bob's doing his thing with the Midwest Books for Prisoners* gang. Greg was cooking some sort of taco dinner for that group and he did a hell of a job. I like tacos and all, but this ranks right up there with the best taco I've ever tasted. I'm scared to write that last sentence, as I'm still not sure how something with ground turkey meat could taste so good, but it did. Must have been the beans and the rice. Either way my taco world view has been forever changed/damaged.

Time to take my vitamins. I think I'm going to need one of those seven day vitamin keeper contraptions, to keep all this crap organized. I don't think they sell them large enough to hold these damn ginormous fish oil capsules, which are slightly smaller than the sardines my Father used to eat out of tin cans. Who am I kidding, I eat them too. I've also been known to pull spaghetti out of the garbage and slap it on top of my head. Don't judge me.

This is day two of washing my pillows. Day one was yesterday when two pillows were washed and dried. Day two is just like day one, except with different pillows. It's good to have clean pillows.

So I was contemplating moving this blog to another platform and I'm still contemplating that, but I changed some of the settings last night here on Blogger and I kind of like it. Makes me feel like I have a new blog, even though I don't. I am a little annoyed that when I click on my blog the blog name starts off in one of my least favorite fonts and then usually quickly switches over to the font I picked. I'll probably still change it over at some point, as I've got big plans for this here blog and I'm not sure Blogger will know what to do with me once I completely blow their socks off.

I don't even know why I would want to blow their socks off though. That seems like a pretty mean thing to do. Perhaps I'll just gently blow on their feet as they were probably standing all day and their feet and socks are kind of sweaty and perhaps a bit stanky. Maybe I'll just cool down their feet and then  lull them into a wonderfully soothing sense of serenity and calm. The path to getting what you want is paved with giving, happiness, joy and intent, so I won't literally blow their socks off, I'll soothe their socks off, and then the Universe will open up and I'll receive all that I desire.

Anyway things are looking up not just for me, but for all of you and for this Erased Chalkboard blog. Have yourselves a splendid evening. I need to go get those pillows and start the process of winding down. Early to bed, early to rise, makes Dave happy, wealthy and wise.


*Prisoners from the Midwest area send Bob letters asking for certain books or magazines and Bob and his merry band of cohorts cobble together what they can find which hopefully comes close to the request and send it off to wherever the prisoner is located. I've helped out a few times, but usually I'm blogging on Tuesday nights. That's a lie. Anyway, if you have any books you would like to donate, please let me know. You could also donate some money to pay for shipping costs if you're feeling oh so generous. Bob usually ends up paying for this out of his own pocket. He's a good guy like that. They do good things for the community here at First Trinity Lutheran Church.

Humbled Bug.

Warning! This blog isn't going to be all that humorous or perhaps even all that entertaining, but I needed to write it in order to help me sort out some thoughts. This is the fourth blog I've written in the past few days, and this is the only one that will ever see the light of day. Writing has been therapeutic for me lately. One of these days, it'll be back to being fun.

I was given the opportunity, once again, of being completely humbled by life this past week. I've noticed that it's usually not a fun occurrence when one gets humbled, and this time was certainly no exception. How's that one song go? "Flying high on Sunday, shot down a few days later?" I know those aren't the actual song lyrics contained in the popular version, but I'm pretty sure they're from an earlier, rare demo tape, which disappeared long ago, most likely, never to be unearthed during my lifetime.

It's humbling to realize my version of who I was and what I was doing could be so different than another persons version. It's humbling to realize I was selfish and partially the cause of someones pain and depression. It's even more humbling to realize I was completely clueless to all of it.

When we are in pain, it often seems like the worst thing in the world. It's usually not, but we feel that way anyway. I certainly felt that way this past week. I hadn't felt so much vitriol and hate in a long time, and I'm really, really glad the worst of it has passed. I was definitely not my best self for a few days there, and I'm not proud of how I handled the situation.

However, now that a few days have passed, I think I may actually be learning something from the experience. As my Mom might say, will wonders never cease?

I understand now that I am not the person I thought I was.

I tend to think of myself as a good person. I'm certainly no saint, that's for sure. Father Maximilian Kolbe I am not. I've done my fair share of dumb stuff. I've done my fair share of somewhat dubious stuff. And, as you all know, I've certainly done way more than my fair share of saying something mean to generate a laugh or two, failing to recognize any hurt caused because, well, someone smiled and laughed. But I'm willing to help out. I'm willing to give up my seat on the bus to an old person. I've offered to help carry an old Chinese womans groceries, as she seemed to be struggling down the sidewalk (she refused). I've given money to a friend who I knew needed it much more badly than I did at the time. I woke up at 6am yesterday and shoveled the sidewalk. I've helped others when they've needed it. I offer a hand at work if I think it's needed. I have a lot of friends who think I'm a good person.

I thought I was tipping the scales in the right direction as far as being a good person, and I still do for the most part, but I'm much less certain of it these days. I'm not saying that so you'll all leave me a nice comment about myself, I'm saying it because I was so very wrong about the one person who I shared the last couple of years with. If I could be so wrong about her, it's quite possible I'm also wrong about most everything else. How many other relationships have I had over the years that weren't anything like what I thought they were? How many other times have I been completely clueless to reality? I guess I need to spend more time making sure that I'm actually doing the things necessary to be who I was hoping I already was. I need to spend some time more closely scrutinizing my actions and thoughts and how they can effect others. I need to work on listening to not just what is said, but more so to what was meant. I actually thought I was a good listener, but I'm much less certain of that now. A lot less certain. This sounds like it won't be all that easy. I have a feeling I'm about to start feeling humbled a bit more often.

Maybe I shouldn't be surprised at how we can fool ourselves into thinking we are what we are not. I've been doing it all my life. My mind and I have never really been on the best of terms with one another. I start to think something and it beats me down faster than it took to think the original thought. I try to think I can do something and it says, "uh uh, you're not good enough, so don't bother trying." I'm used to this sort of mind response, but this current situation is different in that I really did believe I was doing something good and worthwhile (and my mind seemed to agree) only to be told that I was way off base in my understanding of the situation. I thought I was being a good person and doing the right things, but all I was doing was hurting someone else. How could I not see that?

So much to think about. Where are my Science of Mind books when I need them?

What I'm trying to say is that I accept responsibility for my part in everything falling apart. I was under the assumption that a bunch of other factors were the main cause, and I thought by fixing those things, we could figure things out. I knew I was to blame to an extent, but I really had no idea how large a part I played in the downfall, and that fixing everything else was never what was necessary to fix the relationship. I was unable to understand that a few weeks ago. I still don't understand everything and I'm sure I never will, but at least I'm in a better place. This place still sucks, but it's way better than where I was just a few short days ago. Hopefully we're both in better places now. The hurt will linger for a long time. At least until I finally decide to let it go. I'm not sure when that will be, but I know it will be awhile. Hopefully it'll be sooner than I think.

In the meantime, I'll try to be a good person now by thanking all the amazing friends and family members who are always there to help me, especially when I need it the most, and unfortunately, that's been all too often these days. I'm extremely grateful to have all of you in my life! I'd like to write that I certainly wouldn't be the person I am today without all of your help and guidance, but since I have no idea who I am today, that may not be much of a compliment. Just please know that all of you have contributed significantly to my life with every kind gesture, big or small. I appreciate everything you've ever done for me and hopefully I can be there for you in your time of need.

Thank you Loreen. Thank you Mom. Thank you Jennifer. Thank you Andrew. Thank you Mark. Thank you Greg. Thank you Rhom. Thank you Bob. Thank you Megan. Thank you Jessica. Thank you Jay. Thank you Rene. Thank you Sean. Thank you Jacqui. Thank you Dan. Thank you Nicole. Thank you Drew. Thank you Chris. Thank you Ellyn. Thank you Sally. Thank you Jody. Thank you Anne Marie. Thank you Kristin. Thank you Brian. Thank you Holly. Thank you Bryan. Thank you Meredith. Thank you Jon. Thank you Anne. Thank you Eve. Thank you Justin. Thank you Abby. Thank you Scott. Thank you Al. Thank you Amity. Thank you Gina. Thank you Stephanie. Thank you Laura. Thank you Sam. My apologies to anyone I didn't include, and if you're not on the list, no worries, I know you've helped me at other times when I needed it so thank you as well!

And finally, I'd like to extend one more thank you to Mary for teaching me something that no one else could have. I'm just sorry that lesson came at such a high price of your time and happiness. I'll do my best to learn from it and become a better person, so at least one of us can walk away having gained something. I know, I know...small consolation for you, but for now, it's all I have. Hopefully one day, you'll consider me a friend and I can help you when you need it most.

Now it's time to get to work.


P.S. I wrote this blog at lunch today completely forgetting that I had received this note from the Universe email this morning. It's pretty appropriate. Here's the link if you'd like to sign up to receive similar emails once a day. http://www.tut.com/

The greatest predicament of living in the jungles of time and space, David, is learning to be happy while still having unfulfilled dreams. The greatest challenge is not looking to the illusions for meaning, definition, and answers. The greatest mystery is figuring out who you really are. And the greatest reward, David, of living in the jungles of time and space, is having predicaments, challenges, and mysteries that you have absolutely aced, crushed, and unraveled. Lucky You, The Universe

Don't Talk of Love

My parents divorced when I was a wee little lad of five or six years old. They had their reasons and they were good ones. I did what I could to save their marriage, but no matter how many times I dressed up as a ghost and tried to scare them into staying together, it just never worked. I don't even know why I thought that would work. It seems so ridiculous in hindsight, but to my little kid self it made perfect sense.

Crap...hold on...I'm sorry, I confused my memories with that one Brady Bunch episode where the kids make scary noises and one of them dresses up as a ghost to scare off a prospective home buyer. I don't know why I thought that's what I tried, but I'll be damned if it didn't work for them. The house was saved and the family went on a great vacation to Hawaii and Marsha got laid by that Filipino dude in the sauna. Everything came up roses for the Brady clan. 

Not so much for the Buban clan. 

I'm not sure what the current divorce rate is in the United States. I looked it up, but there were a bunch of numbers and I'm not all that smart and numbers are weird and stuff, so let's just stick with that 50% rate that's always thrown about. That's just for the married folk. Most of those people probably had many relationships before they were married and all of those failed as well. The important number here is that the relationship failure rate is probably more like 94%, assuming my math (that I really didn't actually do) is correct. I'm just saying there are a lot of failed relationships out there. It's just not easy to make these things last. Relationships are like cellphones. No one wants some old crap phone that's two years old and oh my God it takes forever to download like any website now! Screw that. Out with the old, in with the new. 

My last cellphone lasted two years and two months exactly before it died. Oops, that was my last relationship, not cellphone. Regardless, now I'm fucked because my contract isn't up for at least 30 more years and I don't really want to pay for a new phone/relationship. The old one's dead. What am I supposed to do? 

The point is, for this Buban, the relationships just don't seem to work. I don't know what the problem is, but if any of you ladies are looking to have a couple prime years of your life ruined, please call me up. I'll see what I can do! And what I'll do is somehow make you miserable over time. It'll be a slow build up to miserable and unhappy and you'll deny those feelings for quite a while, just like all the rest, but inevitably you'll wise up, dump me, and go buy yourself the new iPhone9 or something shiny to make yourself feel better.

Now it's all about being haunted by memories of her gone bye. 

I hate the end of relationships. The sleepless nights, the loss of appetite, the restless mind that never shuts off. It's like doing a bunch of coke, except without any of the fun. 

I still remember the Buban Bash from years ago, when I first got a glimpse of her. My first thought was that she was the most beautiful person I've ever seen. I was drinking that night, but there were no beer goggles in play. She actually was the most beautiful person I'd ever seen, and we get some good looking chicks at that party. It wasn't until another year or two when we started dating, as apparently I never picked up on her imperceptible cues of interest. Our first date was brunch on New Years Day. I wowed her with my charm, sincerity, good looks, humor and sharp dress. Of course I was wearing the same clothes I had worn the night before when I hung out with her at my sisters house, but she didn't seem to mind too much. And she wowed me by actually showing up. Afterwards, I was so happy about having been on a date with her, I left and walked five miles through the snow to my sisters house instead of taking the bus. That was stupid, but I was pretty happy. 

Needless to say, one thing lead to another, and love blossomed like...well, like Blossom's gigantic tits later on in life. 

But now when this winter is winding its way towards obscurity, so too has our relationship. 

Once again, it's all over. I'm going to miss staring into those big ol' brown eyes. I mean, my God, you could stare into those things forever and not get tired of it. I'm going to miss being awestruck by her beautiful smile. I'm going to miss a lot of what we had, but for the most part, I'm just plain going to miss Mary. I'm going to miss her being happy and excited to go see Judas Priest in concert (she even bought herself a shirt, though I've never actually seen her wear it). And damnit, now I've got an extra Belle & Sebastian ticket again. I guess I'll never learn. Same thing happened when my last relationship ended. I hate that stupid band and their concerts and their breaking up my relationships. Take your ridiculously good, catchy songs and get the hell out of my life! 

Speaking of songs, I should make a mix tape of all the songs I associate with my failed relationships. It would have to be one of those 120 minute long tapes, as there are plenty to choose from. Just another thing to hate about breaking up...the amazing great songs that I won't listen to for far too long. Frankie and Johnny. Bus Stop. Holy Diver. She's a Rainbow. Don't Get Me Wrong. Any Simon and Garfunkel song.  That reminds me...I've got two almost finished metal mixes that were supposed to be for her, as she liked the first one I made so much. Yeah...she didn't know much metal, but she liked it quite a bit. Shoot me now. I fucked up. I'm stupid. Hell one time, I left the room and came back to her playing some Rainbow tunes. 

You all probably thought this was going to be one of those Dave got dumped, now he's going to trash the hell out of his ex blogs, didn't you? Oh I thought about it, but she's untrashable. I don't really have anything bad to say. She's a good person. We had our fun. We had a lot of fun. We also had some dumb times. And we had some crappy times. And we had some boring times. Nothing new there as far as relationships go. 

I did my best to try and save it, but it was too little, too late. Actually I don't think it was too little, as I offered up quite an extensive platter of things that I mistakenly thought would help get us through. Get us back to where we needed. Get us back on track. It was too late though. It was over. Elvis had left the building. 

I swear to God, one of these days I'm going to get to dump the person. I guess I almost did it to her a long time ago, but I didn't. That was a smart decision. At least this time, I don't think it was all my fault. We both can share the blame, but I'm sorry I didn't recognize and resolve some problems earlier, including the ones I didn't know about. I guess I learned something maybe. Stop being a stupid ass, Dave. Stop taking things for granted. Stop pretending that when there are problems, they'll just magically fix themselves. They don't. Pay more attention. Make an effort.

And sorry about writing a blog about this, but you're getting off way easier than the last one, so consider yourself lucky if you ever happen to read this. 

So thanks for two plus years of a really, really great time and best of luck to you in the future. You were a good one, Mary. You are a good one, Mary. But now you're a gone one, Mary, and I'm still here. 

Stupid relationships. I'm going to go dress up as a ghost now so I can disappear. 

A winter's day
In a deep and dark December;
I am alone,
Gazing from my window to the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

I've built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
It's laughter and it's loving I disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

Don't talk of love,
But I've heard the words before;
It's sleeping in my memory.
I won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.
If I never loved I never would have cried.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.