Just Knock a Girl Up Already

The people in your life shouldn’t give you meaning. Sure, you should feel and enjoy the love, affection, and friendship from a partner, child, parent, sibling, friend, co-worker, roommate, so on. But another person shouldn’t be the biggest reason why you live.

My dad may feel this way with me, his only son. His singular purpose in life was (and probably still is) to see me have kids, to see┬áhis son’s sons. I am not much more than living vessel carrying sperm, a functional set of dick and balls to potentially create paternal grandchildren for my old man. Enough words and actions, already. Just knock a girl up, already. A nice Korean girl, preferably. Her words and actions don’t matter, neither.

This was one of the hardest things to get over from my divorce. I didn’t have any kids with ex-wife, so I failed my father, I failed myself.

While licking my wounds from my failed marriage, I came to three conclusions: another marriage is not an option for me, having kids is highly improbable, and I love my dad but he can go fuck himself. I can get him a puppy, a kitten, rabbits, maybe even goats –I heard goats are awesome pets, kinda like dumb dogs– but I can’t get him grandkids.

 

 

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I Know I’m Getting Old Because…

… I saw a young mom taking her little kid to school. She had a nice rear– the MOM, not the kid, you pyscho! These words entered my mind: “Young Mama Bubble Butt, that’s kinda hot.” I shall now accept being attracted to mothers.

… I’m that dude in the co-working office who’s constantly stretching.

… when the person with whom I’m conversing at a party mentions he or she is 24 or younger, my brain goes into airplane mode.

… supplements. Supply me with succulent supplements. Supplant me with a supple me with supplements.

… if I feel a discomfort in a specific spot of my body for two consecutive days, I mildly freak out, chanting, “WET DOG SHIT BALLS, IS THAT A THING NOW?!”

… sleeping for six hours straight is a huge accomplishment.

 

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You are Not a Writer

At least not the pain-loving, self-absorbed paragraph artist your ego wants you to be.

You are unique, just like everyone else. Your writing won’t be that special, sorry not sorry.

Think less, write more, slap it on here, and move along. Can there be more joy than laughing at your own foolish journal?

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Suffering Brings No Honor

Going to gym and lifting weights? That’s not suffering. That’s building muscle, that’s training, that’s making feeling yourself feel better and be healthier.

Working hard with the freelancing biz? That could be suffering, but it’s up to you. Don’t suffer. Work hard, get the job done, make clients happy, get paid, go out and do something crazy/fun/relaxing. That’s all.

Suffering from anxiety, depression, doom and gloom? I refuse to suffer. I move on, constantly and consistently.

I am good with myself.

There is no honor in suffering. Don’t be a martyr. Depression is not a badge of honor.

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Extreme Responsibility

I am responsible for my own happiness.

In fact, I am the only one responsible for it.

No one is coming to save me.

No one cares, at least not to the point of solving my own problems for me.

It’s my problem. Therefore, it will be my solution.

If I find myself depressed, anxious, and/or bummed out to a dark place, then it is up to me to do something about it.

Sure, I can ask help from family and friends. But only up to a point.

If I want to be happy, then I gotta figure it out.

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Floatable Tires

It’s my fourth day in Tokyo. At age 38 it’s the first time I traveled solo to a foreign country.

I have to say I miss home already. Thinking of being back 2 1/2 weeks from now makes me happy. Weird, I know.

It’s not that I’m not enjoying myself here. Japan is amazing. The mischievous voice in my head kept prodding me since I landed in Narita, ‘This is the future, right? We’re in utopia, no?’

No, Voice, it’s neither. But I’m glad we’re having fun here.

Home isn’t just New York. It isn’t merely a combination of people I love, satisfying and/or necessary routines, familiar faces and places, my apartment and my stuff, working hard for my clients. Home is building something. Home is building my business, my curiosity, my life.

Or maybe I’m just an old grumpy man who doesn’t like leaving home, which is the Greatest City in the World. And also the Second Dirtiest, behind San Francisco.

Quick notes on Japan:

They have smoking sections inside cafes. I’m writing this inside a coffee shop not far from my hotel. Upstairs on the mezzanine is set aside for smokers. Pretty cool.

Speaking of my hotel, I bought a beer from a vending machine in the hallway next to my room. 220 yen (~2 USD). I had only had a few sips, just bought it for shits and giggles..

Tokyo is great for tourists. Public transit is great (way cleaner than NYC), everything important is also printed in English, menus have pictures, people speak basic Engrish.

I love looking at their cars here.

Men are all clean shave here. Beard game here is super weak.

(Ladies probably make up for it… down there… Giggity!)

Food is great, for its price, tastiness, and service, compared to NYC. No tax and tip. Hotel prices are reasonable.

Next time I’m here, I’m doing a road trip on a motorbike. Hell, I’ll do a cross-Asia road trip on a bike, start from Macau, go through China, South Korea, and end in Tokyo.

Hmm, there’ll be some stretches of water to manage. A bike with big dopey floatable tires, let’s hope.

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