Wednesday, June 21, 2006

Don't Worry... Be Happy... or something like that.

I don't have a real good opener right here, but I had to put this down in print somewhere. After softball tonight, I came home, got something to eat, and turned on a new show called "America's Got Talent." The judges are David Hasselhoff, Brandy and Piers Morgan. Now this Morgan guy has been the editor of some fairly well known rags. In other words, he can spot talent, recognize it, and report it. Fine. I'm O.K. with that.

Now, here's a question for you, my loyal readers; am I the only person in America that sees the unbelievably glaring and bitter irony in Brandy and David Hasselhoff judging competition on a show called "America's Got Talent?" For the sake of the planet, I hope not. Nice job, NBC... ya really knocked it out of the park with selecting a no-talent hack with a great ass that can't sing her way out of a paper bag, and the guy that played the lead in "Knight Rider." Well done.

Dear NBC, I've got an idea for a show. It's called, "Competitive Target Shooting With a High Powered Firearm at a Bullseye Wedged Between Two Puppies" hosted by Stevie Wonder. No? Too risque? O.K.... maybe. Wait, I've got another one. It's called "How To Pick Up Chicks The Safe Way" hosted by Mike Tyson. That's a winner if I've ever heard one.

By the way, it's on in the background, and they just put a guy through to the next level that strapped 25 bicycle horns to an orange jumpsuit and played "Frere Jacques." 'Nuff said? Good. Let's move on.

I got a lot of emails and feedback on the last post that I wrote about marriage... ranging from the stupid to the sublime and everything in between. I won't post them all here. I don't think that Blogger gives me enough space to slap them all up here, and the majority of you probably have neither the time nor the inclination to read a bunch of stuff that was meant for my eyes only. Yes, I could post them anonymously, but then, what fun would that be. I will tell you, however, that neither side provided enough compelling evidence for me to be in favor of either marriage or the single life. Whilst (I've been itching to use that word) the majority are of the opinion that it's a bad idea to get married, I'm not 100% sold. I'm somwhere in the 65%-80% range. The reason being that I like the idea of me having someone else out there that's going to enhance my existence to the point of essentially legally complying with the idea of having sex with that one person for the rest of my natural life. It's like some really long and really twisted game of "Where's Waldo," only the pages in the open book are the size of a freaking planet. Thanks, God. Wanna narrow the field or at least thin the herd a little bit here? No? How about a hint. No? O.K.... how about this; give me a sign. If the phone rings in the next 10 minutes, I'll marry the person that's on the other end of the conversation, and accept the fact that you, God, said that it's gospel, and I'll live out my days that way. Ready? Go.

Well, it's now 10 blasphemous minutes later, and I'm engaged to Phil from Overstock.com letting me know that they received my order today for a new Palm Pilot. Shit. I was really kind of hoping that girl from Nebraska still had my number. Rats. Anyway, a September wedding is planned, provided that Phil can get the week off. Apparently Overstock is planning a liquidation sale or something and he might have to bag on the whole idea. Damn... aside from the lisp, Phil sounded like a nice guy. I'll post the pictures sometime in October. I hear I look great in a tux.

O.K.... now that we've got the rest of my life planned out, let's move on. Really, this time.

I've been thinking about the whole marriage thing, and I've boiled it down to this; happiness. I'm not just talking about marriage here, people. It's about being happy in general. If you're not happy in your marriage, get the hell out. Go somewhere and do something that makes you happy. I had a fleeting moment of this tonight. Again, I was on the outside looking in (kinda), but a beautiful moment nevertheless. Details you ask? Here you go.

I mentioned that I had a softball game tonight. Short story; we won 17-3. We hit over .700 as a team. For those of you that aren't into the whole stats thing... that's really f'ing good. Regardless, I was on deck behind Noah. Before I continue, let me say this; Noah can hit a softball like no human I have ever seen. It's pretty amazing. Moving on. The count was 2-1, and the pitcher tossed an absolute meatball that split the heart of the plate and descended like a badminton birdie to Noah's waist. There's no other way to put this other than this; Noah just uncoiled and absolutely crushed the ball in a mammoth arc over the left field fence. It took off like a shot in a perfect angle, froze for a moment when it started it's descent, and landed somewhere in the Western side of the 585 area code. The ball's family has been notified, and will release it's name after careful examination of the dental records and DNA testing.

As the ball rose, Noah dropped the bat, stood in the batter's box for just a second or two admiring the moonshot that had just lept off the molded piece of aluminum that had settled at his feet, and audibly said, "thank you" to the pitcher.

Wanna see what pure joy looks like? Come to my game next week. It's at 7:15. Bring a telescope.

I have never hit a home run. I'm not a big guy, I don't work out, and every time I round second, I drop the ashtray. Anyway, in all likelihood, I never will... unless, of course, Barry Bonds and Rafael Palmiero happen to give me a call and clue me in on their training regimen. I'm looking for something that will allow me to hit home runs, but at the same time expand my head to double the size that it is presently... and if you can throw in some fits of rage and uncontrollable back acne, that would be great. Again, moving on.

As I was saying, I have never hit a home run. Here's what I think that feeling is like. It's complete satisfaction and happiness. Now, maybe I'm making it out to be more than it actually is. I'm sure for guys that can do it, it's not that big a deal, but here's my take.

I believe it to be the same kind of feeling that I get after sitting on my couch with a pen, paper, guitar, and a martini, and putting something into print and verse that no one has ever heard before, and I know in my heart of hearts (yeah, I don't know what that phrase means) that it's good. It's the feeling after you come off stage with your band that has never played in public before and you know you just rocked the house and people come up and ask when and where you're playing again. It's the feeling of hitting a 6-iron out of the rough on #4 at Riverton from behind a tree, and you feel that ball just give, and you know as soon as it leaves the club that it's pin-high and you're putting for birdie... all before you see the ball even land, and get back in the cart and pick up your friend that hit a drive into the fairway and just air mailed his second shot. It's the feeling of... wait... never mind. That's enough and I'm rambling. You get the idea.

What I'm getting at here is that it's different for everybody. Like with Noah hitting that ball that hasn't landed yet, I'm sure it's a very happy and satisfying moment for him personally, but those of us that aren't blessed with incredible hitting power, perfect timing and a swing that would make Alex Rodriguez jealous have to have other things. It's really a matter of necessity, but, again, it's different for everybody.

The reason that I say it's a matter of necessity is because if you didn't have at least one thing that made you really happy, why stick around? I'm not saying that it's something you have to do, say or experience every day, but everybody has that something, and I'm sure that not a lot of people have the same thing. For a lot of us, it probably changes from time to time, but again, it's different for everybody and whatever it is, it doesn't really matter. Right now, one of my favorite things is an email exchange that I have that's been going on for about a month now. I'll be sitting in my office, I'll glance down at the clock in the lower right hand corner of my screen, and I'll see that little envelope that tells me I have a new email. That makes me happy. Check that... it makes me really happy. You know who you are.

Do yourself and me a favor here. I'll feel like I've done my job if this happens. When you're done reading this, think about the last time you were really just happy and satisfied. That time when you just had that happy and contented feeling and nothing else in the world mattered and you could give a frog's fat ass what your boss was nagging you for, where your girlfriend wanted you to take her, or how you were going to somehow work a moonwalk into a wedding reception after 10 glasses of red wine. It's a challenge, I know.

Seriously, take some time. Sit back in your chair. Take a long hard pull off of that bottle of water or cup of coffee that you're drinking. Stop reading this and think. Find it. Flip open that mental rolodex and go back. Remember it. Remember who was there. Remember what you were wearing. Remember how cold it was or how un-Godly hot it was. Remember what song was playing, or remember the deafening silence that covered you like a blanket. Remember what card was turned, what club you hit, what beer someone had just bought you, or what hat you were wearing after someone made your randomly selected card appear in ashes on his arm.

Find it.

I have my memory locked away. I won't put it in print here... it's something that I keep just for me. I'll tell you this; I can tell you what that moment smells like. It's that vivid to me.

O.K.... got it? If not, scroll up two or three paragraphs and re-read... then continue.

Got it now? Good. Remember that feeling? Pretty good, right?

Now, do this; make a point of doing something that will make that happen again within the next week. Lather, rinse, repeat. Know what? Let's make it two weeks. That'll give me enough time to filter through the emails.

Do it. You'll thank me.

As for me... I'm going to sign off for the night. I've got batting practice in the morning, and Phil's supposed to call me later. We're going to go through Overstock's discount China patterns.

Until next time...

R

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

Marriage & Baseball... I hope she still has my number.

Pretty funny... although I was loving the comments that I was getting on my Vegas posts, I think it's time to throw up yet another. Before I get started, however, I'm going to apologize to my Canadian friends for; one, not putting up the pictures just yet... primarily because it takes a bunch of time, it's a pain in the ass, and the Yanks are playing those f'ing unshaven dirtbags from Boston, and two, for not referring to them by name. Sorry about both of those, Dina, Sonia & Julie. You guys are very cool and I consider it an honor that you even read my little slice of Richiedom... so I promise I'll get them up soon. My bad.

Also, in order to capture the mood, I'm going to do my "this is what I'm listening to on my iPod" thing again. I liked going back and reading that one. Enough self-indulgence... here you go.

(Ohio by Bowling for Soup)

Anyway, I feel compelled to write this after a brief conversation with my friend... let's call her "Val" for the duration of this post. Her name has been changed to protect the innocent. Our conversation won't be the only thing in this post, but I've been thinking about the substance of our interaction for a couple of weeks now, and I think I've finally collected my thoughts enough to put it into print.

(Lit Up by Buckcherry)

Pretty much the nuts and bolts of our conversation were pretty much, "what now." What I mean by that is we're both just about the same age, we're both single, and we're both kind of wondering what's next. Are we supposed to get married? Are we supposed to pump out about 2.4 kids, buy a minivan and move to the burbs? Maybe... all except for the minivan thing. Trust me... they suck. Ask anyone that I used to work with. They'll tell you the same thing. But I digress.

(911 is a Joke by Public Enemy)

(Rollin' by Limp Bizkit)

To get back on the subject, the best answer I can give to that is this; maybe. I don't know. Here's the thing... well, a couple things really. For one, I refuse to get married just to get married and have kids. I refuse to jump into what's supposed to be a lifetime commitment in order to simply do what I'm "supposed" to do. When and IF I do it, it's going to be once, it's going to be for the right reason(s), and it's going to be the first and last time. Yes, I know I capitalized the word "if" because I wanted to convey the message that it's a big fucking if.

Here's the other thing; the divorce rate in America is over 50%. Think about that. I'll wait.

(My Own Worst Enemy by Lit)

Thought about it? Good. To recap that, the divorce rate is over 50% in the U.S. Now, having said that, I want you to consider this scenario. If you were going skydiving, and the jumpmaster came out in front of your group and said, "hey... just so you know, only half the chutes are going to open," would you go? Yeah... me either. Didn't think so.

Now, reading what you've just read, you would probably be of the train of thought that The Rychkid is anti-marriage. Well... yes and no. (Numb by Linkin Park) I really have no frame of reference. I have never been married, although I was engaged in 1997. I wrote about that a while ago, so if you're not a loyal reader you can go back to the archives and find it. I'm not about to re-hash that whole thing now.

Regardless, if I would have gone through with the whole marriage thing, to be honest, I would be divorced right now with a big, fat alimony payment. It's not a bad thing (me not getting married... not the alimony thing). She's a great girl and any guy would be lucky to spend the rest of his life with her, but we both knew... well, know now, that we're better off as friends. I'm cool with it and so is she... and I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be writing about Vegas trips would I have gone through with the whole thing.

(Again by Lenny Kravitz)

Let me try to bring this train back on the pretentiousness track. Sorry... kind of went off on a tangent there.

Anyway, as I was saying, I have no frame of reference. I am essentially on the outside looking in on the whole marriage thing. The good thing about that is that I can view this whole dynamic of married couples like I'm watching a baseball game. (Schoolboy Heart by Jimmy Buffett) That may sound like a bit of an obscure segue analogy, but bear with me.

(Two Pina Coladas by Garth Brooks)

I go to a lot of baseball games in the summer. Probably 9 out of 10 of them that I attend, I go to with Pat. Pat is one of my best friends (as you loyal readers should know), and he's a baseball guy just like me. He's a Yankees fan, he used to play, and he gets the game. The great thing about us going to games together is we can pretty much talk about anything, but we will talk about what's happening in the game, and discuss what the right move is at any given point in the game. "Would you send him?" "I'd go high and tight with this guy... he's a left hander and there's a runner on second." "Gotta lay one down here... runner on first, down by one, no outs and we're down by two." Get it? Well, if you didn't, call your dad and say any one of those things to him and he'll know what you're talking about.

(Photograph by Nickelback)

That's the analogy right there. I see all of my married friends, and I watch married couples when I am wherever it is I go, and I have yet to hear the following statement; "dude, you gotta get married... it's the best!" The second I hear that, I'll walk into the closest bar, buy everyone in there a shot and a beer, make a phone call, get on a plane to Vegas, and get hitched. Either that or turn gay. Nah, wait... I couldn't do that. I don't think I'd make a good homosexual. While I do care about what I look like before I leave the house, I'm into wine, art and music... I don't know any show tunes. Maybe I should just book an open-ended ticket right now.

(Catholic Boy by Jim Carroll)

Sorry... lost my train of thought. I'm doing laundry as I write this, and I just had to run to the basement. Where the hell was I going with this?

(Let My Love Open The Door by Pete Townsend)

I always find it funny when I have to go back and read some of my own dribble to remember where the hell I was and what the hell I was writing about. There have been times when I've gone back after doing something very important (like grabbing another beer) and deleted a post of about a thousand words and started over. I'm going to try not to do that right now, although the urge is becoming overwhealming.

(Fly by Sugar Ray)

Again, let's try to get back on track.

Over a couple of beers and a Sabres shutout later, Val had to leave. Her friend was picking her up outside the bar in a couple of minutes, and she asked, "do you ever just panic?" It took me a second or two, but my answer was definitive. "No." I tried to impart some wisdom from the world of the Rychkid, but I'm not sure if it made a whole lot of sense at the time. It was something in the vein of "I like who I am and I don't need someone to complete me." Yeah, it'd be nice to have someone to come home to that I'm actually looking forward to seeing every night when I come home, (Next to You by Buckcherry) but that's not going to stop me from feeling like I'm missing out on anything. If at any point, I feel like I need to get married, I will. Until that happens, I'll hang out in the corner apartment with my ridiculous amount of disposable income, my guitar and a fantastic bottle of Penfolds Shiraz Cabernet. I'm halfway through it right now, and I feel like the only thing that I need right now to complete me is a big box of Cadbury Eggs and the scene with Christopher Walken from True Romance. Guess I'll have to settle for the lone Hershey's Kiss in my fridge.

(Far Behind by Candlebox)

(Rock Show by Blink 182)

Writer's block.

(Dirty Little Secret by The All-American Rejects)

To sum it up, no, I don't panic, and I am neither pro nor con. I won't get into the whole, "my parents are divorced so marriage sucks" thing. That's got nothing to do with it either way.

(Carousel by Buckcherry) For the love of God I have a bunch of Buckcherry songs on my iPod... but they're SO fucking good. Do yourself a favor and check them out. Thank me in the comments section.

I don't look at one isolated thing and just throw the whole idea out completely. I do see marriages that work, or rather, are working. I wish them the best, and go on my way. (Story Of A Girl by Nine Days) I hope and pray that all my family and friend's marriages work out. I wish them all the wedded bliss that was promised to them on their wedding day.... the day when they stood before God and man and pledged their eternal love and to forever have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer for poorer. (I Wish by Skee-Lo) I don't know... (shaking my head and shrugging my shoulders) people change and that's life. If we didn't, we wouldn't be human. Sometimes better and sometimes worse. The only thing with the vows is that you're promising all that stuff to the person standing in front of you right at that moment. Take those same vows in 10 years and let me know. Sorry... that sounded bitter. That may be the shiraz cabernet talking.

(Midnight Rider by The Allman Brothers)

Let me close with this. It's not so much about me. Will I find someone that's looking for a 34 year-old (at the moment) sales rep that likes to drink and smoke, is losing his hair, plays guitar and piano, writes songs, loves baseball and the Yankees, (Wrecking Hotel Rooms by MxPx) likes to gamble, can make you laugh at a tax audit or the emergency room, doesn't like to work out, is into fashion and art, drug & disease free, with killler blue eyes, can tie a cherry stem in a knot with his tongue, likes Tarantino movies, can make a really cool wall piece out of wine corks, is afraid of heights but doesn't mind flying, loves going out to see live music, especially The Taint, has an impressive Pez dispenser collection, (Boys Don't Cry by The Cure) can separate lights from darks in the laundry, puts the seat down, has all the shirts in his closet going the same way, likes punk rock but whose favorite musician is Jimmy Buffett, has a bad tattoo with a great story, wears his great grandmother's ring on his left pinkie for sentimental reasons and has done so since age 18 regardless of how many people make fun of him for it, (Sweet Caroline by Neil Diamond) and has probably the best singing voice you've ever heard outside a recording? Maybe, maybe not. It's a tall order. Jesus Christ, did I just write a personal ad? How late is match.com open?

(Pretty Vegas by INXS)

As I've said in numerous posts before, I don't have the answers. If you do, shoot me an email or leave a comment. I'll be waiting with baited breath and a bottle of tequila. Either that or I'll just delete them if I don't like them. Like I've said... it's my blog and I'll do and write what I want. However, until then, I'll just sign off. It's late and I have to get up extra early because I have to leave work early for my softball game. If there's a runner on second and less than two outs, don't throw me an outside pitch. I'm taking that opposite field for a double and an RBI.

Val, like I said, I don't have the answers, but if you have questions, my personal ad is posted about two paragraphs above. (Runaway Train by Soul Asylum) You're a wonderful girl and I hope you find what you're looking for, but, more importantly, I hope you get what you want. You should be my girlfriend. Again... refer to the ad above.

By the way, the Yankees won 2-1. Thank God for that Melky Cabrera guy... he's doing a hell of a job filling in. I hope someday I can do the same.

(Lost It In The Sun by The Gathering Field)


Until next time...

R