Unpacking

The move is complete.  Now comes... The Unpacking.  The first thing to be unpacked was the kitchen.  Or was it toilet paper??  Anyway, I am now down to things I didn't know what to do with before I moved and most likely should have thrown away.

My new place doesn't have a great spot to feature my Erik Estrada shrine, my lock of Bonnie Raitt's hair (not the blonde streak), my Aerosmith spandex sampler or any of the other items I have in my possession that really do belong in a museum for all the world to see.  These things rightfully belong in the trash, but I haven't been able to part with them.  My junk drawer is only "so big".  I have an idea... I will place these treasures in a box, seal it up, then place it in my garage only to open it before each move.  Bring on the Sharpie, I have another box to label!

I am not advocating hoarding, don't get me wrong.  I am just a proponent of saving valuables of extreme historical significance until I die so my children can throw them away without thinking twice.  Yes, they will throw away my Weird Al Yankovic ticket stubs as they look through my belongings for the errant 20 dollar bill.  They will be more than disappointed in my collection of Arby's Care Bear glasses.

Maybe keep this little blog in mind the next time you tell yourself... "I might need that..."

Now, excuse me as I seal up another box for the garage.  "Beanie Babies"

Moving Sucks, Dorito Tacos Don't

After packing everything I owned into dozens of $.67 boxes from Lowe's, a few minor panic attacks and a lot of hard work, I am finally moved into my new place.  Sure it smells like urine and it needs some TLC, but I got a deal on the rent so I am happy.  It will be fun to make the house shine again  I am also happy at the prospect that this could be my last move until I purchase a home next year.

So, I am sore, sleep deprived, tired of looking at boxes and especially sick of buying things that probably should have been in the house to begin with.  I don't trust any house that doesn't have a proper toilet paper holder.  Whether you use it (I'm speaking to the gentlemen readers right now) or not is completely up to you, but it should be there.  Everyone putting their gross fingers into the toilet paper tube.  Ewwww...

I haven't cooked in about a week.  Working yourself into a frenzy of hunger and having all of your pots and pans packed up means at some point during your move you will end up in a Taco Bell late on a Sunday night.  Devouring Doritos tacos like you're a high school stoner.  They hit the spot, but I felt a certain amount of shame at how satisfied my stomach was when I left the place.  Now, you can see how I became fixated on the toilet paper holder in the bathroom.

What tremendous social events did I miss during my move?  Snooki gave birth to a baby boy.  "No doctor, the baby does not have elevated bilirubin levels, that's spray on Coppertone!"  According to TMZ, nothing else more interesting happened so I will get back to the move.

The cable guy was basically on time, the furniture was delivered early while I was getting to know the neighbor and my movers finished without breaking my wallet.  Overall it was a good move.  The panic attack was uncalled for.  8 moves in three years, it seems I have this moving thing down to a science.

Let's just hope I can finally sleep tonight.

The Beginning

I was recently given the gift of down time.  Stress free relaxation.  As I sat there I began to consider the last few years of my life.  By few years, I mean from the time I was about 18 years old.  I thought to myself that I was tired of learning the hard way.  Tired of making a comeback.  Tired of putting my time and energy where it didn't belong, where it wasn't wanted or where I truly deserved a little bit better.  This is it... I am not writing this for you.  I am not writing this for anyone but me.  If you read it and enjoy it and can take some comfort in knowing the missteps I have made are able to be put behind you then that will be icing on the cake and I welcome your comments/feedback.  If you read it and can't identify with anything I write... Great for you.  You made a lot better decisions than me

I am not a writer.  I like to use "..." at the end of sentences.  My grammar could stand some improving.  My run on sentences could drive an English teacher to drink.  These things, as important as they are, are secondary to the story.  The falls, the picking up pieces, the piecing things back together.

That's what it comes down to.  Picking up the pieces and putting them back together, no matter how small the pieces are.  No matter how many pieces seem to be missing.  I have two wonderful children and I enjoy doing jigsaw puzzles with them.  I've always instructed them to go through and pull out the edge pieces, assembling them first.  Then working on groups based on color.  The green of the grass, the red of the barn, the blue of the sky.  Give the puzzle some structure, one piece at a time and then fill it in.

Before I get too far ahead of myself.  This isn't going to be a woe is me story.  I made these decisions that have led me to this place.  It's not even a bad place.  I just took the scenic, foolish route to where I am.  It's also not a story of victory.  I have won many battles, but I know I have a long way to go.

Fair Warning:
1)  Call me out if I say TRY.  TRY is a negative word that amounts to giving yourself an out for not doing something.  I'll TRY to help you move, I'll TRY to stop drinking too much.  Awful word.
2)  I will talk about me.  Suck it.
3)  Music is important to me.  Music that means something... Sad?  Sometimes, but not always... I will reference songs that have touched me over the years.  Songs that I hold near and dear to my heart.  Life can't always be synced to an Usher Remix.
4)  I won't name you AND tell your dirty little secrets.  I may do one or the other, but not both.
5)  Life is short... Laugh as much as you can
6)  Want me to write about something?  Let me know.
7)  This mess is going to be WAY out of order... To protect the guilty (me)

Kevin