Category: Random Thoughts

The Doctor is a member of our family. In my head, he’s the final incarnation of the time lord known as “The Doctor”.

In real life he’s a slightly-overweight Chihuahua.

I can’t begin to convey just how much happiness he gives me.

Right now I’m reclining on a couch in our TV room. He’s laying between my legs licking the couch. (He does that a lot. Must be a great-tasting couch.)

Just him being that close makes me happy. It gives me a sense of comfort and warmth.

Thank you Doctor, for being part of our family.

I’m not sure how much I actually saw Molly before I moved in. Memories of her darting out of the room as I entered are about it. I still don’t remember seeing her much even after I moved in.

She began to come out more after Electra (the other cat) died, but she was still very hesitant to remain in any room I entered.

Slowly that changed.  She would stay in the room. She would allow me to pet her.

And one day, when I was reading in the front room, she gently scratched at my arm.

“Pet me.”

I did.

This became a regular thing.

One day she actually climbed into my lap.

“Pet me”

I did.

After a while she climbed down. She never climbed into my lap again.

Often when I was working in the middle room she would gently scratch at my arm.

“Pet me”

I did.

She would almost always collapse on her side but would always curl away if I tried to rub her tummy.

Sometimes when I was in the media room she would creep in, climb up on the table on the right of the couch, and look at me.  Once or twice she walked onto the couch.

She wouldn’t sit.

She’d just stand there for a bit then jump down and quietly leave the room.

And then came the day that she got sick. We had a few days of worry and hurt. Then we knew we’d have to say good bye.

We said good bye to her late on a Tuesday night.

I held her for the last time. I petted her for the last time. I looked into her beautiful green eyes for the last time.

“Remember me”

I will.

(I never actually used one of these. I’m not THAT old.)

I can’t remember what year I first shaved. I was shaving daily by the time I entered college (The always-impressive Clarendon Junior College).

It’s amazing just how effective (and easy) shaving (at least in general) has become. I recall the old days far too well.

My first razors were comprised of a two-blade fixed head. This allowed for excellent chances for easily missed stubble and moderately serious skin removal with bonus copious bleeding. Daily.  It was not fun.

I remember asking my friends who obviously shaved but had no apparent open face wounds just how they did that.  They laughed at my ignorance and introduced me to the electric razor.  (Not actually true. I had been aware of the electric razor. But as my father didn’t use one, hadn’t considered it.)

Armed with this knowledge, I set out on the perilous journey to acquire one. (Not really all that perilous; I asked my mom to buy one for me. She complied. I’m 19 at the time. 19, yeah I know.)

This was one of my first lessons on the difference between the hyperbole (and outright lies) of advertising versus real life.

Every advertisement I can recall for every electric razor offered a shave as good or better than a blade.

Thus began my lifetime experience with cognitive dissonance, that is, the effort of resolving real life results with promotional claims.  In other words, getting goose shit instead of gold.

I got a lot of goose shit.

Regardless of technique, face lubrication lotion, face-washing, excessive razor cleaning, I was unable to get a “good” shave (meaning a stubble-free face) from an electric razor.

On the other hand, I no longer needed a blood transfusion every other day.

I stuck with electric shaving and it did get better over the years.

(Mine was a later model – all silver. Very stylish and masculine.)

Then came the Panasonic Wet-Dry shaver.

AKA The Answer To My Shaving Prayers.

After a few weeks effort, I FINALLY was getting a shave that was actually as close as a blade (actually closer) without all the self mutilation.

Shaving paradise!

(Almost. I could still give myself a razor burn if I wasn’t careful.)

I stuck with this razor (replacing it when the battery refused to charge) for years.

There would be other wet-dry electric razors, dry electric razors that promised to be better\faster\easier.

I tried some of them.

They weren’t.

My Panny and I were happy for a long, long time.

And as in most relationships, I wanted more.

The dream of a baby-bottom smooth face that lasted for more than half a day beckoned. Bladed razor technology had come very far.

I broke down and gave my old nemesis a try.

I should mention at this point, that (to my knowledge) all shaving techniques share one common instruction or caveat. They ALL say something like “It will take a few weeks for your face to re-condition itself to your new wonderful shaving method.”

Do you see the genius in the simple, perfect piece of lying trash? The “re-conditioning time” was actually just the time it took for someone to “re-condition” their own expectations.

Bastards!

It worked for a bit.  But then I wanted more.

And I found it.

I happened on

The Method.

I don’t know exactly how it happened. Maybe a light went on in my head. Maybe I just tried it and liked it.

But one thing was very certain: My life would never be the same.

(At least as far as shaving was concerned.)

I had stumbled on a method, by which, I could have a very close and comfortable shave, with little, to no blood loss, or facial tissue destruction.

And it was fairly simple.

I will now, share with you,

The Method

Which (if you are a man who shaves his face) almost certainly turn your life from the shame-ridden black hole of stubble-filled shame into a smooth-faced eternal ecstasy of delight.

(Or something like that.)

Prepare yourself.

Are you ready?

Are you sure?

Here it is:

The Method

1. Wash your face and neck.
2. Rinse with hot water.
3. Cover your face (shaving area only) and neck with a thin layer of your favorite shaving foam ( I suggest Barbasol Original.)
4. Shave carefully with your favorite bladed razor ( I suggest something from Dollar Shave Club.)
5. Rinse your face and neck with hot water.
6. Cover your face with an even thinner layer of your favorite foam. (Again, Barbasol Original.)
7. Use your single-head, electric wet-dry razor (I suggest the Panasonic Electric Wet-Dry Travel Razor.) to shave your face.
8. Rinse your face with hot water.
9. Dry your face

This is the basic method.  This will give you one of the best, closest, and smoothest shaves of your life.

But it doesn’t stop there.

There is more.

The Ultimate Method

But only for those willing to move past the ethereal boundaries of convention and rush into an area of unexplored splendor.

(Or something like that.)

Prepare yourself:

The Ultimate Method

During step seven (Use your single-head, electric wet-dry razor (I suggest the Panasonic Electric Wet-Dry Travel Razor.) to shave your face.), use your free hand to stretch skin upwards as your shave.  This will expose more stubble, and allow the razor to shave slightly below the skin level.

Perfecting this will take time.

But you will be very pleased with the result.

Maybe.

It might just be me.

 

The clever (and trite) thing to do here is to reproduce the definition of frustration.  Not going to do that as we’re all far too familiar with the feeling.

In particular I’m feeling the frustration of having difficulty writing.

Any kind of writing about anything.

And I have no real idea why.

I wrote several short stories in high school. The other teens that read them weren’t particularly impressed. At least that’s what I remember.

I wrote several more stories in college.  My room mates seemed to like them.

What strikes me from those times is that the words seemed to flow like water.  I could sit down at my old Underwood, roll in a sheet of paper, and the magic would start.

I wasn’t a particularly good or fast typist, but when writing, the words would simply come.

Ideas, concepts, people, places, things, all would appear on the paper. Most were cliche, simple, unrealistic, and corny.  But the words would come.

This wasn’t exclusive to prose, I could dash out bad poetry by the page.  Makes me think my true calling is writing greeting card garbage.  Isn’t that depressing.

Now the words come slowly, if at all.  Perhaps my efforts at improving the quality of what I write have actually made it harder. The idea of an outline, form, or structure was foreign to me.  I just sat down and wrote.  That seemed to work.

Lots of time in the last few years has been spent reading books on writing, taking classes on writing, and thinking about writing.

And the sum total is that all that activity, all that effort has actually slowed and impeded my ability to put words down.

Am I restricting the natural flow of ideas?  Perhaps. Perhaps in attempting to clarify\compress\organize my ideas I’m actually editing my own thoughts out of existence.

We’ve all heard of the process of brainstorming.  It’s an actual process a group undertakes to solve problems.

The process has several phases but the first one is the most interesting.  In it, group members suggest different ways to solve the problem.  The critical thing about this phase is that there is absolutely no criticism or discussion of the viability or quality of the suggestion.  In this way, group members are unfettered by any fear of criticism.

That’s what needs to happen in my head.

Hope I can get back there.

Tuesday, Tuesday…don’t know what to do.
Can’t write.
Can’t think.
Can’t get beyond the blue.

My life moves on, passing like a breeze.
I sit and feel my soul begin to freeze.

Life’s there, just waiting for me to seize the day.
I watch, unmoving, as time then sails away.

Take my hand.
Pull me up.
Help me to end my funk.
Remind me that:

I am not alone.
I am not alone.
I am part of something infinitely big, consuming, important, involving, and eternal.
I am part of the shared reality of all people in general and of some close people in particular.

I may be stubborn.
I may be inflexible.
I may be difficult to reach.

But I want to be reached.
I want to be flexed.
I want to be moved.

Please help me to move beyond my own fears.
My own shortcomings.
My own insecurities.

Please help me.

And I promise to help you.