A few things I’ve learned in 40 years of living

Tomorrow, I’ll be 40 years old. That’s as close to 50 as I’ve ever been in my life. So it’s got me thinking about a few nuggets of wisdom I’ve accumulated. Allow me to share a few:

Try something new --- If you dread doing things that take you out of your comfort zone, ie: traveling, eating new food, exercising, meeting new people – that’s a signal that you must do them. I have found that more often than not, the activities or experiences that I think will make me uncomfortable turn out to be just fine – even enjoyable.


Meet your demons --- Like most people, I have personal demons who inhabit my subconscious mind. Over the years, I’ve gotten to know them on a first name basis.
First there’s Argok – the Lazy. He’s a smug, fat, slovenly demon who tells me to stay in my comfort zone and not try anything new. Argok constantly reminds me that I’m pretty cool the way I am and don’t have to worry about improving myself.

Then there’s Grakeziel – the Seductress. She’s the demon who compels me to seek instant gratification and generally messes with my self-discipline. She whispers to me when I’m hungry, “One little New York slice of pepperoni pizza isn’t going kill ya.”

And there’s Sharshamel the Timid. He’s a cowardly demon that pushes me away from conflict. His mantra is: “If you make people mad at you, they won’t like you anymore.”

Do you have demons like these?

Accept the randomness of the universe --- Shit really does ‘just happen.’ And any attempts to explain or rationalize why that’s the case are futile. Holding a lucky rabbit’s foot, or four-leaf clover is just as good of protection against calamity as is a cross. Bad things happen to people to who pray several times a day; who abstain from liquor; sex and all manner of vices; who volunteer their time to feed the hungry and clothe the naked.

So do all that if you want to, but don’t expect that’s going to keep you from getting eyeball cancer, or stop an anvil from falling on your sister or from your house from being destroyed by a rabid beaver infestation or some other awful act of nature.

The universe is random and mysterious and scary and wonderful.

Maybe in another 40 years, I’ll figure it out.

Found: One pair of blue, thong underwear on the street outside the post office in downtown Hastings

(a la Garrison Keillor)

"Questions about the origins of the displaced undergarments briefly replaced chit chat about the weather among Post Office customers and clerks for an entire day. That's saying something, since folks in Hastings take their weather talk very seriously.

"Molly Gustafson, who owns the sewing shop on the other side of Main street from the Post Office, was the first to see the crumpled underpants as she arrived just as the office opened. It was Monday, and Molly was mailing a stack of coupons announcing 15 percent off black thread spools to her repeat customers.

"She told postal clerk Marjorie Olsen about the dainty and now dirty unmentionables lying next to the lone handicapped parking space. Molly asked Marjorie if she'd ever consider wearing 'such a thing.'

"Marjorie was not a small woman. She grew up on a farm where she was brought up on whole milk, butter and healthy portions of Midwestern modesty. She snorted jocularly as she considered the sadistic design characteristics of the g-string. 'Oh Heavens,' she laughed. 'I don't even floss my teeth.'"

"It was a line she repeated several times that day."

A broad sweeping generalization about women that is based purely on anecdotal experience

If I’m in a hurry to get through a line at a grocery store or one of my favorite downtown lunch spots I make an effort not to stand in a line that contains more women than men.

It is a decision based less on gender and more on the fact that a certain part of the population carry purses that contain separate pockets for change, bills and cards. For example, the woman in front of me at Taco John’s orders a Number 5 burrito combo (with the free Churros) which comes to $5.78.

First, she reaches into the bill compartment and pulls out five singles and THEN opens the little change compartment to collect the 78 cents.

Then of course, after the transaction is done, instead of stepping aside and letting me order my taco salad with chicken, she has to reassemble the purse through a series of snaps and zips. Apparently most purses come with extra-secret compartments in which to hide change or cyanide tablets – just in case the owner of the purse is captured by the Nazis.

Indeed, some guys carry a wallet which does require an extra step. (Personally, I don’t carry a wallet. Wallets encourage pickpockets. Plus, they create an unsightly bulge on my otherwise shapely butt.) But I’ve never seen a dude subsequently pull out a change purse after laying down a couple bills.

I ask you, what is wrong with getting some spare change? Give it to panhandlers or take it home and put it in a jar. If you have free laundry, set it aside and take it to the bank after a few months. I used to get anywhere from $65 to $100 each time I took a bag of change to the bank.

Caffeine is a helluva drug

"I've got wild, staring eyes/And I've got a strong urge to fly/But I got nowhere to fly to..."

--Roger Waters

Bad Wims

Heh. I don't know what this little animal is, but I'm adopting it as my avatar. He is Bad Wims.

Fall approaches downtown Minneapolis

Fall is nearing here in DT Minneapolis. And the cooler temps mean more business-suited individuals are returning to the Skyways to get around. The homeless and other displaced wanderers are also more prevalent inside the human habitrails.

Personally, I'm a fan of fall. The weight of humidity is gone from the air and I feel like I can stand up straighter when I walk outside. Plus it's becoming soup and stew weather. Once again, I can hunker down in my flourescently lit workcube and enjoy a warm bowl of goodness and a chunk of bread.

Fall is also the beginning of pro football season. It's a time of year when we lifelong Vikings fans can enjoy at least a few weeks of optimism, until the crushing reality of the Purple's consistent mediocrity compels us to downgrade our playoff hopes, to 'well it'd be nice if they came out 9 and 7.'

Ah, fall....