What's It All About, Alfie?

I've been stressing myself out with bad habits of doing too much of everything. Pressured by my upbringing that I cannot fail at being self-dependent. Self-dependency is something you learn early in life. Fortunate are those bastards who are born with the gift of a legacy tool-box; which includes cars, real estate and perhaps cash that can all be traded in for the latest iPhone, MacBook,  Yacht dinner cruises and parties with friends in penthouses an Chateaus. Well, that ain't me. At times, I envy the highly favored trustees who can (and when they choose) flaunt their entitlements before the rest of us proletariats.

A Latch-key-kid, is a more befitting term that describes my adolescence years and life with my brother six-years older. While our single mom worked two jobs, I was busy being bullied and tormented by my older brother until I reached junior high, and he was finally gone out of the house. I had to learn self-dependency. Home-made burgers and tacos during the week and rewarded with the occasional steak. I learned to be mom, protector; care giver and how to lock away emotions; not always a good thing.

However, I am finding as an adult that self-dependency is like an old habit that is difficult to shake loose. Too much of a good thing is ultimately bad for you. At some point, you need to retire, relax, lay low, release. Thinking this out has even made me tired. I've always ended up in jobs just to make money, to pay rent, pay off college debt and to pay a mortgage. These are all anchor weights in life. At some point, you realize that they only provide a tentative sense of safety, comfort and stability, but not real security.

Instead of being a jack of many trades or a miserable labor of one; why not decide to hell with everything else for the money and do the one gratifying thing that brings happiness. It may not make money, but perhaps its worth sticking it out for the heart of it. After all, what's it all about -Alfie?

The Best Beginnings Are with Good Intentions

I routinely begin the new year writing a list of personal resolutions and intentions for the year. Based on past and numerous disappointments in others who can and will often let you down, I learned to encourage myself and thus became my motivation for writing. With self-reliance and high motivation, I began 2017 with my philosophy of the 9 Ds: dream, design, decide to dedicate; be determined; have discipline, diligence and eliminate all distractions (specifically electronic) to reach your destiny. Failing to abide by this rule, I knew very well that by the year end, you will likely fall into the 92% category who overreached; perhaps delusional or simply repeat offenders who fail to stick to a new year's resolutions. I failed at committing to write about something humorous, on healthiness or on happiness for an entire year. So, what happened?

~EXCUSES~

Life is filled with them: I have a million of excuses. I began a job. I was consumed with a job, and I lost a job and the opposition party's choice for president took office (it's their fault too). I worked my bee hive off to maintain a roof over me; to cover health care, for basic maintenance or repairs with time to engage in the luxury of socializing on rare occasions.   With little appreciation and at the end of the day, I had no energy for myself no time it seemed to write even my name. It's the fault of life in America. The bad news (real and not fake) that it is not going to get any better by design for the average person. Guess what? Don't be average. Be extraordinary!

~RE - SOLUTIONS~

Try again. As times get tough, you must figure out how to survive in America without giving up who you are. For me, it means first getting out of my own way. Yes, I am tired of playing the same looping tape of routinely paying bills etc, but I have to remind myself that it is not an accomplishment of goals rather routines that have less to do with goal forging.

Set obtainable mini goals daily and build up to a routine that does not feel forced but a set of natural tasks required to reach your goals. My solution is to get out of my own way and make time to do what matters and what is important to me; and always find time to have HUMOR, HEALTH and HAPPINESS.

   

Happy Birthday To Me: A Pathology

Every year-around mid of February, weeks after all the hustle and bustle of the holidays and new year festivities have gone, I begin having birthday anxiety that lasts over the next several months through May. It's a silly pathology triggered by childhood memories.  When in high school, It seemed that all the other parents made arrangements to showcase a sweet sixteen party. These were extravaganzas to showcase beloved spoiled daughters a full day to star in a dedicated spotlight of preemptive adulthood. Not I.  The pressure of not having a coming out party haunted me thereafter.

It was my twenty-second birthday, and a year had gone by that I realized I missed out on another special celebration to mark reaching the legal age of twenty-one. Anxiety began again. My fear was that this was the beginning trend of horrors in not ever having a grand celebration. The anxiety went away for seven years and returned when I turned twenty-nine and since repeats every ten years. 

What's so 'happy' about birthdays anyway?  It is simply a redundant statement thrown onto a card with multiple colors of ink, thousands' stamped and pressed after killing a tree and all this to say, 'Happy Birthday?'  Not all birthdays are so happy; there are those you remember and some you want to forget. Age 3 and 93, the celebration is not for you but for the adults needing an excuse to party.  Everything in between is a roller coaster of highs and lows.     

The term is a trillion-dollar business, and that has certainly made someone happy or just filthy rich. But why can't the adjective be something else other than 'happy' like merry or joyful; fluffy or funky; gay, artsy or fartsy?  Why does 'happy' have to describe a birthday when a happiness is subjective, or is it?  I’m surprised Kris Jenner or Kim has not attempted to copyright the phrase.  Some people just have to have everything!

  

Another year of fantasizing about the big celebration and still no surprise party for me, not even a mini celebration.  And as I do every year, I will be content with a few, cheap and free acknowledges through social media and the ones that come in an envelope on the remnants of multi-colored dead trees, and I can count on one hand.   At least, someone bothered to buy a stamp.   Now that I am done with toiling and ranting over what makes birthdays so happy I cannot complain with yet another year, and that is reason enough to be happy.  Besides, I'm not trying to draw attention to growing older.  By the way, to those who sent me a happy birthday greeting - thank you very much.   Anyway, Happy Birthday to me.

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