When I do something, I go all out, or I don’t do it all. That’s the story of my life. When I decide to do something, anything, I go all out and dedicate all my energy to doing it, whatever “it” is. I do everything to excess. And I only do nothing in moderation.
Wait, now that I think of it, I do nothing in excess, too. I can fully indulge in doing nothing for hours, days, nay, months at a time. Moderation is only an entry in the dictionary to me. If I do something, I must do it to excess. When I trained to run one marathon, I ended up running thirteen. If something is worth doing in moderation, it’s even more fun to do it in excess. I think Nietzsche was on to something when he said, “What does not destroy me, makes me stronger.”
Chicago, our fair city, has many nicknames. Such as the Windy City, the City of Big Shoulders, Chi-Town, and the City That Works. But now, Chicago now has a new nickname thanks to tattoo artist Sam Hacker who inadvertently misspelled Chi-Town as Chi-Tonw, as reported in the Chicago Sun-Times, March 13, 2007. Hacker showed the final imprint to the customer, who approved the design, before he started the actual tattoo. However, neither one noticed the spelling error. End result: a tattoo that said “CHI-TONW” and a lawsuit against the tattoo artist.
But, wait! The story only gets better! And this could only happen in Chicago. As a show of support, a fellow tattoo artist is now sporting a CHI-TONW tattoo on the front of his neck! Bridgeport Tattoo is offering free tattoos of CHI-TONW and about 20 people have gotten them already. Before you know it, thousands will have this new tattoo and Chicago will have a new nickname! I love Chicago! I envision signs at our airports that say, “Mayor Richard M. Daley Welcomes You to CHI-TONW!”
I have reached that age where everything reminds me of the past. Listening to the radio, I remember what I was doing when I heard the song for the first time years ago. It reminds me of how I used to be and who I wanted to be, but somehow, I realize that I haven’t changed all that much, and in some ways, I’m still the same boy deep down inside. When I hear an old song on the radio again, I still like (or hate) the song as much as I did back then. I recognize some songs after only three or four notes.
My sons are amazed that I recognize those old songs on the radio. I told them, “You know how you listen to some songs over and over again? Well, I used to do the same thing when I was your age!” And that’s why the songs remind me of my youth. And that reminds me of a Led Zeppelin song whose title I can’t recall: “In the days of my youth, / I was taught what it means to be a man,” which in turn reminds me of my first car and my first “real” girlfriend of that time and how I almost lost my virginity while listening to Led Zeppelin. But that’s a blog post for another day.
My present didn’t quite turn out the way I expected. Perhaps, I should start creating some good memories now so that I may have some good nostalgia in the future. When I recall my memories of how I expected I would be now, my nostalgia sure hasn’t lived up to my expectations, in the past or now. I should have thought of my past for the future in the past and not now in the present where I regret not having created better memories for my future in the past. I wish I could go back in time and do things focusing more on the future. But that’s all water under the bridge now. There’s no use crying over spilled milk.
Sometimes when I wax nostalgic, I wonder why no one uses the word “wax” (as in “to increase in size, numbers, strength, prosperity, or intensity”) anymore. I also wonder why when I refer to the waxing and waning of the moon, I get some strange stares. In fact, the other day I was waiting in line at the supermarket when I was thinking about the cycles of the moon and I accidentally uttered, “I enjoy the waxing and waning of the moon” aloud. Suddenly, I was all alone in the front of the line facing a nervous cashier! They probably didn’t know what I meant by “wax.” I should be more careful when and where I wax nostalgic.
In the future, I would like to recall the past with fond memories of my present “present.” In the future, no more regretting the past and loathing the present. Because today is the first day of the rest of my life!
I was looking deeply and thoughtfully into my soul since the start of 2007, and I have found my New Year’s resolution.
I have finally decided that my New Year’s resolution will be to write a blog entry for each and every day of 2007. Yep, that’s right. I will write 365 blog entries for 2007. I will write one daily, all year long.
What’s that you say? Oh, I know that it’s already January 14 and this is only the first entry. Okay, I was busy with the start of the New Year. Do you think it’s easy knowing that I must write a blog entry each and every day? I’m only human; I feel the pressure and buckle under it.
However, I have figured out what I need to do. I have to read less and write more. I can pass the entire day reading and reading, in order to avoid writing anything. I have convinced myself that reading is an effective way to warm up my brain so that I start writing. The only problem is that no matter what I read, I always discover at least three other texts that I ABSOLUTELY MUST READ!
So, Gentle Reader, that is why I wrote my first 2007 blog entry just today. But you do have to admit that I do have lofty goals! I do resolve to write more entries this year than last. Watch. You’ll see!
My mother and I had a love / hate relationship, but what I remember the best about her was her sense of humor. She always knew how to make me laugh when I was little. She always told me jokes, by way of acting them out, and I would always laugh; when she repeated a joke, I would still laugh because she would always tell it slightly differently and the joke would be funny to me all over again.
Whenever I heard new jokes, I would tell them to her. She would always laugh even after I told them several times. And she wasn’t faking the laughter, either. Jokes, especially her own, always made her laugh. Everyone in my mother’s family enjoyed laughing–a lot! Whenever we went to Mexico, we always sat around after a meal telling jokes. Everyone always had a joke to tell. And someone would always request to hear their favorite joke. Some jokes made everyone laugh repeatedly. My mother usually told a lot of jokes and would be asked to repeat some of her jokes. I don’t remember all her jokes because it’s been a long time since I thought of them, but I will do my best to recall some of them. Here are a few of her jokes:
A woman is on an airplane with her baby. The man sitting next to her is continuously making fun of the baby and repeatedly telling the woman how ugly her baby is. The woman finally breaks down in tears. The flight attendant notices the commotion and approaches the woman. “What’s wrong?” asks the flight attendant. The woman says, “This man keeps bothering us.” The flight attendant finds another seat for the woman and her baby. The woman is satisfied with the new seat and thanks the flight attendant who tells the woman, “Everything will be okay now. Just let me get a banana for your monkey.”
A motorcyclist wore his jacket backwards to prevent the wind from hitting his chest. He crashes into a tree and a passerby tries to help him. When the ambulance arrives, the paramedics ask, “How’s he doing?” The Good Samaritan answers, “He was doing fine until I turned his head to face the right way.”
I can’t remember exactly how this joke went and I probably won’t tell it well, either, but it’s about a man who lives in the rural area of the state of Veracruz in Mexico. He must go to the big city of Veracruz, Veracruz, for the first time in his life and take the train to visit his dying grandmother. He has never seen a train before, so he asks what it looks like. They tell him that it’s big and black and puffs smoke. When he arrives in the city of Veracruz, he sees a well-dressed black man wearing a suit and smoking a big cigar. So, he jumps on the black man’s back thinking that he’s the train.
Of course, just reading the jokes now, they don’t seem as funny. You must imagine mother acting them out. Part of what made them funny was how my mother tried not to laugh as she anticipated the punchline. When she finally reached the end of the joke, she would laugh the loudest. Those jokes still make me laugh when I imagine my mother telling them. ¡Ja, ja!
Chicago USA 