Here is the question du jour:

You are in a situation you can’t win. It is not intolerable, but it is definitely not functional. You have small victories, but each day is more of a sisyphusian effort than any kind of actual forward motion.

I generally live my life where quality of life is most important. Money comes and goes but you can’t get time back.

I am learning how to play the game – and I honestly don’t know if that is a good thing or not. You know what game I’m talking about: the one called Cover Your Ass. You kind of have to kill something in yourself to play this game because some of it involves throwing other people under the bus to save your self.  I greatly dislike that.

Do you continue to CYA because you need to make a living, but in the meantime it whittles away some core part of your self? Or do you move on and eat beans and rice for an indefinite period of time but keep your self-respect in tact?

There is survival of the fittest and that isn’t just for lions and tigers and bears. We are always compromising and that isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but how much compromise is healthy?


April 9, 2011

Parents seem like such a static thing in your life. As sure as the sun will rise in the morning (sorry for the clichéd saying. It’s too early on a Saturday morning.), your parents will be there to annoy you, love you, support or chastise you. But they will be there. Even if you have a rocky relationship with them, their presence is a constant running process behind the other noise in your mind. On some level we all understand that we are mortal, that someday we will die, but like most things to us dumb humans – until we experience it, it isn’t really real (pardon me, Emilio).

So what happens when one of them disappears from this world? The static suddenly unhinges and while the sun continues to rise, it’s luster has changed. Static becomes malleable and you are forced to face your own mortality.

Today is the fifth anniversary of my dads death. Today, there was no visible sun rise – it is raining in the desert. A fitting weather for my mood.

I have to go now. Maybe I will write more later today.


April is the month of my birthday. It is also the month of Passover and it is also the month my dad died.  Now, he will always be 58, but I will keep getting older. At some point, I will be his age. I will be 58 years old. That gets to me.

April is no longer just a celebration happy happy time of my birthday or the gathering that was my father’s favorite holiday. He died just before Passover, so that holiday is now linked with him. My birthday marker is now inextricably tied with my dad’s death day.