Us Then versus Now...

Not in my neighborhood these days...

Not in my neighborhood these days...

Patience is the capacity to accept or tolerate delay, trouble or suffering without getting angry or upset.

At this concept, I fail brilliantly.

When you're out and about in the world, as one is, and you come to the end of an escalator, the point is to disembark and MOVE ALONG! Not stand at the end of the damn thing, look around like you're a lost meerkat looking for it's family. I hate to break it to you but this is not your personal people mover, there are others behind you about to arrive at that same platform you're standing on. So, as Ludacris says "Move, Bitch, Get Out the Way."

Have you met me?

Have you met me?

I don't remember noticing stupidity as much as I do now--in my forties--but I think I've always been aware of it. I know I must've been much more patient in the earlier years of my life. I mean, I dated the stereotypical dude-leopard for years, crossing my fingers that he'd change his spots and of course, he never did. When I realized I was a complete jackass and finally dumped him, I found my true soul-mate with whom I've been with, happily, for twenty years. But before that, I was the type of person that accepted just about every type of schmuck out there. I pretty much gave them a pass most days. If they got in my way or bumped into me, I was the type that apologized even if it was their fault. I was the typical twenty-something always going out on the weekends, spending hours upon hours filling my time (and liver) up at bars and clubs and concerts and movies. Very similar to my life now but on a much grander level (although the liver still gets a nice work out now and then).

I think when you hit your forties, you realize time is precious. It's not a mortality thing so much as it's a "hey I want to spend my time with people who matter to me and do the things I like" and sometimes that results in making some pretty drastic decisions about who/what/where/how you spend your time. These are usually tough decisions no one else can comprehend as everyone lives in their own bubble and thinks their way is the right way. But truth be told, there are some things I don't feel I never need to do ever again such as puke from a hangover or explain my life choices. I don't really give a shit about anything not directly affecting my existence. It's a bit self-centered but I'm constantly reminded that no one gets out of "here" alive and if you spend your time cow-towing to people, you not only waste your time, you never get that time back. 

Oh how we miss these days...sort of.

Oh how we miss these days...sort of.

Over the last year, the hubby and I have cut back on our concert-going routines. Both music lovers, both lovers of live music, when we first met it was an easy go-to date idea. It was our way of life even after I got out of the radio business (and we actually had to pay for tickets) and has been a significant part of our relationship. I've probably stated it before but the audiences at concerts frustrate me so, I usually wish I'd stayed home. I used to love the rush of the first notes of the first song when the lights went down and the band took the stage and the crowd roared. Now I can only romanticize about the experience since lately the crowd spends 90% of its time talking about their day--and by talking I mean screaming over the music because they're at a concert and well, gee, there's a band onstage playing live in front of them but they can't be bothered to notice until the hit gets played...to these people I have utter, unforgiving contempt. You ruined the experience, dumbass. Why not kill the planet while you're at it...oh wait.

Really...?!?!

Really...?!?!

My husband works at home, so for him this whole experience of being in public for any length of time is heightened. We'll be on the road for a short period of time and he'll warn "that bitch is on her phone, be careful" or "this guy next to you is driving like an idiot" or he'll just yell fancy, descriptive expletives into the windshield directly at the idiot in question.

We've decided to make our overall goal in life to not leave the house if at all possible. My husband calls the days we do: "leave the house days". Smart, I know. But we cherish this home-bound time. Even if it means eating a frozen pizza and watching The Big Lebowski or Goodfellas or Blow for the umpteenth time (or some other movie we love so much we watch at least once a year). We look forward to weekends where we have no responsibilities and can just hibernate. There's still a part of me that feels like "but what if we're missing out on some great experience?" 

The answer is this: when we stood out on the edge of the Grand Canyon just this last March, overlooking one of the most amazing wonders of the world, a place I had on my bucket list, all I could do was stand there in sheer panic as other people bustled around me like eager idiots all trying to dangle from the edge with their selfie sticks. One unintended shove, bump, or accidental nudge, and we could have easily been sent over the side. Not the way I want to go. Really.

So unless things change--unless there's some virus that wipes out stupid people--we'll just be burrowing in our house with our big ass television that makes you feel like you're really "there" because Dorothy's words could not be truer. There's no place like home.