Not for the weak

Kevin Bacon and Kyra Sedgwick.
Matthew Broderick and Sarah Jessica Parker.
Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson.
Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes.
Will Smith and Jada Pinkett-Smith.
Kurt Russell and Goldie Hawn.
David Arquette and Courtney Cox-Arquette.
John Travolta and Kelly Preston.

Quite the list of names, isn't it? I comprised this list because:

a) They are all generally respected actors who have some serious skills.

b) They are all "Hollywood" couples who have managed to stay together for quite a few years, in an industry that seems to do more to destroy relationships than to foster them.

I developed this list for a particular reason, but not to establish any sort of fan club. Granted, a group such as this deserves a fan club, and I would probably join such a club if one were to be established, as I respect them all for both of the above reasons. It might have to do with the fact that I a) have been involved with theatrical arts from age ten and b) have been involved in a relationship for quite a few years, with all the associated joys and trials that those years brought. OK, so it's the Mrs. that deserves the props for staying with me, as there is no way I could have stayed with me for so long, or put up with so much. And I live with me. Daily.

Anyhoots, back to the list. Yep, all long-term couples and all actors. My interest in them is far from passing these days, although not stalkish. It ties into a certain project (that does not involve cleaning of any sort) I managed to get myself involved in of late. An Indie project, as it were. Yeah, yeah. I know. 'A'  listers. Get in line. Get real. See previous post, blah, blah, blah. Whatever. A person can dream, right? I mean, I've thought about it, and to me the best combination to play certain characters in a certain production of which I am der schriftsteller would be a married (or long-term committed) couple. Given there is a great deal of chemistry that is required to pass along the subtle nuances of the lead characters, it only seems right to have an intimate pair play those characters.

So, if any of the above couples are bored of late, and are not so ego-bloated as to think an Indie project is beneath them, and would welcome the opportunity to spend some time in a slower-paced Midwestern community (perhaps in the company of Dana Altman or Alex Payne), then I invite them to drop me a line at the email listed over there <-- and I can provide more details.

Nobody special

So, here I sit looking at a blog about a project that has for the most part stalled, due in most part to the fact that real life must continue on, and I have one question burning in my chaotic mind.

Who do I think I am?

A simple question, and one that is not unique to the human race. Everyone, at some point, has asked themselves this question. Everyone, at some point, has answered this question. It is within these answers that each person can discover a piece of the truth about what is involved with being human.

Take a moment, reflect on that truth. Is it glorious, life affirming? Is it mundane or cliche? Is it downright scary? Do we collectively need to make appointments to see therapists?

For me, there was a time when I would answer the question in a near delusional fashion. I thought, at one time, that I was destined to be important. A world-changer. Famous or infamous, I would be known. Now I recognize and accept the truth; the honest to goodness, down to earth, undeniable truth. Even more alarming, personally, I have to admit that it might just be better this way.

I am nobody special, and someone special.

So, as I sit here looking at this blog about a project that has for the most part stalled, I release a sigh, think about the little things I want to accomplish today, and smile.

I smiled until my face hurt.

It didn't take long, either. This morning, on the way to work, the strangest notion popped into my consciousness. I decided to smile all morning, or at least for as long as possible. Not sure why, but I did. My face started hurting within minutes. Now, some could say that the root cause of this is the fatigue of muscles that are not used enough to keep them flexible enough to maintain the required tension. Or something like that. My mom would have said that I frowned too much and my face froze that way, so smiling was an unnatural act. Yeah, whatever. I did give it an effort, though.

I did smile when I finished the cart this afternoon, repainting everything down to the bolt heads, with exception of the wooden castors. I'll smile even more when I put it all back together and the Mrs. is smiling because the dishes are off the dining room table. You never know, my face might not hurt too much when that happens.

Maybe I like colored snot.

Not the standard colors, either. I mean the kind you get after spray-painting old furniture to make it all newish looking, or least not as ugly as it was prior to the paint job. Give the nose a blow in a trusty old tissue and the result almost puts Pollock to shame.

Now, I've known this disgusting bit of art trivia for some time, but today (and yesterday), I was creating marvelous nose art as I was renewing the old cart we used to hold up the dishrack. For those of limited life experience, a dishrack holds dishes, generally hand-washed dishes, until the are hand-dried or air-dried. Quite the concept, I'm sure, but for the moment I will avoid that literary tangent. This particular old cart has been with us a long time, so long I can't remember when we came about it, but I do know that it was owned by the Mrs.' parents before us. Wooden castor wheels give a clue to the true age of this cart, and it has just been sitting next to the sink, bearing the burden of a strange orange paint job over it's original ivory ceramic as it bore the weight of dishes, as well as pots and pans stored on the lower shelves.

Did I mention that it was an strange orange color? As in pumpkiny orange of the kind you find on the road the day after Halloween. Don't try to imagine it without something of pleasant color to imagine, or at least imaginary whip cream.

So, scraped and primed and repainted, the cart will go back to its under-appreciated but functional use, and the nose will issue forth the standard colors, and my attention will shift to other mini projects in the drive toward progress with the bigger project.

So I fart on elevators.

Granted, it is usually when I'm the only one on it, but it's really fun when a death cloud gets released just before a new arrival. I'm amazed how many people avoid eye contact in such situations. Hehheh.

Back to the subject at hand. When I started this project, many moons and meds ago, I found a name for it that was unique, and snagged the .net domain name for it, mostly because the .com was parked, and I didn't have fundage for the half dozen other variants. Now I discover that there are many, MANY domain variants, most of the common of which are claimed, and some of which are very similar in theme. Funny, there is even some Inc. out there that uses my project's name. I'm impressed. I did think about offering my .net for sale and finding a new name that better reflects the reality of the project's status (like, omghowlongdoesittaketofinish.xxx or justthrowthestuffoutalready.yyy or ifthewifewasletlooseonitthingswouldbedonebynow.zzz), but I've grown kind of fond of the old name.

Thus, and therefore, I walked about the place noting what has and hasn't changed, and determined that a great deal has changed, while much has remained the same. Yeah, chew on that one psychobabble types. Shame I couldn't get more original. Oh, well. Still, enough has changed to give me hope that someday I can bring this to a conclusion (and maybe start up another blog on some obscure topic, or better yet, some disgusting topic like farting), and enough is still cluttered to drive me to recharge the cleaning bots and make literary note of the efforts and results.

Now, I must go before I...too late.

Yeah? Well...

So, I receive this “notice” in the mail that looks like a bill but really isn’t a bill, and it gets me to thinking that I have long ignored some element of my existence, and that I really need to revisit this project (or life endeavor as it would appear) before it becomes yet another example of “you are such a loser”-ness, and blah blah blah.

I’m back.

With a vengeance.

And some good medication.

It's just a shadow, but...

January is finished, and in the grand scheme of things, was a fairly decent month. Definitely better than the January of last year, although that one was not as bad as some initial months of years past. I managed to get back into the One Room flow, to some extent. A very small extent. OK, I didn't really focus on any single room, but I did send some things off to new homes. Did my part to stimulate the economy by making some money for eBay and PayPal. Did a few things to move forward on an idea I have been working upon. Oh, and I made a few rugs.

So, now that the month of the groundhog is upon me, I will keep with that slightest of forward momentum. Perhaps this month I will actually get a room cleaned.