DaveTown

I realized for the first time today why I’m as disorganized as I am. I learned it the hard way; by trying to get organized.

Let me back up a bit. During the summer, I often can’t sleep at night, so I have two choices: to sit up drinking, moping, and being depressed on the one hand, or, doing something proactive, productive and helpful on the other. I’m sick of doing the former, and truly, I can’t say it has ever really worked out for me anyway, no matter how many times I’ve tried it. So far this vacation I’ve done fairly well. Some steps I’ve taken toward fighting depression have begun paying off, a little, so I’ve been doing a good job (relatively speaking) of spending my sleepless nights doing things that are non-self-destructive in nature.

So that leads me to last night, when I tackled a chore I’ve been putting off for way too long. Yes, I cleaned out my files.

It was awful. No, not the level of labor involved. It was about 75% throwing junk away, 20% putting stuff aside then re-filing it, and 5% seeing the last decade or so of my life represented by paperwork, pictures, and letters.

That was the awful part, the 5%. When you do something like that, all you see is people you love who you’ve lost contact with; people who said they’d always love you, but don’t anymore; people who aren’t alive anymore; debts you may or may not have paid, and all sorts of other depressing reminders of things you’d rather forget.

Do I need that? No, not really. So now it’s mornng, and I’m trying to shake it all off. I’m really glad to have gotten rid of all that junk I tossed out, and I could really use the space I saved, if only to fill with more junk again. But some of that stuff, well, I could have lived happily ever after without ever seeing it again.

One is almost tempted to say to hell with the idea of being an organized human being. Not that I’m in real danger of becoming one anytime soon, mind you. I keep taking baby steps in that direction the older I get however and . . . well . . . it’s almost is enough to put one off one’s quest, you know?

My bestest buddy Randy Harris has a blog called The Fred Hotline. It’s an extension of a one page flyer he used to publish sporadically when we were in college. It was done in the “glue stick and cut-out clippings” media that is so unfortunately neglected these days (darn kids and their computers; when I was a kid . . .). He posts random observations, funny spoofs, general wackiness, and lots of pictures from when we were at UNCG in the 1980’s (which, if you don’t know us, might not be amusing to you, but if you do, it’s a source of neverending amusement).

Since Megan of “Open Up My Head” wants me to post more, and since it’s so early I couldn’t possibly be coherent or funny until I’ve had a few more cups of coffee, I’ll just ripoff Randy’s post from yesterday. It’s worth ripping off, too. It’s some of his finest prose. Randy’s a poet and a visual artist primarily, but he’s also a great writer. He’s truly a renaissance man; in addition to his artistic talents, he is an accomplished miniature golfer (winner of many titles, but now retired), and is a black belt as well.

But I digress.

Here’s some vintage Randy:

Scenes from a Prostate Exam

I had to go for my yearly check-up the other day. I was going to have x-rays and blood work-the whole nine yards. I had to fast for 15 hours before the office visit. That always makes me light-headed.

The one thing I was worried about was the needle. All I could think about was the needle. I completely forgot about the “finger”.

The PA starts the check up by asking me questions. “Are you dizzy?” she asked. “Yes, I haven’t had any thing to eat or drink in 15 hours. Yes, I’m dizzy.”

“Have you had memory loss?”. This one made me laugh. How would I know?

I had a great visit with the doctor. It was great until he had to check my prostate. With all the advances in medical science your telling me the best way to test this is with a finger?

He put on a rubber glove, but I’m pretty sure he left on his class ring. It could have been a Super Bowl ring.

He told me to “assume the position”. I was thinking, could you remind me what the position is again. I think I blacked out last time. (Maybe I’ve had memory loss.)

I’ve got an idea, how about giving me another finger to bite down on. In western movies they always give the cowboy a shot of whiskey and a stick to bite down on. (Ask me now if have blurred vision.)

Assume the position. He says it like it’s a yoga class. It’s like he’s teaching a Kung Fu class. Assume the position-Hidden Finger, Screaming Man.

“I found some hard stool,” he said. “Yeah, that’s where I keep it.” What did he think he was going to find? A rabbit? My car keys? I don’t get this much action on Saturday night. Buy me a drink, talk dirty to me or something.

I make jokes about this becauses I’m uncomfortable with the exam, but it’s important.

Here are a few facts you should know:

Prostate cancer accounts for almost half of all newly diagnosed cancers in men each year in the United States.

This disease is the second most fatal cancer in men, second only to lung cancer.

The risk of developing prostate cancer increases with age and it seldom occurs in men before the age of 50.

To learn more go to: www.prostate.com

Do you see why I love this man (in a manly, heterosexual, completely un-creepy way)?

I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work.

– Thomas Edison

The Seven Deadly Sins, demonstrated by gummi bears.

It is the act of an ill-instructed man to blame others for his own bad condition; it is the act of one who has begun to be instructed, to lay the blame on himself; and of one whose instruction is completed, neither to blame another, nor himself.

– Epictetus

I call this one: Kitty in Gym Bag