Another possible cure for depression... or not...

Have you ever had one of those days where you feel so blue you think, "I'm going to sit in front of the TV and eat ice cream until I feel better..."?

Only you're not sure that much ice cream exists...?

While the Vic’s away…

Yesterday, I drove Vicky to the airport so she could catch a flight to the Midwest. Vicky’s gone away for a paralegal conference and I’m at home all alone… and ready to start some trouble!

… Wait. Let me clarify…

As much as I might like to think of myself as one of those crazy writers you hear so much about having sexual escapades while ingesting too many drugs – snorting coke off a model’s abdomen, for instance – the truth is… well, would you like to know the truth? Would you like to know how crazy I get when Vicky’s gone?

Here it is. Here’s the craziness this author gets into when his wife is out of town…

The first thing I did was to prepare myself for several days of sin and debauchery… I bought several large, frozen pizzas. Then, I made sure I had plenty of booze and Otter Pops. (I have this theory that Otter Pops would made amazing ice in vodka… we’ll see.)

After I dropped Vicky off at the airport, I immediately went home and began setting up my DVR to record every James Bond film shown on our movie channels until this weekend. That equals about a dozen James Bond flicks, and that includes Moonraker! (And, yes. I will watch Moonraker!)

At some point in the next few days, I plan to sit in front of my TV, with lots of booze, and watch James Bond flicks until I can’t stand it anymore…

… I know. I’m boring. But, truth be told, I’ve never sat through an entire James Bond flick. I think I’ve seen half of each of them but never an entire movie.

By the time Vicky comes home, I will be going crazy from missing her as will our pets. I’ll let her deal with that.

Life does not stink...

I was out at breakfast this morning with my friend, Sean, and I found myself saying, “Things are really different these days. I used to have a job that I went to every morning. I’d wear clothes I didn’t like very much and go to a job I didn’t like very much. I hardly ever got to do what I wanted to do. Now, I wear what I want. I do what I want. My whole career is about doing what I want. Even the things I don’t want to do aren’t really things I don’t want to do; I just want to move on to the next thing I want to do.”

I took a deep breath and realized, “Yeah, things do not suck.”

It’s a strange revelation for someone like me, that things do not suck. I spent a lot of my life caught in situations that sucked, that really sucked. I was in a divorce that sucked. I was in relationships that sucked. I worked at jobs where I wasn’t respected and that sucked. I worked at jobs with loathsome people and that sucked.

It’s just nice to know that things do not suck.

So, I thought I’d talk a little about that today. I wanted to get the word out. I wanted to share my happiness with those who love me. I wanted to share my fortune with my readers. I’ve seen how sometimes old friends who have stopped talking to me read this blog and I wanted to let them know. I even know of some who dislike me for unresolvable reasons and I thought I’d let them know, too.

Life is good.

I’m working on projects I can be proud of. I just finished a novel that I think is a lot of fun; my agent should like it (which is saying something). My next project is another memoir, another chapter in my life. I’ve put out some good plays recently and have garnered a little, dare I say, respect.

Mind you, I say things like “Life is good” and I cringe a bit. I look skywards for the anvil that may drop on my head. I’ve still got that superstitious streak everyone who was once religious finds so difficult to shed.

Saying “Life is good”, I also immediately think of my wife, Vicky. This is mostly her doing. She has gone out of her way to make this opportunity possible, for me to write for a living, and I like to think I’ve taken the ball and run with it. I hope my running will suffice. Actually, running – which in this case actually means “writing” – is what I’ve wanted to do for so long. Together, we’re putting me in that place where I can run.

Vicky’s going to go away next week and I’ll be on my own. I have a pile of work I can’t wait to get to while she’s gone. At the same time, though, I know I’ll miss her. But it’s that feeling, that knowledge that I’ll miss her, that makes me feel good. Knowing how crazy I am about my wife, and knowing she loves me as well, just adds to my feeling of well-being. It’s nice to have someone to miss.

Anyway, there you are. I’m running. I’m loving. I’m working. These are all active verbs, which is to say I am not just sitting around wishing things would get better or hoping for an opportunity. I am not alone. I am not aimless. My life is pretty darned full (and even fun) at this point.

Life does not stink.

10 questions...

Front Row Lit is featuring a 10 Question interview with me today: http://frontrowlit.com/?p=2356.

Please head on over, share and enjoy. And thank you for your support!

Where cut? Hair cut!...

When I was younger, I used to love growing my hair long. The problem, however, was that I could never grow it long enough! I’d get it just past my shoulders in length and I’d have to get a job or something – DAMN! If only, I would bemoan, I could live a life free of the restrictions jobs put on me. If only I could write for a living!...

And now… I do.

Sure, I don’t write for a living wage. I don’t write for a sufficient income, that’s for damned sure. But Vicky has been kind enough to see to it that I have this opportunity to capitalize on some huge momentum – a new book published, interest in another, a play production coming in November – to focus on making my writing career happen.

You’d think this would be the perfect time to grow my hair long.

Ummmmmm… no.

Because now I have other concerns to wrestle with and these are jogging and cycling. Neither one of those are what you might call conducive to long hair. Or, I should say that long hair is not conducive to either of those. Helmets don’t fit right and my hair falls in my face when I jog.

Rather than grow my hair long, I decided to go… the other way…

And so, Vicky and I found ourselves at Target recently purchasing a hair trimmer. We returned home and I sat on a chair in the middle of our kitchen.

Vicky nervously turned on the trimmer and nervously took it to my head and I nervously sat there and listened to Vicky nervously mutter, “Oh my… Oh my…”

Oh my, was right. When she was done, Vicky had shorn most of the hair off my head! My hair hasn't been this short since, well, perhaps since I was nine years old! The result is… well, I won’t say it’s attractive but it is highly functional and I kinda love it. In fact, I’m tempted to have her buzz it down even further!

I went jogging yesterday morning and never had to worry about my hair. Somewhere in there, my hair went from being my one feature I thought looked good to, well, expendable!

Is this it, then? Is this the end of the old – or should I say, the young – Ken? Do I have thirty or forty (or, let’s be serious, twenty) years of shorn scalp to look forward to?

… I don’t know. I guess it depends on if I ever get comfortable being seen in public without my hair…

I’ll keep you posted.

Always something new...

Dear readers,

My monthly article is up over on Recovering The Self. Please check it out as this month I talk about all that "Can't" can do...

And remember that www.kenlasalle.com is updated regularly, so please check that out as well if you find yourself so inclined.

... and buy me an ice cream if you get a chance...