Who's Your Daddy ?
Those who know me can verify that I am usually a low key modest kind of guy; however, at this time I will gloat a little.
I just completed a three day trial. I was prosecuting a man for armed robbery and conspiracy to commit armed robbery. There were a total of five people involved, but I am having to try each one separately. I had previously convicted one of conspiracy and still have three more to go. The guy I was trying this time was the one who actually pulled the gun and held up the victim.
He was a very smug and confident guy who thought he was going to go free. His attorney was even more cocky which is ironic since it was his first trial. This case had been pending for over a year and had become personal. I had previously gotten his so called expert disqualified and thus prevented from testifying. Everything he threw at me I hit out of the park. After three days of trial I heard my favorite words, "We the jury find the defendant guilty". They found him guilty of both counts and he will be sentnced at a later date. I have now won five of my last six cases.
I got more good news when I got home. The complaint that had been filed against me at my last job was dismissed as having no basis. Also, in the realm of legal news, the state Supreme Court made a wise decision last week. My first trial was against a certain attorney. He beat me like a red-headed stepchild (sorry Mike). But in my second trial, I got my revenge and beat him. Subsequently, the state bar suspended him for two years for violating ethical rules. He appealed to the state Supreme Court claiming the decision was too harsh and inappropriate. The Supreme Court agreed that the decision was inappropriate and completely disbarred him.
Ahh, it has been a good week.
To play or not to play that is the question
I have always viewed myself as a one woman man. Of course, this has never been tested.
I have always wanted to be swept off my feet. Fall head over heels in love with Cinderella and live happily ever after never looking back never having a moment's regret.
I remember when the first time this phenomena occured. I was six years old. We were kindergarten classmates. I told V. I thought she was pretty. I stood before her waiting for the expected, "thank you. I think you're cute." I saw the moment play out in my head. I could see the future with us hand-in-hand. Well, ...what actually happened was like the scene in Final Destination when Terry steps off the curb and ...BAM gets hit by a bus.
Her reply was not "thank you" or "you're cute" but rather "I think you're ugly." Rocky doesn't hit that hard. Physical pain is easy to recover from. A few stitches or weeks in a cast then you are back in action. But words linger. They become part of your soul. They become an indelible mark on who you are and who you will become.
Then came first grade. I had a crush on J. It only lasted a year and nothing came of it. Second grade was T. That crush would last until the 4th grade without me noticing another girl. But nothing ever came of it. T. was a major crush in my life and those feeling would resurface through the years. Several temporary crushes came and went through that fourth grade year, but none of any significance. The same can be said for fifth and sixth grade with no one having the impact of T.
Seventh grade and I move to junior high and developed a crush on C. At that age, a transformation occured. I realized the importance of words and to show interests in other peoples interest. So, I would try to talk to C. about her interests etc. The one lasting memory I have of her is from English class. We had to give demonstartions/speeches and her's was dancing. She danced to "I've Had the Time of My Life" from Dirty Dancing...and I had to pick myself up off the floor. Of course, those words from V. echoed in my mind and I could never bring myself to face the firing squad again. For there is no discretion in jr. high and the whole school would know of my crash and burn by lunch.
Eight grade is probably the epitome of puberty. I believe, at least for my generation, that is when we really begin to want more than just hold hands and be able to call someone our "girlfriend". That year K. came into my world and brought an intensity I had not known before. But K. was one of the cool kids and I didn't have a prayer. K would become the first girl to whom I ever sent flowers. But I caved into the school caste system and maintained my station.
Next would come that "place". The Mecca for some and the Molokai for others and I was to become Father Damian. I am referring of course to high school. While I noticed a tremendous amount of beautiful women there, there were really only two who would cause me sleepless nights. A. was a secondary crush. She was attractive, yet the allure was that she was the girl that would sit next to me in class and talk to me and treat me like an equal. (Don't we all love that girl). But A was from the other side of the tracks which is not bad in and of itself but she ran with that crowd. The type that would be considered red-neck, rough, and sometimes racist. I as an intellectual did not fit into that world. But I always cared for her and had to watch her heart get broken on more than one occasion. She had her flaws (like we all do) but it was a joy having her in my life.
The other and probably one of the if not major crushes of my life was M. She was the bomb. She was gorgeous. She was without a doubt one of the most gorgeous women I have ever seen in my life. She had this smile...the only way I can describe it is to say that if she was on the Titanic it would not have sunk because she would have melted that iceberg. She was the kind of girl who won the high school beauty pagent as a freshman. I din't get to see it because I was still in jr. high at the time. She was a year ahead of me. She was a cheerleader, senior class president, and member of the honor society. I would have literally sold my soul just to have her say two words to me. She was so far out of my league it would have been like the Bad News Bears playing the Yankees. I totally lacked the graces and charisma of Lloyd Dobler and to succeed as he did. I still keep a picture of her even though I have never spoken to her. I hadn't thought about her in a while, but a recent event has brought back her memory and making me wonder what she is doing now. If I had known then what I know now, I would have risked it. It would have been the biggest disaster since Waterloo, but it would have occured and provided closure. The worst feeling, emotion or whatever you want to call it is to wonder what might have been.
I am not going to go into the college years. When I started writing this the intent was to tie the past of wanting to be committed to one person to my present state of mind. Presently, I find myself wanting to be a player. This is something I have never felt before. I believe it has to do with my current living situation and the fact that there is absolutely no one to date and I am afraid I will say "I do" to the first person that comes along. My worst fear in this world is a double edged sword. On the one-side I fear winding up alone on the other side I fear marrying someone I don't truly love and then after making that commitment finding my soulmate, but not able to be with her.
Because I have never had a girlfriend or even been on a second date with the same girl (which is because during the course of the first date something Always---and I do mean always---comes to light that tells me there is no future with this girl so why pursue it) I wonder what I am missing out on. Right now, I am averaging about 1 date a year while being bombarded by shows where other 30-somethings are going out with different girls every night. So the irony is while other guys my age have been "playing" and are now ready to settle down I am ready to play the field. I used to want to find Cinderella, now I am not so sure if i really want to marry the first girl I ever kiss.
Hitch-ed Again
So, Hitch was released on video yesterday. I rented it and watched it again. It was either that or play Xbox.
Any guy who doesn't want to be Hitch is a liar. The guy is poetry in motion. He knows how to dress and act in various social situations (all this of course can be learned...if you have the coin to do so). Most importantly he knows how to talk the talk. The words flow forth like the Nile never missing a beat.
The movie starts off, with words of wisdom from Hitch. One thing he says still resonates in my ears,"Of course, she's going to lie to you. She's a nice person. She doesn't want to hurt your feelings. What else is she going to say ?" This is what causes nice guys to think she is just being polite when she smiles, while the bad boy is thinking "she wants me."
One of the cool concepts that I like is this, "No woman wakes up saying I hope I don't get swept off my feet today." Yes, we all have our good days and bad, but we are all praying (some of us on a daily basis) that it will happen to us. The point is you never know when it could happen and it is usually when you least expect it. But in today's world we have a tendency to place romance on the back burner. It is something we'll do when we get around to it as long as it doesn't interfere with our job, lifestyle, etc.
I have even noticed a change in my own personality. I am starting to lose my belief in "the one". A belief I have held for almost three decades. I am of the belief that there are a finite number of people we are compatible with and that it all depends on the timing, location, moods, or other external facts that determine which one we end up with. Like Hitch says, "all we get is one dance, one kiss, ..." that is a lot of pressure not to screw it up. And when you are worried about screwing up is when you usually do. When you think about it, one word, one gesture could be the difference between a second date and the door.
Hitch says a lot of things. Another ray of hope is "Even a beautiful woman doesn't know what she wants until she sees it" coupled with any man can sweep any woman off her feet with the right broom. I have grave doubts about that. I refuse to believe that everybody has a chance, remember I spent three years at Ole Miss. But at he same time, I reckon false hope is better than no hope at all. So, I will not disparage those who make their leap of faith. Let them aim for the heavens and I will be waiting here on earth when they crash...I mean land.
Morning Introspection
I recently visited with an old flame. I call her an old flame because I was head over heels for her. However, the sentiment was not mutual. Nevertheless, I have a knack for not burning bridges, so we remain friends.
A small handful of people know exactly of whom I speak and the history as well. Each of us played our part on that stage so many years ago. I digress. As always, during the course of the conversation, those days get brought up with some memories fonder than others.
I recall many of the other suitors (I use that word generously) vying for her affection. They came from all shapes, sizes, and colors each with their own philosophical approach. Some were more sucessful than others. Some never got out of the starting gate and I don't know why. Some were genuinely sincere (they just had the wrong playbook) while others were players looking for their 15 minutes in the spotlight.
In my experience, it is quite easy to touch the heart of a woman, but it is monumentaly impossible to understand her and why she makes the choices she makes. As we recalled some of those choices, I can't help but wonder why. Now, I will admit I was biased (after all I was rooting for myself), but I could see the wolves hiding in sheep's clothing. It is nice to know to an extent that she could too. But I still can't fathom why certain ones reached a certain status that the others didn't and I haven't been able to bring myself to ask that question.
Those days were much like today's reality tv. Who would have thought we were on the forefront of pop culture ? For it really was like an episode of the bachelor or rather the bachelorette. All of these guys competing for one girl. Now, I don't know about women, but I don't like this scenario and most guys I know don't either. You know what I am talking about. The bachelorette having all these different dates with these guys. The guys come back with the stories of how far they did or did not get. Guy number one got a kiss. Guy number six got a moonlit walk. Guy number eleven got the heisman (the ultimate diss), and guy number seventeen well the camera faded out, so we don't know.
So much goes on behind the scenes and there are so many facades, that you never know who is real. All you do know is that you don't want her to get hurt. You want her to chose the right guy and live happily ever after. It begs the question, do you genuinely care about her or is this just about winning. I can handle losing to a better man.
Some of the guys are still in her life as I am. Others have fallen by the wayside over the years. I suppose the lesson learned is to be ever mindful of the path you walk and choose wisely which bridges you decide to leave behind and which ones you decide to burn.
Hazard or Main
Do to a recent illness, I watched all three books of North and South again. It is pretty much a yearly ritual (watching it that is). Most people who know me and corrsepond with me know that I like to use the handle or username orry main or some variance thereof. But as I watch the series I try to figure out if I am more like Orry or George.
I guess I like Orry not only because he has a more unique name but also he is the southern gentleman. I try to think of myself in that light, but those days have long since passed. A man's word doesn't mean what it used to. Then a man's word was as good as a notarized contract, it was essentially a done deal once said. Loyalty was essential as water. You didn't just attach yourself to the highest bidder. Friendships stood the test time and the tribulations of war and differing ideologies. Manners were the order of the day. It wouldn't stick out in people's minds that you were courteous because it was expected of you and everyone did it. Women were not women, but ladies and they were treated as such. Nevertheless, it was still a society steeped in class and I wouldn't have been a planter's son. No, fate would have had me a dirt farmer's son.
While Orry has to grow and evolve, George always seems to know what the right thing is and does it. In that way, I am more like him. Akin to the dutiful son, sometimes too smart for my own good. That is the problem for us "good guys", we are to damn good, a slave to our own moral code. We want to be "bad boys" but we can't bring ourselves to be so. We have weighed all the consequences and repurcussions and we do so instinctively without even realizing we have done so. We try as hard as we can to prevent any possible injuries to others, even if it means foregoing our own happiness. Knowing the possible outcomes and who might be affected by such actions, we forbid ourselves from traveling that road and attaining that spontaneity that makes the bad boy so appealing.
Never before has my blog title seemed more appropriate. Chasing windmills is of course from Don Quixote. A man longing for a time that has long passes by and who is out of place in his own time. As Jimmy Buffet says, "yes I am a pirate. 200 years too late". This theme is echoed throughout literature. Maybe the reason is that our current time period leaves a lot to be desired.
Today, there is no undiscovered country to explore. There is no great cause to rally around. No way for a man to truly distinguish himself. Maybe that is because there are so many people in this world presently. No matter what you are, you're a dime a dozen and easily replaced in this assembly line society.
Well, that is enough incessant rambling for now.
This week's music shows
This week was rather interesting. The other night I watched the Eagles concert on tv. It was great. Of course, I am biased having attended my first Eagles concert when I was still in the womb. But I would have to wait until I was in college to see them again.
I don't know if it was the equipment or editing or what, but it sounded great. Don Henley's voice sounded the same as it did 30 years ago. This would leave me to believe that a person's voice is constant once he passes puberty.
In contrast, I watched Baby Hit Me One More Time last night. They bring out 5 acts from the 80's to perform one of their hit songs and one contemporary song. Last night's competitors were Loverboy, Flock of Seagulls, Arrested Development, Tiffany, and CeCe Piniston. Again, I don't if it was the equipment or what but they all for the most part sounded distinctly different. Even to some one as tone deaf as me. It sounded as if their voices were different. So maybe, someone can tell me if voices do change or if it was the equipment after all these years.
Deadwood is Awesome
I have been hearing about Deadwood for a while now, but since I don't have HBO I haven't been able to watch it. This week I rented the first season (12 episodes each about an hour long). It is great. Granted the language is worse than a sailor with a 3 day pass on Bourbon Street. But it is also very intelligent. I like westerns, but get tired with the whole posse riding out every week tracking down the bad guy.
Deadwood is a western/1930's Chicago style action/drama. It is about a mining town (which is why the language is so coarse, this ain't the queen's audience chamber after all) which is in and of itself illegal because it is in Indian territory. There is no law and morality is defined by shades of gray. Hookers have hearts of gold, wrongdoers reap what they sew, and men have to look themselves in the mirror. Great writing and a great cast make this show a must see for those of us who are not easily offended.
