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Journey Into The Desert

Rob SaysLeave a comment

arizona asphalt beautiful blue sky

“Close Your Eyes, Look Deep In Your Soul. Step Outside Yourself, And Let Your Mind Go.”

One of the things that I love to do when motorcycling is go into the desert.

The feel of the heat of the sun beating down on me, the whip of the wind against my face, the vibration of the machine beneath me.

No radio on, nothing but the sound of the wind in my ears, the hum of the road, and the rumble of the engine.

Nothing to do but ride, be in the moment, and be alone with my thoughts when they show up.

When you are riding a motorcycle, you have no problems, at least for the time that you are riding. Whatever troubles and concerns you have back in the world, melt and fade away.

There’s nothing quite as exquisite as a woman behind you, tightening her grip around your waist with her hands and her hips as you twist down on the throttle and give the iron horse more juice.

There’s nothing as exquisite as riding into the desert. Yes I know that sounds cliche, but the cliche exists for a reason. There really is nothing like riding into the desert. The smell of the hot tarmac, the sand grit blowing against you, stinging, even the occasional bug that kills itself against your goggles as you fly towards it at close to 100 miles per hour. Even spitting sand out of your mouth when you stop for gas or a stretch is a small blessing in and of itself. It may not be a pretty picture or thought, but it’s a blessing nonetheless. Why is that? Why, it’s because you are still alive! Alive.

Alive and in the desert. Where the desert doesn’t know your name, doesn’t care where you came from, doesn’t care where you are going, and doesn’t care if you stay or go. The desert doesn’t care about you or your existence. In fact, the desert is merciless enough, that if you aren’t careful, you may never leave it’s embrace. Just another set of sun-bleached bones slowly sinking into the sand and the earth if you don’t watch your back.

The heat can and will blister your skin lobster red and peel it right off of you in a New York minute. The heat will sap you of all your energy, all your water, your will, if you let it.

But the sights you will see! The sounds that you will hear when you shut the bike down, take a deep, deep breath, breathing in the desert, her scent; the sounds come forth! Sounds you will never hear in the concrete jungle. The sound of silence. The sound of a million tiny things, living their million tiny lives, struggling against the desert itself for their own survival.

The desert is a harsh mistress, but she is beyond beautiful. Look carefully around you and what do you see?

Life in abundance! A million life forms growing and thriving, in spite of the desert. But the desert gives as well as it takes. You just have to know where to look and to look for it.

There! 50 feet away is a spot where there is water. You can tell because of the sparse vegetation that is growing there. Huddled around the hidden water like players on a field in a huddle before a play.

Over in the other direction is food if you dig but a little bit. You did bring a knife didn’t you?

And the nights in the desert. Oh the nights! The stars! The galaxies that reveal themselves in all their majesty! Millions upon billions of them! You never see them in the light pollution of the city.

How small and insignificant we are compared to the vastness above us. How utterly and infinitely tiny we are! No bigger than the grain of sand that we pick out of our ears or hair! And yet, here we are!

Riding season is coming up again, it’s time to get the Machine out of the garage, wake her from her slumber, give her a bath and a wax, and go to the desert.

The desert has a siren song, and it’s calling my name, calling to me.

Beckoning. Come, come, come….

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Lack Of Sleep

Rob Says8 Comments

white bed linen

I’ve been sleeping terribly for some time now. The weekdays aren’t so bad, I pretty much force myself to go to bed and get to sleep, working and driving around in a large truck does wonders for that, but the weekends…

Like in the movie Fight Club, Edward Norton’s character is suffering from insomnia, and he says it’s like having “a copy of a copy of a copy.” It really does feel like that sometimes.

I can go to bed at 9:00pm only to lie there for hours on end. 2 or 3 o’clock rolls around and before you know it, either the alarm goes off and it’s time to get up, or the sun is coming up and it’s time to get up.

I sometimes nap a little bit throughout the day, at least on the weekends, maybe 15 minutes here and 20 minutes there, but I wake up feeling mostly like I did when I fell asleep. Like a copy of a copy of a copy.

Sometimes the day goes by quickly, and it’s like, “Damn! Where did the time go?” Other times the day can’t get over soon enough. Today, at least at the time that I’m writing this, can’t end soon enough.

On a positive note, my focus is slowly, but purposefully, coming back. I’m actually able to read several pages, if not an entire chapter in whatever book I’m reading at the moment. That’s a significant improvement over the last few months where doing a paragraph or even a few sentences was a major accomplishment.

I’m still too easily distracted though, much more than I used to be. Being easily distracted is almost, or maybe even worse, than having insomnia. At least for me. Not being able to sleep, but being able to focus? Man, I can get some shit done. Not being able to sleep and also not having any focus? That’s the worst. Too tired to focus, too distracted to retain anything, and exhausted all at the same time.

A copy of a copy of a copy.

Anyways this will pass. I’m sure it will. Things have been gradually getting better, so I can’t imagine that this “distractedness” and my insomnia can last for too much longer. God I hope not.

On another positive note, my lack of sleep has pretty much given me a lot of time to do other things, like writing. It’s soothing to hear the sound of the keyboard clicking, and it’s almost meditative to put my thoughts to “paper” so to speak.

It definitely allows me to create more content. Although I question the quality of said content from time to time. Even this post itself, I question the quality of it. Is it really something that you, Dear Reader, are going to get some value from? Only you can decide that I guess.

I even wonder if this particular post will see the light of day. You have no idea how many things I have started to write about, only to send to the trash pile, wiped into oblivion. Or sometimes I complete something, only to have it sit in limbo in a draft state indefinitely. Sometimes the post is worthwhile, but I haven’t finished it yet, other times it’s actually finished, but I’m ambivalent about sharing it with the world.

Does it really need to see the light of day? Just because I wrote it doesn’t mean everyone needs or wants to see it I guess.

I’m getting sleepy now. I have learned to listen to that when it happens, so I’m calling it quits for this post.

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Single Mother’s Raising Sons

Rob Says2 Comments
woman holding baby while sitting on fur bean bag
Ain’t It Cute? Awww…

So the other day at work, I got a helper, we’ll call him “John,” who went out on route with me.

While we were out doing our thing, and kicking ass at it I might add, having an extra set of hands will do wonders for productivity and efficiency, John and I got to bullshitting…

John is 30 years old. He’s on his second marriage, and between him and his wife, they have six children. (Talk about the Brady Bunch.)

Anyways, John’s marriage is decaying. He’s thinking of leaving her.

There’s trust issues on both sides. Apparently he started “dating” a while back when they separated. Then they got back together. Now she’s about to branch swing.

Branch swinging for those that don’t know, is when a woman is finding another man and is getting ready to jump out of her current relationship.

I know she’s branch swinging because John told me about it. She’s not being sly or coy. She’s told him that she’s met some dude and he’s “really cute,” and he “really understands her.” But they are “just friends.”

For now at least.

John’s marriage is a shit show to say the least.

His wife went to court for selling alcohol to a minor at her job. She got caught in a sting and one of the results of her poor decisions was that she lost her job, and now she’s facing fines from the court. From what he told me, she has a “hard time” holding down a job.

She knows how to push his buttons and push them she does. He knows her’s as well.

Like I said, it’s a shit show.

The biggest red flag that I heard about though, is that she is a drug addict.

She injects meth.

Meth is probably the worst of the bad news when it comes to drugs. At least in my opinion. And injecting it?
Whoa.

I don’t know what the street lingo is these days for injecting drugs, but when I was younger, it was called “Mainlining.”

Mainlining is a huge deal. Injecting drugs gives an instantaneous hit, whatever that hit is. It goes straight into the bloodstream and straight to the heart and brain. Whether it’s a stimulant, like meth, or a depressant like heroin, it’s effects when injected are immediate. It’s worse than snorting or smoking a drug.

If you or someone you know is injecting drugs, you have serious problems ahead of you if not already.

Seriously, it doesn’t get worse than this.

John grew up with an absentee father. His Dad was working all the time or wasn’t very attentive and active with his children. So his mother became his role model so to speak.

He’s a good looking guy, he takes care of himself and is really physically fit. He’s easy on the eyes for the ladies, I know, because I watched him and them interact throughout the day. I would even say John has decent game.

John is also a White Knight to a degree and is definitely a Captain Save a Ho. He’s trying to save his wife from herself. I get it. I would want to help my wife too. Problem is, she doesn’t want to be saved. She enjoys her lifestyle and her habits, and he enables her.

John told me that the only person he has ever feared in his life is his mother. I don’t really have the words.

He still fears her. To me, it explains a lot of his behavior towards his wife and to women in general. He’s looking for that approval from them. He basically is trying to do “the right thing.” To be a “good boy.”

Because he’s looking for approval from the women in his life, he’s made his life about the women in it. They are the Mission. They come first. They are his focus.

Do you guys do that?

Do you make the women in your life your central focus?

Do you seek their approval in who you are and what you do?

Do you let them define what a “good man” is for you?

Do you let them define your masculinity?

A long time ago, I did.

And it got me nothing but confusion, heartache, sorrow, and bitterness.

It’s a dark road going that way, letting a woman define and decide who and what you are.

If you let them define your masculinity for you, it will be to their betterment, not yours.

Our society is so ingrained with this way of thinking that it has become the norm. It’s part of why boys and men today are so feminine. It’s also why both men and women are so confused and unhappy with each other as a whole, as genders.

Women need to stop defining what masculinity is for men.

For our part as men, we need to stop listening to women telling us how to be men. We need to stop sitting at their knees.

That’s what father’s are for, ideally. If not your father, then another man. Not your mother. Not your sister(s), not your girlfriend, and not your wife.

Men define masculinity. We know best about that because we are masculine, we are men.

There’s a saying going around the interwebs, and it’s something like this:

Don’t ask a fish how to fish, ask a fisherman how to fish.

Don’t ask a woman how to be a man, or what makes a “good man.” She doesn’t know, she’s not a man. Oh don’t get me wrong, she’ll have all sorts of ideas of what she thinks makes a good man, but she has her head up her ass and is up in the night about this one. She truly has no clue.

Don’t ask a woman how to “pick up” or seduce women. She doesn’t know that either. You want to know about picking up women, ask guys who pick up women and are really good at it.

In my family, there was one member that has seen it and done it all. They had an opinion on everything and how you should do “it”, whatever that was. Can you guess who that family member was?

It was my mother.

I love her dearly, but goddamn, the woman needed to shut her gob sometimes.

I’ve learned if I want to truly get things done, especially quickly and efficiently, I talk to my father. His advice to me has been practical and priceless. He doesn’t say much, he just does. He also keeps the “you should’s” and “you ought to’s” to a minimum.

To wrap it up, I leave you with this:

Women aren’t perfect, I love that they try. My mom did the best she could with the limited knowledge and skills that she had. I’m sure it’s the same for your mother’s as well. Don’t be dicks to them.

But stop listening to what women think a man should be. Stop letting them define your masculinity for you. Stop seeking their approval. You can virtue signal all you want to them, they still won’t fuck you.

We men don’t have to answer to women. We can have our own ideas about what is being a man and being masculine without having to submit or consult with women. You do not need their approval.

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