To paraprhase a borrowed adage, I'm about to remove all doubt.
I'm a former highly compensated, spoiled executive. Sound familiar? Notice I said "former". I am currently not an executive and I'm certainly no longer highly compensated. Spoiled is something I own and can't deny. Thus begins this saga. Continue on at your own risk.
I now see myself as a modern day Buckwheat with pied opinions and curious notions about life as I see it and live it. I am a man, so rest assured my musings and ramblings are flawed. I often alternate between being a mute (see the first line of this blog), to not being able to put two or more words together in a sentence that resemble any type of coherence, to diarrhea of the mouth to the point where someone has to smack me and say, "Shut the hell up!" (again, refer to the first line of this blog).
I am neither a person of color, nor a child of the depression, but the character Buckwheat from the original Our Gang/Little Rascals series is an apt self description. Before long you'll be convinced that if I am nothing else I am self aware and no longer want to expend the energy to disguise it.
I've worked in public, high profile positions for over 35 years and I've been involved in every aspect of big business from marketing, public relations, human resources, training, managing, investigating, hiring, firing and diagnosing just about every personality disorder known in the universe (as well as self diagnosing my own). Conversely, as an individual I am about as painfully shy a person as you'll ever meet and rest assured people shock the heck out of me all the time.
I'm a son of the south, raised Baptist with all the hellfire and brimstone and guilt a sinner can carry and a self professed Mama's boy. What can I say? It's true. Men like to think they're in charge, but if it weren't for the strong, steel magnolias in my life I would be even more of a mess.
Yes, get used to it. I referenced an image of the strong women portrayed in the movie Steel Magnolias. I live mainly in my head. I'm not used to nor am I usually capable of expressing myself in my own words. I frequently and shamelessly refer to and quote lines from movies to explain my feelings. My life has been lived to the dialogues and sound tracks of the likes of Gone With The Wind, Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood, Steel Magnolias, Peyton Place and anything and every thing Bette Davis, Joan Crawford, Vivian Leigh, Dorothy Malone, Elizabeth Taylor and their peers ever uttered on screen.
The rest of the time I will speak in parables and sayings used over and over again by my mother and grandmother my whole life. If ever I behave as a gentlemen with gracious southern charms you should thank their precious memories. They tried. Lord knows. They tried. In the south few people ever speak directly and they are most often passive agressive. Sometimes, I think they spoke in parables and riddles just to give me pause and give themselves time to prepare for my next bewilderment.
One thing I cannot deny is that I have been loved. As pitiful as I can seem and as lost and confused as I truly am it is not because I was never cared for or nurtured. But, I am a man. I've been behind the eight ball since birth.
As time goes on, I do hope you find laughter and humor in my rantings and if you choose to confront me, challenge me, instruct me, correct me or inform me please be kind. I have a lot of stuff bouncing around in my head and it's time I figure out what I need to hold on to and what I need to let go. It's a constant process and a long suffering journey, but I owe it to myself to see it through. Right?
To make matters worse, I am now convinced I am in the throes of male menopause. Don't laugh. I've spent most of my life in the presence of women, both personally and professionally, and I learned to PMS with the best of them. I am nothing if not adaptable.
I'll stop there. You'll figure it out soon enough. I'm a typical man. It's all about me.
I hope to share with you my discoveries, victories, trials and maybe even your Tickle Box will get turned over along the way. Smile. Laugh. It gives you face value.
Does anyone else hear the music and lyrics, "What kind of fool am I...?" as my soundtrack?
Stay tuned. I might write or say something significant. No one wants to miss that. Especially me.
"It sure beats waking up to some guy slapping makeup on your puss first thing in the morning..." Bette Davis in The Star.
It's laughter. It's regret. It's not knowing the future. It's doing my best to remember the good times. It's call living. It's Cottage Cheese.
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