Mistakes.

I've made a few, but then again...

Pretty much every time I've been angry it has been a mistake, but I'm not sure I could have done much about it. Instinct and my nature probably took over. There are things that are just inherent mistakes based on having a personality.

On the other hand I pride myself on being rational about making decisions, and part of rationality is evaluating the decisions that you have made. So, I was thinking about mistakes today, while almost terminally bored and stuck here with gout and another leg injury.

There have been two decisions that I made after serious deliberation, that now make up most of my time, that I consider to have been mistakes. These two are getting a dog, the Face of Evil, and moving to Texas.

I think the choice to get a dog being a mistake would be argued by my wife, as she is fond of the dog but doesn't have to do anything to take care of him. It's a bit like how I like other people's children very much for an hour or two at sporadic intervals. In fact it is very much like having children indeed. The dog was obtained so that we could have something to love, so that I wouldn't be lonely, and um, that's it really.

I treat the dog marvelously, much better than most dogs are treated. Regular long walks, lots of treats, affection, drives in the car, expensive medical care, friends to see and play with, all of that. The result is that from time to time Larry is sweet, and beautiful, and fun, and makes things great. I am not lonely because his presence is so intensely there that when he is not around I have the strong impression that I have misplaced something. But most of the time he is a chore, like doing laundry. Right now he has been at the vets, getting his fourth surgery, for a little over a week. It has been an improvement, and I will admit to having some hope that he would die under anesthetic so I would be freed of the burden without it being my fault. Yes, very much like having a child, which generally (according to scientifically obtained data) makes people less happy, and any parent who pretends that they have never thought of strangling their child is lying.

Moving to Texas was a mistake because it is not an adventure, it is something to be endured. I had good things in Portland, I miss that band terribly, and the other friends I had too, although I think none of the people I actually spent time with read this blog.

The reasons for coming here were fear of being poor, the chance for Christina to advance in her career, and for the feeling of adventure in a new place. However poor we were going to be is richer than I have been in my life, and cowardice is an awful reason to do anything. The move has cost us tens of thousands of dollars anyway, but different jobs would have done that anyway, so financially right now we are probably about even. This was not expected.

Christina is in the exact same job that she was before, but having been lied to by her boss, and with a hiring freeze going on, no prospects for advancement and being generally mistreated by her co-workers. She is looking for other work. I think at this point the smart thing to do would be to not worry about a career, just pack it all in and start thinking in different terms. The thing about money is that whatever amount you have becomes the concept of a necessary amount, and anything less than that seems too hard to bear. Which is cowardly bullshit that I am prone to produce in myself.

It's hard to explain exactly how non-adventurous this has been. This is mostly because the basic issues are solved in the same way. We own a house, we shop from grocery stores in the same language with mostly the same stuff in them, our bank is the same, our news and entertainment options are basically identical. The difference is that the people here are different, which should be the essence of the adventure. But turn on Fox News and you get the cultural context, talk to a suburban mother and you get the intellectual level, watch Monday Night Football and you get an idea of the arts. Live music is classic rock covers. Parties are hamburgers and domestic, yellow beer. Community events are high school sports. It is a wasteland. Here's the thing, King of the Hill is not actually a joke, it is a highly accurate portrayal, I am not joking, not even a tiny, little bit.

When mistakes have been made it is best to acknowledge them, and use the information to make better decisions in the future. Unfortunately I bet I still have to take care of the dog for another ten years.