Today, I woke up at 8:05am and while rubbing out the crusty mucus deposits around my eyes a clear thirty minutes after I was supposed to already be at work hitting the keyboard, I was overcome with a feeling of helplessness. I got dressed without taking a shower and made my way to the fish tank still half asleep to feed those little creatures who are so dependent on me for their very survival. As I sprinkled the fish food flakes into the tank of water, a veritable glass prison, I tried to imagine what those little fish might be thinking.

Cleo, you, a Gold Gurami with beautiful orange and neon blue color, oh I had such plans for you, I was going to get a guy-fish for you…maybe we could have gotten you a plaster cast castle in a respectable corner of the tank, next to the hard working sucker fish that keep the glass clean, the schools are really good in that part of tank-town, or so they tell me. You and your guy-fish could have had your 2.5 or 20 fish fry and eked out a beautiful life in that warm corner of the English Basement. Could have, would have, should have…that is until I found out yesterday that beautiful Cleo IS actually a guy-fish…that nerdy fish specialist at the local Pets-Mart sure knew how to quash my designs for fish utopia. So, today, Cleo has been renamed Leo, because as the “deciderer” of all things fishy, I said so - that’s why. Their fate is in my hands, if I forget to feed them for a couple of days, they will die - and I’m a known fish killer, having dispatched my twins’ fish a couple of months ago - I am to be feared. Their purpose in life is to entertain me, how sad. Then, I thought to myself, wait, I am not in control of my own life…my life, and my busy schedule controls me, and that is sad.

So, as I watched the two red tipped Tetra’s rudely brush by Cleo, I mean Leo, and pounce on the food in a shark-like manner, I made a determination to do my part to attain that Uber Man status that Friedrich Nietzsche prophesized about over a hundred years ago. We control our own fate, of this I’m certain. Sure, genetics and environment have something to do with one’s ultimate success in life, but once those cards are dealt it is up to us to make the most of what we’ve been given. Through self discovery and self awareness it is up to us to identify our weaknesses and our strengths in our genetic makeup and to build a life within our pre-determined environment that takes those factors into consideration. So, I just need to get off my lazy ass and do something about it. I won’t wait for someone or something to “save” me, instead like those red tipped Tetra’s I will fight for every scrap I can find on the floor, any clue that helps me attain greater self awareness, greater discipline to achieve the goals I have set aside for myself.

So, if I am to become that Uber Man, or Mini-Uber Man, I will need to lay out all the areas of my life that require improvement. Let’s see, maybe I’ll focus on these categories and break them down into more manageable themes: Day Job, Parenting, Self-Improvement and Business…that should cover it. Day Job: I will motivate and actually get some work done before Friday comes around otherwise, that project due at the end of November will bite me in the ass. Parenting: I will try to participate in the lives of my kids more often. Maybe, I will try to volunteer during the school day once and a while - need to look into that. I will work on more educational projects with them - similar to the Paper Mache Volcano. I will take them on day trips to get them to spend quality time with me and my parents and find a way to set aside all the road blocks and excuses that my Ex has put into place to prevent me from doing so. Self-Improvement: I will do some sort of self-improvement activity throughout the week to keep my mind and body balanced. Business: I will work on getting my online business back on track and take the necessary steps to create new online businesses…after all, these online businesses are my ticket out of this 40 Hour Labor Camp.

By the time I made it into work at 8:30am, I did not feel very guilty about my tardiness however, maybe because I knew that the Warden was out attending some meeting in another state and wouldn’t return until after lunch. Okay, I will implement these steps to improve my life, starting on Friday…Wait, I’m taking a day off on Friday - I’ll label that part of my “Self-Improvement”…Okay, starting this next Monday the Mini-Uber Man shall rise from the ashes.

Let me say a few words about my daily schedule. To say that I spend a lot of time in my car would be an understatement. I have a 2000 Volkswagen Jetta and I spend about $500 a month on gas in it. I paid it off a couple of years ago and it’s probably only worth around $4,000 now, but it’s one of the few assets I can actually say that I own and I do take some pride in that. For the most accurate depiction I can give of the relationship I have with my car, let me refer to a quote from the movie “Full Metal Jacket” - and substitute the word “car” for every instance of “rifle”:

“This is my [car]. There are many like it but this one is mine. My [car] is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life. Without me, my [car] is useless. Without my [car] I am useless. I must [drive] my [car] true. I must [drive] straighter than my enemy, who is trying to [drive faster than] me. I must [drive past] him before he [drives past] me. I will. Before God I swear this creed: my [car] and myself are defenders of my country, we are the masters of our enemy, we are the saviors of my life. So be it, until there is no enemy, but peace. Amen.”

Yes, I suppose that I am an aggressive driver on some level - though I do think I’ve mellowed with age. So, I spend a lot of time in my car, thinking, listening to music or to National Public Radio or talking on the phone, texting or even chatting on my Crackberry yes, I’m a bad seed, but what can I do, I’m a very busy man. Since the separation from my Ex, back in January 2007, I have lived quite a nomadic existence in my attempt to visit my kids on a regular basis despite the tension between my Ex and me. I moved out of the home we shared together to live with my parents about a thirty minute drive away and have been living in the “English Basement” of their home ever since.

I used to visit my kids every day of the week until I nearly burned out from the exhaustion of the drive. Now, I visit them four days a week - Tuesdays and Thursdays after work until 8:30pm and Saturdays and Sundays from 4pm to about 8:30 or 9:00pm and have followed this schedule for about six months.

I probably spend about three hours a day in my car. Do I like driving so much you might ask? In a strange way, I think I do enjoy driving. During the time I spend in my car I actually have time to myself, to my own thoughts, to review my life and decide what I suck at and need to improve, to sing out loud, to talk to friends or family on the phone, to keep my mind engaged, and to practice my motor-skills.

Over the years, the Jetta has gotten banged up a bit. My ex damaged the side of the car pulling out of the garage; a tree once fell and shattered the back window, my son jammed the cd/cassette interface with coins at age two, effectively short-circuiting the car’s computer; and I have had some memorable traffic violations in that car as well. That being said, look forward to the day I can trade it in for a BMW M3, until then, however, I must acknowledge that the 2000 Volkswagen Jetta is my car, and although there are many like it…this one is mine…my little sanctuary on wheels.

…And so I’m back to the daily grind, my salvation snubbed, with my inglorious return to earth by those Aliens…They smelled like ass anyway.

Today I submitted my “Third Quarter Accomplishments” for work, a creative writing exercise justifying to my boss why I should still remain gainfully employed. Once upon a time, I would have stressed out about this task, now I don’t try to justify myself, my work or my views to anyone anymore…well, at least not as much as I have done in the past. What changed? I’m not sure. I think a lot has to do with my perspective on life and my evolving definition of what is important. That book by Richard Carlson, “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff and Its All Small Stuff” comes to mind. Now, I have never read that book, but it does sound like a good read if you’re into self-help books (which I’m not). Anyway, I do appreciate the premise that “it’s all small stuff” in the end.

So although I do stress out to varying degrees about my mortgage, my growing debt, the emotional stability of my Ex, and the welfare and health of my Kids, my girlfriend’s future, the prosperity of my online business, improving my tennis game, and keeping my day job (to the extent that I appreciate still having one), I also realize that I have limited control over any of these things – okay, except maybe my tennis game. In the past I tried to control every aspect of my life and attempted to live up to the “ideal” that my parents had brainwashed me into believing as normal. My parents, along with those “G” and “PG” rated movies, Mr. Rogers, Sesame Street and Saturday morning cartoons all conspired to fabricate another reality - each an accomplice in the creation of the shiny happy primary-colored facade that I protected for so many years.

I’m not sure when the first crack in that façade occurred, maybe when at the age of eight I first remember hearing my parents argue or maybe when I saw my first dead animal on the road and realized that cute furry things don’t exactly survive the impact of high velocity rubber weighted down by a two ton metal carriage - Looney Tunes characters apparently did not have those much glorified regenerative powers that we were led to believe.

“Small stuff” and the idea that we are so small and insignificant relative to the world around us, comforts me in a strange way. This notion makes me think of the song “Stories of the Street” from one of my favorite song writers, Leonard Cohen. An excerpt, pretty much sums it up:

“With one hand on the hexagram and one hand on the girl…I balance on a wishing well that all men call the world…We are so small between the stars, so large against the sky,
and lost among the subway crowds I try to catch your eye.”

A little bit of faith in myself and my beliefs (the hexagram) and the strength I get from the companionship of my friends and loved ones (the girl) helps me to navigate through the trials and tribulations in this world while attempting to attain my goals and dreams (the wishing well) among the opportunities found in this place (the world). Although in the big picture, I am insignificant (so small between the stars), by recognizing this, I no longer try to change the world around me. Instead I make the best of my insignificance by attempting to positively impact the people closest to me - a matter of perspective (so large against the sky). And so, lost among the throngs of people whom I share this world with, I try to catch the eye of those who might see things in a similar light.

Okay, enough of the hocus pocus. At any rate, my perspective changed, and during the last thirty years I went from idealistic…to pessimistic…to realistic…to optimistic…and so, here I am, not sweating the small stuff, working hard at developing those things and people that matter most to me while giving them the necessary space and time to grow and mature on their own.

With age, I have learned to appreciate adages and proverbs that I found silly as a child. Once regarded as merely the impractical phrases my parents, teachers or other authority figures used to gently and verbally chastise me, these same proverbs and adages now follow and comfort me. And like an old friend with whom I have shared a common experience I know the message each brings has meaning in my life.

One Spanish proverb comes to mind when summing up my free time:

“The busy man is troubled with but one devil; the idle man by a thousand”

I have only one devil and my devil has a name…Time. And though I have made every effort to control him with the use of calendars, watches, alarms and automatic reminders, somehow, he always seems one tick ahead of me as I toil about my mundane activities looking for a respite from life. I don’t think Time ever threatened me while growing up…in fact, I think I had too much time and often complained of sheer boredom, from elementary school right up until I graduated from college. In those idle times, the “thousand little devils” would manifest themselves through insecurities or self-doubts pertaining to my place and purpose in this complex world.

These little devils paralyzed me and created cracks in the brightly multi-colored façade of the idealized life I had envisioned for myself. Years passed and the network of cracks destroyed the idealized enclosure I had used to protect and shelter my childhood. Then, after a low point I chose to rebuild the façade in a manner better suited to highlight my strengths and protect my weaknesses while still coveting those idealistic notions that brought me strength and comfort as a little one. In so doing, the thousand little devils transformed themselves into one nemesis, one devil…Time. I battle Time for my kids, for my girlfriend, for my online business, for my parents, for my siblings and for projects I began full of promise but never devoted enough effort to see through to completion.

And so the battle continues and every now and then, I take a cheap shot…I kick that devil between the legs, poke him in the eye or give him a wedgie in the form of a day off of work, a diversion in the park, a match of tennis, a game of freeze tag with my twins, or a walk through the Farmer’s market with my girlfriend. My vain attempt to get an upper hand, to lose myself for a moment, to catch my breath as if to say…”Dude, can you give me just a little bit of space now?”.

When asked why I play tennis now, after nearly thirteen years of not touching a racket, I say flippantly, that I needed a reason to quit smoking.  In truth, tennis has become a microcosm of my life, an effort to improve myself, my mental toughness, my technical acumen, my physical prowess, and my stress release, all in the controlled environment of a 78 foot by 27 foot court, governed by simple rules dating back to 1873.

As a teenager, when I first took up the sport, I played because I enjoyed the individualistic aspect of the game.  At that time my game mostly relied on the vigor and strength of my youth and an average all around technical game.  I won or lost as a result of my own efforts and I could not blame others for my poor performance.   If my game sucked, then only I alone could improve it. Accountability, what a concept, it has dominated my character throughout my life…more on this later.

With age, I have grown to appreciate the more subtle aspects of the game and have taken a piece-meal approach to improving my technique: the driving forehand, the first serve, the second serve, the volley, the driving backhand, the slice forehand, the slice backhand, the lob, and my net game.  I can draw parallels between each of these aspects of the game and events in my life.  I believe each improvement in my game brings insight into how I might improve the other more pressing activities in my life.

So, I am not a team player…I am an artist who prefers to control his own destiny, paint his own picture, play his own game, whether I’m participating in a sport or in the broader stage of life. And so, I have chosen tennis as my “life sport” and will seek to improve my game and apply those lessons to my life with every loss I suffer.