Mr. Joyce Takes on the World

Long-Term Resolutions  I have to confess that I’ve never made a New Years Resolution. Frankly, I could never think of anything when asked. I also feel that the idea of a New Years Resolution is really a self-fulfilling prophecy; one that is rarely fulfilled. So, I’ve never attempted any of the usual clichés such as lose weight or quit smoking. I don’t smoke, and I figure that losing weight is a long-term commitment, and not a off the cuff gesture. I did attempt, and succeeded, at losing some excess weight I’d gained about three year ago. While I’d like to lose another five pounds, it’s not something that I’ll do overnight. Anytime someone wants to improve their life it’s always a series of steps, not giant leaps.  So, with that said, I don’t see myself making resolutions for this year. However, I do see myself setting long-term goals for the near future. While these goals will not be accomplished anytime soon, they’ll at least give me something to strive for in the future. 

Thumb   “The strangest things happen to you on your way over here.” Julie had said.  She sat across from me, and was completely focused on what I had to say. Julie is good at that; her dark-brown eyes remain focused on me, and seldom break eye contact. She weighs what I say with a level of sincerity. It’s a skill that I wish more people had, even in everyday conversation. What I told her that afternoon was another example of the bizarre coincidences of my daily life. It’s another one of those, “Guided” moments.  I cross a bridge to get to therapy, literally. The Smithfield Street Bridge spans the Mon River, and connects Station Square with the rest of the city. This isn’t one those now famous bridges that was featured in the Batman movie The Dark Knight Rises. So I can’t claim to have seen Joseph Gordon-Levitt driving a school bus across it (in the film‘s climax). It does however boast some neat graffiti, which I often photograph. That is when I’m foolish enough to walk to

 A Study of the Virgin in Marker I bought my first piece of art in 2008. I was living in San Francisco at the time.   It was a drawing by Bay Area artist Annie Del Pozzo. The woman herself was warm, friendly, and happy to talk about her art. The piece that I’d bought from her is one that hangs in bedroom. I often ponder what it represents.  The image itself is very simple. It’s a line drawing made with markers. It depicts a woman, with long, curly black hair. Her skin is fair, but her lips and eyes are dark. There is a halo over her hair that is accented with vibrant yellow marker. The woman is wearing some sort of tunic or robe. And on her chest is a sacred heart, the kind that is common in Catholic iconography. She holds a black cross in one hand. Strands of rosary beads are wrapped loosely around the other.  I was instantly curious the first time I saw this drawing. I then asked Ms. Del Pozzo about what had inspired this image  “I drew it based on a photograph

        The strangest things happen on my way to therapy, as if they were preordained. I don’t believe in fate, but I do believe divinity. One of the great oddities of my life is the feeling that some unseen hand protects and guides me. This is something that has happened at various times in my life; usually during times of adversity. A needed rescue, either physical or financial would arrive just before the zero hour. It seemed miraculous, even if the agent of change was just as down-to-earth as I am. Still, it makes me wonder if guardian angels, even without wings, do exist.  October 3rd 2012.  I had some spare time before my session with Julie (my therapist). I decided to wander a bit, and kill some time. Her office is located in a part of town that’s happening. It’s full of shops, restaurants, bars, and even several tattoo parlors. It reminds me so much of the Mission in San Francisco, that I just can’t resist its pull. I often take brief rambles either before, or after a

      My niece Miranda is blue-eyed, brown-haired, and about seven pounds (as of writing). She sleeps a lot, cries when needed, and then passes out again. She likes powdered formula, being held, and her binky. She’s adorable, and still has that new baby scent. I never would have guessed that I’d love someone at first sight. Or, that I’d love someone who belches like a trucker. We all have our quirks.  It’s been twenty odd years since I last held a baby. I thought I’d forget how to do it. But the second that her mother handed her to me, it all came back. Holding her was practically instinctual. Just as baby’s know how to smile and kiss without being taught. There are some things that are built into us, and cannot be excised; no matter how confusing the world becomes.   Miranda opened her azure eyes, and then yawned. I kissed her on the forehead, and then the hand. She cried soon after, but I didn’t mind. I knew that this was her way of reaching out. She can’t form words

Papercuts and Sugar Highs I was single this Valentine’s Day, just like every Valentine’s Day. This used to really bother me, until recent years. It was about two years ago that I realized, “Holidays like this exist as a part of a conspiracy to sell greeting cards and candy.” That either means one of two things: One that the greeting card and confectionary industries are in cahoots. Two, that the pharmaceutical industries are in cahoots with said candy and greeting card manufacturers. They’re trying to sell us bandages from the paper cuts we get from Valentines. And they want us on insulin from the sugar shock acquired from chocolate heart boxes. I don’t think this latter theory holds water, not even a Dixie cup full. But if it makes you feel any better, then be my guest. Just don’t blame me if you build a bunker in your backyard, and the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre doesn’t come again. There is a conspiracy, most assuredly. But this conspiracy is not one perpetrated by