J.J. Goodman: Writings, Musings and More

Last night, before going to "sleep" I posed the following questions on Facebook: Is happiness so foreign and elusive because of fear of the unknown? Are we simply frightened of being happy because we don't truly know happiness?   (Wow. You're a right b*stard, you are. I wouldn't be able to sleep after that.)   Yea, I didn't really think about that. And you're absolutely right. The very first response I received was this:   "Or don't sleep and ponder one's own fears handicapping an ability to find happiness. "   In fact I received several poignant responses such that I am compelled, for the first time, to actually quote those responses here.   (You already quoted somebody. ^^^up there^^^ See? So, it won't really be the first time....)   Be quite you. Anywhoos… One astute reader reasoned thusly:   "Or do we judge what our happiness is or should be because of what we see others claim makes them happy?? A...

Kayla had long since gotten used to having a male roommate, and the fact he'd see here traipsing about the apartment in nothing but her boy-shorts underwear and a tank top no longer phased her. That he was always there pretty much meant she didn't have a choice. Such was the curse of living with a writer. "Whatcha workin' on?" She asked as she peered over his shoulder. In doing so, she hadn't realized that she'd touched his bare shoulder with the ice cream container from which she'd been spooning her Ben & Jerry's. "Dammit Kayla, that's cold!" he exclaimed as he pulled away. "What? Oh. Oops. Sorry!"   Ray rolled his eyes. "Come on! What are you working on now? Tell me!" she insisted. "A new story," he answered vaguely. "You're impossible. Mind if I turn the tube on?" "Sure, go ahead," he replied. She hadn't waited for an answer in any event. By the tim...

Might as well refill your coffee and sit down, because I've been thinking again. (Oh sweet bejeebus. Ok, hold on…. Go.) Is it possible to love too much? (I… wow. This is gonna be a good one.) Think about that for a second. Is it possible to love someone too much? And at what point does it become too much? Ask anyone how they want to be loved and I'd wager that the vast majority would answer with something along the lines of "unconditionally," or "fully, completely." (Great Tragically Hip song, by the way.) You're really catching on. Gold star. Anyway, is it possible to love to that extent though, without loving too much? I guess it all depends on how you define those other words. Unconditionally. Fully. Completely. I suppose to love someone unconditionally means that you accept them for all that they are, with all their faults, without judgment. The same goes for fully and completely. BUT… and there's always a but… is it truly ...

I suppose there's worse things I could be writing than sappy country songs.... ____ Whiskey in the Morning There was a time I'd play a song And she'd sit there and hum along Strumming her fingers Tapping her toes Saying she loves me so everybody knows Now I don't play anymore It's not like it was before Packing her bag Saying goodbye Never gave us a chance to try I guess… It was her choice It was her time Didn't seem to be a reason or rhyme She left our love without warning Now I'm drinking whiskey in the morning Riding along in my Jeep Can't remember last time I had sleep Radio's playing Wheels keep turning The tears in my eyes are still burning I guess… It was her choice It was her time Didn't seem to be a reason or rhyme She left our love without warning Now I'm drinking whiskey in the morning Should have known it wasn't going to last W e bot...

The garish, overhead light belied the intimate size of the room and its sparse furnishings. There was one small table and two metal chairs with torn vinyl seats. Noticeably absent was the tell-tale, two-way mirror that typically identified such a chamber as an interrogation room. It was that glaring omission that frightened him. Still, he hadn't been handcuffed and had been treated fairly by all standards. That didn't keep him from jumping up nervously when the steel door creaked open.   A slender man entered the room with a manila folder in his hand. He had a disheveled look about him – his shirt, the armpits of which began to show the yellowing stains of perspiration, was nearly un-tucked on one side. His collar was unbuttoned and his well-worn tie sat askew across his chest. His unkempt hair and the dark circles beneath his eyes told the tale of a man who hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in weeks, most likely.   The man sat down at the table and opened his...

Ok, so, if anyone has contacts in the music industry and would be so kind as to send some of these songs along, I will love you forever and hug you and squeeze you and call you George.  In the meantime, here's another one. As long as they keep coming, I'll keep writing them.... Ride Along the Water Walkin around in a haze That's just my life these days Waitin on love to come around Stuck here staring down at the ground But when she caught my eye The lonely times flew on by Before long she was smiling at me And I was wondering just how my life would be With her by my side Takin a ride along the water Holdin her hand Thinkin to myself, man How'd I ever live without her So I asked her out And she gave me a pout Sayin that the time wasn't right But give her time and she just might Something in that smile Told me to wait for a while There was a lot more to her to see And I wondered just how my life would be...

Keep it simple, stupid.   (Don't call me stupid!!!)   I, hmm. That was a pretty quick comeback. Kudos to quoting from one of Kevin Kline's most comedic roles.   (Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week…)   Don't push it.   (*ahem* Sorry.)   Point being… keep things simple. We forget that simple life tenet sometimes. Ok, most of the time. Ok, fine, ALL the time. It's a sad state of affairs when we have to consciously remind ourselves to slow the proverbial f*** down. I know I'm guilty of it. Which is why yesterday was such an anomaly for me, and why I'm going to share my day with you as an example of how to actually relax.   (No, seriously, where are you going with this?)   I am being one hundred percent, unequivocally, may a Wookie rip my arms from their sockets if I'm not telling the truth, honestly serious.   (I… I… I think I need to sit down for this….)   The day started simply enough with ...