A fascinating and crazy life.

Sometimes I wonder if there is such a thing as reality. And that maybe I am just dreaming. Everything. My existence. My true love's presence. Everything. And that maybe I have the ability to shape my dream. In any which way. To whatever kind of reality/life I desire. And that my subconscious mind dictates everything. Just like my true love's subconscious mind recently dictated a dream about her being surrounded by a herd of gentle and inquisitive horses. I have this strange feeling that maybe life isn’t predetermined. That if this life/reality of mine is all a dream, I can shape actual events. Dependent on my whim. If I want the Chicago Cubs to win bad enough, they can be made to win. But I want to deny myself this pleasure. In order to toughen and discipline myself. To deny some of my most fervent wishes. Because for some odd reason, pleasure and life always going good, isn't good for the soul. Maybe the real me is an immortal being that has gone to sleep. To relax. And to dream. Of what it's like to be mortal. I’ve been created in his dream as Jim Broede. And that’s who it seems I am. Even though I might not be real. But I gotta admit I feel very real and very much alive. If I were immortal and wanted a respite from immortality, I’d try to imagine that I was mortal and had died. Death being my form of sleep. It’d make me forget that I was immortal and alive. Until I waked. Anyway, I’m not sure if I have a grasp of reality. Or if I even want to grasp such confusion. Especially if I only exist as the creation of an imaginative dreamer. Maybe I can accept that. After all, it makes for a wonderfully fascinating and crazy life. --Jim Broede

A sense of humor would help.

I’m learning. Every day. Without miss. Something. Maybe it’s only trivial stuff some days. But many, many times, it’s things that help shape a better life. Intellectually. Emotionally. In very significant ways. Maybe I should learn more. Maybe I never learn enough. But I’m not gonna let that bother me. I’ll proceed at my own pace. And be thankful that I’m capable of learning. Anything. Certainly that’s better than nothing. Anyway, it’s a fascinating life. Spending almost all of my time learning. It’s as if I’m in school every day. And I have so many teachers. Everybody I meet is a potential teacher. Whether they know it or not. Nice thing is that I don’t even have to pay them. But I often do. With a simple thank you. Even the most stupid people in the world teach me something. Republicans, for instance. They teach me how to counter ignorance with humor. Good-natured humor. Even though some Republicans are too dumb to recognize it. Maybe it’s that they lack a sense of humor. –Jim Broede

Just depends. On the circumstances.

I marvel at people who tell me they speak the same way no matter the audience, no matter the place. Because I think that’s bullshit. Unless they are mealy-mouthed all the time. I find it necessary to be selective in one’s comments. Because I can’t get away with being completely honest all of the time. I can’t always say what I’d like to say, for instance, on the Alzheimer’s message boards. I’m not complaining about that. It’s just reality. And I accept it. Because the Alzheimer Association sets the rules. And if I wanna continue posting, I’d better follow the rules. Or I’ll get suspended or banned. It’s happened to some people. Even to me (suspension) once or twice. Deservedly so. I have a different set of rules that I follow here in my blog. I’m more free. More flexible. More honest. More daring. Thank gawd, for blogs. I’ve been taken to task by a frequent poster on the Alzheimer’s message boards. She thinks I’m pulling some of my punches on the message boards. At least compared to what I have to say in my blog. Well, she’s correct. But I see nothing wrong with that. Because I want to survive. And therefore, I obey the rules. Even rules with which I may disagree. Because I don’t wanna accept the consequences. Don’t we all do that? I’d like to speed down the highway. But I don’t. Because I don’t wanna be caught and fined and maybe even be put in jail. Instead, I use common sense. Or maybe it’s that I decide to compromise. For the sake of getting along. For the sake of decency. Oh, I’m not afraid to break rules, too. I take risks. I often like to tell people the brutal truth. Even when it hurts. Generally, that’s when I’m talking to someone. Directly. One-on-one. In private. But I can do it publicly, too. Just depends. On the circumstances. –Jim Broede

Long live everything Italian!

For a relatively old man like me, the best way to learn about and get a feel for Italy is through my true love. She’s a Sardinian. I couldn’t ask for a better teacher. She's making me well-versed in everything Italian. I am learning. Fast. Not so much the Italian language. Because that comes hard for anyone my ripe age. But I’m grasping all sorts of Italian ways. Customs. Food. Politics. Literature. Music. Fashions. You name it. I’m getting it. Because I spend much of my time living and traveling with my true love. Primarily in Sardinia, an island in the Mediterranean Sea. But I’ve been to other parts of Italy, too. To behold a beautiful country. A paradise. This is the way to live. And to learn about Italy and the Italian character. By total immersion. With a beautiful and intelligent Italian at my side. Much better than being a random tourist. Instead, I converse with my Italian true love. Daily. In the flesh. Or by audio/video hook-up. If I were still a young man, I’d most likely be gainfully employed. Side-tracked making a living. Fortunately, I’m old enough to be retired. Able to devote full-time to my true love. And I’m receiving an extraordinary education. About fantastic Italy. My second home. I’m fascinated by the wonder of it all. By my true love. By Italy. That joyful shout you hear. It's me. Long live everything Italian! –Jim Broede

As long as I keep learning.

Think of me as a complex being. Not easy to figure out. I suspect many of us are that way. I recently encountered someone trying to find the real me. Because she thinks I’m a different being on the Alzheimer’s message boards than I am on my blog. I suppose she’s right. In the sense that I might come across differently. Depending where I post. Because the rules are different. From place to place. Much depends on my audience, too. And sometimes, I talk differently to people in private than in a public forum. Often, I tailor my words to an individual. For instance, I’ll talk intimately to my true love. But not to you. And I may confide more to a friend than to a stranger. So it all depends. On circumstances. And how I feel on a particular day or at a particular moment. Another thing. I’m evolving. I’m not the same being I was 10 years ago. Or even yesterday, for that matter. My opinions keep changing. Because I’m learning. I’m having new experiences. I have an open mind. Although that may be open to dispute. Many people judge me from a distance. On a very limited amount of information. That amuses me. But then, I do the same. I often make a preliminary assessment of someone I’ve recently met. And later on, it proves wrong. Seems to me that life is pretty much in a constant state of flux. One has to adapt and adjust. And learn from one’s mistakes. By the way, I have yet to live a mistake-free day. But that doesn’t scare me. As long as I keep learning. –Jim Broede

Happiness in an unhappy way.

Seems to me that some unhappy people only have themselves to blame. They merely choose to be unhappy. They don’t have to. They could find reasons to be happy. But don’t. By choice. If that’s the case, it doesn’t bother me to agitate them. A little bit. Because maybe that’s what they want. To be agitated. Because that makes them be more unhappy. Makes me an obliging fella. Yes, I give ‘em what they want. And in a sense, that makes them happy in an unhappy way. –Jim Broede

I like to keep people guessing.

Many opinions I express in my blog I can’t get away with saying in another forum. Because it won’t be tolerated. That’s why I have a blog. So that I can feel more free. To say what I want to say. Makes me more honest. Yes, it’d be nice to be able to speak honestly all of the time. But I don’t pretend to do that. Sometimes, dishonesty is a good thing. For instance, I might tell a sick person that he looks good. Just to make him feel a little bit better. To boost his morale. But on other occasions, I may want to intentionally deflate an inflated ego. And I’ll resort to sarcasm. Such as, ‘You’re pretty smart. Not nearly as dumb as you look.’ I often say things just for the sake of being funny. To try to make a conversation less serious, less tedious. I love to contradict myself, too. And portray myself as a villain. Just for kicks. I like to keep people guessing. About whether I’m being serious or just plain funny. –Jim Broede