do you ever have restless sleepless nights? the one where every shadow makes you jumpy as hell and you cant get your brain to slow down for five fucking minutes?
welcome to my nights, some nights even the pills they have me on to help me sleep don’t work, guess what ladies and gents that is tonight.
my head just swirls with thoughts ideas crazy fucked up images and the rolling mess twists until it cant twist anymore then unravels and I think about all of it all over again.
I cant wait for the sun to some up and the house is silent, erika is asleep and even yoshi cant keep pace with how my eyes seem to dart to every corner and find every light even if the place is completely dark, it is nights like this when I will face even the demons I fear in the dark to try to get some sleep….
sleep…
yeah right tonight there is no rest for the weary…what wicked…train wreck and the sky will swallow you whole if you don’t watch your step laddie, welcome to the freak show, and everyone is on display.
you can find your wettest dreams and most terrifying nightmares on tv and the lights spinning around are the carnival of a life time, the ride never ends and the monsters seep in looking to feed on your soul, find yourself in the hall of mirrors yet don’t look too close you wont like what you see the lights dim and the ring master takes the stage….
welcome to the most fucked up show on earth Barnum and Bailey you got nothing on this shit…
and here we have my parents favorite failure of a life time…did not only fail in school, failed as a criminal, a crooked wet nap of life looking and lurking beneath the hat the top hat that hides our next attraction Dr. Jekle, look out we wont want to miss out on seeing Hyde in all of this…someone find the band saw so we can help Dr Frankenstein finish the monster…oh you know Robert Deniro we love ya so much, take a bow, take a life award, see the ravenous monster with in and find yourself soulless laying on the floor one of your many out of body experiences, yes my friends we have acid cotton candy to help ease the journey down the rabbit hole, and we see nothing more than the twisted distorted shapes of what used to be the face of a leader cast down and thrown aside in the mud slinging contest of a life time…oh W. you got nothing on this one the slide show moves on to a life filled with nothing much you got it, work and still nothing is ever good enough see if you can find the right way to put that key in the lock and get yourself home, sorry you cant stay here my friend….
and the cabby wont take you home
welcome to the tilt a whirl and you cant get off you paid for a continous ride of a lifetime,
feeling sick yet???
do you feel the worthlessness ooze from you like a bad cologne in some cheap ass club where you put in two quarters and out pops a baby…oops I mean condom too bad they don’t give those fucking things away at straight clubs too
aw sorry America did I touch a raw never sorry we are all out of novacaine, just deal with the pain the drill only goes on forever…
FOREVER….
never mind that dull ache in your head that throbbing sense of what is right and good, who the hell do you think you are getting past the pearly gates anyway and st peter has a sign for you, go straight to hell do not pass go do not collect 200 dollars…sorry Mr Moneybags…
guess money dotn buy happiness after it but shit it sure as hell didn’t hurt to try did it?
you wont find success here you missed out on the nick at night college marathon and ran straight to trhe rat race of life and forgot to tell the banker you were working the same fucking job for half the fucking money and you did not deserve the job anyway…
so move the hell away and buy your sheets at walmart your gas at the major chain and find yourself starving after eating the 6 big macs you cant seem to stomach…
just so you know tomorrow…
you get to throw it all up and do it all again…
who said your ticket wasn’t good for more than one show…
I tell you what my wandering friend…
toothless and feeling your oats….
come back again.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Congrats Louisville "city of possibilities"
I could really care less about "thunder over louisville" or the festivities they start...I still believe that Horse Abuse is wrong...yeah so....screw the ky derby and everything surrounding it...and i dont want hear how great the horses have it...you try being hit with a riding crop let's see how fast your legs go to get away from whatever is hitting you.....(i bet this gets some people's boxers in a twist)
i really love living in a city where we have families living in tents on the waterfront, and a city deficit that could drive every family in town bankrupt, but we just have to spend over 250k on gunpowder and flashbangs because we all have to feel really great about the massive amount of pollution we put in the air with such delusions of grandure...congrats louisville...
you have an over priced stadium that will rarely hold events...and we are home of one of the biddest causes of gambling loss in the united states annually...did i mention our unemployment rate...
i think we should have a huge clap on the back for "thunder" and forget all about the problems that truely face us in this "city of possibilities" that is dying under the weight of over priced basketball, animal abuse, and spending on things besides affordable housing, and lets not forget we have public schools in the bottom 10 percentile in the country....hope everyone enjoyed the fire works
i know it must have been a real blast...
i really love living in a city where we have families living in tents on the waterfront, and a city deficit that could drive every family in town bankrupt, but we just have to spend over 250k on gunpowder and flashbangs because we all have to feel really great about the massive amount of pollution we put in the air with such delusions of grandure...congrats louisville...
you have an over priced stadium that will rarely hold events...and we are home of one of the biddest causes of gambling loss in the united states annually...did i mention our unemployment rate...
i think we should have a huge clap on the back for "thunder" and forget all about the problems that truely face us in this "city of possibilities" that is dying under the weight of over priced basketball, animal abuse, and spending on things besides affordable housing, and lets not forget we have public schools in the bottom 10 percentile in the country....hope everyone enjoyed the fire works
i know it must have been a real blast...
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
I Must Have A Babel Fish In My Ear
This weird humming and ringing must be what it is like for a Babel Fish to be in one’s ear.
For those of you who do not know what a Babel Fish is….
“The Babel Fish is small, yellow, leech-like, and is a universal translator which simultaneously translates from one spoken language to another. It takes the brainwaves of the other body and what they are thinking then transmits the thoughts to the speech centers of the hosts brain, the speech heard by the ear decodes the brainwave matrix. When inserted into the ear, its nutrition processes convert sound waves into brain waves, neatly crossing the language divide between any species you should happen to meet whilst traveling in space. Meanwhile, the poor Babel fish, by effectively removing all barriers to communication between different races and cultures, has caused more and bloodier wars than anything else in the history of creation.[1] Arthur Dent, a surviving Earthling, commented only 'Eurgh!' when first inserting the fish into his ear canal. It did, however, enable him to understand Vogon Poetry - not necessarily a good thing. The book points out that the Babel Fish could not possibly have developed naturally, and therefore proves the existence of God as its creator. However, as Man points out, God needs faith to exist, and this proof dispels the need for faith, therefore causing God to vanish in a puff of logic. Then Man says, "my, that was easy" and goes on to prove that black is white, and gets killed on the next zebra crossing.”
Of course my Babel Fish only deafens my perception of the world and enhances the screaming in my own mind, I wonder if one needs to put such a device in one ear only then how come I can only hear the screaming louder in one ear….
Either way...I will follow the cardinal rules;
I will Bring a Towel
I will grab my copy of the HGTTG
And Lastly...and Most Importantly.....
DON'T PANIC
of course, one can always hope that it is neither the end of the world, and we can hope that the loud banging sound is....
damned it is an alien space craft
and here I thought I just had an ear infection...
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
One Sick Puppy
damned if i am still not sick as hell, i can not seem to shake this cold or virus or whatever they want to call it.
the dayquil and mucinex help some, and sleep is becoming a way of life.
but somehow i am hoping that this does pass quickly and i am feeling better by the time we are supposed to go camping.
we can not decide if it would be better to snuggle at home in bed and sleep, or if being by the lake is the best bet. we have the time the site is reserved and we have a tent even mother nature will have trouble blowing down, but somehow after the last two weeks a few quiet days in bed somehow seem almost sureal and so inviting.
who knows maybe somehow we can do both lol
after all a camp cot counts as a bed doesnt it? esspecially in some corners of the world.
my brother warned me agianst "musky fever" i had heard of the ailment, however seeing how my brother can not do much of anything as far as fishing goes with out catching this wierd disease, this fever that infects you and you cant shake, i still can not wait to try to find the beast of the deep and fish him out.
who knows where we will end up this vacation coming so soon, but i am sure as far as we go, some fishing will be done somewhere, and we will find some sort of fish that is a worthy advisary.
the dayquil and mucinex help some, and sleep is becoming a way of life.
but somehow i am hoping that this does pass quickly and i am feeling better by the time we are supposed to go camping.
we can not decide if it would be better to snuggle at home in bed and sleep, or if being by the lake is the best bet. we have the time the site is reserved and we have a tent even mother nature will have trouble blowing down, but somehow after the last two weeks a few quiet days in bed somehow seem almost sureal and so inviting.
who knows maybe somehow we can do both lol
after all a camp cot counts as a bed doesnt it? esspecially in some corners of the world.
my brother warned me agianst "musky fever" i had heard of the ailment, however seeing how my brother can not do much of anything as far as fishing goes with out catching this wierd disease, this fever that infects you and you cant shake, i still can not wait to try to find the beast of the deep and fish him out.
who knows where we will end up this vacation coming so soon, but i am sure as far as we go, some fishing will be done somewhere, and we will find some sort of fish that is a worthy advisary.
Monday, April 12, 2010
This post Does Not Need A Title
Is it sitting and waiting for the sickly part of this summer to be over or is it sickly sitting and waiting? Who knows, but I feel up for a little blog right now so here goes.
Here I sit mucinex, antibiotic, and Dayquil pilled up and I can finally feel less that comatose for more than thirty minutes at a time for the last three or four days. So I figured why not blog it out and see what we come up with.
Erika rather enjoyed my last blog and said that it was a step in the right direction, so here we go babe, this one is for you.
As far back as I can remember, forgive me those of you who can remember farther and wider than I, I can remember being afraid of what some would call corporal punishment, if one stepped out of line.
We were always good children in the light of day emerging from our surely ways to put on a good show, and still somehow, on a regular basis, at least I was allowed to fuck things up royally.
You wonder what kind of a child might be afraid of eating without their parents around, what kind of child might be scared of drinking the cup of bullion soup without permission; well you are looking at one my friends.
I know I know we were always told as children never to take outside of the home what was meant to stay inside, well the can is open now, and now I have nothing to fear but myself and not dealing with the consequences of my own not voicing the situation.
I often cringe at the very thought of someone calling someone, or myself having to call someone, Mister.
You see the majority of the tolls given out to us as children were given by a named and well worn piece of 1x2 named, of course Mr. Stick.
I often wonder what happened to that piece of shit, and hope that it met with timely demise under a car or was set in fire and charred to a crisp. I knew if I saw that son of a bitch coming I was fucking screwed.
When I was younger I just took it for granted that all parents punished their children by whacking them with a stick, and by the time you figure out that just is not true you are left to deal with that fact that you must have been some sort of idiot in the first place to have not mentioned to any of your friends, “hey do your parents nail you with a stick from time to time?” Of course 99% of the others would have said no, and had that shocked look on their faces, and while you would have been in the minority you know you would have understood it was not normal for parents to hit their children.
I often wonder why a parent would say to a child they are striking “this hurts me more than it hurts you.” What a crock of shit, you are the one on the receiving end are often left to wonder what the hell was so terrible about that broken lamp that I deserved this, and you become very careful with all lamps, and learn to apologize quickly.
After experiencing some of the more colorful episodes dealt out as a child, I wonder how I went down the path I went down, I am surprised I do not yell at and beat the crap out of everything that comes my way that pisses me off.
You have to wonder if this is not in fact how serial killers are made. One too many slotted spoons to the head, one too many yanks of the hair, which welted almost as bad as the whack itself. We are lucky there is not a whole generation of serial beaters running around beating and killing things, violence only brings more violence, and you have to wonder how one can be so quick tempered and ill judged to beat a child with a stick, or a belt (though I never remember being beaten with a belt), or even an open or closed hand.
You have to wonder how that hurt the beater more than the beaten.
You know even sitting here writing this I am half tempted to erase it with one fell swoop and thank God I did not publish this, but I think it is important for people to know I am not scared to talk about this anymore.
I think hitting children is wrong, sorry mom and dad. It does more damage than good. I think pinning them in a corner when they try to get away from someone or something that is hurting them is wrong. Spoons are for cooking and eating, not to be used as a tool to control those damned kids you got running around. Yeah we were so out of control, must have been a real bruiser for you to keep that shit up. And what you decided that we were a little too big to “take over your knee” when we were old enough to fight back, even though we did not fight back we should have, but then the thought creeps in who would have cared for us, if we fought back.
Children should not be put in the position of having to choose to fight back.
What was done was wrong, and I will declare it all day long.
Luckily I went down the right path, I don’t hit my girlfriend, I don’t yell at her, throw things at her, I don’t abuse my dog and beat the crap out of him, and no one I know is scared to leave their kids alone with me for fear I might hall of and paste them one.
No lucky as I turned out, the damage was done, and cannot be undone, but know this, I am a bigger and better person for having lived through it, you taught me one lesson out of all of the hitting and yelling and belting,
Hitting is wrong…sorry you felt you had to teach me that lesson the hard way…
If that wasn’t the lesson…sorry I did not glean from it what you wished….
Here I sit mucinex, antibiotic, and Dayquil pilled up and I can finally feel less that comatose for more than thirty minutes at a time for the last three or four days. So I figured why not blog it out and see what we come up with.
Erika rather enjoyed my last blog and said that it was a step in the right direction, so here we go babe, this one is for you.
As far back as I can remember, forgive me those of you who can remember farther and wider than I, I can remember being afraid of what some would call corporal punishment, if one stepped out of line.
We were always good children in the light of day emerging from our surely ways to put on a good show, and still somehow, on a regular basis, at least I was allowed to fuck things up royally.
You wonder what kind of a child might be afraid of eating without their parents around, what kind of child might be scared of drinking the cup of bullion soup without permission; well you are looking at one my friends.
I know I know we were always told as children never to take outside of the home what was meant to stay inside, well the can is open now, and now I have nothing to fear but myself and not dealing with the consequences of my own not voicing the situation.
I often cringe at the very thought of someone calling someone, or myself having to call someone, Mister.
You see the majority of the tolls given out to us as children were given by a named and well worn piece of 1x2 named, of course Mr. Stick.
I often wonder what happened to that piece of shit, and hope that it met with timely demise under a car or was set in fire and charred to a crisp. I knew if I saw that son of a bitch coming I was fucking screwed.
When I was younger I just took it for granted that all parents punished their children by whacking them with a stick, and by the time you figure out that just is not true you are left to deal with that fact that you must have been some sort of idiot in the first place to have not mentioned to any of your friends, “hey do your parents nail you with a stick from time to time?” Of course 99% of the others would have said no, and had that shocked look on their faces, and while you would have been in the minority you know you would have understood it was not normal for parents to hit their children.
I often wonder why a parent would say to a child they are striking “this hurts me more than it hurts you.” What a crock of shit, you are the one on the receiving end are often left to wonder what the hell was so terrible about that broken lamp that I deserved this, and you become very careful with all lamps, and learn to apologize quickly.
After experiencing some of the more colorful episodes dealt out as a child, I wonder how I went down the path I went down, I am surprised I do not yell at and beat the crap out of everything that comes my way that pisses me off.
You have to wonder if this is not in fact how serial killers are made. One too many slotted spoons to the head, one too many yanks of the hair, which welted almost as bad as the whack itself. We are lucky there is not a whole generation of serial beaters running around beating and killing things, violence only brings more violence, and you have to wonder how one can be so quick tempered and ill judged to beat a child with a stick, or a belt (though I never remember being beaten with a belt), or even an open or closed hand.
You have to wonder how that hurt the beater more than the beaten.
You know even sitting here writing this I am half tempted to erase it with one fell swoop and thank God I did not publish this, but I think it is important for people to know I am not scared to talk about this anymore.
I think hitting children is wrong, sorry mom and dad. It does more damage than good. I think pinning them in a corner when they try to get away from someone or something that is hurting them is wrong. Spoons are for cooking and eating, not to be used as a tool to control those damned kids you got running around. Yeah we were so out of control, must have been a real bruiser for you to keep that shit up. And what you decided that we were a little too big to “take over your knee” when we were old enough to fight back, even though we did not fight back we should have, but then the thought creeps in who would have cared for us, if we fought back.
Children should not be put in the position of having to choose to fight back.
What was done was wrong, and I will declare it all day long.
Luckily I went down the right path, I don’t hit my girlfriend, I don’t yell at her, throw things at her, I don’t abuse my dog and beat the crap out of him, and no one I know is scared to leave their kids alone with me for fear I might hall of and paste them one.
No lucky as I turned out, the damage was done, and cannot be undone, but know this, I am a bigger and better person for having lived through it, you taught me one lesson out of all of the hitting and yelling and belting,
Hitting is wrong…sorry you felt you had to teach me that lesson the hard way…
If that wasn’t the lesson…sorry I did not glean from it what you wished….
Friday, April 9, 2010
Wheelin’ and Dealin’
You have to wonder if people ever actually understand the difference between “existing” and “living” life.
Thanks to Merrian-Webster.com we have the following definitions:
existing
Main Entry: ex•ist
Pronunciation: \ig-ˈzist\
Function: intransitive verb
Etymology: Latin exsistere to come into being, exist, from ex- + sistere to stand, stop; akin to Latin stare to stand — more at STAND
Date: circa 1568
1 a : to have real being whether material or spiritual b : to have being in a specified place or with respect to understood limitations or conditions
2 : to continue to be
3 a : to have life or the functions of vitality b : to live at an inferior level or under adverse circumstances
living
Main Entry: 1living
Function: adjective
Date: before 12th century
1 a : having life b : ACTIVE, FUNCTIONING
2 a : exhibiting the life or motion of nature : NATURAL b : 2LIVE 2a
3 a : full of life or vigor b : true to life : VIVID c : suited for living
4 : involving living persons
5 : VERY —used as an intensive
— liv•ing•ness noun
I would like to point out to my readership (grown as it seems to have) that I do not consider the path of my life to be mere Existing: case and point: section 3b from our good friend Webster: to live at an inferior level or under adverse circumstances I do consider myself rather to be Living: (thanks in part to a wonderful myriad of therapy and understanding people I have in my life): section 3a from our good friend Webster:: full of life or vigor.
I know we can not all live every day with the vigorous happy go lucky ways of the Cleavers, how ever; we can try every day to be full of life and hope and dream the good dream, fight the good fight.
to simply STAND, and wait, is the very definition of existing, I wait for no one anymore. I walk, whether it be toward something that will enlighten and enhance my life and those around me, or Away, from some detrimental thing I can not always put my finger on but I sense it very clearly.
I am grateful every day for the people I have in my life who love me, and whom I love. Sure maybe I do not get to spend the time everyone would like me to spend with them, but just as a dog knows when it’s master is angry, so does a person know when they are not wanted around.
It is not fight or flight, it is simply wishing not to add more stress to my life, stress I do not need.
The past brings enough stress of it’s own, and while some may consider it “dwelling” or “wallowing” in the past, facing up to what is and what was, is how we learn from the past, and pray that the good will be bettered, and the bad will never be repeated.
Hence the learning process we all go through. If we do not look at our past and face it in some form or another every day, glare at it, and fight the good fight we find ourselves making the mistakes of our past all over again, facing the past is how we deal with it, learn from it, make the future better by not repeating it.
sometimes the past is riddled with pellets we do not want to deal with, sometimes happy rays of sunshine come in, but you can not ignore one and only pay attention to the other, or you wil quite simply drop dead of a heart attack one day and spend your last moments wondering how you did not see this coming a mile away.
Better to face it now, being later, rather than never.
that brings me to my next point I wish to rattle about today: Therapy.
Someone find Merriam or Webster for me quick will you, ah here we go:
therapy
Main Entry: ther•a•py
Pronunciation: \ˈther-ə-pē\
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s): plural ther•a•pies
Etymology: New Latin therapia, from Greek therapeia, from therapeuein
Date: circa 1846
: therapeutic treatment especially of bodily, mental, or behavioral disorder
We all go through some sort of Therapy or another in our life, we all have to, the loss of someone or something we love, the accident that almost or did happen that scares the living shit out of us, the box of hopes we never quite got to, or the random rants of our brain we simply can not ignore anymore though we tried, how we tried.
You can ask what kind of therapy I do and I will tell you.
I see a psychologist and a psychiatrist. Simple enough one would think, but therapy takes time, and dealing with what you find in therapy takes even more time.
Sure, I used to shut it out, never let it rear it’s dirty little head, I believe that is called repression, or so I have been told, I tried drinking, I tried the random use of drugs, legal or not, I tried being angry, I tried all of these things, and one day, like a brick hitting a windshield, none of it worked anymore.
I was miserable. I worked nonstop. worked until I became sick and worked some more. put on the face of one that had so much to live for, and yet really cared nothing for the wonderful taste of life I was missing out on and I did not care one fucking bit.
Your own demons are funny like that consuming you until you tell them to stop.
So, I did not tell them to stop, I screamed, lashed back, and am fighting the good fight against them. I would rather have the therapy for my past life take years, than suffer the little bastards who stole so much time from me to begin with.
I will take the therapy, the serotonin reuptake inhibitors, the happy hours with the shrink, and the unhappy after math, all in the effort to defeat the past I let dwell inside me so long.
I refuse to be a victim to my past.
I promise to uphold myself and live my life to the fullest; to fill it with loving people, caring dreams, and hopeful aspirations.
I promise myself that I will walk away when I need to, that I will stand when I must, and will build a life that is worthy of the memory of those who have gone before me. And I never forget them, and know I will be happier when life is full, and the waters while they may get choppy from time to time, I know the sea will always settle again,
And the fishing… will be great.
Thanks to Merrian-Webster.com we have the following definitions:
existing
Main Entry: ex•ist
Pronunciation: \ig-ˈzist\
Function: intransitive verb
Etymology: Latin exsistere to come into being, exist, from ex- + sistere to stand, stop; akin to Latin stare to stand — more at STAND
Date: circa 1568
1 a : to have real being whether material or spiritual
2 : to continue to be
3 a : to have life or the functions of vitality
living
Main Entry: 1living
Function: adjective
Date: before 12th century
1 a : having life b : ACTIVE, FUNCTIONING
2 a : exhibiting the life or motion of nature : NATURAL
3 a : full of life or vigor b : true to life : VIVID
4 : involving living persons
5 : VERY —used as an intensive
— liv•ing•ness noun
I would like to point out to my readership (grown as it seems to have) that I do not consider the path of my life to be mere Existing: case and point: section 3b from our good friend Webster: to live at an inferior level or under adverse circumstances I do consider myself rather to be Living: (thanks in part to a wonderful myriad of therapy and understanding people I have in my life): section 3a from our good friend Webster:: full of life or vigor.
I know we can not all live every day with the vigorous happy go lucky ways of the Cleavers, how ever; we can try every day to be full of life and hope and dream the good dream, fight the good fight.
to simply STAND, and wait, is the very definition of existing, I wait for no one anymore. I walk, whether it be toward something that will enlighten and enhance my life and those around me, or Away, from some detrimental thing I can not always put my finger on but I sense it very clearly.
I am grateful every day for the people I have in my life who love me, and whom I love. Sure maybe I do not get to spend the time everyone would like me to spend with them, but just as a dog knows when it’s master is angry, so does a person know when they are not wanted around.
It is not fight or flight, it is simply wishing not to add more stress to my life, stress I do not need.
The past brings enough stress of it’s own, and while some may consider it “dwelling” or “wallowing” in the past, facing up to what is and what was, is how we learn from the past, and pray that the good will be bettered, and the bad will never be repeated.
Hence the learning process we all go through. If we do not look at our past and face it in some form or another every day, glare at it, and fight the good fight we find ourselves making the mistakes of our past all over again, facing the past is how we deal with it, learn from it, make the future better by not repeating it.
sometimes the past is riddled with pellets we do not want to deal with, sometimes happy rays of sunshine come in, but you can not ignore one and only pay attention to the other, or you wil quite simply drop dead of a heart attack one day and spend your last moments wondering how you did not see this coming a mile away.
Better to face it now, being later, rather than never.
that brings me to my next point I wish to rattle about today: Therapy.
Someone find Merriam or Webster for me quick will you, ah here we go:
therapy
Main Entry: ther•a•py
Pronunciation: \ˈther-ə-pē\
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s): plural ther•a•pies
Etymology: New Latin therapia, from Greek therapeia, from therapeuein
Date: circa 1846
: therapeutic treatment especially of bodily, mental, or behavioral disorder
We all go through some sort of Therapy or another in our life, we all have to, the loss of someone or something we love, the accident that almost or did happen that scares the living shit out of us, the box of hopes we never quite got to, or the random rants of our brain we simply can not ignore anymore though we tried, how we tried.
You can ask what kind of therapy I do and I will tell you.
I see a psychologist and a psychiatrist. Simple enough one would think, but therapy takes time, and dealing with what you find in therapy takes even more time.
Sure, I used to shut it out, never let it rear it’s dirty little head, I believe that is called repression, or so I have been told, I tried drinking, I tried the random use of drugs, legal or not, I tried being angry, I tried all of these things, and one day, like a brick hitting a windshield, none of it worked anymore.
I was miserable. I worked nonstop. worked until I became sick and worked some more. put on the face of one that had so much to live for, and yet really cared nothing for the wonderful taste of life I was missing out on and I did not care one fucking bit.
Your own demons are funny like that consuming you until you tell them to stop.
So, I did not tell them to stop, I screamed, lashed back, and am fighting the good fight against them. I would rather have the therapy for my past life take years, than suffer the little bastards who stole so much time from me to begin with.
I will take the therapy, the serotonin reuptake inhibitors, the happy hours with the shrink, and the unhappy after math, all in the effort to defeat the past I let dwell inside me so long.
I refuse to be a victim to my past.
I promise to uphold myself and live my life to the fullest; to fill it with loving people, caring dreams, and hopeful aspirations.
I promise myself that I will walk away when I need to, that I will stand when I must, and will build a life that is worthy of the memory of those who have gone before me. And I never forget them, and know I will be happier when life is full, and the waters while they may get choppy from time to time, I know the sea will always settle again,
And the fishing… will be great.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
At A Total Loss For Words
I am home, thanks to an early departure from the northern hospitality of Wisconsin. Mostly thanks to this damned ear ache and cold I seemed to have picked up instead of fishing.
Wonderful and delightful in and of it self, I am sure here I will find much more interesting things to blat on about.
First And Foremost: Let me be very clear about one point: I do not give a shit who reads this, how they find it, or what they think of it.
It seems the ever (or sometimes no so) present author of this blog, case and point being me, has come under some considerable fire, and had this little tool of my sanity used against me.
Let me reiterate here, I don’t care who reads this, if they like it, and frankly don’t give a damned if anyone finds it offensive.
I know, people out there, and in here all seem to have something to gripe about, I do my fair share of bitching, we all do from time to time.
However, that is why I made this forum, it is my little corner of the universe when I can say what I want when I want about what I want, and if someone does not like it, all they simply need do is read no further.
Yes people, it is that simple.
I know I have no great readership that follows my ranting and raving on any given day, however, I do not really care about that either.
What do I care about? You can ask; and I will tell you:
I care about this being my forum, my soap box, my place to speak how I feel, if it meets with reproach I don’t care, this little gem helps me stay sane….
Ask my shrink…I am about as sane as people come…maybe that makes her insane…but hell it sure makes Erika and I feel better.
This little electric online journaling device may very well be the glimmer into my life people are looking for. If you want to try to figure me out go ahead, if you want to read this and find it offends you good, if you want to read this and look for something that is not there great.
I don’t mention a lot of people by name in here, I don’t call people out, I talk about the mundane day to day activity that is my life. And I like it that way. I don’t ask for anything from this blog except that it be here everyday, and that it allow me to write and spill my guts to those who I do not know who are reading or that I do know and do not know they are reading.
There is no score card for reading this blog people, read it or don’t, I don’t give a shit.
I do know this, I will continue to write about whatever the damned well hell I please about here, and if people don’t like it they simply do not have to read it, bear witness to it, or advocate it in anyway.
This is mine, and I intend to keep it that way.
So as for my lil’ trip to the good ole north, hospitality not with standing, and the scathing reviews of my visit not pondered upon, I did manage to see a lot of people. sure time is always short, and I am a damnable person to some for not spending my due time and course in the right places at the right times, but all in all, it wasn’t a bad trip.
The drive home was another matter completely, and while I won’t dwell on the sticky and icky details right now, my dear friends, let me tell you when a person sets out to push your buttons they can, even from three hundred miles away. Sometimes I need to learn to let things go, and chalk one up for the little demon in my brain who gets the best of me when that angry mob inside my head gets going, but we don’t always shut up, and we don’t always want to listen to the ranting of others at seventy miles an hour.
Indianapolis will always have a wonderful new meaning for me now…thank you blackberry much.
I know, I know I should let things go, but, you know, when I get riled and I do from time to time, I just cant help myself, I should have hung up let it at that, but no no no no, I had to push and have a say too. Well, we all feel entitled to our opinions, and I surely felt entitled to mine today, barely able to talk with out coughing and all.
We all feel entitled, and being this is my blog I feel entitled to say, my earlier post, about “proper families” stands true.
We are all born with a family, like it or not, they are ours, better or worse, we will always have them. Sometimes we don’t see eye to eye, more often than not I am sure many will agree. and so we surround ourselves and build our own families, we build our lives, as adults, and sometimes people don’t see our life as we do, and that is okay, for the most part, when we as children grown up our birth families accept we will start our own family our own traditions, sometimes, we have trouble letting go of the past and moving on, sometimes the past haunts us with it’s tyranny and we have little to say about what was done long ago, except we don’t have to be the people others think we should be. Sure some things in our life we can not choose, I can’t choose to have brown eyes anymore than I can choose to be gay, but how we deal is another matter all together. How we live life and find comfort in the small things from day to day matter.
I choose to have people in my life who love me and accept me just as I am, flawed and all. I choose not to be a judge of others, and hope they do not judge me.
It does not always work out that way.
We often find time and again we will never live up to the standards other people have set for us. We will never be the people they want us to be, never around enough, never quiet enough, never saying enough, never far away enough. Always just on the cusp of what everyone else thinks we should be. Sometimes, that is our lot in life, to learn the lesson “you can’t please everyone.” I personally know I have a long way to go in that area. But with Yoshi sleeping beside me, I know I pleased someone today, he is sleeping fitfully, belly full, toys beside him, and while I may not be able to please everyone, trying hurts almost as much. You try, you get scathed, you don’t try you get burned, either way, Indianapolis would have new meaning for me today, it just came down to which degree of the burn I got, and try though as I did, I got burned...yet again.
“You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes you get what you need.”
Wonderful and delightful in and of it self, I am sure here I will find much more interesting things to blat on about.
First And Foremost: Let me be very clear about one point: I do not give a shit who reads this, how they find it, or what they think of it.
It seems the ever (or sometimes no so) present author of this blog, case and point being me, has come under some considerable fire, and had this little tool of my sanity used against me.
Let me reiterate here, I don’t care who reads this, if they like it, and frankly don’t give a damned if anyone finds it offensive.
I know, people out there, and in here all seem to have something to gripe about, I do my fair share of bitching, we all do from time to time.
However, that is why I made this forum, it is my little corner of the universe when I can say what I want when I want about what I want, and if someone does not like it, all they simply need do is read no further.
Yes people, it is that simple.
I know I have no great readership that follows my ranting and raving on any given day, however, I do not really care about that either.
What do I care about? You can ask; and I will tell you:
I care about this being my forum, my soap box, my place to speak how I feel, if it meets with reproach I don’t care, this little gem helps me stay sane….
Ask my shrink…I am about as sane as people come…maybe that makes her insane…but hell it sure makes Erika and I feel better.
This little electric online journaling device may very well be the glimmer into my life people are looking for. If you want to try to figure me out go ahead, if you want to read this and find it offends you good, if you want to read this and look for something that is not there great.
I don’t mention a lot of people by name in here, I don’t call people out, I talk about the mundane day to day activity that is my life. And I like it that way. I don’t ask for anything from this blog except that it be here everyday, and that it allow me to write and spill my guts to those who I do not know who are reading or that I do know and do not know they are reading.
There is no score card for reading this blog people, read it or don’t, I don’t give a shit.
I do know this, I will continue to write about whatever the damned well hell I please about here, and if people don’t like it they simply do not have to read it, bear witness to it, or advocate it in anyway.
This is mine, and I intend to keep it that way.
So as for my lil’ trip to the good ole north, hospitality not with standing, and the scathing reviews of my visit not pondered upon, I did manage to see a lot of people. sure time is always short, and I am a damnable person to some for not spending my due time and course in the right places at the right times, but all in all, it wasn’t a bad trip.
The drive home was another matter completely, and while I won’t dwell on the sticky and icky details right now, my dear friends, let me tell you when a person sets out to push your buttons they can, even from three hundred miles away. Sometimes I need to learn to let things go, and chalk one up for the little demon in my brain who gets the best of me when that angry mob inside my head gets going, but we don’t always shut up, and we don’t always want to listen to the ranting of others at seventy miles an hour.
Indianapolis will always have a wonderful new meaning for me now…thank you blackberry much.
I know, I know I should let things go, but, you know, when I get riled and I do from time to time, I just cant help myself, I should have hung up let it at that, but no no no no, I had to push and have a say too. Well, we all feel entitled to our opinions, and I surely felt entitled to mine today, barely able to talk with out coughing and all.
We all feel entitled, and being this is my blog I feel entitled to say, my earlier post, about “proper families” stands true.
We are all born with a family, like it or not, they are ours, better or worse, we will always have them. Sometimes we don’t see eye to eye, more often than not I am sure many will agree. and so we surround ourselves and build our own families, we build our lives, as adults, and sometimes people don’t see our life as we do, and that is okay, for the most part, when we as children grown up our birth families accept we will start our own family our own traditions, sometimes, we have trouble letting go of the past and moving on, sometimes the past haunts us with it’s tyranny and we have little to say about what was done long ago, except we don’t have to be the people others think we should be. Sure some things in our life we can not choose, I can’t choose to have brown eyes anymore than I can choose to be gay, but how we deal is another matter all together. How we live life and find comfort in the small things from day to day matter.
I choose to have people in my life who love me and accept me just as I am, flawed and all. I choose not to be a judge of others, and hope they do not judge me.
It does not always work out that way.
We often find time and again we will never live up to the standards other people have set for us. We will never be the people they want us to be, never around enough, never quiet enough, never saying enough, never far away enough. Always just on the cusp of what everyone else thinks we should be. Sometimes, that is our lot in life, to learn the lesson “you can’t please everyone.” I personally know I have a long way to go in that area. But with Yoshi sleeping beside me, I know I pleased someone today, he is sleeping fitfully, belly full, toys beside him, and while I may not be able to please everyone, trying hurts almost as much. You try, you get scathed, you don’t try you get burned, either way, Indianapolis would have new meaning for me today, it just came down to which degree of the burn I got, and try though as I did, I got burned...yet again.
“You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes you get what you need.”
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