Every so often

So after a week where I probably felt sorry for myself more than I should of.  I shook off some of the irritation going on and thought about life in general.

It still bothered me that I needed to cut ties with Angel.    That was a 9 year relationship that I wish hadn't gotten so ugly.  Not ugly as in a "omg we were so in love,   now you suck a lot" type.   But more of the I saw potential and now I see nothing but dragging me down.

Do I miss her?   Yes in some ways.   But I think it's more of missing what was and not what is today.   What is amazing right now is the idea that I somehow "betrayed" her.  Did I say what I felt?   Absolutely.   I always will if I say anything.   I think she's hurting,  but a lot of the pain was by her own cause and her own choice.  

But there comes that limit of watching someone wallow in the mud of their own life and dispair.  And when people throw out the rope to help,  they get out,  and then the person dives right back in.  You can only watch that so much before it's time to save the rope and walk away.  

And then there is the return of Laurel.    Yes,  that laurel.  The one that I had to ask to leave when she "gave up" on looking for a job or doing anything.    She will be back in burlington sometime next week.   And no doubt that it will be her knocking on my door again.   And as I have been told by friends,   my butt will be kicked hard,  fast and continuously if I allow her to live back in my house.

The debate is do I stretch out anything in my hand to help.   She needs to be in a church,  but she's playing the joke wiccan version of life (not all wiccans are jokes,  but this is that variety of I can cast a spell and fix everything no natural consequence) type of practice.  The one that you find in any religion.

So that weighs on my mind of what will happen when the confrontation happens.  I know her,  I know people like her.  It will be peaches and cream but very little has changed for her.  She still is a victim and will be a victim as long as it gets what she needs.   I don't tolerate victims that well anymore.  

And then there is trying to get my head out of the sand and get physically better.  One more week where I couldn't answer the bell when it came to church.    One more sleepless night,  and one more where I can't get the answers I need.   its a continual playing of the same song.  You suck,  you need to do it for yourself but you still suck.

Something I can't afford to keep listening too.

Just call me Long Island Iced J

A friend of mine commented about relaxing at a friends house and having a long island iced tea.
As with many things,  it sparked a memory in me.   One of those adventures that some would say was good and others might not.   But it happened something like this

(the names have been changed to protect the not so innocent.  They know who they are,  and I love them to this day)

It was my 2nd year at college.  It was our version of spring break (since it was a catholic college,   I think they just rolled the catholic version of dice every year and that's when semester break was).   Being geeks we all had interim classes (3 weeks of classes such as the history of the math equation and an ode to edgar rice burroughs or something similar).    As a group we had planned on going to 6 flags over chicago for a much needed decompression.    The battle over where to go was fierce.    The last time we had headed out as a group was to go to Kansas City and world's of fun,  oceans of fun.   Unfortunately noone actually checked to see if it would be open (I still blame shaun on that one).   But that's for another story

Before we headed towards Chicago we had to meet some of the newest members of the gang.   They were friends of Rick (changed names remember) and Ann,  so I had no idea who they were.   But they seemed nice,  and at least playful.   You get the guage of a person when your lobbing quarters into someone's cleavage at a bar (before you jump on me,   this was about as low cut a shirt as you could get and she was seriously endowed.  Plus she was using the quarters to pay for her drinks.   So meh.......

One of the last ones of our group had to get one of those damned serious classes (probably essays on the genius that is wapner or something) so we were all going to wait for her to get done.    She was engaged to the guy that I was riding up with.  I had just gotten out of the hospital for the OMGth time and was still sore (you get enough needles for blood draws and iv's in your arm and tell me you don't look like a drug addict).

We ended up waiting and waiting for the class to be over.   There had been some rumblings of some bad juju going on due to some personal dynamics that really isn't important to this story.  But in the long run, an engagement got called off,   lots of people being upset and not sure who should go and I'm sitting there hoping that I can at least keep the guy driving the car together so that I don't become a spot on the highway.

We will fast forward to 85mpg driving around the chicago loop,   Myself calling off traffic at 8 at night like I was calling dive bombers in world war II.  But we made it safely to the hotel.    Got up to our rooms and I needed a drink.   Badly.  The night before was the first time I had seriously gotten plastered
(probably about half a bottle of SoCo lived with me that night).    So I went down to the bar to get a Long Island Iced Tea.    Now this was one of the real ones.   All the different levels,  the bitters and the punch right up side the head that a good one will give you.    I drank it,  went back upstairs and my roommate for the night was pissed and depressed like a puppy dog you had never known.

One of the people who went was us had demonstrated she had had a huge crush on Rick,   and had made it no bones that if he hadn't been engaged she would have jumped him.    As I got back into the room he basically called me an A@@hole.  For all the things that had happened I couldn't think what had gone wrong or how it was my fault.  After about 5 minutes of him hubbubbing around it,  he basically told me this girl had came into the room when I had gone downstairs,  and she basically jumped his bones.  Now understand Rick was about 6'5 and probably around 225 lbs.   The girl was 4 foot 8 on a good day and maybe around 130 lbs.   Not sure really who jumped who on that one.    So after I laughed for the next 30 minutes,   stopped took a breath and then laughed again for another 30 minutes I went to sleep.

The next day was going to 6 flags,  and if you wanted to see a giant of a red haired man being scared of a woman the size of a gnome,    I knew I should have taken pictures of that one.  It was incredibly funny.

That's my story,  and I'm sticking to it.

Silence to the masses

After 41 years of life.  There is one very important thing that I learned early,  and is reinforced to the core of all things in ones life.  People are stupid when they believe that their opinions mean anything to me.

 

My friends,  my true friends,  the ones that have been in my thoughts for years and continue to be there.   Their opinions are as good as gold to me.    They provide a drive and determination to hopefully at times get my life straight to where it’s supposed to be.

 

But there are too an occasionally few that feel the need to chirp their views,  mostly in the hopes that they’re little lives might be more enriched by throwing mud.    In the hopes that something might stick and their faults and foibles won’t be as apparent.

 

Today’s unloaded weapon in a battle of wits has been a repeat offender in this category.    If it’s not this misguided belief that I am an easy mark for his stupidity.  It is this belief that I’m going to actually take the time to fly to his place wallowing in his own self created mud hole so that he might ‘kick my ass”.   A feat that many have tried,  and many failed miserably.

 

Funny thing is that even writing in a journal about him and his little fantasies of being important,   gives more

credit and attention than it richly deserves.    To offer anything other than silence is the ultimate in uncaring

and apathy.   Whether agree or disagre,   to ignore someone means they are not even worth the time

to respond.   But then of course,   a captive mind and incapable of logical thinking would only accept this

as cowardice.   Definitely something I am not.   I choose my fights,  and in this case.  It isn’t worth the time

to destroy a person that life has already claimed as refuse.

 

The interesting thing is that it’s a cancer to see people like this,  that they don’t have any idea how to be

a “real man”,  but run around claiming that drinking with friends while their family is sick is needed.   That working half assed jobs and being a half assed human being is equal to the task of being a man,  a father,  a fiancée and even a productive member of society.   

 

While reading Xenocide by Orson Scott Card,  the idea of He who is without sin is presented in a different context.    A Priest comes along to a mob who is about to execute a prostitute.   Quoting scripture of “He who is without sin let him cast the first stone”  The crowd dropped their rocks and went their way.   IN one instance the Priest  picked up the Prostitute and led her to the church to ask for repentance.  In another instance the Priest ended up picking up a rock and executing the prostitute,   stating that if we waited for perfection to execute the law,  then there would be only chaos (paraphrased from the original book).

 

Which one is the realist.    To expect perfection from someone who points out a flaw of an attacker?  Or

someone who walks away and says it isn’t worth the time or the effort to convert,  especially when conversion

is impossible.    So you just let them stand in their own self created filth,   rattle their toy sabres until they have

lost or driven away everything good in their life.   And that wall of chaos and self pity breaks in.   And consumes the refuse to be recycled again.

 

But then there is a 3rd option,   pity,   not even sympathy,  or apathy.  But pity.   Simply becuase it is

these types of people that poison others that touch them.    They poison the fields for their children out of self loathing and self hatred,   all the while blaming society for their lack of self worth.  blaming loved ones that aren’t serving their warped view of purpose for them.    Or blaming anything but themselves for their lack of

ability or ability to create their own self destruction.

 

In the long run,  and the most important thing to see,  is that the unaware of their own position on the social food chain just below cow mucus.  It goes over their head with big words and concepts.    The world is there to control or to whine about,  til it rejects them as being outsiders.     And that of course is someone else’s fault again.   A catch 22 is created to continue to cycle of worthlessness.

 

 

Blah Blah Blah is my start,   Blah blah blah is my finish in response.   

To Doubt. . To frenzy. . . To wait

Today brings me into a very strange feeling.     The tightening of the mental muscles that happen when it’s becoming time to pounce on something.   Now pouncing is a fine art form to say the least.  But When you don’t know the target,  it becomes a question of when and where.

 

The past two weeks have felt pretty good having taken some time from playing WOW.  Even though it’s brew fest,  which is one of my favorite game holidays the grind of daily wow life was sucking too much from me.  And I wasn’t getting the things done that I needed to finish.  It’s too easy to wake up in the morning,  answer some emails,   jump onto the game,  and that hour becomes two or three.  grab lunch and then pop back on.   All while the errands that where are not earth shattering to finish,  aren’t getting done.  The exercise wheel is sitting at the gym not being used to it’s maximum and the butt prints in my chair getting just a little bit deeper.

 

It might be the change in weather.   Dropping from the ugly 80’s to a much more comfortable 50-60’s.  Or the difference in instead of having the tv on all the time,   turning on music and letting it play in the background.   Or a combination of many different things.   

 

Finding myself in a similar quandary on defining myself.    It would be much easier to be definied by others.  But then most people pigeonhole others into what they understand,  or what they can accept in little bit sized pieces.   The rest that doesn’t fit into their pattern gets cut off with the unvoiced cookie cutters of people’s vision.   Not to say that it doesn’t happen to the best of us.  But it is a shortcut instead of accepting people for who they are and what they do.

 

What really defines us.  is it that mythical line in the sand that says “Do no cross this line”.   A friend of mine commented on something I had said,  that if anyone wanted the rules that I play by they can just ask.   The view of them was that didn’t I change those as I go.   To me that smacks too much of situational ethics.  something that I think ends up becoming the weaker of anything a man/woman can do in their lives.   There must always be a line that they won’t cross and in certain situations they will react as such.    That's what is the the mark of a human being.    Not the nickname,  or the titles or the degrees standing behind their names.

 

But even when one has crossed a line,  can it be crossed back into a comfort zone?  I would say no,  because once that line is crossed,  it becomes it’s own personality drug and it will be that much easier to cross again.   If you lie to someone,  it becomes that much easier to lie to them.  If you desert someone,  abuse someone or even love someone it becomes that much easier.    To me even the lines become hard as rocks for the good things,  Love and Life twisted in it’s own dance for dominion.

 

To rebuild a car,  you strip the frame for the unnecessary and broken items and build from there.  Sometimes you cast off things that are only dragging the project down.   You repair and polish what can be salvaged and you keep what is working.   Even in the human body and the human mind you have to break down to build up.  Otherwise you’re just stacking pain on pain and confusion on confusion.    And the iceberg gets built all over again (and the Twinkies taste that much more bitter,  but they call on you that much louder).

 

In the end will it be worth it.   Can a 40 year old man be rebuilt into something better and stronger.   I will never be the 6 million dollar man.   But that destiny still craves to be torn into voraciously with no abandon

and no regrets.    Condemnation getting removed from the eyes I see in the mirror every day

 

Peace and Light. 

Truth . . . Tooth and Nail

When you start counseling,  whether it’s at a church or an office.   You have two choices.

To tell the truth,  or to hold back and try to keep certain things secret.

 

For the most part if you want solutions,  you really can’t hold back that much.   But having

a “if it’s not asked about I’m not going to volunteer it” policy has always worked for me.    When it comes to counseling services,  I have my trust issues.

 

I first started going to counseling when I was 19.  I was doing the lump on the couch bit after not graduating high school.   Having had a total mental collapse emotionally I was looking for answers.   Whether it was chemical or situational and could it actually be solved.    Going to the office,  sitting there and talking to the doctor for the medication or talking to the therapist for the allotted 50 minutes (but yet getting charged for an hour).   It pretty much became a routine.    Then finding out that what I was saying and what was being reported was two entirely different things caused me to reconsider quickly whether this was a waste of my time.   That reconsideration took all of 10 minutes when I showed them the one finger salute and said see yak.

 

Off and on during the next 20 years trying medications,   dropping them because they weren’t working or things were getting better.  It became a circle of denial that I could handle the problems by either just ignoring them,  or stomping them down with the increasing of attitude problems and circling the wagons of my own life.   

 

But something changed in the past month or so.  With the passing of Freija,  it drove a stake somewhere that hasn’t been able to be dug out.   My compassion for the human race was at an all-time low.  But somewhere I lost a little bit more humanity and it dropped below the threshold of survival.    I never became depressed enough to leave the world.   That just isn’t me anymore.  But I closed up the walls and started shutting out the people and the things that meant the most to me.  

 

Which leads me to the counseling I’m currently seeking now.    It’s through my church (yes,  for those keeping score at home,  I go to church.  Deal with it).   I”m not sure how the program will work for me.  Every time I’ve even looked at counseling through the church I start poking holes in it.    Put two people together you get spirituality.  Put three people together you get religion.  Put four together and you get hypocrisy

 

Now,  to set the story from the start.  The counseling is from someone who I have known in the church for 30+ years.    Where it’s very difficult for me to trust people in the church,  they are close to reaching that line of being able to trust them.   At least til I feel the knife in the back.    Some of the knowledge that has gone on in my life directly inscribes from the church and some of it’s actions.    The trust issue that exists is well deserved as a whole.    There are benefits of being ignorant.

 

My first assignment was to write about how I felt about my brother.   If there is one thing I learned while writing it.  I can’t write essays worth crap anymore.  It was disjointed and rambling.  Partway 1st person and partway 3rd person.     So if it became an English grade I failed miserably.  But the paper hopefully touched the high and low points of my relaitonship with my brother.   

 

This week’s homework will entail on how I feel about God.  I think it will probably start off with the idea that he has a wicked sense of humor if he has servants like us.    And just how many people will stand in front of him saying “I did this for you” and he will look down and say “Really?”

 

I wonder just at what point will my relationships with others start to be questioned.    My mother in the past couple of weeks has been asking some very strange questions.    Today’s was “If I moved to Indiana would I move there with her”.    Think everyone knows that Indianapolis is on my short list of where I would move

and plan to ultimately.    but her questions was about moving to the evansville/booneville area.  I honestly have as much interesting in moving to that area as shooting myself in the foot with rocksalt and then adding acid just for the extra feeling.   

 

I was reminded when Laurel was living with me a couple of years ago.  Now understand we never dated

and it was made plainly clear that sudden ice storm in hell would happen before it would occur.    So when I asked her what she was going to do when I moved to another town,  she had told me that she was just assuming she would go with me).    Now I’ve always believed that it’s fine if you are moving and someone you’re in a committed relationship with will move with you.     But pretty much have no plans on dragging a roommate with me if/when I was moving.    And even now I would feel the same.   So it would be really strange for the idea of moving to Indiana just because my mom moved there.    Think it would be just one more nail in the coffin of being a mama’s boy instead of a man on my own two feet.

 

Along with the discussion with my counselor.  I wanted to make one thing very clear.   That the minute we got to a point that I was told that I should act as a victim.  I would be done.  I am no victim.   I may have been victimized in my past with relationships and have some major issues.   I refuse to stand and say “pity me,  I”m a victim”.    Noone gets their problems solved by being a victim.  They just get temporary help and never find their way out of the mudpit of their own devices.

 

Part of me still wonders if this is the road I should be taking.    So many glitches in the system on how I feel about organized religion and the church in general.   I wonder if it’s possible for them to actually help or will it just become a temp bandage.   Only to become infected again and have to look inside for more safety.

 

BTW>  I restarted this journal simply because I needed the Truth.  Not to impress or to confess or even to

mesmerize people with my writing abilities or lack of.   If you read this,  don’t like what I have to say or if it offends you.    Sorry to hear that.    If you find yourself looking less of me.  Sorry to hear that as well.

 

Be good. .  Be Bad. . . just never be boring

Why We Apologize

Yesterday while I was trying to make it through a day with the small ones at church,   someone from my past approached me.

 

I guess they were in town for a visit.  I had heard smatterings of what they had been doing with their lives.   But for the most part it was something that I had set aside and really didn’t worry about.  

Just before I was going to go home,  mostly because I had been having a queasy stomach for the past couple of days.  They wanted to talk to me.   We sat down and he proceeded to tell me that he had felt he hadn’t been fair to me when we had been growing up.   Somewhere he had felt the need to apologize for what had occurred.

 

Now,  the problem existed for me is this.  I really don’t remember what happened if anything happened between us.  I’m pretty sure we didn’t swap anything in the shower or that my face was never pushed into a snow bank.   Other than the normal average things that occur between kids growing up.

 

This doesn’t preclude the idea that there was some social assassination happening behind my bank.    I never considered myself a popular kid,  and for the most part kept to myself.  Trying to be who I was.   Sometimes this irritated the masses because I wasn’t revolving around the social circles and would interfere with my goals and be successful when it interrupted theirs.  

 

But in the long run,  I really couldn’t remember anything that required an apology.  But I felt he was sincere in wanting my forgiveness so I offered it to him and then went home.  But it brought my mind spinning to the idea of what could have occurred that made him have to gain my apology.  But then I guess everyone needs a cleansing of the soul once in a while.

 

It did make me wonder why people apologize.   If there is truly a way of apologizing to someone if they don’t remember what occurred.  Or even if there is an all encompassing apology that covers everything.   Without the need to spell out an idea of what happened.  

 

Or the idea that it really wasn’t for my benefit.  But for the benefit of the person who asked for my forgiveness.  

 

Way too many things to wonder about a simple conversation I guess.