Language: Course for Human Suffering

In all things there is a caveat to things I have to say.  One of them is that I do not have perfect grammar.  Also in no way would I classify myself as a 'grammar Nazi'.   Though I said in the past year or so some of the most special people in my life have rubbed their grammatical expertise on me.

The idea of words and grammar has also become important to me specifically in the past two years now since I am a technical 'professional' writer.   This mostly means I get paid some sort of pittance for my typing on a keyboard a few moments a week.

What does bug me at times is the idea that words can become frivolous in their usage.  Grammar aside (just ask about the legendary discussion with my brother about the usage of 'irregardless'.) the biggest threat to our culture and being human is the ability for people to be responsible for the words they say.  Somewhere both in real life and on the internet people have forgotten that they can get punched in the mouth very quickly.

Of course I would never punch a friend unless it was really useful or really funny.   Ask my friends and hopefully they will see me as a lover and not a fighter.  I would say ask my enemies, but usually they are hiding under rocks and trees looking to escape from their own fantasy world of importance.   

Having spent almost 20 years (yes gang,  almost 20 years in its different versions) very little phases or surprise me.  The cons that people unfortunately fall for being the same cons that were done in paper form and on rudimentary internet pages before home computers became affordable.  I was tinkering around on dial up bbs's in the middle 80's (don't tell my mom and please never let her watch the movie Wargames again).   Anonymous punks just as long as someone's opinion were put on the screen for others to read.  

What tends to bother me the most is when people that I actually know will say painful and hurtful things to others.  This isn't a matter of disagreement,  but just simply screaming and cursing someone simply to fulfill an argument.   That is the sad thing about communication.  People can communicate pain much easier than they can communicate ideas to others.   There is always a certain amount of anger and pain towards someone we know.  It may be buried away somewhere inside of us,  but everyone has disappointed someone else at some point.   Far too many people use that as a weapon when they are angry or frustrated at another.

I play World of Warcraft almost daily.  It is what I get paid to play and to learn and teach.   Tonight and this weekend, Blizzard announced that they are going to be delaying the next expansion til late in the fall.   This ended up being another 6 months of the same content.  For some reason this sparked a very aggressive stance on many things shared.  There are open communication channels inside the game that allow people to speak across 'zones' to other players in those zones.  Usually they are used to answer questions and obtain information.  Sometimes they are used to harass others or cause anger from others.  The term 'Troll' has been used to describe these for many years of group gaming.  This goes beyond instigating for humor or entertainment but simply anger being brushed out in words.

Never say that I haven't made my share of people angry in my life.  Just ask some of my ex girlfriends just how frustrating, I can be.   Easier to find my friends who will tell you that I can be frustrating.  But words carry so much weight with them that they become less of a scapel and more of a club.  Words such as hate and love carrying just as much power behind them when they are swung around.

I am no philosopher.   Or as was said in the movie History of the World Part 1 a 'stand up philosopher'.  Just being a human being on the same road that everyone else walks with a mental pad and paper in my hand watching as people join me and leave me.

The battle with all things is to watch what I do first.  When was the last time I hurt someone with my words out of anger.  When was the last time that I shared something that helped someone else.  A kind word or to help them believe that they are human as well.  Did I add anything to the tapestry of life today?   Did I unravel some of the strings and start to lose someone in my life again.   Perhaps even worse is when I stay silent and involved in my own version of the Bat cave.  Surrounded by memories and walls that others do not dare to try to climb.

My mother taught me for many years to clean up your own house before looking to clean others.   Coming from a person that rarely a harsh word out of anger was spread for others to hear I can see her point.  It becomes easy to point out the faults and the pain others cause without seeing the horror show we can bring to others.  A friendly verbal smack on the back of the head becomes a dangerous abuse at the wrong time.   Never to be forgotten when that person is down and needs a hug.  We never truly know how someone might feel in their life that some point.  

So to clean up my life first I look at my speech patterns.   Do I show love to the children I see on Sunday even in my gruff manner?  Do my friends know I love them and care about them.  Does my family see it when they need me?   Or do they see the wall again to not anger the Dragon unless you want to see the full blunt of imagined hatred for them.  

That is always the question answer in everything both I and others do.  What do people see in speech patterns in both the good and the bad days.  Do they ask the questions or just assume that they are next on the firing line to be massacred by a verbal tirade?

Always questions to answer in the future weeks.

Joseph Douglas

Book-A-Holic

My name is Joseph and I am a book-a holic.

As I was growing up, I was the kid in the back at school that enjoyed spending time inside more than going out and playing in the playground.  To me there was nothing wrong with enjoying a book against getting bullied out on the playground.  Not being a big kid at the time (my growth spurt happened during late high school years) my protection was found bound with glue and paper.

My ability to read and comprehend at an advanced level left me with little options but to go to higher graded classes for my reading.  In first grade I would be found 2 hours a day sitting in the 5th grade class listening and reading at even a more advanced level than they could.  This added a little bit more of isolation from both older kids as well as younger kids.

Do you remember how the kids were able to order books from the Scholastic book learning program?   This system is what introduced me to Sherlock Holmes,  Encyclopedia Brown and a vast amount of characters.  My eternal thankfulness to my mother for providing me with books to read.  Where we might not have been able to find the money for the newest play toy to be lost in the closet three weeks later,  there was always room for books from the local store.  

This book buying program was also where I first learned to be prepared for anything.   16 kids in my 2nd grade class would order books.  The latest in Babysitters club and other younger reading books would be ordered.  Some of the kids in my class wouldn't touch a book even if they were told there was a dollar bill in the middle.   Some of my fellow classmates would look and find one or two books.   Almost always when it was book delivery time there were two boxes.  One box that served the needs of the other 15 kids in my class.  One box that would almost be entirely my books as well as any 'free' things they threw in.  Even at that time I knew the value of books in my life.  The smell of freshly opened pages that I could find my next adventure.

Through books and my love for them I also learned that not everyone would understand.  Many trips with my church group I would have five or six books in a bag as well as paper and pencils for writing.  The first thirty minutes I would find myself reading why other kids in the back told the latest fart joke they had heard.  Bouncing up and down on the seat was their favorite past time to waste time and energy.  Someone would spend some of that energy teasing me that I had my head stuck in a book hiding from the world.  Having put on my paper armor from the start I ignored them as they found some other prey to attack.

But the same occurrence happened time and time again.  Somewhere during the long arduous trip someone would sneak up on me and sit at the bench across from my paper fortress.  Clearing their throat to get my attention they would silently ask if there was a book they could borrow.  Even a piece of paper and a pencil so they could pass the time.  No one had been presented with a better opportunity to strike.  Entering my domain in supplicant and expectation that I would feed their need.   Boredom taking over their existence for a moment.   Time had presented me with a belief that I could be the bully to them.

Then I realized even at that age they were just as lost in their own prison.  Where I had my key to escape the cage of their own creation they had nothing.  Cheap jokes and the latest entertainment were lost and they could come back to what they knew the least about.  Knowing that the written word was freedom for anyone,  yet it has been just beyond their grasp.

So I always had one or two 'throw away books' that I had second copies for.   Having loaned out books before I knew that they would not come back in the same condition I loaned them out as.   Usually after the long trips it would take me 10 or 20 minutes to find them in one of the seats or on the ground.   It was my sacrifice to offer to the book gods to maybe win someone over to the light side of the book force.

Why now present a story of a disciple to not just paper and print.  My doctrine and testament being found in between the pages of what novel strikes my wiles at that point..   Because books and communication has become a lost art form.  In today's society the quick text message or comment has replaced long term skills in reading and writing.  The book-a-holic conglomeration has hidden from the masses with our witty T-shirts and accepted geekdom status to allow others to take over the world.

Sometimes you present a story in case one person is hiding and not accepted who they are.   A story passed on that everyone shares.  Their first book love affair that no real romance can ever match.  The first adventure that no one but you can believe or understand.  First tears shed when your favorite character dies heroically.    No one can truly understand but they all can share that story for others to read.

My name is Joseph and I am a Book-a holic

Never cry wolf. Or the cops

So april fools day came and went.  And it seems my idea that I had developed for the 4 months prior was found with mixed interest.

I have yet to figure out whether it's the out and out hostility from some for what should have been apparently a ludicrous idea.  Or the apathy I received from some.

Here was the setup.  about 4 months ago I started dropping hints of marriage.   Little bits and pieces.   but the 2 weeks prior to April 1st I turned up the heat.   Started putting up flight plans,   dropping hints of a trip and getting ready etc.   When I entered the idea, I had two rules I played by.  I would not lie (I would mislead and let people's minds invent directions,  but I would not out and out lie.).   The other thing I said is that if someone asked me directly if I was getting married or engaged,  I would tell them the truth completely and let them in on the joke.

Now,  the non lying thing got difficult at times.   Looking through my facebook posts most of what I put up there was allowing supposition from others to run rampant.   Just because I commented that "tickets were available to fly to reno" didn't mean I bought a ticket,  it meant just that.  They were available for purchase.
A few lookup's online and I got the information for cab rides in reno,   time frames etc.   All implying a big trip when I was still tucked at home.  There were comments that it was very obvious to me that it was a ruse (when someone posts up "I hope that tomorrow I wake up and it's not make believe" the day before april fools day,  then it should set off some red lights and sirens.

The other thing that should have set off the idea that it was a ruse was me just picking up,  marrying someone without telling certain people in my life.   It just won't happen no matter how much I care about a person.  I have too much responsibility and also safeguards for doing something stupid.   At least at the time I figured that it should have been obvious that I would ask my best friends what they thought,  and even making sure they would make it to the wedding or a party etc.   But alas that didn't seem to occur to anyone.

Now to me,  when the initial shock wears off,  I love a good joke.  And especially if someone has fooled me in a non destructive way.   But for some reason this pissed off certain friends that i would "dare" to do something like this.   Changing my relationship status on facebook,   the whole trick seemed to infuriate some into wondering why I would be so rude and mean.   A few understood why it was funny,  though there was some collateral damage (Kimmie buying me a wedding present was unexpected and will have to be worked out).  But it seemed that the ones that at one point had been interested in me,  or have at times put me on the "always there in case I need a backup plan" were the ones that got upset the most.  

So I have bounced between being irritated about this,  and at times wondering why even try anymore.   But the thing I'm not sure about is the apathy from some.   I have about 33 names on my friends list on facebook.  I've always been very selective of friends,   mostly because those are the people I care about or have/will care about.  I'm never going to be the "1000" friends club facebook friends kind of person.   I don't even know the names of 1000 people.   They aren't my friends,  etc.   but even out of 33 I got a few congratulations but the majority didn't even seem to offer a whisper.   This disturbed me a bit.

Starting to wonder in my mind.  Had I misled myself into thinking that facebook was even real to a point?   Were the people truly friends,  or had I gone back to being a faceless blob on the screen that would always be there.    I don't quite have the answer yet to this one.  

Now,   that night was hard enough with all these questions flashed through my head.  But I received a phone call about 11:30 at night.  Most of my friends don't call me unless they need something,  and they will txt me to make sure I'm still awake.   It was from Angel (long detailed history there).  I was suprised so I picked up the phone to see what was going on.   All I heard was what sounded like choking or spitting,  things that didn't sound good.  I kept on asking if she was okay,  asking her to press the button on the phone etc.

I ended up disconnecting and trying to call again (thinking maybe it was just a horrid connection) and got voicemail.   Now I went to concerned because no matter what,  I didn't want angel to be harmed or hurt or injured.   I asked a mutual acquaintance that lived in the area if she could call to see if she could get ahold of her.  Ultimately I asked the acquaintance to call the cops for a wellness check (got the address from her ex).   This is a standard thing for cops to do,  it's what they get paid to do.  I've had it happen a few times on me,  It's slightly embarrassing but definitely better than being dead on the floor.

So I got a txt message from angel (it was her boyfriend typing I guess) that he never wanted me to txt or talk to her again blah blah blah.   I guess somehow I had caused drama in their family by actually making sure that noone was injured or dead.

The next morning I got a message from angel saying "you know my boyfriend lives with me",   "Do you really think he would let anything happen to me"?

Now logically,  how was I supposed to know if something had happened?   I get a random phone call from someone who sounded like they were choking.   I had no way of knowing if he was there,  or out gallivanting trying to be a professional wrestler (good luck with that.   Don't let the Disability assessors find out).   So I'm always going to err on making sure someone is safe.   Again,  little embarrassment against someone being dead.   Also side on the little embarrassment.  I never responded because I had no response that wasn't going to cause a heated argument.   Probably lost a friend,  but as many have stated,   they question how much of a loss it truly was.   There just comes a time that the jerry springer moments have to stop.

As I start to eliminate drama in my life to walk a better path.  I can see where the traps are that seem to want to drag me back in the mud.

Good luck and good hunting

Joey

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.