The Year In Review..... Yeah Right!!!!

I cannot, in good conscience, bore and/or depress the Hell out of you people by doing a review of my experiences during the year of our Lord, 2008. I will, however, proselytize on some of the high and low times. This way I can discuss what I have learned, make you smile and maybe, just maybe, make you think. The year was marked with a great deal of turmoil. Amidst the turmoil, though, I managed to have some of the best times with Vivian that I think I have ever had. I cannot even count how many wonderful hikes we went on where we just zoned out and tuned into nature together. We had so many wonderful hikes in Usery Mountain Park where we identified animal tracks and examined poop!! My delicate little "Fashion Queen" telling me the difference between coyote and dog poop is a memory I will have for a very long time. Watching her grow and blossom over this last year has caused my head to spin on many occasions. The fart noises, the tickle tortures, the fashion shows, the dancing/singing concerts, the walks, the hikes.... All of it was just so incredible. Showing her a centipede for the first time and watching her perform in her 2nd Grade play were 2 highlights I won't soon forget. She is such an amazing spirit. She is such an attitude queen. She is her Father's Daughter. In addition to the wonderful and plentiful memories of Vivian over the last year, there were also some personal lows that I experienced. Up to and including my attempts at taking my own life. These were lows, yes. They were VERY dark times in my life that were the end result of a lot of dishonesty and poor self-esteem. The positive? Is there any? Yes. I learned a lot about myself. I learned a lot about those around me. I learned a lot about those closest to me. I learned that I need to love myself before I can even pretend to love someone else. This includes family and friends. I have always liked myself. Just never learned to love me. I am learning. One Day At A Time. It's hard to love yourself when you are not the person you think you should be. The fact is, you have to find a way to love yourself unconditionally. I am learning to do this by modeling my self-love (sounds kinky) after the unconditional love I have for my daughter (not so kinky). I am having to teach myself this skill. It should be second nature, like breathing. I am getting there. I started by remaining positive over the Christmas season. I continue to do it by losing more weight and eating healthier. It's amazing what a drop in jean sizes can do for the old self-love. I learned over this past year that when all is said and done, you only have yourself to blame when things go bad. You make certain choices and you must accept the choices you have made. Accepting the choices means accepting the outcome and then, moving on. It has been a wild ride of a year for me. Too many ups and downs to count and recount. Suffice it to say, it has been a pivotal year in my life and I look forward to what 2009 has in store. I hope you are all able to reflect with a smile on at least some part of your past year and are especially able to look as forward as I am to the next!!! Happy New Year!!!!

Is It Over Yet....?

Christmas is over. Wow. Even as I type those few words, I realize how very sad the statement is. It's all over for another year and we are to go right into making resolutions and celebrating the passing of one year and welcome a New Year. I don't know if I am ready for it to be over yet. I made a promise to myself that I was going to avoid my usual "Bah Humbug" attitude and not be a grinch this year and I fulfilled that promise. I did it despite others around me and not around me trying very hard to drag me down. There was a lot of terrible news and incidents that took place around the country this year, including some local, that made it hard to see the Christmas Spirit at work. I looked far and wide and I looked right in my own backyard for that Spirit and although it was hard, at times, I found it. I found it in my daughter's smile. Amazing, huh? Something so small. Yet bigger than life itself. I also found it in the fact that I continued my quest for better health and instead of gaining weight over the holidays, I lost more. The 38's are starting to get too loose now. May be down to a 36 by the end of the month, God willing. I stayed sober over the holidays. Been able to do it in past years but somehow, this year seemed sweeter. I managed to move on. From so many things. All of these reasons showed me the Spirit. They helped me stay positive in this time that for so long was a negative time for me. A time that very well could have been negative this time around due to recent events in my life. I didn't let it get negative, though. That is the embodiment of the Spirit right there if you ask me!!!!!

Merry Christmas!!

Just wanted to take a short minute and wish EVERYONE who reads my words a Merry Christmas. Regardless of who you are, how you came to read my writing, whether you like me or not. I want you all to have a Merry Christmas. It is great that this is the one time of year that I can say something to everyone, no matter who they are, and mean it. Most of my writing effects just a few people or is directed at a segment of readers who I am trying to reach but this short note goes out to all. Every last one of you. I know I plan to have a great Christmas. It will be hectic with trying desperately to coordinate schedules and be with which family members at whose house at what time but I will be busy making the best of it with a smile on my face. I have to. I am lucky to be around this Christmas. I almost wasn't. I have so much to be thankful for that I am going to make this year a Grinch free Christmas. And in doing so for myself, I am going to wish the same for everyone else. People, love the ones around you. Thank God for the season. Celebrate the birth of Our Saviour with vim and vigor. Love those who can't be around you. Love those who have done wrong. They need it, too. This is the time of year when we can put aside our differences for just a few minutes and wish someone a Merry Christmas that we may not have otherwise. It's time, people. This is the time. If the Reason for the Season has taught us anything, it is that "To err is human, to forgive is divine." This does not wipe the slate clean for those we have done wrong to or who have wronged us. It just gives us a moment to put aside the wrongs and give a healthy, hearty Merry Christmas to those who could really use it. Sinners gots feelin's, too. Okay, I have rambled enough. I was just going to say Merry Christmas and I ended up preaching. Well, you know me. Merry Christmas to all. Please enjoy your Holidays. Please enjoy your families and friends. Please enjoy the giving and the receiving. Please enjoy the Reason for the Season!!! MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!!

More Wisdom From A Wise Man....

I certainly hope you did not assume that I was speaking about myself in the title. I am "Trivial Pursuit" smart. I know my English. Been down a few roads, but I ain't no WISE MAN..... I thank you for thinking of me that way but, alas, I am speaking of Spencer Tracy. Actually, his character in "Inherit the Wind," Henry Drummond, gave us the wisdom I am about to impart. So, I guess that means the screenwriter should actually get the credit...... Aw, to Hell with it..... Spencer said it, so deal with it. He was asked by his friend why they had grown apart after all of the years. How had he strayed so far from the friendship? His response was classic, timeless and very wise. He stated, "Perhaps it is you, my friend, who has moved away by standing still." Pearls people. This is what I am all about. Now, I know you are wondering what this has to do with the price of tea in China... Well, if you read my most recent blog, you read a touching take on moving on. The final thought was about moving forward and how it cannot be achieved by standing still. Still wondering where I am going with this? It's okay. I am too. I gotta be honest with y'all, when I started this I was fairly certain I had a direction... Let me see.... What was I thinking...? Expounding on the standing still vs. moving forward..... Oh, okay!!!! I know!!!! How can you move forward when something always seems to take you a step or two back. It can be something you have control over or not. Whatever it is, it impedes your progress. Just when you thought you were ready to start the race, you get pulled back. Someone grabs the back of your shirt and yanks you off the starting line. Seemingly for no reason whatsoever. It's weird, isn't it? Always seems to happen that way. Another thing happens when you are trying to take those first few steps and get going. You look around you and see everything else moving so goddamn fast you wonder how you will ever keep up. You become almost discouraged. Afraid to start. Feeling like things are so stacked against you why even take the first step. You will only get passed up. Or fall down. Or get pulled off the track by something. It's hard to move forward. So very hard. You just have to do it. It's part of life. You have to let someone or something pull you off the starting point just to humble you now and then. The key is to shake it off and get going. You cannot worry about all of the other influences around you being faster. They are going to be. There always is someone or something faster than you. Simple as that. I was watching Vivian play with a friend of hers today. I had climbed a tree at the park while she and her friend were planting pine cones and it slapped me like a ton of bricks.... She is moving so much faster than me. I was reminded of an amaZing poem that I had committed to memory and would like to share with you.

"Nature's first green is gold.

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf's aflower,

but only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf,

so Eden sank to grief.

So dawn goes down to gray.

Nothing gold can stay.

- Robert Frost

This poem reminds us that life moves fast. We have to realize that every moment is precious but it moves quick. Savor it, but keep in mind that we must keep moving. Life is life. We have to live it on life's terms. Not ours. When we start thinking we can beat this thing called life, we will lose every time. We can watch it speed by but we need to do so as we are running. Not standing still. Standing still gets us nowhere. Literally. Let them pull on your shirt. Let them pass you by. "Slow and steady wins the race." Words to live by, my dear friends. Words to live by.

THEY Say, "Easy Come, Easy Go..." I Say Bullshit!!

Am I alone in my thinking here, folks? It just seems to me that there are situations in your life that come along easily. They may come easily but they are often the hardest to let go of and move on. Why is this? I think I have narrowed it down to 3 reasons why this may seem to be the case. I want to analyze them now. The first being the lazy factor. When a situation arises in your life that has required little to no effort on your part, it's kinda cool. Then it goes away and you worry it may never happen again. The converse of this is when it comes easy and then goes, you worry that because you did not have to earn the situation, you lost it because you didn't have to work for it. The third reason is just that letting go is always hard to do no matter what. This reason being, in my opinion, the most controversial. Let's discuss the lazy factor. I will use a metaphor to explain this one. A person is sitting around doing nothing of consequence when they get a phone call saying they won a prize. No effort. Just a random thing. They claim the prize and find that it is the most useful, helpful, and special prize they have ever gotten. Soon, though, they break it. Irreplaceable. Never get another. That has got to hurt. That has to be so intensely heartbreaking. You had it. You didn't expect or ask for it. You loved it. Then ya done gone and broke it. I would think that makes it VERY hard to let go. It came in without your doing and went out because of your doing. Oh sure, it was an accident. You don't regret it. It just happened that way. But letting go..... Not easy at all. In the second situation, you actually worked very hard at obtaining it. We can use the prize analogy again. You were diligent. Labored and sweat to make sure you won the prize. You win!! Was the winning by sheer tenacity enough to sustain your pleasure regardless of the outcome? What if you broke it? Hey, at least you tried? Is that the case or would it be devastating because you worked so hard? I would imagine anything worth working for would be hard to let go. The third situation is that letting go is always hard to do and you just need to accept that. I see a great deal of controversy here because letting go can be very easy and very cleansing, at times. Sometimes letting go is the best thing that can happen for you. It's not ALWAYS hard. The key to any kind of letting go is keeping your regrets in check. Let me repeat that. The key to letting go is keeping the regrets in check. You will have regrets. We all do. You just need to make sure that you do not allow them to consume you. No matter how hard it is to let something go, we MUST ensure we are letting go for the right reasons. Not to erase the regret, but to embrace it. Accept what you have done or not done and move on. It is the only sure fire way let go, absolutely. With this letting go comes forward progress, which should be the ultimate goal in all of our lives. It should go without saying that you can't get very far by standing still.

Is It Just Me.....

Well, I got it. I finally got it. The Flu. I think. It was no cold. I know a cold. What had me on my ass for two straight days, barley able to get out of bed had to be the dreaded Flu. You know, that illness you go and get a shot to prevent you from getting it. Never got one of them things. Never thought I needed it. Never had anyone just ask if I wanted one. Never imagined I would want one. Until this year. Three months ago I was asked during a routine office visit with the doctor. The nurse was tending to several other ailments and had me well distracted as she asked if I wanted a Flu shot. I was smack dab in the middle of a breathing test that I almost passed out from so I thought I would just err on the side of caution since I knew my health has been compromised of late. She stuck me and sent me on my way. I have always heard that they are injecting you with a mild strain of the virus that is supposed to protect you from getting the bad one. With this knowledge, I braced myself for some flu-like symptoms and maybe a little bout with the bug. Nada. Zilch. Zip. For three freakin' months. I don't think it would take three months for that shot to make it's way through my body. No fat jokes here folks, remember, I am not as big as I used to be. I think I just full on got me that flu. Don't know from whom. Can't figure from where. I just know that for the previous years that I have gone without this miracle shot, I managed to make it through each "flu season" without being a notch on it's proverbial head post. The year I decide to get the shot, I become Flu's bitch. Back-ache, lethargy, difficulty breathing, sore head, sore throat.... The whole works. It has been awful. I am slowly coming out of it. Just a little bit at a time. The symptoms seem to be dissipating one at a time on their own schedule. They all hit me at once. Now they gotta leave slowly and one at a time. That just figures. I can almost hear them laughing as they exit this way. "Okay.... heh heh.... now you go sore throat....heh heh.... but walk reeeeaaaaaallll sloooooooowwww.......heh heh....... Now, after sore throat leaves, lethargy, you wait 3 hours and then you sloooooowwwwwlllllyyyyy make your way out....heh heh...." Bastards!!!!! I can hear you!!!!!! Oh great, now I am talking to my symptoms..... Is that a symptom? Either way. I am sitting here typing to you now and telling you to rest assured, there is one man who will NOT be getting a Flu shot next year. Yes, you guessed it. Me. No way. No how. I will take my chances.

Kids..... You Know I Love 'Em......

I keep getting reminded that Vivian is just a few years away from 13. In a month and 5 days, she will be exactly 5 years from this milestone. I want to take this opportunity to thank all of you who feel the need to remind me of this. Reminding me that when she hits 13, all Hell breaks loose. Literally. She will be overtaken by some kind of demon and no longer be my sweet little girl. Have you people forgotten that I taught Jr. High School? I know how these things work. I am already aware of the transformation that takes place in our children. Granted, my own child will be that nightmare times 1000, but I do not need the reminders. I am given little reminders and clues all of the time as to what is in store for me. I have been getting them for years. Let me explain. When she was just a tiny baby on up to a year old, I remember thinking, "I cannot wait until she can walk on her own." I thought how much less tired my arms would be. How great it would be to have her walk with me. Watching her walk to her Kindergarten class. I remember thinking this stuff. Then she could walk. Non-stop chasing her around the house. Running off too far ahead in a busy parking lot and scaring the shit out of me. Walking just far enough ahead, on purpose, at a crowded event to where I go into panic mode and give myself a coronary worrying about her. They all said when she was little and I wanted her to walk that I should be careful what I wish for.... Yeah.... Bite me!!! Then there was the excitement of her first words. The first thing I remember her saying coherently is "Wass dat?" She has not stopped asking questions since...... "Are chicken fingers really made from chicken's fingers, why are you so hairy, Daddy, why is Pluto not a planet anymore, what if a shark got into Grandma and Papa's pool, can McKenna play, why are you crying? Question after question. If I had known what came with the ability to talk, I would have not taught her English. Maybe Greek. Then, with the talking, there is also the advent and perfection of the negative response.... No, Not Fair, Never, Nope, Not Now, Now, Never mind. Ah, the long lost days of screaming and crying as a way to communicate. I really think I miss it. There was usually a reason for it and it could be taken care of. Now SHE has the answer for everything and I am the one crying and screaming. I remember getting so excited when you could actually see the voice recognition on her face when Daddy came into the room. Now I can't get her to recognize my voice at any volume level. To her, I am not only speaking a different language, but I am also saying it so quietly she cannot hear a word I say. It seems that things have gotten lost in translation. No means yes. Maybe means definitely. Now means whenever you get around to it. Please means....well, nothing. It is with all of this in mind that I say to you now, I have no expectations one way or the other for my little angel when she turns 13. If I expect the best, she will ensure that is not what happens. If I batten down the hatches for the worst, she will be the exception to the rule and not be all that bad. That is what I have learned. I have also learned that the sound of her laughing makes my heart smile. When she says "I Love You, Daddy," I melt away. I learned that she will always push her boundaries. That is how she grows. She is growing so freakin' fast. I think that is why all of the reminders of the fast approaching teen years get on my nerves. It's not that I don't want her to become 13. It's that I don't want her to grow up. It is all happening waaaaaayyyyy too fast. I know she has to. I know she wants to. I guess the good thing about that is that at least one of us will grow up. God knows I haven't yet.

Laugh!!!

How easily we forget. We refuse to remember that there are certain truths in this world. Sometimes we forget until it's too late. One of those truths is that laughter IS the best medicine. It can heal so many things. Conversely, laughter can cause damage if it is done AT someone but I am not focusing on this kind of laughter. I am focusing on the kind that heals. The kind that energizes. The kind that bonds. The kind that eases tension. We all need this kind of laughter. Desperately, it seems, at times. We fall into a rut and get down on ourselves or our situations. So far down, that it seems there is no way out. I am here to tell you that there is a way out. Laugh. Find a reason. Any reason. Turn on a movie that always works. Call a friend who can always make you laugh. Watch a TV show that you can laugh at or with. Watch those around you long enough. Someone is going to do something funny eventually. Make sure that you are open to laugh at it. Do something funny yourself! Laugh at yourself. You lose a lot of laughs if you can't laugh at your own folly. Sometimes we are the best source of our own laughter. I know I am. I say and do so much stupid/funny shit on a daily basis, it should be outlawed. Actually, I think it is in several countries. Hence, I don't travel much. Laughing is so easy to do. You just have to be open to it. I know that sometimes, things don't seem all that funny. This time of year with the stress, money issues, family tension etc. it seems especially hard to laugh. It is during these times that we really need to crank up our openness to laughter. Humor is everywhere. Tune in. Laugh. I promise, you will feel better. If you are bored, laugh. For no reason. It helps. If you are sad. Laugh. The sadness does not go away but at least for that short while, it's not in charge. You can start to heal faster if you just LAUGH!!!! I know that some people, like me, can use humor to an almost unhealthy level. This is mostly just unhealthy to the individual who does it though. The most damage it will do to those around them is causing a bladder control problem or a sore face. Neither of which are "bad" if laughter is what caused them. We need to collectively remember just how good laughing is for all of us. It is true that when you laugh the world laughs with you. Try it. I dare you!!!!

Riots, Recession and Corruption.... Oh My!!!

Ain't it a bitch? Just like I mentioned a few blogs back, this time of year is chock full of bad shit in the news that could easily make us lose sight of the true meaning of the season. Massive riots in Greece. A recession here at home and major political corruption in Illinois. It's enough to make you wonder what God has in store next this time of year. It's not enough that more people than ever are needing to hit the food banks. It's not enough that we still have soldiers being killed over there. It's just a part of the Big Picture, right? I know that sounds cynical but in a way, yes. We have to look at it that way. The riots in Greece. Damn shame what is going on over there. For being the birthplace of Democracy, there is an awful lot of nasty Police-State shit going down and the students and anarchists are exploiting it. Hence, bloody and violent riots. Don't see a quick end to this one folks. Recession here? Really? What was your first clue? The foreclosures? The repos? The job market? The down turn in all spending? Don't tell Grandma. She has gone over the top with V and the other girls this year as usual. As far as the corruption? Par for the course. Need a scandal this time of year, anyway. I feel bad for the folks from Illinois...... Nah, not really. What is important is that we stay focused. We think locally. We take care of what we can control. We smile a little more than usual. We say nice things to anyone who will listen. We love those closest to us just a little more than usual. We forgive. We extend a handshake and a Merry Christmas now and again. These are the things we are in control of. These are the the things we can do to keep our focus on the Reason for the Season. Keep it in mind folks. I know this was short but I hope it helped remind y'all of what you gotta do. I know it helped me. I have to do these things to keep my eyes on Jesus. The reason. God Bless and Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays and all that other crap..... Heh heh......

I Am Trying, I Mean, NOT Trying to Brag.....

It seems interesting to me. How much self-esteem can control how we feel all around. If our self-esteem is way down for some reason, we tend to be down on ourselves and subsequently down on everyone else. If we are feeling good about ourselves we tend to project a better mood. I recently got a big self-esteem boost so I hope it will translate to better moods all around. What is it that has boosted me? What has raised my spirits to the point of higher self-esteem? I fit into size 38 jeans. I know some are saying that I sound like a woman. Getting excited over jean sizes. Let me tell you folks something. The last time I wore 38 jeans, I was fresh out of High School and just starting my drinking career. After many years and many, many beers, I had managed to get myself big enough to need, at times, size 44 jeans. Over the last few years, I had gone back down to a steady 42. Now I am comfortable in a 38 Levi's Regular. Not Loose Fit. No, I am not turning into a woman and getting excited over some weight loss. I am just happy with myself that I have been trying to be more healthy and it is starting to show. With all of my health problems over the last few years and with all of the doctors saying the same thing about losing weight, it appears it has finally sunk in and started to take the proper effect. I have been trying to eat healthier. I have been walking more. I have cut down several things in my diet. Fast food and comfort food are no longer my staples. I actually have been able to force fruit down my gullet now and again. Drinking water a lot more than soda which has been the hardest thing to get used to. Anyone who knows me knows how much I freakin' LOVE soda. Dr. Pepper. Diet Pepsi. Sierra Mist. You name it, I love it. I have had to force myself to avoid them. It has been harder than ANYTHING I have tried to wean off of before. Quitting alcohol was so much easier. Water has been good to me though. It has quenched my thirst and come in handy when I was craving a soda. Just grab a bottle of Fiji Water instead of that Dr.P. Listen, I am the last person to preach about eating or drinking habits so I hope no one is taking it that way. I am just sharing what worked and is still working for me. Not trying to rub any one's nose in my success. Just want to share some good news for once. I am the poster boy for struggling with weight loss so I just thought maybe my good fortune could make someone else out there say, "Well, if fat ass can do it, I should be able to as well!!"

Fart Noises Are The Best...

Those of you that know me even slightly well know that I am not interested in bodily functions. Don't care to hear about your last bowel movement. Don't need to hear your nose being blown to pieces. Don't wanna look at the pus coming out of your recent surgery scar. Not stuff I like. Not stuff I want to discuss. Not stuff I care about in any way, shape, and/or form. This being said, I must throw in a caveat. An exception to the rule, as it were. Burping and farting. Nothing funnier than a well timed burp during a tense moment around the family dinner table on a holiday. No better way to enact revenge on a smart ass buddy than letting one rip from below in a closed up car on a hot Arizona day. Gas, for me, as a bodily function is okay. Where in the Hell am I going with this? What's the freakin' point? Well, I'll tell ya. Viv and I have had a great weekend this weekend but the highlight took place 15 minutes ago when she called me into the bathroom where she was taking a bath to show me how she makes fart noises with her rubber ducky...... I laughed so damn hard I think I hurt something. The look on her face when the sound came out louder than she or I had expected was priceless. I could do nothing but burst into a fit of laughter that caused me to strain something important. We did the Temple Lights. We saw Bolt. We hung out. I actually picked her up from school on Friday as a big surprise. We had Big Breakfast. We did Burger King. We had a great time swinging at the School Park. And what do you suppose we are both going to remember most about this weekend? The fart noises. They really were something else. Life-like!!!!! Good times, folks. It's the little things that make life worth living. I must remind myself everyday. I hope you guys do, too! Treasure the funny stuff. Hold onto to the laughs. One day, it will not be as funny. One day, it will all be gone. Kids grow up. We grow old (well, I need to grow up first, but I may get old one day...... speaking of, I let my hair grow out more than it has in 6 years a few weeks ago and discovered a great deal of gray..... I am too young for gray hair.....Oh shit, off the topic, as usual....). Fart noises will always be funny. So will burping. You just may not get as many chances to enjoy them when they are grown and gone.

"Let He That Is Without Sin...."

I've done a lot of bad shit in my life. Never murdered anyone. Just some bad shit. It is with this in mind that you must understand the following venting is kept in check. I do not want to come across as preachy. I refuse to sound "Holier Than Thou." I simply feel as though I need to get some things off of my chest that have been there for quite some time. Some have been harbored for many years. Some are recent. Doesn't matter. It really doesn't. If you are reading this and thinking it's about you, you are more than likely incorrect. Keep in mind, I have been trying to be so positive lately, that I almost forgot not all humans are capable of 24 hr happiness. I have anger issues. I have built up resentments. I have sadness. The trick is finding ways to release them in a healthy way. Venting on my blog without naming names and using as little foul language as possible seems, to me, to be a healthy way. Right? Tell me otherwise and I'll kick your ass..... Nah, not really. Okay then, let the ranting begin!!!! I guess my main beef when people relish in their shortcomings. Not only are they aware of the problems they have, they are almost proud of them. They wear them like a big Brownie button or Boy Scout badge. Now they only do this in certain company. Usually when it will benefit them in some way either directly and outwardly or indirectly and internally. They almost want everyone around to see just how bad they are but God forbid they be judged for it. They want they notoriety but they don't want to be notorious. They want to be famous when they are really heading towards becoming infamous. Some examples..... Henry Lee Lucas. Confessed to over 100 murders in Texas and across the country. Turned out, he had just committed 3. "Just" committed. I know. Sounds bad. Fact is, while he was playing head games with the police on all of these other murders he did not commit, the real killers were walking free. This is a man who has no conscience. No remorse. Does not feel the least bit of sympathy for the families of those victims he claimed to have killed. Not any concern for the families of the ones he DID kill either. O.J. Simpson. Need I say more? That man probably looked in the eyes of his own children and said he was innocent. No conscience. These are the type of people that just need to go away. These are extreme cases. We all have a few of these folks in our lives, they are just not capable of murder. They have no problem flaunting your pain in your face, though. I never relished in the pain I caused. I may have done it without conscience because of the way I am wired but I never relished in it. I never sat back and relived the moments that I did wrong and thought how great it was. If I can even think about ALL of the bad and stupid shit I have done, all I can do is cry about it. Real tears. Not the crocodile kind. Even though I am well on my way to healing, I must admit that I still have a great deal of difficult days. Reliving my wrongs. Wearing my hair shirt. I know I am not supposed to anymore. I guess I am just hard-wired for regret. The trick is, moving through it. Not relishing it. I will work on this. As well as ensuring that my days of the Bad Shit are over. Tall order. Has to be filled, though. I don't want to be like one of "those" people. I have to remember what I have done and LEARN from it so I NEVER do it again. God knows, I have a lot of learning to do. I'm gonna do it. ONE DAY AT A TIME! Okay. I feel better. Don't y'all????

I Am So Stoked About These New Songs....

I know, I know. I am pathetic. Third blog of the day. Second one about my goddamn music but I am sitting here on the computer just diggin' on my new music. Three songs are really kicking my ass with great thoughts. "Just Wait" by Blues Traveler, "Zor and Zam" by The Monkees and "Big Bad John" by Jimmy Dean. All three of these songs represent a different era of my life and are helping me to reflect on the great times I have had and why it is so important for me to fight my demons to ensure future great times! Have to start with "Big Bad John." Oh, the summers spent in the back seat of the station wagon driving across country with the fam. While it was happening, I thought I was in Hell. As I got older and reflected on all of the things I saw, things people I met and the music I listened to from the cassette player in that Buick, I realized how lucky I was that my folks chose that method of travel over flying. I would have never been exposed to so much and learned so many things. I also would have never been able to memorize a song that came out years before my parents were even married. Great song, great memories. Next is the very obscure but very powerful song "Zor and Zam." It was a little known song from one of the last Monkee's albums made and it was purely anti-war. The message of two great Kings calling for a war that no one shows up to was brilliant. It is hauntingly sung by Mickey Dolenz and it takes me back to an awkward time in most kid's lives but a time I treasure most. My early teens. Glasses, braces, headgear and acne be damned!!!! I still had a great time!!! The last song is "Just Wait." This one is a little more slow and actually came at a time in my life that was doused in booze. This song, when I heard it the first time, just grabbed my heart strings and pulled real hard. Did the same thing when I found it today. Same feelings all over again. It is a song of hope. A song of redemption. A song that reminds us that we are NOT the only ones with troubles and that if we just hold on for a little while longer, life can turn around in our favor. It's a simple message but one that we all seem to forget in times of stress, anger or sadness. I was always stressed, angry and sad when I was swimming in alcohol and so this song always reminded me that there was hope even for a miserable drunk such as myself. Sure enough, things got better. Took a while, but it always did. Especially now as I feel like I have hit what I hope to have been my last "rock bottom," I can listen to this song and fill myself with at least a glimmer of hope. That is always nice. Okay, I am done babbling about my new songs. Until the next batch of new music.......

Short Note With Some FYI.....

Who says every blog I write has to be long and drawn out? Certainly not me. Yes, I have a lot to say and my head is ALWAYS full of ideas but sometimes I just need to inform. The purpose here is to use my blog space as a bulletin space. I hardly ever read new bulletins but I will read a new blog in a minute. This gets me a larger audience if I have something to announce like I do right now. Nothing major. Just that I added some great fucking music to my play list. It is probably the most eclectic mixture that I have added since I started the damn thing. Blues Traveler, Les Miserables, Jimmy Dean, Metallica, a Disney love song, The Monkees, OMD, and so on.... Just check it out. Some great stuff happening. I love watching my music tastes grow and ebb and flow. It blows me away. Like watching a kid grow up. Anywho.... ENJOY THE MUSIC!!!!!

Norman

If you have been reading my blogs from the very beginning, you may remember a character by the name of Norman. The guy whose sole purpose is to ruin a person's day. Well, I decided to expound on Norman and make him into something more. Something other than just a blog. The first 2 chapters are done and I am now working on Chapter 3. I am taking a big step and publishing what I have so far here on this blog so I can get feedback. I want the feedback because I have sent the first 2 chapters off to some publishers that I found in a great book called "The Writer's Market." My wonderful father tracked the book down and I have put it to use. This has been a work in progress over the last year or so. Feel free to publicly or privately criticize. I can take it. I ain't scared. So here it is.....



NORMAN


Chapter 1

You think your job is a piece of shit? Try mine. I ruin your day. I don't mean in a meter-maid sort of way. It's a little more complicated than that. You see, I am dead. I no longer exist in your world. So, technically, I cannot give you a parking ticket. I am the guy that gets the meter-maid to give you the parking ticket. Okay, I know this is a little confusing. I understand that you are absolutely confused at this point and that you would probably appreciate some sort of explanation. Are you sitting down? This is going to take a while. Hope you have time. If you don't want to wait, if you don't feel like sitting around and listening to a dead guy explain how and why he gets to be the one that fucks up a perfectly good day, fine. Just don't get out of bed tomorrow. You're not going to want to. Trust me.
They say, begin at the beginning. So, let's try to do that. I guess I should tell you a little something about me. I'm 34 years old. Well, I was when I died. Not sure any more. I just know that the last age I remember being before I ended up here was 34. I was divorced, depressed, tired, stressed and unhappy. I was looking at a failed marriage, a new relationship that was the most amazing thing yet could never truly be realized, a daughter that I loved but would never be able to do justice to as a father, a dream lost and no foreseeable future. I was newly sober but slipping all of the time, I was addicted to sleeping pills because they made the world go away for a few hours, I had high-blood pressure, I had high cholesterol, I was losing my hair and I couldn't get out of high school.....mentally. So tell me, was it wrong for me to give up? Now wait a minute, before you go off half-cocked, thinking I did this to myself, you're wrong. I did not take my own life. Never believed in that. I was too afraid of what might happen to me on the other side. Little did I know..... Anyway, I was sitting at home one night feeling particularly sorry for myself (shocker) and I decided I wanted a drink. Not a Diet Pepsi. A Martini. A Tanqueray Martini. Up. Extra-Dry. With a twist. I had not touched alcohol in the previous 5 years but something told me that this was a different kind of night. This was the kind of night that only comes along every now and then. No work. No kid. No woman. The cat was there, judging me as usual, but at this point his opinion didn't matter. Repeats on T.V. No Dog the Bounty Hunter or Dirty Jobs. I was still a few hours away from the Family Guy on Adult Swim so I decided to get that drink. Now, this was funny.... As I got in the car, I realized that I could not hit any of the local haunts because there WOULD be someone there that knew I was sober and they would do their damnedest to stop me. Couldn't have that. Not that night. Drive a little further, right? No. New DUI laws. Knowing full well that I was about to get loooooooooaaaaaadddddddeeeeedddddd, I thought that was not a good plan. Going to have to buy the gin, martini glass, shaker, lemon and vermouth and bring them home. Who was I kidding? I didn't need vermouth. Still had to go far enough away that no one would see me. Drove to the Wal-Mart 2 towns away thinking this was a safe choice. First of all, who buys martini glasses at Wal-Mart and second of all, who buys gin at Wal-Mart? I figured I could sneak in and out, undetected. Well, you have to know that at this point, I am going to tell you that I ran into somebody at that damn Wal-Mart. You know it right? I did. Here's the good part. Remember the new relationship I mentioned earlier? No, it wasn't her. It had to be a relative of hers, though. Figures, right? Now I have to worry about her getting on the phone with my "friend" as soon as I walk away so I have to cover, right? Human nature and all of that stuff. I fumble through a casual greeting and notice that she notices the booze. I came up with one helluva story about some sort of entertaining I was doing later in the week. It was a whopper. I don't think she bought it. Truth be told, I never found out. I was just sure that she did get on that phone when I disappeared from her sight. I'll never know. I paid for my things and drove the 30 miles home. I set the gin on the counter, unwrapped the glass and shaker (it was a neat Wal-Mart combo for $8.88), cut the twists off of the lemon and got down to business. The first Martini of the night was so amazingly exquisite, words cannot even come close to describing just how incredible it was. I want you to try and remember the first, nervous, sweaty time you had sex. Undoubtedly, it was over as soon as it started but you felt like a weight had been lifted and you got a charge between your legs. If you have a clear memory of that, then you may get kind of close to how this Martini was for me. Charge between my legs and all. It was great. It went down so smoothly that I almost didn't get to taste it. This being the case, I knew instantly that a second was forthcoming. Damned if I was not correct. In just seconds, I had crafted yet another tasty adult beverage ready for consumption. I downed the second one almost as fast as the first one and subsequently the third, fourth and fifth ones..... They were so good. Like Nectar of the Gods. Manna from Heaven. I just did not want to stop. I didn't, either. Not until I had polished off the entire bottle. That's right folks. After 5 years being dry as a bone, I managed to down an entire bottle of gin in a span of about 47 minutes. Many naysayers will scoff at this. How can a person do that without killing themselves? Well, Mr. Naysayer, remember, I am dead. I am getting a bit ahead of myself for the sake of the naysayers and I shouldn't. They are not my concern. Getting this story out is. Well, as you can imagine, after that bottle of gin was gone, I was a tad bit fuzzy and probably was not thinking very clearly. It was during this muddled time that I took a couple of my prescribed Valium to help "take the edge off" and help me sleep. Like I needed help..... Apparently, right before I went into what I now know was my permanent sleep, I managed to make a few phone calls. The first was to my mother. My dear, loving mother. Poor thing, she didn't know what to think. I had called to inform her that I was moving to Djibouti, Africa. I wanted to move there because the capital of Djibouti was Djibouti. I thought that was cool. I just wanted her to know. I then called my "friend" to tell her it was all or nothing. Either she was with me exclusively or she would have to move along! I had plans! I was moving to Djibouti!!!!! Well, one of these fine women must have sensed something was wrong or perhaps I mentioned to one of them what I had done and they felt that the police and firemen needed to be notified. Just as I started to fade away, I heard faint thumping on my door. As I was blacking out for the last time, I saw several uniformed people hurriedly making their way towards me. This is where it gets weird. You now how you are always told that when you die, you will see a bright light ahead and you will be surrounded by Jesus, Grandma and your pet hamster you thought ran away but really died but Mom didn't tell you that because she found his skeleton behind the couch and thought you were too young to understand? I am going to play spoiler right now and tell you, that is not what happens. No floating above your body in the ER as Doctor's desperately try to save you. No escalator leading up into the clouds. No rickety staircase leading into the pits of Hell. Just black. Just nothing. At least, that is how it was for me. A few minutes (I guess) of black and then this. My job. My piece of shit job where I now sit and ruin people's days. Sucks, huh? Let me show you around...




Chapter 2


So, this is my desk. I assume you have noticed by now that there is not much to it. Just a standard desk. Couple of drawers with absolutely nothing in them. Seriously, I have looked. Believe me. I am not sure why but I keep checking. Every time I have a minute or two. I pretty much open them in the same pattern every single time. I first open the top center drawer. You know the one I am talking about. The one that is usually messy. You throw everything into it except what is supposed to be there. I always check this one first. I don't know why. I am not sure if it is a result of my death and subsequent after-life job assignment but I have become very OCD. I have to do things in a specific order. I don't remember being like that when I was alive..... I am digressing. Sorry. The next drawer is the big one on the bottom right. I open this one second and I always get a little sad when I open it. This is the drawer that you could always find snacks in back in the real world. Bags of chips. Peanut Butter and crackers. Microwave popcorn bags that might be a few days old but they're still good. No such luck. Never is anything in there. Kinda pisses me off. Not that I would eat anything anyway. Have not eaten anything since I got here. Weird huh? We'll talk more about that later. The next drawer I open is the one above the big bottom right one and then the top right drawer. Same order. Every time. Same results. Never even a dust bunny. So that is the basic make-up of the desk. Let's talk about the items on the desk. The first thing you will notice is this transistor radio. If I had to guess, I would say it's circa 1960. The sound quality is about as good as listening to a HiFi stereo underwater. Tinny as all get out. The only comforting fact is that I do not recognize any of the music playing so it's not like anything I care about is being ruined. Yeah, you heard right. I know none of the music being played. It is a mix of many different types of music and the style changes all of the time. Every now and then I will hear a tune that vaguely sounds familiar. If I think real hard, I can almost recognize some of the music. It is always right there. Just right at the tip of my tongue. Totally frustrating. Not to mention, there is just the one station. Also just one volume level. No dials. Just the radio with the unrecognizable music. Always playing. I will say that I never hear the same stuff twice..... It is constantly different. It almost seems to be evolving. Unlike me. No evolution here. Same shit, different day. Also on my desk, you will see a pencil. That's correct. One No. 2 pencil. Damn thing is never sharp enough. I always liked a sharp, fine point on my pencils. I remember that. This pencil is always stubby. No fine point here. Guess what? No sharpener, either. It's a dull pencil that never gets completely dull and yet cannot be sharp either. How is that for an interesting dichotomy? Oh yeah, the eraser is a never dull, too. Then we have my chair. Standard 1950's office chair fare. Metal. Creaky. Uncomfortable. Some type of cross between pleather and Naugahyde on the arm rests. Oh so sheik! No lumbar support. No swivel capabilities. It does roll, though. Apparently, my superiors for this position feel that less is more. Perhaps they get more production out of me when I have nothing to distract me. Speaking of my superiors, I will just bet you are wanting to know more about them, right? You'd like to know, since I am dead, who it is I actually work for, right? When you find out..... let me know.....



Chapter 3


Yes, you heard me right. I have no idea who it is I work for. At first, I thought, well, this must be heaven because I am not in a pit of fire and brimstone.... What the Hell is brimstone, anyway? Does anyone really know? I know I have heard a definition somewhere, I just don't really remember.... Or care.... Anyway.... Since I am constantly surrounded by this fluorescent white glow and my clothing is what I had on when I died, only white, I figured I had made it to heaven. All of that sinnin'. All of that drinkin'. All of that druggin'. All of that cussin'. All of that hate, anger, avarice, and revenge. All of it swept under the rug like a neat pile of dust bunnies and I got a free pass to Cloud City. Where's Lando? Heh heh.... Where's Lando.... Like "Where's Waldo," but it's Where's Lando......As in Lando Calrissian.....Cloud City.... Star wars..... Oh never mind..... I figured I was supposed to be looking for some Pearly Gates. It was supposed to be me, a Rabbi and a Pastor at the gate being asked a series of questions by St. Peter to determine our worthiness. Nothing. No white light. No gate. No St. Peter. I was never much into world religions so I was never very clear on any other interpretations of the afterlife but I am damn sure no one expects what I got...

A friend indeed.....

You know, it's funny. They say you can't pick your family. I guess that is, for the most part, true. They say you CAN and DO pick your friends. I think this is patently false. Think of how many people have come into your purely by mistake and have become good, close friends. Think of how many people just kinda sashayed into your little world and the next thing you knew, you were trading secrets and recipes with them. It happens so often that it is hard for me to believe that we have ANY say in who our friends are. We have the chance and/or choice to keep said folks in our lives, true. But how they come to us is totally random. Or part of a specific, God-like plan. Whichever you choose to believe. I happen to think that the people that come and go in and out of our lives that we truly consider friends are there for a reason and we will never know what that exact reason until the end. Either theirs or ours. I say this because how often do we have someone close to us that we swear will be our bestest bud forever and then they go away. Only to come back and pick up right where you left it. Then leave again etc.... It has happened so many times for me with SO many good friends that I am excited for the next 30 years to see who else comes and goes. One person I would like to highlight is my dear friend Christy Guin. I really don't even remember when and how we met. She will more than likely kick my ass for this faux pas but remember, I destroyed A LOT of brain cells over the years. There is A LOT I cannot remember. All I know is that Christy and I, somewhere along the path of life, became thick as thieves. Literally. We followed many of the same destructive paths in life and as a result, came to understand one another more than anyone else. We clicked. We read each other's minds. We were like brother and sister. Except for that fact that we made out like drunken fools a time or two which cancelled out the brother and sister thing. Maybe more like kissing cousins...... Ewwwwww no. That's just even more gross. It really is. Okay. We were very good friends who liked each other enough to share a brain but never a bed....... Maybe...... I'll never tell....... If we did, it was innocent....... Maybe...... I"ll never tell. It did seem, for several years, that we shared a brain. She would have a boyfriend, I was married, and yet we still managed to ALWAYS be there for one another. To her boyfriends, I was her gay friend Brad. To my ex-wife, she was a dirty little secret even though nothing ever happened between us while I was married, I was still not allowed female friends so our conversations were always on the DL. We are so alike it has always been almost creepy. As I mentioned, we both have gone down destructive paths together. It is amazing that now, as we are both trying to mend some of our wreckage and move forward in our lives that we have once again connected on that level we know best. Deep. Spiritual. Surreal. Christy (Mia), I love you. Dearly. You know this. Always know it. Thank you for being there for me. I am here for you. Always. By the way, pick a different park next time and maybe I will next time.......

Pa Rum Pa Pum Pum.....

Just listening to my my play list and wandering around the house with a pen in my hand as a microphone, singing along with all of the different songs..... Am I admitting this?....... No, I am making it up....... Or am I?.... Either way, play list is going and my Christmas Song, "Do They Know It's Christmastime?" comes on and gets me all weepy. Not hard to do these days, btw, but nonetheless, I got to thinking. As I do this time of year. For being such a Bah Humbug most of the time I sure do spend a lot of time worrying about everyone else at Christmas. The homeless. The poor. The working poor. Those in other countries where the Third World is their world. Maybe that is why I have become so cynical. Seems like every year, for every tear-inspiring good story, there are 1000 stories that break you down. You just get so tired of hearing about of all of the sadness and hate and terror and deprivation this time of year. All of that bad stuff right along side all of these mirth masters trying to tell you how wonderful things are this time of year. Sales up 30% over last year! Little 11 year old boy inspires 2000 people to feed the homeless. 9 year old girl provides bikes for 150 school mates. Talk about your brain freeze. Which way to go? Scrooge or Santa? Christ or Satan? Buddha or Blah? I sure as Hell don't know what y'all are gonna do but I am choosing the Happy side this year. I will be making a concerted effort to shed my Bah Humbug reputation and bring about a little Peace On Earth this year. I owe it to my family. I owe it to my kid. I owe it to my friends. Most of all, I owe it to me. Being a Gloomy Gus every year as long as I can remember has gotten me nowhere. In fact, it may have helped lead me to recent hopelessness and anger. Try something different this year. That might be the answer. Remember, the very definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results. I know I am insane. Just don't hafta be all of the time. Maybe this time of year is a good time for all of us to put away the insane thinking we maybe do all year long and start some sane rational localized thinking that will keep the time of year in perspective. Kinda like the Little Drummer Boy. "Shall I play for him?" Hey, it's all he had. He did what he could in his little world and Jesus freakin' smiled. Hours old and Jesus smiled at the Boy. Amazing stuff, eh? I meant how I tied the title in....... Heh heh.......

I May Be Rancid Butter....

I was given a great big ol' slap in the face today. A good kind of slap. So, maybe not a face slap, more like a back slap...... or ass slap..... mmmmmmm ass slap........ Anywho....... My good friend Jeff sent me a response to an apology that I had recently written to him. At the top of the note from him, in quotes, was one of my favorite sayings from one of my favorite movies. It was a line spoken brilliantly by Gene Kelly, playing the role of E.K. Hornbeck in "Inherit the Wind." The quote was spoken to the two young lovers, one of whom was the defendant in the Scopes Monkey Trial, as they questioned Hornbeck's sincerity. He plastered on a cocky grin and said, "I may be rancid butter, but I'm on your side of the bread." What the Hell is that supposed to mean? Who wants rancid butter on their bread? Wouldn't you rather have no butter at all than rancid butter? Ask the kids from the book "Lord of the Flies." You know, the book where the kids are stranded on an island without ANY adults around. Party, right? Read the book? Go read it. Tell me if they would like the rancid butter or no butter at all. Ask my mother who 24 hours ago was looking at a Thanksgiving with just the Old One, Vivian and myself. Now, in less than one day, she gets to spend it with both of her sons, all four of her grand babies and her daughter-in-law. Shitload of extra work around the house to do. More cleaning. More planning. More food. You think she gives two shits? Rancid butter, baby. She'll take it over no butter at all. The last example I will give is the hardest for me to admit to but it is a great one. My baby girl. She does not have Daddy around like most of her friends. Only gets to see him when it's "his turn" with her. No kid LIKES that situation. I have to say though, she has a helluva step-daddy around to help ease the pain. Phillip is a good man. He loves her. He can never replace me. He WILL never replace me. He does not try to replace me. He just does an amaZing job as a step-dad. For that I am grateful. It is with this gratitude that I have to apologize for calling him rancid butter, but I am sure he'll understand the point. She could have done a lot worse. She could not have done any better. Better having him than not having him at all. Rancid butter. Do you get it yet? Are ya feelin' me? I am fairly sure that it was in this tone that Jeff included the quote in his note. I think he was calling me rancid butter. A well-deserved moniker. At least, lately. I had allowed so many things to go wrong around me that I stopped being the good friend that so many of my old friends remember. I am still a friend to these people. If they will still have me. Jeff has said he will. For this, I am eternally grateful. Working on me is going to be the most challenging obstacle I will have faced in 35 years but I have to do it. I am glad to know that on the other side of the work, there will be open arms waiting to tell me how great of a job I did. I am sure of this. I have some great friends and you all know who you are. If I tried to start naming you all, I know I would forget one, and then they would get all pissy and shit, and then I would get a nasty response, and then I would..... Oh.... Sorry. Suffice it to say, I have been blessed and you ALL KNOW WHO YOU ARE. Thank you. From the bottom of my big heart that just closed up for a bit. Thank you, Jeff, for the inspiration. I'll take it any day. Mad props for tossing one of my sayings right back at me, bro. Much Love. Peace. Have a great Turkey Day and all that other crap.

Oh Man.... Am I Turning Into One Of Them?

I have done something tonight that I am not proud of...... I have committed a personal travesty that I am not sure I will ever recover from...... I have submitted..... I have succumbed...... to putting Christmas music on my play list before Thanksgiving.......... I am not quite sure that I am going to get past this. I am the one screaming at the advertisers who shove Christmas down our throats before Halloween. I am the guy mumbling and moaning when I go to the stores and see the Christmas crap out before the Halloween shit is even put away. That grinds my gears. It really, really, really, really, really does, people. Y'all have no idea. It is as a result of this disdain and animosity that I rarely acknowledge the Holidays until Grandma and Papa's house gets totally decorated by Mom and Vivian. This year though, in the midst of all that has happened with me I really felt as though I could sneak them in. My two Christmas songs, I mean. There are truly only 2 Christmas songs that I will listen to with any fervor. They are "Do They Know It's Christmas?" by Band-Aid and "Little Drummer Boy" by Jars of Clay. Only two. Not saying I HATE every other Christmas song. You MAY catch me humming something now and again but I gotta tell ya folks, these two songs and that's it for me to full on tolerate. So, I guess I stand here folks, with only myself to apologize to but I will extend the apology to any of you who are as adamant as myself. It won't happen again. Just needed a little early "Christmas Spirit."

Just some rambling about humor, Davy Jones, and viewing the world......

Not feeling a lot like I HAVE to or even WANT to do this blog today but for some reason here I am typing away and trying very hard to figure out exactly how I am going to tie all three topics in my title together. By now, be you an avid reader, you know that most of my titles are formed long before the blog is even complete in this rattled brain of mine so they become this constant battle of me staying on topic so please bear in mind that this one is not only NOT one that I am real excited about yet (which could change) but that it is also before 7am so..... well.... here it goes...... I have a helluva a sense of humor. This I know. Not just from being told. I just know because I am a fucking funny guy. I can take a story that would seem dull and uninteresting if told by most and make it into a 20 minute monologue complete with impersonations and sound effects. I can have a roomful of cloistered nuns peeing their pants and laughing their vow of silenced asses off about some of my drinking day stories. I managed several years of teaching to 12-17 year old students that voted me funniest teacher every year and that was not just because I was the only one willing from the secondary level willing to go into the Dunk Tank on Sequoia Days. I am funny. Dammit. I am fuckin' hilarious. I just learned that this quality of mine has screwed up more than most of the relationships that I have had with other people for years. Figure that one, eh? The funny guy gets the bad rap for being funny. Think about it, though. I did. Nothing wrong with being funny, as a rule. Especially if it is more self-effacing and less insulting. Truth is. We need humor. We just don't need charming, funny, cute, self-effacing fat guys like me who use it to attract people only to keep them as far away as possible. Why not? Remember Jim Belushi? Chris Farley? By all accounts of close friends and family this is exactly what these guys were! They self-destructed as a result. I almost did, too. I am one of the lucky ones. I now know this. I now need to find ways to better use and direct my humor. Not lose it. Please, God, NO!!!!! Just use it more wisely and in ways that attract rather than promote. I have managed (barely) to keep a few close friends over the years and I swear if there was any way to get these guys together on December 6th I would make them go to the Davy Jones concert with me. Yes, I am going to see an aging rock star from a band that was never really known for putting out incredible stuff but there were at least 5 13-14 year olds in the 80's who thought they did and would dig the show together. Oh well. I can dream right. Well, Sean, Jeff, Owen and Brian, if you wanna go, let me know. I will grab ya tickets. I guess the point of all of this is that I need to start being less global in my view of the world. I need to stay local. Worry about making me happy. Not the world. There is nothing more sad than a sad clown. I gotta be happy. I gotta be me, but I gotta be happy.

"I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy." - Ogden Nash

I think I am approaching some kind of record, but this is in fact the third blog I have written since this morning. It may be boredom. It may be a lot on my mind. It may be how shitty I have felt today. Couldn't even make it to the movie with Grandma and V today. I am afraid my Gall Bladder has got to go. Which, of course, means more hospital time. Which, of course, means more poking, probing, and groping which I usually like but not when it's done with needles, scalpels and cold instruments..... Well, the cold instruments can be fun...... Anywho, I will be honest with you, all of the pain and torment I have been going through as a result of this crap has caused me to reflect on my drinking days. So much damage done to my body. So much damage to my life..... So much damage done to my brain.... It boggles the mind what alcohol does to you. I told you about Jack-Jack. Never got the chance to tell you about Super Dave. Another case like Jack-Jack, just a few more years drinking and a harder time standing. I don't think I saw him walk until the last day of his detox. You know, as I sit here writing about this stuff, I realize so clearly that it is not the physical shit that goes along with alcohol that is so fucking bad. It's not!!!!! It's the damage in your head. The constant want and need for a drink. Or if you are a crack addict, the need and want for that..... Or if you are a gambler.... Or if you are a sex addict..... You literally have NO control over the impulses. If I did not have AA in my life right now, if I didn't have someone to call instead of of going out for that drink, I'd be drinking. I need a drink so bad right now it's not even funny. I am calling my temporary sponsor as I am writing this right now. I have to. If I don't, I'm drinking. If I'm drinking, I'm dying. Good song just popped up on my play list. "The Reason" by Hoobastank. There are those who say we should be our own reasons to change. Sometimes we don't like ourselves to make any changes so it's a damn good reason we have people to change for. I have 3 reasons to change. 1 of them is 7 and doesn't fully understand Daddy's problem, although it has been explained as best as I could. The other 2 know they are reasons. Just hope they get it.

Ya know, some days are just better than others....

I keep getting told that I will get through this. I am constantly reminded that it's a lot of work. I am reminded daily that once I am better, things will get better with all of the other people in my life. Today is one of those days that I just have a real hard time believing all of that. Have my little girl with me today. Even reached out to someone for some help. Someone who was part of my wreckage and they helped. Went to a great AA meeting. Going to the movies. Madagascar 2. So why am I crying? It's so damn hard to type right now. I can't even see the keyboard. I know that this is supposed to have something to do with my condition. Chemical imbalance and all. Just doesn't seem fair. Doesn't seem right that when things are all lined up, there always has to be that one thing that won't line up. It becomes an obsession. Much like the obsession of the alcoholic who wants to be able to drink like his fellow man. The Bi-Polar just wants to have a normal day. No medication. No ups and down. No uncontrolled crying over iCarly episodes. Then you add this damn music play list and I cannot keep it together. I guess the crying is supposed to be okay. In the loony bin, I had a Therapist, Lisa, who pointed out that, "...we have tear ducts for a reason..." Thanks, Lisa, but I think you can take your tear ducts and shove them up your ass. I am tired. Tired of crying. Tired of regretting. Tired of apologizing. Tired of missing someone. Tired of explaining. Tired of begging. Tired of being tired. In AA, we say that when someone has finally hit their bottom, they are sick and tired of being sick and tired. Well, I bottomed out a while ago and I am still sick and tired. I am not sick now, though. I am just tired. I want to be honest with you folks, because it has to happen for me to try to heal but I don't know that I have enough left to keep it up. Is this a cry for help? I, sure as Hell, hope not. Am I just venting? I, sure as Hell, hope so. Whatever it is, I know that I am going to need a new keyboard VERY soon. I am drenching this one. Especially since 3 am just came on. I'm sorry to sound so fucking weepy. I know that there are those who see it as a sign of weakness. In a way, I agree. I am weak. Takes a man to admit that, though. These fuckers out there who puff out their chests and try to convince themselves they have it together when they can't even keep their lives in order sicken me. Ooooooooo. That just made me smile knowing I know someone like that who is the biggest LOSER I know (that was the comment he left on my blog a few weeks ago so I am publicly returning the favor). Takes a REAL man to anonymously insult someone who just got out of a mental health facility. Not saying I know who it was but I sure hope they read this. Boy, do I ever. Oh man..... I feel better already. I am sure the tears will continue today but at least I can bring a smile back each time I think of this guy standing at the top of his own little hill...... all by himself.

...And I Would Have Gotten Away With It If It Wasn't For You Darn Kids...

I am sure all of you readers remember the episodes of Scooby-Doo that we used to watch after school. It always ended with the gang catching the bad guy and he would inevitably utter the words in the title. Well, the title for this blog is not directed towards that gang (mmmmmmmm Daphne). The title here actually refers to one kid. My kid. I know that somewhere in the back of my disturbed and rattled and confused brain, one of the main reasons I am here is because of my beautiful baby girl Vivian. Since the two attempts on my life, my time spent with her has been SO amaZing. She is getting so big. She is growing up so fast right in front of my very eyes. I don't like it one bit. Sort of. On one hand, it is awesome seeing this little girl turn into a little person knowing that in just a few short years, she will turn into a full grown woman. On her own and taking over the world. On the other hand, she is also going from this little girl who thought I hung the starts and the moon to this mouthy, independent, head-strong, snot-ball and she will soon become a terrible teen and then who knows what from there. The dichotomy is astounding. No matter what, I am going to love her. I know unconditional love between parents and children. I have experienced it from mine. Instead of turning their backs on me on MORE than one occasion when they could and should have, they chose to love me and make make sure I knew they did. Especially with my recent attempts. A lot of parents would say, "Well, you gave up on you. Why shouldn't we?" Not mine. Mine were at the loony bin every day. Whether I wanted them to be or not. The old man even endured 2 family counseling sessions which I am sure he only heard about 1/4 of but he was there. Grandma couldn't make to the second one as she was in Canada with another family member who has NEVER flinched in her support, my Aunt Nancy. Add in my brother Chris, my half-brother Donny, my friends Todd and Brian and Layne, and you have a group of DARN kids that are among the other reasons I am here. I have received a great deal of support from many friends of old who have not seen what has happened to me in recent years. How my sobriety affected me in negative ways because I never followed the AA program the way it was intended, thus leading to the manifestation of other negative behaviors borne of Bi-Polar II disorder and a serious case of narcissism. No matter, they still sent their well wishes and they were amaZing. It is what is keeping me going. For those of you who I did hurt recently, I am officially asking for forgiveness. I am not asking you to play with me again. There are plenty of sandboxes out there for us to play in. I just want to know that you understand my intention came from a good place. Unfortunately, the road to Hell is truly paved with good intentions. I do not know what the future holds for Vivian. For me. For any of us. All we can do, in the immortal words of Elton John, from the song Empty Garden (on my play list btw), "...who weeded out the tears and grew a good crop."

P.S. Back into the meeting rooms of AA again. Just got my 30 day chip. If I can keep some continuous SOBRIETY, the 30 day chip belongs to Vivian. My 24 hour chip is reserved. That person will get it when they least expect it. I know that we are supposed to hold onto these if we feel we need to as a reminder. I will be getting so many more chips in the future, I want the first 2 most important 2 to go to the 2 most important people in my life. Just wanted y'all to know this tidbit of info. I am back in the rooms and doing the steps right this time. I feel better, too!!!

WARNING!!! WARNING!!!!! I MEAN THIS FROM A SPECIAL PLACE!!!!

To my readers....

I love you. All of you. Even the haters. It is with this love that I find it necessary now to give out this fair warning. If you should decide to go to the movies sometime in the near future, and you should choose to see "Zach and Miri Make a Porno," please, for the love of God and all that is Holy, do not see this movie sitting next to your parents. This especially goes for those whose parents are above the age of 60. They get the humor. They are not unfamiliar with anal sex and full frontal male nudity. It is just not RIGHT sitting next to your mother as these items are being discussed and presented. There is nothing natural about this. It is just not a pleasant place to be. Please heed this warning. Please believe me. Just DON'T DO IT!!!!!!!!!!

Round Two....!!!

Okay, I know that I threw a couple of extra blogs in between tales of recounting my time spent in the BHC. I was moved to put myself back in the facility after yet another attempt on my life. Had a few fleeting thoughts I felt I needed to get out there so hence this blog is a tad bit out of order but I am quite sure y'all will get past this. So, without any further adieu..... ROUND TWO.......


I knew almost the minute I walked out of the doors of the BHC the first time that I was going to try and take my life again. Somehow, someway, I was going to finish it. Not 5 full days out of my first ever visit to the unit, I tried just that. Unlike the previous attempt, this one was quite impromptu. The details of the day will be forthcoming in another blog. The purpose of this blog is to serve as a second chapter of "Fuck The Cuckoo's Nest, This is Real Life...." I realized how many wonderful and amusing people I left out that needed some true credit and mention. Not to mention I met a whole new slab o' crazies to talk about. Once again, I am not going for a boring recounting.. I want the truth to be known. I want to entertain and touch as I only know how through my writing. I will talk about my fellow "inmates" first and then deftly move onto the staff.

I would be both remiss and a terrible "boyfriend" if I did not start off talking about my on again off again "girlfriend" Brenda..... Ah Brenda..... My hot tamale. My little chimichanga. My little Mexican firecracker. She took to me like a moth to flame. We hit it off and started our first "relationship" in mere minutes after we first met.We, of course, proceeded to "break-up" approximately 3.5 minutes later. It was heart wrenching. I went through a mourning period that lasted all of 36 seconds. Fortunately, by the 37th second, we were back together. This time our "relationship" lasted 8.5 hours. It was bedtime. I snuck to my room before she could find a reason to break up. As soon as breakfast rolled around, we were done again. This pattern continued for the duration of my first stay. We just never could keep it together. It may have had something to do with the lack of any physical contact and almost no emotional connection but I tend to lean towards her dislike of dating gringos. Whatever the reason, at first it seemed destiny was our enemy. Until she showed up in the intake room with me on my return. Seemed she had a relapse with some booze so our love got it's crappy second chance. Another face from the first time around that I encountered in intake was Clif. Tears and hugs abound when we saw each other. You remember the crotchety old fart Clif from Round One who up and disappeared one day? Turns out when they hooked him up to ECT they stopped his heart cold. Damn near killed him. He was all but dead. He was shipped to another hospital and when his heart was better he found himself back in a world that he could not handle. This is not some meek old man. Former Marine. Veteran. Cop. Long-haul trucker. Broken. Destroyed. A shadow. I was sad that he and I would not be on the same ward again but I am sure he is getting the help he needs.That is all that matters. The last face I saw before I made it to the ward was John T. John was in and out of consciousness of often while on the ward, I found it hard to believe that he would survive on the outside. Depression was eating him alive. I am hapy to report that he looked better. Not great. Better. This time around on the ward, I found a fae..... "Good Morning, Beautiful" break.... excuse me.....MORE LATER>>>>>>

Oh Gee.... Up Again..... Gotta a question, though...

So I had one of those "moments" today. You know what I mean, right....? A Hollywoodish moment. Let me describe it and see if anyone can relate and then subsequently give me some advice. I am walking into a local Circle K along with several others and this woman picks me right out of the crowd and asks me if I am from the area. I have to preface this with 2 details. I was wearing sunglasses so none of that kind eyes shit. She was FAR from being unattractive. Okay, with those details in mind, I told her I was familiar with most of Mesa and could probably be of some assistance. Long story short, figured out where she was headed, got her in the right direction...... Good Morning, Beautiful just came on....tear break.......... okay, back now.... then she hugged me and said Thank You a thousand times and then she was on her way. Here is my question. Did I miss an opportunity? Keep in mind I was waiting at said Circle K for a ride that was taking me in the direction she was going..... To a church..... Did the higher power just fall out of the sky and land on my face and wiggle and I missed it? Help!!!!

P.S. Check out updated PlayList!!!!!

Quick note at 3am....

As God as my witness, I am trying.... These nights are hard. I know that when many people are hurt they are able to move through it quickly and find happiness in other ways. In other places. I, myself, cannot. This up and down crap is about enough to drive me to distraction. "Some days it don't come easy, and some days it don't come hard, and these are the days that never end..." Meatloaf. "I Would Do Anything For Love." I know I just a blog on music that I have yet to finish. This one is not about music. It's about doing anything for love. Everyone keeps telling me not to beat myself up. Stay strong. There was an amaZing man in that ample body years ago. The guy that could and would do anything for anyone. He just got lost somewhere along the way.... I am trying folks..... God, Buddha, Confucius, Mohammad, Shiva, and whoever other Holy Person as my witness. I am trying..... It's so damn hard. I know there are some of you who have been here. Either you told me before my story unfolded or many of you after so I know that there are many who feel my pain. To those of you who have expressed this, Thank You. Those of you who forgot/forget what it is/was like, I am so sorry. Continue to stand in judgement. I deserve it. I will always deserve it. Always and Forever. Poison. Period. Infinity. The End. On a positive note, got an invitation to Meatloaf concert next Saturday. I think I am gonna go.

"I Got The Music In Me..."

I am home. Well, sort of. I am out of the BHC and feeling safe. Feeling safer than I have in a very long time. Feeling better, too. I know I have made mistakes. I know there is a great deal of wreckage. I am prepared to fish or cut bait. "To err is human, to forgive is divine. " Beautifully said by Alexander Pope. Okay, so, anywho.... What am I writing about today? Well, lemme tell ya, at first, I was going to write Round Two of the Cuckoo's Nest. Had a lot more to add. More about fellow "inmates" and staff. Great stuff. Gonna hafta wait for a little bit. I also passed on an Open Letter I had written in the loony bin the first time. Good stuff. Breathtaking and heartfelt. One of my better direct letter's too someone and I was and am very proud of it. Soon Folks. Soon. While I was in activity/creativity therapy this last round, the song "Every Rose Has It's Thorn" and I was inspired to start a whole new music blog..... We had "the Peak" on in the room (my choice of course, LOVE YOU MONICA!!!) and it dawned on me how little I get to listen to music in there. Only a few select activity groups have music at all and one of them is relaxation group where they only play Ocean sounds which have been difficult for me to listen to since June. Knowing how how much music means to me y'all have to know the torture. It's so much a part of my everyday. Especially when I needed to think about a special someone. Some songs are just damn impossible to listen to. I listen anyway because I like knowing I can feel. No matter how hard the feelings are, at least they are true feelings. I spent so long lying and manipulating, I rarely knew what feeling was real and what was part of my imagination. Thing is, I could ALWAYS tell the emotions brought on by the music was real. True. A bit of reality in a sea of bullshit, for ya!! .... For instance.... "18th Floor Balcony" did so many things to me emotionionally you would think the overload of emotion would be intimidating. In fact, I am able to have a deep cleansing cry each time I hear this song. Helps me get rid of stuff I no longer need. A real tough one for me is "What a Good Boy." This song literally brings me to me knees. The words always made such clear sense to me and I was never able to identify woth a song more than that one. The lines, " I couldn't tell you I was wrong, ckickened out, took a pen and a paper, sat down and I wrote this song.... I couldn't tell you you were right, so instead I looked in the mirror, watched TV and laid awake all night..." reach me and touch me in ways that no other song has EVER been able to. This song is a tough one for me. A necessary one, but a tough one. The next song that draws emotion from deep inside is "Good Morning, Beautiful." Even though I no longer have someone to to say those words to everyday, I still find myself singing it everyday. No matter what. "Good morning, beautiful.... How was your night? Mine was wonderful with you by my side..." Such simple language. So hard to say. Billy Vera gets to me all of the time as well. "At This Moment" is one of those songs that is timeless and touching. He is saying that NO MATTER WHAT his woman has done, NO MATTER WHERE she is going, he could NEVER hate her. He loved her. His loved was real even if hers wasn't. A new twist on my music tastes. Since my recent suicide attempts, I have found myself gravitating towards music regarding that subject matter. Blink 182's "Adam's Song," with it's classic line... "Please tell Mom this is not her fault." Also Third Eye Blind. "Jumper." "Wish you would step back from that ledge my friend...." Great line. Great song. Hard, though. Added a rough song to my playlist. Pink Floyd's "One of my Turns." Kind of dark song. It helps to explain the dark place I go in my rough times. I isolate. I get terrible, dark, dangerous thoughts. Rather than allowing these dark thoughts to manifest, I have used lies and manipulationto quell the darkess. Probably always will. Always and forever. Poison. Period. Infinity. The End.

Back to the Drawing Board....

It is with heavy heart and tail tucked deep between my legs that I make the following announcement.... I am heading back to St. Luke's Behavioral Health Center tomorrow morning. Why? Well, suffice it to say I am not feeling safe out here in the real world. I have once again attempted, unsuccessfully, to end my life prematurely. This time with a buttload more ammunition and no walking. Still unsuccessful. Another failure to add to the list. The funny thing about this one is that it was relatively impromptu. One minute I was sitting on the phone with my Mom discussing my future as a writer and the next minute I was swallowing enough muscle relaxers and sleeping pills to fell a horse. It was, again, not enough. Makes me scared if I ever go back to drinking. My tolerance has grown exponentially in my years of sobriety. Another good reason to stay away from the bottle. Anywho, it was once again pointed out to me that I have a purpose on this planet. God, Jehovah, Yahweh, or whatever you choose to call him is not letting me take matters into my own hands. So, why am I going into BHC after the fact? I do not feel safe. Plain and simple. If I was allowed to roam around one day more, I am afraid I would just try again. I need serious help. The kind of help I can find in the safety of the BHC walls. You see, the problem is, I don't want to die.... but I don't want to live either.... Figure that one out. When you do, give a hint as to what the fuck it's about. I can partially explain it this way. I knew that I would find some forgiveness out of the wreckage I left behind. I knew those closest to me would forgive me. They did. It is this forgiveness that I cannot live with. I also knew that others very close to me would not readily forgive if at all. It is this forgiveness that I cannot live without. "Aye, there is the rub...." This is just a glimpse into the dark recesses of my distorted mind. A peek at the machinations of a bi-polar freak's brain. I am NOT asking for an outpouring of sympathy. I am NOT seeking undue attention. I am just informing anyone who cares for two reasons. Number one, so you can see that if you or anyone around you suffers in the darkness that is bi-polar/clinical depression that you need to make sure you/they are safe. Recognize the signs. Listen to the cries for help. Number two.... I need your prayers. If prayer is your thing. If not, send me some good thoughts telepathically. I need the thoughts and prayers, people. I am scared shitless. I am worried that there is no hope/cure for me. I am truly frightened. I know that for some of you that read this, prayer and good wishes are the farthest things from your mind when it comes to me. I have hurt you too deeply to deserve anything positive. You actually wish I would have been successful on one of the attempts. That is fine. Feel that way. Keep it to yourselves, though. It does neither of us any good if you send the hate my way. Okay, so thank you for listening. I shall be incommunicado for a little while. I hope I come out on the other side the better man I want to be. Thank you in advance for the prayers and thoughts. It means more than you will ever know!!!

A Day in the Life...

I realize that there are not too many "Day in the Life" stories that are all that interesting. Perhaps if it is about the President or a combat soldier or an Er doctor at a busy hospital it may grab a readers attention. I am merely a tired, miserable, Jack of all trades-Master of none, inebriate who has really done nothing remarkable with the possible exception of donating DNA to the cutest 7 year old you have ever seen. Nonetheless, if you will indulge me for a while, you may just read something that might save your life. I want to tell you the story of the day I attempted suicide. The names will be changed to protect the innocent if necessary but the places and events shall be exactly as they happened save perhaps a few minor embellishments for the sake of entertainment. An entertaining suicide attempt? C'mon folks, you know me well enough now. You had to know if I ever tried to go out, I would do it with style. I am honestly NOT trying to make light of the situation. I am merely dealing with it as best I know how. With humor. I hope that this narrative will shed some light on chemical dependency, bi-polar disorder, signs from God and talking to inanimate objects.







I cannot say the day started out like any other. In fact, it was one of the most bizarre mornings I ever experienced. Without going into great detail (as it would do you no good to explain how I got where I was) I found myself wandering around downtown Phoenix in the wee hours of that Friday morning. It was surreal. Watching a big city wake up like that. One minute you go from dark empty streets to streets filled with cars, people and activity. It was really something. It was really something incredible. I was amused and scared at the same time. It was quite a thrill. I wandered around the streets for a while. Looking for, I don't know what. Perhaps a place to sleep. Perhaps a place to help me get some of the thoughts of hopelessness and suicide out of my rattled and confused brain. I knew in my heart of hearts that suicide was inevitable. I knew how I was going to do it. I knew that it was this day. Bar none. No ifs, ands or buts. Just didn't know when. Initially I found myself at the Salvation Army chapel. Hoping the doors would be open so I could get some help. Instead of walking into open arms of safety and salvation, I found the place locked up and gated up tighter than Fort Knox. Scrap that idea. Fuck them! Their marquee out front said something to the effect of, " Give Satan an inch and he will become your ruler." I laughed under my breath at this. I suppose from a religious perspective that was exactly what I was doing. I was giving Satan those few inches so he could take over for me. Don't know why that tickled me so much. Anywho, I moved on. Walked to the YMCA. You know, "It's fun to stay at the Y-M-C-A!!!" Yeah, well, that is if you can figure out which door to go in. I walked in the wrong door and ended up walking into the lobby of their Gym, surrounded by workout junkies with their MP3 players, short shorts, and gym bags swirling around me at 100mph. Had to piss so I asked the girl at the front desk if I could use the restroom that was all of 7 feet from her. Nope. Not without a membership. So much for the friendly place glorified by the Village People. So, I sat in the quaint little coffee shop attached to the gym, listening to the Pink Floyd CD that the coffee shop employee was playing. Just sat there. Just was. Was is the past tense of be. I was not being. I was was-ing. After several minutes of achieving nothing, really needing to take a leak and charge up my phone I set out to find...Starbucks. The only place I could think of where I could plug in and hang out without anyone caring. During my respite, I was able to relieve myself, watch the morning hustle and bustle and send off a goodbye text to my mother. The response was not favorable and I was in no mood to be talked out of my plan by someone who actually cared. So, when the tears started to flow uncontrollably, I moved on to seek out friendlier skies. Not long after passing the B of A building and the Phoenix Convention Center, I found myself at St. Mary's Basilica. There I stood in front of this beautiful building. Full of hope, I stood at the bottom of the steps, wondering if beyond those doors my "sign" awaited. I walked in and was immediately was taken aback by the beauty I was beholding. Everything I thought it would be and more. I was humbled. I was hopeful. I sat in the last pew, pulled down the kneeling thingy, knelt down and started to bawl. Bawling is not even the word. More like blubbering. I was almost reduced to wailing when I decided to start talkin' to Jesus. The Christ figure hung above the pulpit so gloriously, I was certain he would fly down from his place and sit next to me. I could almost feel his loving arm around my shoulder, comforting me. No flying Jesus for me. So I turned my attention the Blessed Virgin Mary in hopes that a feminine touch was what I needed.... She ignored me as well. I started blubbering again. Louder this time. I continued this for several minutes when suddenly I heard the doors behind me open. I immediately stopped the severe crying and toned it down to a light whimper. I did not want to disturb some poor parishioner who was just looking for some peaceful, prayerful meditation before their bust day at work. I didn't know who it was so I maintained a level that was acceptable. I stiffened in my seat and waited for them to pass. After about 30 seconds, when no one passed, I sheepishly looked around. To my surprise it was a priest!!! I was sure this was my "sign!!!" A man of God here to save me. I started blubbering again to get his attention and waited for his hand on my shoulder and the obvious question of, "Are you alright, my son?" Not a chance, people. No such luck. He puttered around a bit, wandering the interior perimeter of the Basilica and just as effortlessly as he waltzed in, he was gone. My sign, gone. My hope, fading. My chance at not attempting suicide, off to do whatever it is priests do (no, people, I will not be throwing out an altar boy comment at this time). Blubbered out, I was just about to get up and leave when I heard the door open once again.... I just KNEW this was it!! My savior incarnate was about to walk through those doors and pull me from my Hell... heh heh.... not a fucking chance.... heh heh.... Instead it was many people, snapping pictures and babbling in some foreign language I guessed to be Russian. These folks meandered around being led by a tall, white-haired dude in shorts and a T-shirt. He brazenly walked right right up on the pulpit and started speaking to the group. I thought that was pretty ballsy for a tour guide until he stepped out a side door and returned moments later in full priest garb. The "tour guide" was a freakin' priest! Not wanting to be rude, I stayed as long as I could. Standing, sitting, kneeling and chanting in Russian (I guess). After about 10 minutes I felt as though this was NOT my sign so I slipped out the back door and went down the steps. It is at this point that I was able to abscond the pills that would be necessary for my attempt. Where and how I got them, for the purpose of this blog, shall remain a secret. Honestly, it's not that important. I got 'em. I had 'em. I planned to take 'em. It's it and that's that. Once I had them in my possession I made my way back to St. Mary's. Not sure why. I must have felt as though I was not ready to do the deed without giving the God thing one more try. A "last hoorah" you might say. After my dismal and disappointing attempt at finding a sign INSIDE the church, I turned my attention to the OUTSIDE. Nestled comfortably between the Basilica and the Diocese is a grassy/fountain/statue park. Several shade trees dot the nice little area making it perfect to sit and relax. If you can ignore the ants. Which I did. I picked out a nice tree directly across from a bronze statue of St. Francis of Assisi. He was posed kneeling in front of some birds on the ground, apparently feeding them. I sat and stared into his blank eyes for a few moments. Then I spoke to him. Out loud. For anyone to hear. I said, "So Frankie, I need a sign. Gimme somethin'. Wiggle a finger. Blink an eye. Say something profound. Make one of these birds fly..." Give you one guess as to what happened next..... If you guessed nothing, you would be incorrect. Something DID happen. No, the statue did not move. No bronze birdies taking flight. Instead, a homeless woman (she was a textbook example of a bag lady, btw) began shouting, "Father, Father!!" I figured it was not her actual Daddy so I turned around. Lo and behold.... Another priest!!!! Put on your game face, Big Man!!!! This is it!!!! Blubber a bit. Talk to Frankie some more. He is bound to come over after the bag lady is done bending his ear. Especially if you look distressed! I heard the priest say a few "god Bless You's" to the lady and I was CERTAIN this was it!!!! I waited for the comforting hand of the priest to rest on my shoulder. I knew he was going to be my saving grace.... After about 30 seconds of nothing, I turned around..... Gone.... Disappeared.... Nowhere to be seen..... Vanished into thin air..... I was sure that this last snub was God giving me the finger. "Fuck you, Fat Boy!!!!! Go ahead and kill yerself!!!!! Look at the wreckage you have left behind you!!!!! I, GOD, command you to do it!!!!!" Well, that was what I was hearing in my head, not what he was really saying..... You know me..... But how could it be anything else? "Oh God!!!!! Why hast thou forsaken me?" Famous words from a famous book..... I was feelin' it. Totally. Forsaken. Ignored. Left to die. Left with no other choice. Truth be known? I was ready. As I mentioned earlier, I was convinced that this was the ONLY solution. There was NO other way. So, when I looked around and saw there was no one watching, I put the stolen pills, all 10 of them, in my mouth and washed them down with my Dr. Pepper. I sat under that tree, across from St. Frank for about 20 minutes. Nothing was happening. Nada. Zilch. Zip. What the fuck????? I took 1 of these pills at half the strength and I was on my ass. How come they weren't working that quickly now????? Goddammit!!!!! Can't even get this right!!! Frustrated, I stood up and lit a cigarette. I walked over to the water jugs provided by the Catholic Church for the homeless so as to get some water to combat the cotton mouth. As I approached the water, a man wearing a Deacon name badge walked up to me and said "You know those things will kill you, right?" No shit. Word for word. Verbatim. Obviously I was a tad taken aback. What the fuck was this man talking about? Had he seen what I had done? Did he know my terrible secret? Was he going to save me? Was he going to stop me from dying????? No dammit!!!!! I didn't want that!!!! Then it dawned on me. He was just pontificating to me on the dangers of smoking. I had to laugh under my breath. I could not help but think, "They won't kill me quicker than the pills I just swallowed, ASSHOLE!!!" Alas, I refrained from saying this and opted for some polite comment about needing to quit someday soon. I started to walk away when he gently grabbed my arm, and with outstretched hand said, "Here you go." In his hand was an assortment of coins. Pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters. At first, I was confused. What was this man doing? Then it dawned on me. He thought I was homeless. He measured me up to be a bum. A beggar. A street person. Granted, I had not showered that morning but I was quite sure I didn't stink. I was not dressed in rags. Had a nice polo and my beige cargo shorts on, neither of which was stained. What had I projected that caused this man to think me homeless? Was it the desperation in my eyes? No way! I had sunglasses on. He could not have seen redness or swelling around my eyes that would indicate drunkenness. Did I reek of death as some homeless are apt to do? Must have been the death smell thing. Whatever it was, it kinda made me sad. Is this what I had been reduced to? Is this how the world saw me? Was this how I was to go out? Either way, I politely turned down his offer knowing I would not need his change where I was going.... Where was that exactly? Heaven? Hell? Wherever I was headed I just wished I would get there quickly. Now, this is where the story gets funky. Some have called the events that follow "my sign." Some have said it was my "will to live" that is inherent in all humans. Whatever it was, it is why I am writing this today. Okay. Here it goes... After the Deacon walked away, my first instinct was to walk my ass back to St. Frank and the shade tree. Sit down and tell ol' Francis to kiss my rosy red ass!!! Then I would just fall asleep under the tree. A deeeep sleep, as it were. No one would be the wiser. I was just a bum sleeping in the park. That was my first instinct. Not the instinct I followed though. No siree. I followed my second instinct which was, get this, to walk. That's right, walk. Where? Dunno. Why? Dunno. Just know I started walking. Eastbound on Van Buren. I got to 7th street and made it across just fine. Where was I going? What was I hoping to accomplish? I was not 100% sure but in the back of my now very cloudy mind it ran that there were hospitals this way. That must have been it. Hospitals. They would help me, right? Wait, I didn't want help..... I wanted to die..... Then..... Black...... Everything went black...... No white light. No tunnels. No family members waiting with open arms to help me cross over..... Just black.....

I have no idea how much time had passed before the blackness was interrupted. It could have been a matter of minutes. It could have been hours. It really didn't matter how long it was. What mattered was that the blackness was disturbed. This meant one thing. I was not dead. I had failed in my attempt. The blackness was replaced by a face.A paramedic or fire fighter's face. Didn't make no never mind to me. I didn't care what branch of the life-saving brigade this guy was from, he represented failure to me. My failure. My inability to complete yet another task. Dammit, Dammit, Dammit, Dammit, Dammit!!!!!!!! I know I should have been grateful with this development. However, gratitude was the farthest thing from my mind. Fortunately the blackness returned quickly. Very quickly. Almost as suddenly as it had appeared the first time. Perhaps it was permanent this time.... Not!!! Again, some unknown amount of time passed as I was in the blackness. Next thing I knew, I was staring at a pony-tailed man. I assumed him to be an Er doctor. What worried me was that damn pony-tail. I was sure it was going to flop in my mouth. I shall never know if it did because the blackness returned once again. Many minutes, possibly hours, once again had passed. The next thing I knew, there was a young woman with black hair and an unidentifiable accent fussing over me. It was evident to me that I was in a hospital bed. What hospital though? What time was it? Man, I was hungry, too!!!!! Once I gathered my thoughts, I formed the previous questions and concerns into words. I was in St. Luke's Hospital Intensive Care Unit, it was 3 am on Friday night, Saturday morning, and food was on it's way. Wow, that was a lot to swallow. Instead of trying to process it all, I went numb. "Dinner" came rather unceremoniously. I finished it quickly and decided to, once and for all, put an end to this "Day in the Life." I decided to create my own blackness. I went to sleep.

There it is. Love it or leave it. Stupid choice. No other way to say it. Selfish, self-absorbed and cowardly. I realize I was going to shed light on Chemical Dependency in this blog so I guess I could do that right now.... Put your sunglasses on.... Here it goes..... I have both!!!! Never knew it. I knew I had problems with alcohol and some drugs but I never imagined it was a Chemical Dependency. Nor was I aware that I was severely Bi-Polar and that folks with this affliction tend to gravitate towards chemicals as an escape from the nightmare they live. They are also REALLY good liars. That is not to say I have lied during the production of this blog. I have not. Most honest I have been in a long ass time. Just ask Dr. Agudo. She thinks the meds are working just fine.... heh heh.... Okay, Doc..... heh heh....