I know, you missed me posting. Well, get over it cause I still have to go in through AOL's backdoor to do it... I don't knwo what's wrong and David hates AOL so he won't even attempt to figure out why it's doing the shit it's soing...
In the meantime, the only way for me to post is through an IM. Now that sucks. God forbid you actually have a long thought that requires more that the allotted space of an IM.
I can tell you now that this sucks. I have wanted to write several times, but attempting to write is just so frustrating.

Anyway, technically right now I should be out Christmas shopping. But I am just so tired I can't get my ass up and out of here long enough to even get dressed. It's sad when getting dressed for the day takes all the energy you can muster up.

So now I am tired of this posting this way.... I am going to have to come up with another solution to the posting problem.

Until then, it's been real.

Apparently my journal (or at least AOL) is not happy with my making a blog entry. This is my repaired, new computer. Going in through my blogsite to post is apparently not possible. At least AOL gaveth it's members a "back door", the Post Through Your Buddylist back door. Let's see if it works.....

Just so you know, I am still on my old computer. This makes journaling here difficult at best.

So anyway, I have been home from Florida for almost 2 days. I am still ultra tired. I don't know why I am tired, I had a fabulously relaxing time there in Daytona. Maybe it's cause I didn't go to bed until 2 and 3 in the morning almost every night. This old body here is not used to being up that late and then getting up before noon.

I thoroughly enjoyed my time at Carol, Belinda and Raven's little home. They were graciously wonderful hosts and let me just veg, which is what I needed. I spent most of my time hanging out in their screened in patio (commonly referred to as a Florida Room).  It's the only place you can smoke in their house, so we were all out there a whole lot smoking, drinking coffee (Raven's fabulous coffee) and shooting the chit, commonly known as chatting.

I guess in a way it was like being in a chatroom on AOL. Everybody who was there was someone I knew from chatrooms on AOL. Wolfie was there, having just gotten out of the hospital a few days before my arrival. I think she was technically supposed to have gone back to NC to begin packing her life up there when she got sick and had to be hospitalized. Instead she spent a few weeks in a Florida hospital (weathering out Frances there).  Tig was also there having flown in the morning of my arrival to MCO. More on Tig later.

And then there was Tonia, Carol's best friend. A fellow Taurus, she was as charming as all get out. Witty, charming, brilliant, loving, there are not enough adjectives to describe this little powerhouse of personality. Just a genuine pleasure to hang around. She is also the mother of the cutest baby in the whole wide world.

I had a really great time just hanging around and yacking with folk. I got to spend some really quality time with Raven talking about transgendered issues. I don't know about Raven, but I found a real kindred spirit in him. It can really suck being transgendered in this culture, so having someone to sit around with and talk about the issues you face is affirming to the spirit. And then there was his kick ass coffee. I could have sat around drinking that all day long. Oh wait, I did just that <grin>.

I had gotten myself one hell of a bad sunburn before I got there. I spent 10 minutes in a tanning booth only to burn the living hell out of my body. Carol spent most of her time peeling away dead skin off me and putting aloe on to soothe the pain. She will never know how much I actually appreciated her doing this for me.

It's was Belinda's birthday weekend, so Friday night we went out to see the drag show at one of the local haunts. That was riotous fun. Belinda got lap danced twice from her favorite queen. Her name was Iman and man she was some kind of mocha HOT HOT HOT!  She sang happy birthday to Belinda and then for her last performance, she came out in nothing but electrical and duct tape barely covering her. OMG, OMG, OMG!! If that wasn't HOT enough, she then came over and gave Belinda her final lap dance of the night. This is a birthday I know Belinda will remember for a long, long time. I know I am not going to forget Belinda's birthday for a long time anyway <grin>.

Carol and I went swimming in their pool a few times with Belinda joining us for a short while the first time. It was nice just floating around in there relaxing. They have the kind of above ground that Sue wants to get. I would like to get one too, but the cost of having the excavation done to level the earth would be cost prohibitive. We just don't have enough flat land in private enough places to put a pool on.

So now on to Tig. Tig is Wolfie's love. I think Wolfie knows this but, man is she lucky. Tig is just the sweetest, cutest person you will meet in a long time. Endearing is a good word to describe how I experienced Tig. She reminded me a lot of Sue. New York accent and all. Tig is one of those sweethearts that you just want to pick up and squeeze em and hug em and pet em. Just as adorable as they come. Just for the record, I didn't pick up and squeeze, hug or pet Tig. I don't think she would have appreciated it much. She really is an adult, despite her cute, boyish nature.  I refrained from such behavior out of respect.  I just want her to know that it was hard though. I just wanted to give her a big hug every time I walked by. Tig is coming back there to live the end of the month. She got herself a little apartment and is coming back to be near Wolfie soon.

Carol, Tonia and I went to the beach my last day there for about an hour or so. It was very over cast, and sprinkled a few times. It was windy as all heck (30 mile an hour gusts) and the waves were 8 to 10 feet, breaking close to shore and about 30 feet apart. Storm waves. I figured it might be coming from Jean, but it was hard to say since Ivan was lingering in and around the pan handle and was coming back around to the gulf about then.  I still enjoyed being there despite the weather conditions. Once in a while a guy just needs some salt water around him ya know?

There was a lot of damage from Frances all around. Carol said I should have seen it before the clean up began. I believed her. What I saw was bad enough.

At any rate, I can't thank Belinda and Carol enough for bringing me there for a little vacation. I guess I needed it more than I thought I did. I was so relaxed by the 4th day that I had completely forgotten about all the shit back home that I had to deal with whenI got back. Funny, the day before I had to leave, the knots started to return in my shoulders and back. Like my body was trying to tell me that I was going back to all the shit I live with daily.  I am still not completely back yet in my head. I am still just trying to chill out and relax in the comfort of my dear friend's Florida Room. Still just hangin and chattin in my head and heart.....

Thanks again guys, I had a fabulously wonderful, relaxing time. Which is exactly what I needed. <big smoochers> I miss you all bunches!

I really haven't had a whole lot to say lately. Actually I have had things to say, but I usually am not sitting here at the computer when these brainchildren invade my consciousness. So by the time I get here, I have forgotten it all.

I really don't have a whole lot to say tonight either. I am trying to get ready to leave for Florida and make as much money as I can before I leave. Getting ready has included putting out $300 getting my car fixed so that I can drive to KC, MO to catch my plane. That's $300 I don't have to spare, but I have no other way to get up there without fixing my car.

I am having anxiety attacks over all this because I can't afford it. Sue just spent over $600 going to NY last week. Whether she knows it or not, it blew what I had saved for the mortgage this month.  Add to that I had a really bad week in business last week and Sue didn't work last week so there was no income there.  So add all that up and we are broke and I am about to leave on a vacation where I am supposed to relax.

That ain't gonna happen cause I will be stressing over money the whole time I am gone too. The whole time I am gone I will be having to pay Bill to be here and run the business. That is going to cost me money. So not only do I  lose money because I am not working, I have to pay to lose that money because I am not there.

You can see where I could be really stressed out now can't you?

Anyway, I am out of here.  I need to go stress somewhere else now......

Never underestimate the power of 18th century French philosophers....

Guardian angels God will send thee...

There's one thing you learn when you are a parent (or in my case at the moment, a grandparent). People are just going to have to put up with your pictures of the kids, period.

So these are my two grandkid pictures for the next month or two (there are many, many more, so trust me I am being kind here). So far, these are my two favorites out of the millions available.

When I look in this child's face, I don't just see Gina, I see Debbie's face too. But then on the other hand, the more I look at my own child's face, the more I see Debbie's face in her face. The older she gets, the more she looks like her mother.

I am sad in a way though. I still don't get credit for being a grandparent. I still don't get credit for loving and raising Gina as if she were my own flesh and blood. At least not with Clay's family or even my own. And why do you ask do I not get any credit? Because of their fucking suck ass religion. I am so over Christianity it ain't funny. That religion has caused me nothing but grief my whole life.  I suspect any organized man made religion would make me feel the same way though. I am not religious and I never will be. I am spiritual and I have a deep understanding of things not seen.

What I hope for my children is that I have/am implanting in them the ability to "see" with their hearts. To listen to that inner voice. It's not that hard. You need only quiet yourself inside and the truth wil come to you.....

 

Arkansas, you are home to me.....

Fe fi fo fum. This guy I was doing a job for yesterday came in from lunch and showed me the words Fe fi fo, fe fi fo fo written on a some kind of laminated board. He said "read that and see if you can see what it says". So I read it aloud. Fe fi fo, fe fi fo fo. I don't get it.  He says it's Mike Tyson's lawyer's number. Ok, you are going to think I am dumb, but I really thought it was some code and I still didn't get it.

Bill explained it to me later, after we had left there. Apparently it was a slur on eubonics.  I was finally home and sitting at my desk playing my pirate game when I realized what it really meant. I am either not prejudice, or I am really dumb, one of the two. Sorry my mind just did not go there when first presented with the joke. I didn't even know it was a joke.

So there was this little Hispanic guy there name Lupe working for Mr. Fe Fi Fo and he came up to me after the laminated board presentation and said in his broken English "You think that was funny?"  I say "Not especially". So I preceed to tell him about Jack and the Beanstalk. I say I think it has to do with Tyson's lawyer being a giant killer or something. Seriously, that was what I was thinking.

I like this little guy Lupe. He's really cute (physically and personality wise). Between my horrible Spanish and his passing English, we managed to communicate for the last 2 days with each other.  I find out what state he is from in Mexico and I tell him I know someone else from that state that lives here too. She is married to one of the Tapia brothers.  I ask if he knows the family, he does not.  The Tapia's are a big family here in town, lots of Tapia's and all related in one way or another to each other. I am figuring he must live in Berryville if he does not know the Tapia's.

So I go to my next job and there is Emelda Tapia (who I adore) helping prep the new restoration I am doing the locks for. She has her oldest daughter there who is like a senior in high school now. I tell Emelda I met this guy named Lupe who is from her state and even knew where San Felipe was (her home town). I tell her that Lupe is really cute (que lindo) and maybe only 20 or 21 years old. Her daughter suddenly looks up and gets this smile on her face. Emelda grins widely at her daughter and laughs. I tell them he is working down at Eagles Nest for the next week or so, she can catch a glimps of him there.

I really like Emelda. I think to myself that in another place and time we would be friends. But here, in Eureka Springs Arkansas, we are only two people who make minor, idle chit chat (mainly because my Spanish is horrible and her English is about as good as Lupe's was).  I have known Emelda for at least 8 years, I have watched her children grow up.

Emelda lives in a world where the only jobs she can get is doing meanial labor (as in housekeeping and such). Partly it is because her English is not that great, but mostly it is because she is a Mexican from Mexico. She would not be able to get a front desk job here because of her English, but I suspect that she wouldn't be able to get one even if her English were exemplary. I know that the cultural differences are part of why Emelda doesn't want to be my friend.  That and I am gay and I don't think she quiet gets that being gay thing.

We have a lot of things going against there ever being a real friendship between us. If my Spanish were better, that would help. But 12 years removed from having to speak Spanish to survive and my Spanish is very rusty and very bad. I also never took Spanish in school, so my Spanish is street slang from LA.  It's not enough to instill trust in people.  I am still a gavacha in their eyes. Still "Whitie".

I understand why Emelda and her huge extended family are hard to get close to and become friends with. I don't trust "Whitie" either.  Whitie has hurt me too, but I can't explain that to them in terms they can understand, my Spanish sucks too much for that.  That and the cultural thing. I don't understand their culture enough to explain it in words they can understand. How do you explain you are shit on too because you aren't really "Whitie"?

Emelda's younger children will talk with me. They speakEnglish because they are American's. They are first generation and they learned English in school.  The older girls will not talk with me. Part of that is their age (teenagers ack!). But then even as children they did not talk with me much. Her boys on the other hand are motor mouths and will talk to you for hours if you let them.

I understand Emelda and her extended family's wanting to stay distant from Whitie. I just wish there was a way to cross that barrier. One of these days one of her kids or maybe grandkids is going to marry into Whitie and then she/they will have to deal with it. Too many people from California are moving here. They don't have the same prejudices that people from the mid-south may still have about Hispanics. They will all assimilate as time goes by.

In the mean time, I am sitting here in Arkansas knowing that the Hispanic community lives with the same prejudices that the Hispanic community in California has faced since Whitie came there and took their lands from them.  I am also sitting here in Arkansas thinking I wish that prejudice didn't create such a barrier to friendships.

I am thinking that jokes like Mr. Fe Fi Fo's joke don't help bridge the gaps created long before we were all born.  I am thinking I want to be able to be friends with people just because we "click", not because our cultures are the same or our skin color matches.

So yeah Lupe, I don't think it's funny. It was a bad joke and in very poor taste. Don't repeat it, it's not worth the breath from your body son. Trust me on this one.....

I wouldn't wanna be like you, I wouldn't want to be like you....

Douche waste water... kind of has a ring to it doesn't it?

Which brings me to this statement:

Votre sont non seulement un moron complet, vous sont les restes d'un sac de douche monté par maladie particulièrement répugnante.

That just kid of sums it all up for me.

I get my kicks on Route 66

I love this picture. It rocks. K is as cute as can be here. She was a few months away from turning 3 years old in this picture. I can't believe my baby is in Kindergarten. I didn't cry today, but then I didn't expect to.... I am sappy and sentimental (yes, honey, that is something that happens with age and it only gets worse). I'll save my tears for graduation. Like I saved my tears for Gina's wedding. I love you baby girl. My Pumpkin Girl, my special Princess. I adore you beyond words.

It goes like it goes, like the river flows....

Tomorrow two exciting things happen. One, Kaitlyn starts Kindergarten and two, Sue and I will be celebrating our 7th anniversary. That's two fairly emotional things happening in one day.

I have to go bed now because I have to be up at the crack of dawn to go with Sue and K to the first day of school. There are somethings in life I don't really want to miss and this is one of them.  On our anniversary, I don't know why, but I would really like to make love to my wife. I know it won't happen, but it's a nice thought anyway.

I had all these stories I wanted to put down here that were running like movies in my head today. I am not only too tired right now, I can't remember any of them. That's too bad, some of them were cute little remembrances of things long past yet still bittersweet in my memory.

Oh well, they will come back to me someday.

Listen for wings, the angels are on their way right now....

It's been a hard day's night and I've been working like a dog....

Ok, so I got the puter back today. Well, actually yesterday. I picked it up yesterday morning from David and Janice's while dropping K off there after her optometrist appointment. He spent like 45 minutes explaining how he saved my precious files and what all my new functions were on XP (I had NT). Most of it went in one ear and out the other, but I think I kind of got the gist of it. So Dave takes it out to the car for me when we are done with the walk though and buckles it in the front seat (the back seat and trunk are full of shit for work).

I then proceed to my work day. Well, actually, first I had to make a stop at Hart's (our supermarket here in Eureka) and hit their big ass meat sale. It only lasts 3 days and I knew I would not get back to town until it was over so it was now or never. Now I have the computer strapped in the front seat and 12 pounds of top sirloin in the back seat. So I head over to Tad's (my favorite convenience store) and proceed to ask Kate (my friend and owner of Tad's) if I can leave the meat in her walk in cooler until I finish my job at the New Orleans Hotel. Of course she says yes cause she adores me. 

I buy my one and only cup of coffee for the day and a bottle of water and head off for the NO. It's Friday afternoon and busier than shit in the historic district downtown area, touroids everywhere. Which means there is no place to park. So I park in the loading zone, go get Kara (my friend and the GM there), go down to the restautant they need rekeyed and proceed to pull and gather up all the locks, get all final instructions from Kara and hop back in my car, locks stuffed in my pockets and head over to Harmon Park where I can find a picnic table and rekey everything. Having to do that because there is no place to park adds like 45 more minutes on to the job but hey, I boy's gotta do what a boy's gotta do to get the job done.

So I get the locks finished (not to mention have a few conversations with friends in the park passing through) get back (parking in the loading zone again) reinstall the locks, talk to Bill who calls on his way home from Fayetteville and says he will meet me at the next job, give Kara the bill and head back to Tad's to get the meat I think I am going to run by the house before heading to the next job (next next job was closer to the house than downtown Eureka Springs is).

So I get to about Thorncrown Chapel and Bill calls saying he is at the job site already. I am either really slow or he was closer than he let on when he called before. So I tell him to pull as many locks as he can until I get there and I deadhead to the job.  I don't bother to tell him I have almost $50 worth of Top Sirloin in the car. I figure it's 6 of 1, half a dozen of the other since making Bill wait for me costs me money.  So I chance that we will finish this job quickly and risk the meat.

Now mind you, it's close to 3:30 when I arrive and I have a chiropractic appointment at 5:00 in Holiday Island, a mear 12 miles from where I am at the moment, down windy mountain roads filled with touroids going 10 miles and hour. There are 16 locks to pull, clean, rekey and reinstall. I get there and Bill has the front pulled already. So I find the customer's old key code, cut a key to work with, cut the new keys and head in to start rekeying.

Now you need to know that under good circumstances, rekeying a standard Kwikset lock takes approximately 5 minutes at the utmost and 2 minutes if you really rock. I must say that, from the time I arrived until the moment I was pulling out of the driveway and back on to Hwy 187 was less than 55 minutes. Me and Bill just fucking rocked. I like these kinds of jobs cause they are nearly pure profit. I think that making $200 bucks an hour rocks anyway.

So now I am off to drop the meat off and head to HI for the chiropractor appointment. I get there with 1 minute to spare and low and behold, for the first time ever, the chiroprator is actually running late. I am actually extremely glad that I have the book I brought for K's optometrist appointment in the car with me. I read about 4 pages and she is ready for me.

So I hop on the table and she gets to work on me and suddenly my cell (which I am tethered to 24/7) goes off. I am laying on the table, she is adjusting me and I can't get up (not to mention I don't have my glasses on so I couldn't see to answer it anyway). So she runs over and gets it and my glasses and hands them to me.

It's Ky, she has locked her keys in her truck and needs me.  I tell her I am getting an adjustment at that exact second, but that as soon as I am done I will rush there to save her. Mind you, she is an hour away in Bentonville. She tries to tell me where she is. She's at Mail Boxes Etc., she uses Wendy's as a land mark. Wendy's is not a place I would eat even if you put a gun to my head. She also tells me it's just past Walmart World Headquarters, better known as Corporate. Now here's the kicker, where she was is just past Corporate, if you are coming from her work. If you are turning off 102 on to Walton Blvd however, it's just before corporate.

So I don't even start looking for the nebulous Wendy's until I pass corporate. In fact, I was probably staring at Jimmy John's thinking I would like to have a sub from there when I missed Wendy's. I am also very aware that she has been sitting there waiting for me for a million hours and I am kind of anxious to get her in her vehicle and safely back on the road to where ever as soon as possible. I am running the length of Walton Blvd in my head searching for the Wendy's in my mind. I am drawing a blank. I can see the Taco Bell on the corner of Applegate, I can see the car wash I love oh so much there too. I can see all kinds of shit I know is there as you head north on Walton just past Corporate, but there ain't no Wendy's in my memory.

So I keep on driving thinking maybe they built a new Wendy's down past Applegate, I mean Bentonville is growning rapidly these days, it could happen. Why I cannot fathom, but still, it could happen. Finally I get as close as you can get to Bella Vista without actually driving in to Bella Vista and I know something is seriously wrong. I turn around and head back south. I pass Corporate and there on my right is Wendy's with MBE just a stone's throw away. And there in the bed of the little orange pick up truck is Mistress Ky with a sad little smile on her face.

So I say, "I drove right past you."  She says she knows, she yelled at me as I drove past. I am deaf, we all know this. Blind, deaf and dumb in the mental sense. She tells me I look great, I tell her she looks fabulous too (we haven't seen each other in ages mind you since she and the Aud boy work 9 million hours a week). I get my tools out, we figure out how we are going to open this sucker up and then I pop the sucker open. She is grateful, grabs her keys and proceeds to lock the vehicle back up.

I did not see her do this. She says to me "Do it again! Do it again!" I said "huh?" She holds out the Old Man's keys to me and says, "these are the wrong keys."  I seriously thought she was joking, but no, she wasn't joking one little bit. Now I am thinking this is funnier than all shit. Probably because it seemed ironic in some way to me. We both got a good chuckle out of it none the less.

So I pop it again, she gets the right keys this time and we head off to gas up and pee (we both had to go really bad) and then she insists on taking me out for a bite to eat and to get caught up on our lives.  I can't resist when she insists, so off to dinner at this fabulous little Italian place and some lovely conversation.

Now mind you, since I left the Chiropractor's office, I had tried to call Sue on the phone. But it just rang busy for at least an hour and a half. I can't call on the business phone because it's forwarded to my cell. I was afraid she was going to start worrying so finally I called Bill's house, left him a message to try to call my house for me. He calls me back, says he will email her. He emails her and within 30 minutes, as we are getting ready to be seated at aforementioned Italian restautant, Sue calls me.  At least now she knows I am not dead and vice versa.

Ky and I had a lovely dinner, talked for ever about all kinds of fun stuff and then we both head off to our respective abodes. It was great getting to see her after such a long time. Always reminds me why I like her company so much. She's brilliant.

Fast forward to today (Saturday).  The family and I are in town running a few errands when I get a lockout call. It's a black version of Ky and Aud's truck. I get there and within 2 minutes I have it popped. The guy says, "Wow, that was fast!". I say, "That's because I just opened one just like yours last night, twice in fact." I have that particular vehicle down to a science now.

So the puter came out of the front seat late last night and here it sits on the dining room table still not hooked up. Sue and I went to look at Kia Sedona's today. We didn't get home until almost 10pm.  Maybe tomorrow I will get this sucker back up and running. Who knows. I know we have to make a Walmart run tomorrow cause K needs a few more things for school on Monday. I just hope it doesn't take so much time that I don't get a chance to work on the puter not to mention mow the law. I have to mow the law tomorrow cause while we were out, Dave Rush, my next door neighbor, mowed his lawn and now I have to mow mine. It's our (mine and Dave's) neighborly lawn mowing war at it's best. He mows, I mow and vice versa. Thank god I am poor or everytime he painted his house I would have to do that too. You just wait til I get the new siding and roof... ha ha ha ha ha <evil grin>  Wait, come to think of it, we went to the Kia dealer today because Jill and Dave just bought a new Kia this week... hmmmm, neighborly wars at their best <grin>.

I know it's not until Monday but, Happy Anniversary honey! Seven years is not a long time yet. Wait until you are sitting there watching me die 20 years from now. Then that will have been a long time. I love you Sue, more than you will ever know.

The Simpson's....Dah dah dah dah dah dah dah dah dah da.da.da.da.da.da.da.

Doh, Doh, Doh, Doh!

This is kind of a long story about why the four dohs, so I will try to make this short.

I can't get onto this site on this old computer unless I enter through the IM journal option. For some reason I can follow that link and nothing else. I don't know why and I don't care why, it just won't. It also forces you to enter at least 4 words before it will post your IM journal post.

So I posted the first thing that came to my mind so that I could get this link to come up for me in an IM. That happened to be Homer saying his 32 dohs. This computer then froze up and I had to reboot. At that point I said "Fuck it!" and went to bed. What was supposed to go here was the story up above. The best laid plans of mice and men often go astray. Thank you Mr. Hemminway, I appreciate the sentiment. No really, I do.

Hope everyone one is having a fabulous life right now. Angels are on their way.  

Long as I can grow it my hair.

This post is about my hair and not the musical.

Today I was awakened early with a job. As much as I like the money, I hate being woken up from a dead sleep for an emergency call. So I figured, since I am in town so early, I might as well go see if I can get my hair cut (I am getting shaggy and Mr. Preslan my hair dresser has become impossile to find). So I went to this walk in place at 8:30 to see if they could cut my hair right then and there and low and behold, their earliest opening was at noon.

So now I will have to wait yet another hour or two with this shaggy head of mine. Those of you who do not know me need to know that I keep my head pretty much shaved down to the bone. So after 3 months of Mr. James Preslan's moving and taking forever off work to get their new house ready to move into, I have gotten to the point where my hair is touching my ears and you can actually tell that I have wavy hair.

The problem with going in to see a hair dresser that is new is that #1: this is a straight chick so I can't tell her to just cut my hair like Emmett's in season 4 of QAF and #2: I have no idea if she is any good with short hair styles. This place looks like a place straight women go to get their hair done. So I am not so sure she cuts many men's heads. Trust me, when I am through with a hair cut, you know I am TG, my hair cuts don't even look like a dyke's hair cut let alone a straight chick. I look like a guy when they are done with me.

Were it not for these useless annoying tits on my chest, you would never know I wasn't a biological guy. Well, except for the fact that I have a fairly pretty face. I suppose if I began testosterone therapy that my features might harden a bit (and of course there would be that facial hair,not to mention I would go bald like my brothers, which is why I will never do T, I am too vain to lose my hair).

Oh yeah, and the plactic surgery I want done? I want these tits removed and all the sag from years of being in a female body lipoed and then all the lose skin removed (trust me, there is a lot of lose skin involved here. That's not too much to ask for. It's not like I want a face life. In fact, I rather like these lines on my face, I earned everyone of these wrinkles, so I am keeping them. There's nothing on my face that needs fixing.

I am not hard on the eyes, I have Dad's little ears and nose and Dad is a pretty good looking guy actually. If you took Guy Williams (as Zorro), Cary Grant and Clark Gable (minus the big ears) and rolled them in to one, you would have my Dad in his youth. I also have his high cheekbones, so that's a plus too. I even inherited his dimples and long dark eyelashes.

I just need to lose the tits and life will be good. Luckily for me, the tits have caused a great deal of damage to my back so it will be no problem at all getting a doctor's referral to get them cut off.

So that's life here on the farm today.  Still don't have my computer back. Seems that this virus worm thingy won't let Dave back up the files I don't want to lose. If he can't fix it then I will have to go in there myself and email a lot of the important things to myself so that I can reload them once the machine is virus free and home again.

Btw Dear Little Virus/Worm Creators out there, I realise that a goodly (perhaps disproportionate is a better word for it) amount of you are little teenage assholes just getting your anger about life in general out of you by creating these things, but stop for one moment and consider that you aren't just fucking with big businesses (I hate them too btw). This shit hits little guys just like me. What little guys just like me keep on their computers are priceless things that cannot be replaced, like pictures and art work and poetry. We also don't back things up, unlike big businesses who do back things up. Just think for a moment what that would feel like to you to lose those things. Or maybe you just haven't grown up enough to understand how something could be a priceless thing to another person, nor respect that.  I guess what pisses me off is that 15 years from now you won't be angry any more but you will have still done the damage anyway and have to live with that thought for the rest of your life. Oh fucking well. Too bad you say. Whatever. Bad karma is bad karma, just remember that.

This is not my real computer. Ok, it used to be my real computer, but then I bought a new one last year. The new computer is in the hospital in critical condition. So I am now limited to using this puppy until it recovers and returns home to me.

So if there is not a whole lot of activity going on here for the next few days you will know why.

Big hairy protective angels to you all************

Sail on, sail on, sail on....

Ok, I am going to Florida in a few weeks for a little mini-vacation. This is not the kind of thing I would normally do out of the blue. But I am going nonetheless as my dear and generous friends earnestly wanted to give me the gift of some time off and I, with some trepidation, took their offer of some needed respite.

My real problem about going is that I cannot imagine leaving my home and business for something as trivial as me getting to relax and just veg. Since this has not been the best year business wise, I am of course concerned to not have the income I would normally have for those 4 or 5 days. Add to that the fact that I actually have to pay someone to take my place while I am gone from work, then my little respite costs me considerably more than it would for someone who gets paid vacations.

The problem is, between now and when I take off in that airplane, I somehow have to talk myself into believing that I deserve some rest. I honestly am not sure I can do that. I am a workaholic and I believe that the world rests squarely upon my shoulders and that if I am gone for long it will all fall apart. I can't seem to shake that belief.

I suppose I would feel better if I knew that my finances were a bit better. Like it would be nice to know that all the bills were paid before I left so that the world did not crumble at my feet while I was gone. In reality, that is what I will stress about the most.

Then there is that little stress that Sue might possibly be coming home on the 10th or 12th of September with 3 extra children in tow. I feel an enormous amount of guilt at the thought of leaving her alone with 4 children in the house. Especially when they have just recently arrived. It really does concern me. I honestly am hoping that they don't ship the kids with her as I would prefer them to come at a little later date. Like say around September 25th or so, that would take an enormous stress off of me and this pending vacation of mine.

Before I leave, Sue is going to be off in NY working on getting the kids. She will be gone a week. That is a week of just me, Kaitlyn and the animals. I think I can survive that, at least I hope I can. I know the house will stay clean because I will have total control over it all (muhawhawhaw) :D.

I leave just a few short days after her return, which is why I don't want the kids to arrive with her. I don't want her to have to face getting these kids settled in all alone. I am just putting it out there into the universe that everything comes together for the best of everyone, myself included. Cause I really would like to have some rest without the concerns of everyday life weighing on me my every waking moment.

Next year honey, we are going to take the whole family to Disney World and maybe even take that damn Disney Cruise I want to do oh so much too.  And well go see Grandpa Marty and Grandma Fran and just have a fun time together as a family. Next summer things will be better, I can feel it in my bones. Well, maybe next winter. Orlando is always better in the wintertime anyway.

One way or another, I am going to figure out how to get us all on vacation at the same time. And here's an idea, maybe somewhere down the road a piece, just you and I can go off some place cool alone. Like Key West or some place romantic in Jamica. We'll hire a professional aupear to take care of the kids and a professional house sitting to come care for the plants and animals and we will just fly off to parts unknown together. Wadda ya say sweetheart? Wanna go snorkeling with me? I hear they have great beer in Jamica. :D

You have my heart so don't hurt me....

I was having this conversation with a friend last night who is falling head over heals in love right now and what came to mind was a Cranberrie's song.

I remembered reading something years ago that John Bradshaw had written about being head over heals in love when you first fall in love with someone. The period of time when you first fall in love until anywhere between 6 months to 2 years is called limerance. What John Bradshaw said was that period of time is probably the only time in your life when you are as close to being clinically insane without being considered insane as possible.

Probably because of your irrational behavior and all the intense emotions you are feeling and exhibiting. Whatever, love is still grand. It's spectacular to be "in love". Especially when it is reciprocal.

This is the song, I can relate to it totally:

Dreams, The Cranberries

Oh my life is changing everyday
in every possible way
And oh my dreams
it's never quite as it seems
Never quite as it seems
I know I felt like this before
But now I'm feeling it even more
Because it came from you
Then I open up and see
The person falling here is me
A different way to be
I want more, impossible to ignore
Impossible to ignore
And they'll come true
impossible not to do
Impossible not to do
And now I tell you openly
You have my heart so don't hurt me
You're what I couldn't find
A totally amazing mind
So understanding and so kind
You're everything to me
Oh my life is changing everyday
In every possible way
And oh my dreams
it's never quite as it seems
'cause you're a dream to me
Dream to me

See? That's a falling in love song. I remember falling in love. It's truly the best high there is on earth. I read a couple of old love letters last night from a time when I was deeply in love with someone and she apparently was in love with me. As time passes you tend to think that maybe you were mistaken about whether they loved you or not. Reading old love letters confirms that you are indeed not imagining something existed that did not exist. In a bittersweet way, it's kind of nice to go back and remember being that in love with someone again.

I try not to go to that place very often. I try not to remember too much of my past loves. Although you may learn some incredible lessons from your association with someone you loved deeply, it's best not to go there as it bears little resemblance to your real life today.

You can thank those people for the gift of their presence in your life and whatever lessons they brought to you, but then it's time to move on and keep your heart open for new lessons elsewhere.  It's not like you are being cold hearted, it's just that dwelling on what has morphed into something else is a fruitless waste of your energy.

I have been utterly in love with someone else at least 2 times in my life.  The second time was a lot nicer than the first. But both times where incredible. The feelings are intense in a way you seldom ever know at any other time. It's as if everything else on earth pales in comparision. It's something you will never forget and hopefully always cherish. Being in love just plain old rocks.

I think though from experience, that deep and abiding love is the best. Once limerance has worn off and you are living your life day to day with this person that caused all those incredible feelings in the beginning years ago, knowing that you just love them unconditionally is the greatest love. You are dedicated to them and to the relationship and that makes it possible to weather the storms of life together.

And now I tell you openly
You have my heart so don't hurt me
You're what I couldn't find
A totally amazing mind
So understanding and so kind
You're everything to me

This says it all for me. You really are everything to me.

Good luck my friend, you have my hope and blessings.

Come what may......

Think I'll shave my head and become a Buddist monk

This weekend was Yards and Yards of Yard Sales weekend here in Reekee. I hate yard sales, unless there are power tools involved. I hate shopping unless it's Home Depot or Lowes.

Sue however loves yard sale-ing. I think she hit them all this weekend. Mostly she went to her friend's yard sales. She gets free stuff when she goes to friend's yard sales. What it really all amounts to is that she brings home more junk to clutter up the house and garage. We don't need to go to other people's yard sales, we need to have the Muther of all time garage sale of our own.

I have estimated that we probably have close to $100k worth of garbage in our garage and house that will never get used. Some of it's new and has never been used, some of it is used and needs to be thrown out, some of it is just plain old questionable as to what it might have been and what use it might have for us now. Whatever it is, it is junk cluttering up the garage and house.

Yesterday, she brought even more junk into the house. Now mind you, she found some decent clothes for Kaitlyn for school. But see, I believe that is all she should have gotten. Anything else was just junk being brought in the house.

The worst part of her garage sale addiction is that it takes the better part of a month or two for all the junk she bought to find a place other than sitting on the floor or assorted furniture downstairs here. My issue with that is this: the upstairs is hers and Kaitlyn's. I don't give a rat's ass what happens up there. They can have and do whatever they like up there as long as it doesn't ooze down the stairs or smell so bad that it waifs it's way down here.  I never go up there unless there is some kind of emergency going on. I vowed to myself that I would never go up there, it's better for my nerves if I don't.

See the downstairs is mine. I gave them the upstairs to destroy, the downstairs is mine to keep as pristine as I possibly can. This of course is an impossible feat as their shit gets left all over the place down here, plus, Sue has this thing about bringing more and more animals every day into our home. I am tired of dog and cat shit (literally). What that really means is that I am at the end of my rope and I have finally let go.

Let me give you a scenario of how life would be here if either they did not live here or, if they were tidy folk. The downstairs would be constantly immaculate. There would be an actually style to the decor, a theme so to speak, tasteful, but not arrogant. Things would at least match, or at least go together well. The wouldn't be this hodge podge of shit that has no relation to one another, or looks as if it was bought at a distress sale in the 1970's. There would be one cat, most likely a Siamese and one dog, most likely a Maltese. There might be a small fish tank some where, but I doubt it. Before something new was brought into the house, the old thing it was replacing would have been thrown out, as in removed forever from this property in one way or another.

Everything would be organized, a place for everything and everything in it's place. There would not be more toys than one child could possibly play with in a lifetime sitting on the kitchen table, let alone in the whole of the house. There would not be a need for 30 toy boxes and chests that were over flowing in every conceivable room of the house. There would be one and it would be upstairs along with shelving and cubbies to hold books and whatnots.

I know how to do all this organizing. I know exactly what needs to be done. The real problem is, I can't do it alone, it is almost insurmountable for one person to accomplish.  If this was 10 or 15 years ago, I would still have the energy to do all this organizing. Ten or 15 years ago I would not have felt so helpless to stop the rising tide of the junk. Ten or 15 years ago, this wouldn't have happened because I would not have allowed it to happen. I would have put my foot down back then.

Now I don't have the strength to do it. Now I am at their mercy because I can't fight them both, let alone singularly. My real problem is that I am alone in the desire to have things clean and organized. This adds to my feelings of isolation and loneliness. No one shares my vision and I am incapable physically of carrying out my vision for a home and property that looks pleasing to the eye and doesn't smell like animal excrement.

Thank god this stupid yard sale thing is only one weekend a year. Not that she doesn't find other yard sales during the rest of the year, it's just this big ass yard sale weekend is when the most junk comes in the house all at once.  Out of all of this I think the thing that bothers me the most is that Sue is teaching Kaitlyn to love yard sales. I am hoping I die before Kaitlyn ever gets old enough to bring home as much useless junk as her mother does.

And now you have an idea why my home is the way it is.

Knowing me, knowing you, It's the best I can do....

There are two distinct clues that are dead give aways that I am a boomer fag.

1. I love Judy Garland

2. I love Abba

There are other clues, like I love to decorate and cook weird gormet things. People might think this is my girl side, but I promise, there is nothing girlie about me. Trust me if it's anything, it's the queen in me coming out.

On the other hand I love Sinead O'Conner and I am not sure if that is a fag thing or not.  Sue is playing Sinead right now and it is making me happy.

So I asked Sue if I get rich, would she mind if I had a sex change and she said no she didn't mind.  I told her I really just want these useless tits god chose to make my life miserable over removed.  Not gonna lose my hair by taking T. I like my hair, I do not want to be bald.

If I finally do get rich, I am going to have plastic surgery too.  I am vain, this I will admit, and it is such a fag thing too.

I think I am ready for bed now. Had a long day working.

Angels are decending upon you now, so get ready.

Lucy in Disguise With Glasses!

You are going to have to be 900 years old like me to remember that song. If I recall correctly, I think it came out the same year that Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds came out for the Beatles. I am going to embarrass myself right now by not bothering to remember what album LSD was on. I hope you see the correlation to dropping acid and the title of that Beatles' song. It was purposeful on John Lennon's part, trust me.

At any rate, my post however has nothing to do with John Lennon, nor hallucinogenic drugs. It however has everything to do with the need for eyeglasses in this household. My glasses are in serious need of the prescription being upped as my old eyes get even worse. Sue's glasses, if I recall correctly, were thrown on the pyre that issued forth as a result of a massive clean up at our old property when we were about to put up a new house.  This would have been in July of 98, so Sue has been glassless for sometime now.

What brought this whole thought process on is that I purchase several used books online from Amazon.com and the one I was most anxiously awaiting, turns out to have the tiniest print known to man as the font size. That sucks because I am having a hell of a time getting into it. The problem is, I cannot read it fast enough because I can't see the fucking words. It's sort of technical, so I really can't just miss a word or two here and there or by the time I get to the end of a paragraph, nothing makes any sense. I then end up having to reread the damn thing just to figure out what is really being said. It sucks, trust me.

So I got this new optical insurance thing a few months ago and I am trying to find out what doctors honor that insurance around here. I want to get Sue in as soon as I can and get her some new glasses. It might seem like a surprise to some of you, but Sue is a voracious reader and probably reads 3 books to my one. It might not appear that way to the casual observer as I usually have 5 or 6 books going at once. The truth is, I do have 5 or 6 books going at once and I seldom finish them. Sue on the other hand picks up a book, starts it and has it done within a day or two. It might be 6 months to never before I finish a book. Ok, I get bored easily and am off to the next thing before I finish the last one. It takes a fabulous author a fascinating subject or both to get me to finish a book in a sitting or two.

But I digress. Even more importantly though, I want to get Kaitlyn in for an eye exam before school starts. I don't want her to get left behind just because she cannot see the letters or numbers (even though it's only kindergarten).

So now I am going to go back to attempting to read this damn book with the microscopic font size. Wish me luck, I know I am going to need it....

Angels are on their way.....

Sam and Janet Evening....

I can never emphasize enough the importance of letting your heart love another utterly and completely.

I was having this conversation with a friend last night and he thinks he has found the love of his life, the woman of his dreams. He's worried he is going to fuck up some how. So I gave him my sage advice.

Love with an open heart. Be as honest as you can allow yourself to be with your feelings. If you feel it, don't shut it off and hold it inside. Let her know the depths of your being, show her your real heart.

Sex is important because it is your opportunity to show her with the whole of your passion just how much you do love her. Sex however is not nearly as important as keeping your heart open even when she has done something that has hurt you.

Live in the moment, love like there is no tomorrow. Let all that is in your being flow in and through her. Let her touch your heart. Love her unconditionally, never build boundaries that put limits on who she is as a person. In other words, don't judge or condemn her for anything.

Let every moment be joyous together. Don't be jealous or possessive. Allow her the freedom to be all of who she is. Encourage her in all that she strives to become or do.  Love her in the way you want someone else to love you.

Most of all, love yourself first. In loving yourself, you are able to love others more deeply and unconditionally. Seek your own connection with yourself and the universe. Awaken spiritually first and all these things will flow to you, including your great love, your soul mate.

And remember, as fabulous as sex might be, taking time to make incredible passionate love once in a while is the best sex ever.

St. Peter don't you call me cause I can't go, cause I owe my soul to the company store..

Last night as I was laying in bed trying to fall asleep I had this great dialog going in my head for a blog post.  I was just rocking and rolling with great ideas. But this all occurred at 3am and I wasn't exactly in a space to get up and actually do something about it physically. I chose to take the risk that I would remember at least some of it when I awoke.

Unfortunately for me, I was awakened early by a customer in need (No really? What a shocker!) and I never actually got a chance to sit down and really let it all flow back in so that I could get it down here.

Tomorrow I will be waking myself up early for a long day or work. I have a 9am quickie and then it's off the Pat Fitzsimmon's B&B to install dead bolts and lever sets. I need to mention here that there are about 30 locksets involved, so this is more than an all day gig with all the drilling and rekeying. But this is ok cause when I am done I will be able to pay the mortgage payment that is past due. Have I mentioned that things have been dead business wise around these them there parts? This job is a welcome relief and Pat keeps this particular part of the renovation ice cold with the air conditioner so I am a happy boy! It's been miserably hot here the last two days and I had a minor little heat thing happen today that sent me indoors with nausea and dizziness. I never have done well in hot places or in summer time.

Since I will be busy for the next few days, I will probably not be here much. It's all good cause it all means money is flowing in again. This is the joys and pains of owning your own business. Two weeks with virtually no business tends to wear thin on your nerves after a while.

Anyway, see you in a few days. Peace to all and here come the angels!

make it a Hurricane, before I go insane....

For the font size challenged, here's some bigger font. This help you any honey? I am not going to do this every time so say thank you now for this little gift.

I had this whole post written this afternoon with the exception of picking out a song title and adding the closing statements, the wrap up so to speak. Suddenly, as I was talking with Moonie in IMs,  I got overwhelmingly tired and needed to go lay down. So without thinking I clicked offline and as I hit the button I saw my post sitting down at the bottom of my page and I just kind of went  "Arg!" as I watched it disappear with AOHell's traditional "Goodbye".  Funny, it didn't really bum me out all that much. Shit happens ya know?

I am drinking a Guiness Extra Stout pint right now. It goes down so slow and easy.  I haven't had a drink in a super long time. So if I am able to complete this Guniss, I will most probably be wasted out of my gourd.  I used to drink a lot when Ky was still here. She used to bring me home a bottle or two of Chenin Blanc often. I would get plastered off two bottles of wine. Ky drank Cook's Extra Dry. I am actually amazed that I remember what she likes to drink.  I am pretty bad with things like what you like to drink or your birthday, favorite color, here's a good one, I'll forget your eye color too. I am pretty sure Ky's eyes are blue. Sue's are kind of the blue/gray/green, they change colors on her all the time.

Ok, this was enough. I am done and off to bed.

Hope all is well in everyone's world out there.

 

Some enchanted evening... when you find your true love, when you see her face, across a crowded room

Ok, fess up, people are reading my journal here, people besides me and the two other people who are already reading it anyway.

I guess I better shut up cause I will probably freak you all out and you will all go away. I am actually having this flirting conversation right now with a friend, not to mention it feels like someone feels like they are sitting on my head with their spirit. So it's disconserning to try to multi-task like this.

Flirting in IMs, blogging and trying to hold someone's spirit on your head while they are having these wonderful feelings they are sharing with you is kind of like juggling a peach, a portable Smith-Corona and a cloud flilled with a light, almost feathery syrup.

Have you ever met your soul mate? Held her in your arms? Loved her tenderly with all the passion that was in your being? I think I have met a few soul mates in my short 50 years. I don't believe in that Twin Flame shit. But I do believe there are spirits that we incarnate with over and over again who we share a special connection with.

Real love doesn't come along very often. So when you find it you need to hold it tenderly, treat it like a precious and rare gift. Because it is just that, a gift so precious you need to cherish it with all of your being.

I cherish all of my loves. Every soul mate I have chanced to encounter in this life time.

Come what may, I will love you until my dying day.

I'm just burning, doing the Neutron Dance

Ok, the pity party is over and it's upward and onward to better things.

I bought a new printer/scanner/copier this evening. I opted to not spend the extra $40 bucks for the one with the fax. I figure I have a fax program in here somewhere and I can just use that, print shit, do whatever with it and fax it back after scanning it. Ok, it's an extra step or two that I might regret someday, but I honestly don't care.

I'd like to thank the Pointer Sisters for the following commentary on life:

Neutron Dance

Wooh ooh
Ooh ooh

I don’t wanna take it anymore
I’ll just stay here locked behind the door
Just no time to stop and get away
‘Cause I work so hard to make it every day

Wooh ooh
Ooh ooh

There’s no money falling from the sky
‘Cause a man took my heart and robbed me blind
Someone stole my brand new Chevrolet
And the rent is due, I got no place to stay

Wooh ooh (ooh ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh)
Wooh ooh (ooh ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh)

Chorus:
And it’s hard to say just how some things never change
And it’s hard to find any strength to draw the line
Oh, I’m just burning, doing the neutron dance
Ah ah ah, I’m just burning, doing the neutron dance

Industry don’t pay a price that’s fair
All the common people breathing filthy air (Lord, have mercy)
Roof caved in on all the simple dreams
And to get ahead your heart starts pumping schemes

Chorus

Wooh ooh

Ooh ooh

I’m on fire, yeah
Well, I’m on fire, yeah

Chorus

I know there’s a pot of gold for me
All I got to do is just believe
Oh, I’m so happy, doing the neutron dance
And I’m just burning, doing the neutron dance
I’m so happy (it’s in my hands), doing the neutron dance (well)
I’m just burning (it’s in my feet), doing the neutron dance
(Well, well, well, well)
Ooh ooh

Wooh ooh
Ooh ooh

I’m so happy (it’s in my hands), doing the neutron dance (well)
I’m just burning (it’s in my feet), doing the neutron dance
(Well, well, well, well)
Ooh ooh (all over me), ooh ooh (inside of me)
Oh, I’m so happy, doing the neutron dance (all, all, all over me)
I’m just burning, doing the neutron dance (yeah, yeah)
Wooh ooh (wooh wooh), wooh ooh (wooh wooh)
Oh, I’m so happy (it’s in my hands), I’m just burning (it’s in my feet)
I’m so happy (it’s all over me), I’m just burning (I can’t help myself)
I’m so happy (yeah, yeah), I’m just burning (oh yeah)
I’m so happy (oh yeah) and I’m just burning (I’m just burning)
I’m so happy (oh yeah), I’m just burning (oh well, well, well)
I’m so happy (it’s in my hands), I’m just burning (it’s in my feet)
I’m so happy

 

It really is in my hands and my feet, it's just not a fetish or anything like that. Now it's time for nite nite and my little burning feet and hands are off to bed....

Hey Jude

One of the things I realized last night was that I really don't have anyone to talk with about what goes on in my head and heart.

I don't want or need a therapist. I just need someone I know loves me to let me talk and not judge me. I realized that as has always been the course of my life, I have left myself with no one to be my support when I need a shoulder. This is truly the patter of my life. I appear so strong to others when in reality I am such a soft and tender hearted being.

Because I am capable of being strong in adverse situations and because I can think with a clear head in a crisis and because I am capable of making decisions when swift judgement is needed does not make me invulnerable.

I am actually extremely tenderhearted. I ache right now in that way that all of us in the human experience have known. It's something very hard to put into words, yet we all know it, some of us better than others.

I tend to discount my feelings as not nearly as valid or important as the feelings of others. I tend to keep everything to myself. Ocassionally I may sahre, but never on a level that I feel conveys the depth of my feeling. Like most people, I dare not share from that depth as the rejection of those feelings by an unthinking person would only compound the problem.

And so, like the rest of us suppossedly strong fortresses of humanity, I keep it to myself and deal with it myself. In the mean time, the depression I feel is almost beyond my own abilities to fix. In these times I crawl further within as it is at these times I am most vulnerable. You would think I was a Cancer the way I react.

OK, Bill is here and I must get to work desconstructing the inards of the black van.

Come what may.....

Come what may

Have you ever woken up in the middle of the night in a cold clammy sweat with your heart aching from a heart break you can never seem to heal from?

The cold clammy sweat is most likely the product of menopause. These cold clammy sweats have been happening with a vengence the last 3 weeks or so. I truly thought I was going to be spared this in my old age, but noooo... fat chance.

The heart ache? Well, it's from this loneliness I feel inside. I realized as I lay there that I was alone. No one to turn to to hold me, no one to rock me to sleep as I lay craddled in their arms or vice versa. No one to watch as they sleep as I fell back to sleep. Just me and Oliver the Jack Russell.  What I realized at that moment was that I would spend my days until the end of them alone like this in my bed. The finality of that tore into my heart in a way it hasn't in a long time.  I realized I was lonely. So lonely. My heart just broke at the thought of it. No one to love me, no one to hold me, just alone, until the end of my days.

Now don't get me wrong here, I like my space, I like having my alone time. Somehow this hit me though that one of the things I love, that comforts me is having someone by my side when I sleep. I don't have that and I never will again. For some reason that slammed me hard tonight, right in the heart. I realized that I miss cuddling with someone I love very much....

Come what may, I will love you until my dying day....

Everybody was Kung Fu fighting

Thank you Sue. I appreciate this song being stuck in my head. Not! People Who Need People would have been better. People Are People would have been even better than that.  I know you are bletching at the thought of your least favorite Depeche song playing continuously in your head. Pay back's a bitch ya know?  (It's a small world after all, it's a small world after all... Muhahahaw, evil laughter... Duff beer for me, Duff beer for you....)

So my day is pretty boring so far. Gentle rain coming down steadily now (yes Sue, the dogs have gone in their respective houses now, I know, I checked).  It's the end of July, it's 66 degrees outside right now. Now don't get me wrong, I fricken hate summer, but this is actually kind of odd weather we're having right now. I am enjoying the coolness. I am sure that in a few days or less summer will pound down on us again with a vengence though.  So I am making sure I let it be known to the universe that I really appreciate the break from the unrelenting summer heat.

Remember the Bermese cat? It's wacked in the head. This cat is laying on it's back right now trying to play with the fish in the fish tank. Over the last few days I have discovered she also has a severe paper towel fetish. More than one roll of paper towels has given up it's life to her depraved fetish.

Ok, this is really scary: http://www.tbrnews.org/Archives/a889.htm

and this is just as scary: http://www.tbrnews.org/Archives/a1019.htm

So now, if you have always wondered what I do all day when I have no work, you are seeing it first hand. I've cleaned the house, it's raining, I can't do yard work. What more can I do but putz around the Internet looking to dredge up shit about George Bush? Makes me feel like I am not wasting my time.

Truthfully I should be filing invoices and inputting shit into Quickbooks. But I don't wanna, so instead I am trying to save the world making sure enough people have the opportunity to read all about Dubya and his failing mental health.

Ok, enough Super Hero work for today. Hope everyone is having a fabulous day where ever you are.

Peace out......

 

 

Your song will fill the air....

There are a couple of people who have my posts delivered to their email door as each one becomes available. Sort of like I am inadvertantly cluttering their in box when I post. If I was evil I would make a bunch of little posts all in a row and really clutter their boxes up. But I am not evil, so that is a moot point.

This nice young gentleman came to interview me today for his doctoral disertation. I of course was a volunteer. At any rate, his disertation is about gays and lesbians living in Arkansas, how we got here, what life is like for us, that sort of thing. Course coming into to this interview I had let him know I was FTM, but that as a non-op and chosing to remain in a female body, I identified with the gay and lesbian community as transgendered.  I didn't tell him that if I ever did have a sex change I would probably be a gay male, that's how gay I really am <grin>.

At any rate, we had a lovely conversation, he recorded it (with my permission of course) and the best part for me (and those of you who actually know me will know this is appropriate) was that I was allowed to go on for ever and ever talking to my heart's content.

So that was my big day in the park today. Except for the part that proceeded it. I had to clean the house for this fellow to come here to visit me. Now those of you who know me will know that this was no easy task. So the truth is, by the time he got here I was plum worn out.  Yesterday I managed to get most of the property mowed. That was one hell of a job in and of its self. I didn't get much of the back done as I ran over a piece of carpeting that actually had grass growing over it so I had no idea it was there. That got stuck up in the blades and so I just gave up and parked the mower for carpet extraction to take place at a later date.

So there you have it, the last 24 hours of my life in a nut shell.

All the things you do endear you to me, ah you know I will

Sue brought this cat home this week. It's Bermese, supposedly pure blood. Whatever. She told me some insane guy came in the doggie day care where she works saying God told him that they (meaning the people who work at/own) the doggie day care would take care of his cat for him whilst he was off on some odd quest. This story had bizarre twists and turns in it, but the end result is, there is another cat living in my home.

Now this cat is actually kind of sweet. She pretty much stays to herself, occasionally coming to rest in your face right on the keyboard as you type. Other than that, she doesn't have too many vices so far. Her one great joy in life is watching the toilet flush. Which makes me question her intelligence actually.

Just now I decided to be mean to her. She likes to follow you into the bathroom and wait for you to finish your business and then get up and flush. When I finished using the euphamism moments ago, I remained on the seat as I flushed. What a big disappointment this was to her. I felt a certain sadistic glee in that. It's no fault of hers that she has ended up in my abode, but then on the other hand, I don't have to indulge her curiosity at watching toilet paper and water go round and round in circles either.

She is sweet though. I can't let her in my room despite her sweetness. Of all the cats, she is the only one who seems to notice I have a live rodent in a cage in my room. Now I actually love this rodent (Guinia Pig,  tan, black and white fellow by the name of Albus Dumbledore). He's my little buddy (maybe I should have named him Gilligan, eyi, eyi Skipper). I actually spend time talking with him and giving him special treats. I think it would really piss me off if this sweet cat killed my Albie boy. And I would hate to hate this cat for doing something that apparently comes very natural to her.

She just came up to me now and jumped up on my chair. Her paws were wet. I am hoping it's not from playing in the toilet. Possibly some feline form of retribution for being forced to miss the flush (calm down sweetie, there are millions more where that one came from).

It's bedtime for Bonzo now. I shall dream of things not seen, nor experienced yet. I shall dream of money, because I need it big time.  Send me a money angel. Right now. Right now. (now that song is going to be stuck in my head until I pass out)

And before I sleep, I shall send angels to all I whom I love.

Night all.....

The end of all things Kevin or Reason 1252 "Why I don't write short stories for a living"

 

"I kept neatly folded paper wrappings from presents over there on that table. Sometimes I would take them out and unfold them and look at the pretty designs and colors, just for the hell of it. I think the foil ones were my favorite." he spoke this matter of factly as he took a sip of water and looked around the stark room.

"I am really not sure where they all came from. No one that I can remember has been by to see me since childhood. So I am pretty sure that they were not from presents given to me. I used to go behind the others here, after their birthday parties and Christmas parties and gather up the prettiest of the discarded wrappings from their presents and steal them away before the cleaning people came in to take them away. They expected it of me. It became my "thing" you know."

"That's pretty much it for what I did during my stay here that they all knew of anyway. Once in a while some new nurse would come in and try to clean away my pretty papers, but I would do that hysterical act and the orderlies would come in calm me down and explain about the papers to the new one." he said without emotion.

"I've been here 35 years come August 1st. Now they are tearing this place down and I am leaving the only home I can ever remember."

"When the doctors came in a few months ago to evaluate me for a new placement, I knew my time was up here. I knew I didn't want to go to some place new. I especially didn't want to go to some group home. I knew I had to fess up and it might as well be now.  

See, I know this place like the back of my hand, every nook and cranny. I started out in the peds ward back in 69, I was 3 years old then. Just moved from ward to ward as I grew older. Ended up here at 18 and have been here ever since. This place was safe, why should I leave?" he kind of trailed off and fell into a silence momentarily.

He spoke again after smiling a wry little smile and shaking his head, "I almost got busted once by this old black orderly.  He was the first one to ever suspect me. He watched me like a hawk. In his heart he knew I wasn't autistic.  So he watched me hoping to catch me being normal. But you know, if I wasn't good at this act, I wouldn't have managed to stay in here for 35 years now would I?" he chuckled to himself at that thought.

"Being here has sort of been like being a monk with a lifetime vow of silence. I study great things, become a brilliant mind, yet never speak a word to anyone. How much easier can it get? I haven't swallowed a med given to me in over 30 years. They truth is, it was all those drugs they gave me in the beginning that made me nearly comatose in the first place. You know, before they brought me here when I was 3, I could have talked if I wanted to, I just didn't want to. So giving me all those drugs to keep me calm just made it easier to not talk. And then somehow it just became a way of being for me. Never talking, never making real contact with people. They didn't expect it so I never had to produce it for them." he shook his head and sighed.

"I am not really afraid of the outside world as people might expect. They actually have a decent library here. I have read nearly every book at least twice, sometimes more. This was a teaching hospital attached to a university. How hard do you think it was for me to sneak out to the university library and read all I wanted? Do you think anyone here missed me when I was gone? How hard do you think it was to attend lectures?  Even now I still go out to a lecture or two when the subject sounds interesting.  When I was younger it was easy to pass for a student. As I've grown older, I think I pass well for a professor.  I've also watched more TV in my 35 years here than most people will in a lifetime. So I think I am pretty well educated about the world outside."  he paused and looked up quizzically.

"You're wondering how I learned to read aren't you? It was simple. They still had school of sorts in the peds ward. They sat me in the classroom just because, I guess. It really wasn't hard to learn. Once you knew the alphabet and the sounds the letters made, everything else just kind of fell into place. Same with math. I had to teach myself the sciences though. But that wasn't so hard either. Universities are amazing things." he grinned at that point.

"When they brought me in to the doctors to be evaluated, I had to laugh to myself because I knew they had me labeled just like everyone else always had me labeled in their minds. They had read my charts, they knew the diagnosis, they were expecting a severely autistic 38 year old man who was totally non-communicative. I knew that when I opened my mouth and spoke that they were going to be blown away. Trust me they were." he chuckled again to himself.

"Then they decided to test my IQ. When the results came back they were slack jawed. Most of them had never seen an IQ that high. To say the least, I probably surpassed most of them by a huge margin. They wanted to know why I was here. I told them the truth as I will tell you the truth now." he took another sip of water and set the glass back down softly.

"Why the hell would I want to be anywhere else? Look at the world outside. What a horrible place to live. I am used to living in a world where no one expects anything of you. Here I do as I please and absolutely no one expects me to do things I do not want to do. There are coeds galore around here. I have never wanted nor lacked for female companionship.  Women have always been charmed by my gentle brilliance." he winked at me and then grinned widely at this thought.

"I have never had to prove myself to anyone. I know who I am, what I like and don't like and I have had the time to explore life in ways very few will ever have the time to explore. So why should I have left? In their ignorance they placed me in this place as a small child. I have made the best of them all in their ignorance." he smirked knowingly to himself.

He stood up and picked up his small suit case containing the entire contents of his worldly possessions and headed toward the door. "I let some nurse take the wrapping paper away yesterday. I don't need that prop anymore." he grinned.

He opened the door and stood there for a moment looking at the card on the door, it simply said "Kevin". He reached up and tenderly took it down from the door, took one last long look at it and tossed it in to the trash can. "If we're through here, I'd like to go now if you don't mind."  I shook my head, yes.

"Thank you." he said smiling politely. He turned and walked away down the hall, making the right toward the day room and to the exit from the only home he could remember.

Taking care of business, everyday, taking care of business...

Once in a great while, when I haven't posted for a few days, one or two people might actually check on my well being.  Trust me, if I am not posting it's for one or two reasons. 1) I am probably really busy with work and 2) I probably have nothing to say.

I don't really have anything to say today. Went down and installed deadbolts on Smith's wine cellar today. Rekeyed his 8 padlock again to another key. I like Smith, he has cool stuff and he also spends tons of money with me. 

Gonna get my brakes fixed in my car today.  Barb Dunnam is doing them at her house.

It's hotter than fuck here today. Supposed to be hotter tomorrow. Alaska is sounding mighty fine right about now. I think I had a slight case of heat stroke out there doing Smith's cellar. Then I bothered to clunk my head pretty hard on some low lying boards he had out there in storage. I suddenly got nausious after the clunk. I feel much better now that I am home and in air conditioning.

Have I ever told you how much I hate summer? I hate deserts for the same reason I hate summer. I don't tolerate heat well. Never have either. One of the reasons my parents did not buy land in Palms Springs back in the 50's is because on their land buying excursion down there I got heat stroke so badly that they had to take me to the hospital. I hate heat, I hate summer. Except for icey roads, winter is the best season. I can bundle up and get warm in winter, but I cannot make the hot go away in summer. Summer sucks. Nuff said.

All you need is love

I think I have pretty much made my point clear about love. You know, it's the glue that holds the universe together, it's all that really matters, yadda, yadda, blah, blah, blah.

It took me a really long time to come to that place of believing this about love. All I ever really knew or understood about love was that I felt it intensely for others and never for myself. I also knew I was deeply hurt often because of the love I held for others in my heart. I don't think my understanding of love was any different than most other folks. It's in the codependent's resource hand book on how to think and feel about others and yourself. If you were raised in a severely dysfunctional family, you instinctively know all this by age 3, you have no need to refer back to the manual.

Then one day nearly 15 years ago, I met love head on.  It was in January of 1990. I was just minding my own business when love came up behind me and slammed me in the head with a 2 by 4. It was cathartic to say the least. Meeting Love head on changed me forever.

Real love was definitely something I had only glimpsed from afar before. I had almost touched it before in fact, but I was too afraid to let it in.  I don't know what cosmic forces were involved in my meeting Love that day, I just know that my heart must have been ready or I never would have let it in.

So I thank you Love for that gift of meeting you. It has stayed with ever since that day. It would be nice to have you embrace me right now. I could use a little unconditional Love right now.

More bits

Tuesday, January 6, 2004 03:10 p.m.

I am hoping that this does not appear to be angst to other people. It is not angst. Angst is something teenagers feel. They feel it because they don't comprehend life's complexities well enough yet that they can deal with them in a totally emotionally healthy way.

No wait, most adults I know can't either. They just learn to hide their angst.

But seriously folks, this is not my angst. If it were, you would know. I would say, this is my angst. Maybe I am in denial but, I don't think I have angst anymore. I think I outgrew it somewhere along the line. Angst takes more energy than I have to spare.

Which brings me to something Suzanne told me once. She said that she was not sure she wanted get healthy mentally and emotionally because then she would lose her ability to write moving, angsty stories. I disagreed with her. My opinion was(and still is) that when healthy mentally and emotionally, you will write from a deeper perspective and not be limited to your pain. In fact, you could write from a place where you could look back on the pain and see where it came from and have a more poignant perspective.

There was this fellow named Robert A. Monroe. He wrote three books before his death. He did a lot of other things in his life, but it is his three books that effected my life so severely.

You could say that his recorded journey affected my journey. It seems that as I grow and evolve in this lifetime, a teacher always comes along with the very thing I need to learn at the exact moment I need a teacher.

Not that this doesn't happen with everyone else on earth, I just thought I would mention that I am actually aware of that process. God forbid someone accuse me of thinking I am the only one who experiences things in life.

I just thought I would mention Mr. Monroe. Just for the hell of it. Maybe I mentioned it because death has been on my mind of late. And maybe because I have been thinking of Debbie a lot lately and remember the feeling of unconditional love as her spirit passed through me at Gina's wedding.

Here is the deal with Debbie. Technically we had Power of Attorney over each other the whole time we were together. So when she went into a coma, I technically had the right to end her life if she was brain dead. When Gina called to tell me Debbie was brain dead, I of course was in shock. Other than begging me to come home to LA to help her, the one thing she asked me over the phone was which one of us it had been that had said "If I ever go into a coma, don't ever pull the plug on me."

I knew exactly which one of us had made that statement. The other one of us had said "If I go into a brain dead coma, pull that friggen plug ASAP!". Gina could not remember who had made which statement. I however did (and still do). So she was sitting there, trying to decide what to do since her mother was laying there brain dead. I told her out of the compassion in my heart that it was I who had made the former statement.

I lied to my kid to save her suffering through having to pull the plug on her brain dead mother. And ever since then I have felt a minor amount of guilt over that lie. Debbie was dead, only her body went on. Her brain had literally exploded inside her skull. The doctors had given her no chance for survival, period.

I remember sitting there at Debbie's side as she lay there dying, telling her how much I had loved her and still loved her. I never felt her there. Never felt that spirit I knew so well in the room with me. But I told that I did what I did with Gina to save our child from suffering any more than she had to. It was bad enough to lose your mother once to insanity, but then to lose her to physical death like this was more than one child should ever have to live through in a lifetime with a parent. I did it because I loved my child more than I felt the need to honor Debbie's request from more than 10 years before.

So there she was on Gina's wedding day. Embracing me with her being and I felt it as surely as if she had been there physically holding me in her arms. Which makes me think of Robert Monroe and his experiences in life.

I know no one can or is reading this, at least I am pretty sure they aren't. And even if they are they cannot respond to it anyway cause I wouldn't know how to make it so anyone can respond anyway. So I am going to continue to do this pretending that no one is watching (or reading). Sort of like masturbating when you are pretty sure no one else is around or listening.

At any rate, I am feeling pretty lonely right now (how can you tell?) The last few months I have had a friend here in my house staying while she got her shit together enough to get her own place. I guess I better back up here. She was not exactly my friend when she arrived here. She was my boy Audey's girlfriend and they needed a place to live while waiting for Audey to get out of the Army. I offered my home and they came (except Audey had to go back to the Army to await that nebulous honorable discharge).

Ky pretty much stayed to herself out in our Airstream for the first month or so. This was cool as we were just giving her a home and a place to use as she put her new life together here in NWA.

Anyway, I personally stay pretty much to myself here at home. I keep to myself and don't share a whole lot with the family members here. I have always been pretty much of a loner anyway. I have never trusted others to not hurt me and have pretty much stayed inside my own world. Once in a blue moon I let someone past the barriers I have created to protect me, but usually that is fairly short lived (just about the time I get hurt, that openness ends).

So as time went by, I started just chatting with Ky. A lot. Like I know I bored her to death because the subject I chose were random thoughts with little vignettes attached to them (sometimes lengthy dissertations on things that even bore me). But I was her host and so she let me ramble and kindly feigned interest.

She usually didn't share a whole lot back, but then that was because I was taking up the lion's share of talk space. That's a sure sign I am lonely. I start talking way too much about shit that bores everyone around me to tears. Someday I will apologize to Ky for tormenting her so with my boring dissertations. She was so terribly kind to listen.

Now they are leaving, they have their own home now and I am feeling lonely tonight. All of their things are gone. For one bright and shining moment I had people to talk to, a captive audience. Now I am back to where I was before they came here. No Audey, no Ky... well for the next day or so their dog is still here, but even Ko will not listen to my garbage.

I am feeling pretty low right now. Depressed is a better word for it. I was feeling pensive this whole week knowing they were leaving in a few days. That has given way to this loneliness, which in a few days, once Ko is finally gone will turn into melancholy.

I will have nothing to come home to again. Nothing to brighten my days like they did.

Melancholy, boring, mediocre (at best). The story of my life. Boring, occasionally bright, but never brilliant.

I wish I knew why I cannot go beyond being occasionally bright. Slightly above average, that's my IQ. Most of my friends my whole life have been brilliant. IQs that go through the roof. Why they bothered to hang with me I will never know.

You know what being mediocre really feels like? It feels like you can see brilliance, you are even dazzled by it. You can smell it, taste it, hear it, but you are never allowed to touch or hold it. You reach for it and it hovers just a little higher out of reach, never allowing you to embrace it.

I have bored myself, so now I am going....

Sunday December 28th, 2003 3:11 p.m.

I am being prodded to get dressed on this lazy Sunday so that we can go shopping (something I abhor). Actually it hasn't been that lazy. I just managed to get my desk cleaned and the surrounding area. I even washed the windows adjacent to my desk area. It's 50 something degrees right now here in the Ozarks. It should be in the 20's. I am not complaining, not one little iota.

My five year old daughter just told me she wants to be a beautiful lady (she just dressed herself up in a faux leather skirt and pink sweatshirt). I told her she already is a beautiful lady. My child has no gender dysphoria. She loves being a girl. She loves anything Barbie. I just want to know how it is that someone like me could have had two daughters who are such girls. Daughter Number 1 also adored Barbies and makeup and playing house and dress-up and all those other gross girl things. How did this happen? All I ever wanted was a son I could go fishing with and teach to play baseball.

We are trying for our second child, me and the little spousie. We are using my brother's sperm this time. My sperm count seems to be a little low, always has been. Funny how things work out that way when your testicles were missing at birth.

The spouse can't figure out how come we are not pregnant yet. We have been trying for this second child for a goodly long time now (she can give you the exact amount of time if you need that). The five year old was easy. One time, one shot and wham bam she was pregnant. Course we had fresh sperm then. Had a friend in the master bathroom making a donation that night she was ovulating. The sperm from my brother has to be shipped 300 miles from Iowa. That sucks.

After all this time trying for child number 2, my spouse is getting more reflective about why she is not pregnant. She is beginning to think it might be the great cosmos trying to tell us something. I say that if it is the universe speaking, it is them just telling her that maybe it is better to be a widow with only one dependent child rather than two. Just my take on the cosmic voice that may or may not be trying to speak.

Ok, they are going to kill me if I cut into their shopping time any further. Thank god I hate football or they would be in really big trouble on Sunday (big baseball fan here, go Dodgers!!!).

Peace

Sunday, December 28th, 2003 3:22 a.m.

A solitary, hermit in hermitage. The redundancy says it all. I want to be alone.

Since I was seven anyway. Mrs. Carpenter, my second grade teacher asked our class one day what we all wanted to be when we grew up. One by one she pointed her translucent, bony index finger at us and required an answer. I went with my gut feelings at the moment and said "a hermit." The shock and horror on Mrs. Carpenter's face was palpable. The innocent child look on my face must have pissed her off even more. Because boy, was she fucking pissed off at me. I thought she was gonna hit me, that or stroke out.

Now my standard answer to that question at age seven was not that at all. The pat answer I always gave to inquiring adults was that I wanted to be an architect. I actually wanted to be an artist, but at age five, when the first adult to ever ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up posed this question to me, well, I got sort of tongue tied and instead of artist, out came architect. That became the answer of choice until I was at least 18. Spent my entire high school career in preparation to be an architect in fact.

Then at the end of my senior year, Mr. Rife, my Architectural Drawing 1, 2 and 3 teacher (not to mention Mechanical Drawing 1, 2 and 3, and Drafting 1, 2, and 3 too) told me it was a shame that I was his best student and had such talent because, as a female, I would never get a job as anything other than a draftsman somewhere (emphasis on the man part there). With graduation (and a 4.0 grade point average, I might add) looming only a few weeks away, that was enough for me to just say fuck it all and become a hippie wild child, alcoholic, drug addict. I did bother to graduate though. The drug and alcohol thing started on grad night and didn't stop for the next 7 years. But more on that at some other time.

I should have just corrected mybad ass five year old self, but everyone was so fucking impressed that I not only could say the word architect at age five, but that I also actually appeared to know what that was and aspired to be one (my parents, slack jawed, with amazed look included). They were so fucking proud at that exact moment that I just didn't have the heart to correct the answer. And all I really wanted was to be Michaelangelo and live in eternal angst while creating monumental works of great art. That or I wanted to be Tchaikovsky and create monumental works of great music (more angst, just a different century, language and culture). Either way I would have been a social outcast with incredible talent which was all I really wanted anyway. Which brings me back to the hermit thing.

At age 4, somehow my parents managed to convince me I was not a boy. They did it by laughing at me and ridiculing me when I insisted I was a boy. I knew I was really a boy, I knew they were wrong. I know they still are for that matter. But after a self exam of my genitalia, I realized that technically, they were correct. That sent me into a rage against God that took a lifetime and then some to get over. In the meantime, childhood was a living hell for me. Being a hermit seemed a decent alternative to the ridicule I received at the hands of my peers and the adults that populated my life.

I think around age five of six I finally learned to shut the fuck up about being a boy. It was bad enough personally knowing my penis was missing, but to have people look at me like I was some kind of freak (which actually gender dysphoric children and adults are freaks to the general populace) was more than I could withstand. It didn't stop me from being myself though, which was a bad thing because, myself was a boy and I acted like myself. Being myself caused me a lot of ridicule in my childhood. Now it just makes some people uncomfortable. Too fucking bad for them, eh? I am 49 years old, I am who I am, get the fuck over your bad selves people.

At any rate, my fantasies in childhood revolved around running away into the mountains far, far away from any living human being and living as a very self sufficient hermit (it helped that particular fantasy in that I actually lived in the foothills of the Sierra Nevadas too). As the years dragged by, these plans became quite elaborate. I spent a great deal of time day dreaming during class about my plans to become a hermit. Especially during boring subjects.

Mrs. Carpenter's second grade class was incredibly boring, beyond measure. The whole fucking thing, day in and day out, boring. Mrs. Carpenter should not have been teaching second graders. She would have done better teaching remedial High School English. Then as her students passed out from boredom, she would have had a more valid reason for going off on them with her violent fits of temper. Or at least students who could emotionally handle her tirades better.

The only thing I remember from second grade (other than that stupid career question) was when Mrs. Carpenter went off on Rebecca Randrup who was nearly blind and needed special paper to write on. Now, no one in Mrs. Carpenter's second grade class liked Rebecca Randrup, because well, she was different. Her physical disability had made her someone who would probably have been relatively shy and withdrawn anyway, even more so. I personally had no attraction whatsoever to Rebecca, but then I was kind of a solitary kid anyway (no, duh, really?). But that day, when Mrs. Carpenter jumped Rebecca's shit big time because she needed that special paper to take the spelling test we were about to take, well, something just snapped in me and if I had not hated Mrs. Carpenter before, I sure as fuck hated her now.

When the bell rang for recess, everyone bolted from the room, relieved that it was not them that Mrs. Carpenter had gone off on. I stayed behind watching Rebecca quiver and shake at her desk, trying to hold in the tears. It took everything in me to get up from my desk and go get Rebecca and take her by the hand and lead her outside. We just stood there during the whole 15 minutes of recess, she crying little sobs of persecutorial grief and me patting her on the back and holding back burning tears of intense hatred. I was so fucking mad it was unbelievable. I told Rebecca that Mrs. Carpenter was wrong to say she was a freak in her class. I told her she was a good person and nothing was wrong with her.

At that moment, Rebecca Randrup decided I was her best friend, all the way through ninth grade. I never decided that, ever, even all the way through Junior High School. Rebecca was one of those kids who was a social liability to hang around. I hung with her out of pity, not because we had any interests in common. I always felt major guilt over that too. I also treated her like total shit and told everyone she was my puppy. She would bark whenI said that and wag her little ass. Rebecca was pretty desperate for friends if you haven't noticed so far.

I went home that day hopping mad and told my Mom what Mrs. Carpenter had done to Rebecca. Luckily my Mom was a teacher and also pretty good friends with Rebecca's Mom. I know something was done because Mrs. Carpenter was so fucking nice to Rebecca from then on that someone had to have done something to that bitch to get her to treat Rebecca like a normal human being.

I spent a lot of time in the mountains being a hermit in Mrs. Carpenter's class. Which is probably where I was when she asked that question in the first place. If you fast forward the 1961/62 school year at Easterby Elementary in Fresno, California to the Ozark Mountains in December of 2003, you have sitting before you a wholly different person than the one that befriended (albeit reluctantly) little Rebecca Randrup. Now I know why I befriended Rebecca. Rebecca was an outcast, just like I was and deep inside I knew that I needed to protect her from the evil of the world. What was wrong with me was something that I personally would never find acceptance over, I knew this even at age seven. But Rebecca had hope. She had surgeries lined up to correct what made her weird and unacceptable. The doctors were going to fix Rebecca's eyes. I however knew that my missing penis was never going to be found and that I was just plain old fucked.

Still, I needed to protect her simply because like me, she was an outcast. I could not save me from the onslaught of cruel humanity, but I would be damned if they were going to fuck with Rebecca. She might actually have some hope. I had none. Which brings me back to being a hermit.
<

Self inflicted death was also an acceptable alternative to hermitage at age seven too. I was just thinking to myself that I am not sure how I made it past the age of 14 without committing suicide, but then I thought a little harder and I am not sure how I made it past 35 without doing it either. In my young adult years (and even into my 30's), the hermit theme often had a suicide fantasy attached to it too.

I dumped all that when I was 36 years old. That was when I entered psycho therapy for the last time. This time I did the work to get better inside. It worked by the way. I got better. But that is a whole other story for a whole other time.

So why the hermit/solitary theme now? (heavysigh) Because one thing I have never managed to do my whole adult life is be alone. When I was young I did not want to be alone, I needed people around. As I have slid off into the bowels of middle age, I find I crave solitude like never before in my life. It doesn't appear that the opportunity to be alone will be presenting its self to me anytime soon either. Even a week or two would be nice.

See, I am dying from emphysema. I might have 10 maybe 15 years left at best. Maybe less, but I like to go for the bigger number cause it makes me feel like I have more time. It's good denial for me too. I need denial occasionally. I need to believe I will live to be 96 like Grandma and Grandpa did respectively. Keeps me from getting pissed about things. Well, that's not true. I still get a little annoyed at people without terminal diseases in their 30's acting like I have forever and wasting what I feel are precious moments.

The upside to all this is that I spend more time with my five year old child than I did with my first child (who is now 31 years old and pregnant with my first grandchild). I am not sure if I will see her graduate high school (not even thinking about college, I am pretty sure I am going to miss that one while still in this flesh). What I really want is to have blocks of time (a month is a nice block of time) where I can just explore what I want to explore and experience without a whole world on my shoulders that I am responsible for. I want to touch and taste and experience as much that interests me as I can with whatever time there really is left.

The problem with having a disease that is slowly killing you is that no one around you sees you dying. Well, my significant other sees me have these coughing fits where I turn purple and I begin to think that maybe I really should go get an oxygen tank and she does get to listen to my serious wheezing all the time. But even she is in denial about my death. Course if I were her I wouldn't want to be thinking about my spouses death either. After all, I don't have good life insurance, oh wait, I have no life insurance and no chance to ever get any either. Her greatest hope is that I get the house paid off before I die so that I do not leave the family bereft and homeless. Which by the way, is the greatest cause of stress in my life. The thought of leaving them bereft.

Something in me just can't let that one go. I need to protect them, to take care of them, to make sure they do not starve when I am gone. But more on this theory of life later. Just one more thing to let go of. Something about growing older and on top of that, knowing you are dying (albeit slowly) helps you to trim away the things that do not really matter in life. You learn what is important and what is not and you start letting go of things you once thought were so important. Things are not important. Relationships are. Power is useless (unless you want lots of things). Personal spiritual power is another story, you need that. Unconditional love is everything, very little beyond that matters. But more on that at another time and place (oh sorry, the place will be here for the time being).

Well, that was a lot to say. And I am done now. Good night Gracie.