So today was a day at the cinema with J and Gary watching "Ender's Game" in IMAX. Movie was okay... lots of special effects and not much story. I read the books but don't remember much of them so I was pretty lost really in terms of book to movie conversation. Gary remembers everything about literature so he talked a bit about it being not quite accurate. I just nodded and pretended I knew what I was talking about.
Anyway, then back to Lexington and getting ready for a Halloween party. It was a local event, paid ($50) for both Cathy and I. J and Cassie with Deidra in tow came along as well... I didn't put much thought into my costume because my initial idea was to go as the best evil clown possible. Cathy shot that down and immediately stated, "I don't want you to go as a clown". I'm not sure why really, but it kind of destroyed my creativity for anything else. We went late to a costume store here locally two days before the event and I was a bit crabby, in a bad mood because all my creative time had run out... now it was time to buy a cheap costume and I wasn't really happy about it.
To keep with the "carnival" theme, I chose a strongman costume which basically was a few cotton pieces sewed into a cheap piece of flesh-colored fabric. Yay. Cathy bought a beard and went as the bearded lady... ultimately it was fine. The party was a bit of a drag, not that much to shake a stick at... so I did what anyone does at a party that's not the greatest. You kick back a few drinks and make the best of it.
It didn't take long before Cathy grew pretty bored, tired and resistant to staying much longer at the event... considering she doesn't drink and that's the only way some of these events go down smooth. So we left somewhat early and I felt a little bitter.
I feel helpless. I feel lost. What's new.
Night time sadness.
Saturday, November 2, 2013
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Dark Day today...
It's been a hard day. I've just wept for no reason... Not because I'm sad about my life or anything like that. It just happens and I can't seem to control it. I wonder what is wrong with me? I should see a counselor or something but I don't. The only thing I do is distract, and isolate myself from everything. People, work... Sometimes I'll go watch a movie but I'll go myself and sit away from everyone.
Today has been hard... Woke up with this horrible feeling of dread. Cried for about 30 minutes before I decided to call in sick to work. I watched tv for a while to try and forget about things, hope that it would pass but it didn't. I had to bring Cathy's car to some place to get worked on... They needed to work on it for 3 hours... So I walked I the movie theater down the street, sat in an empty theater and just felt like the world was ending.
Is this how my life is? These types if days happen sometimes ando. Don't know how to change it... I feel helpless and have to pretend everything is okay.
I fear one day will come when I start to lose things.... When it starts to come apart at the seams... What then? It's his how people end up committing suicide or living in a hospital pumped full of meds?
My life is complicated... I don't write about this very often because ima fraid of someone finding it and committing me. Lol. Feels good to write it down though.
I'm a mess... I live a manic life and it's exhausting. Mobutu it feels better to manage it in secret and remain somewhat normal to those a round me. At least I didn't drink today to cope... I've done that a few times and it just makes it worse. /sigh/
Append: It's a couple hours later, and a couple drinks later. It hasn't fixed or made it worse... it just is what it is. So time to dump a little more of my thoughts down on electronic paper:
I recently had a scare with cancer. Yes, that's right.. the big 'C' word. When you're in your 20s, that is just a crazy thought, something that only older people deal with. Well folks, that's where I am now... I'm almost 40 (next year)... and 40 year olds get cancer. So when my local doctor said,
"You're blood platelets are way too low. Time to see an oncologist."... you suddenly sit up and listen.
4 general appointments, radiology, and a bone marrow biopsy later... and I've been cleared of any cancer. Although I DO have the issue, at least it's not leukemia or something hideous. However today I find myself wondering if through all of that drama... all of that potential pain and suffering, if I somehow... somewhere in the darkest regions of my mind (and there are a more than a few) wish that I had something that would create attention for myself. I know that sounds horrible, awful and unspeakably horrific... it is. Which is why I'm not speaking it, but rather writing it in this journal no one will read. Something to give me a reason to skip work, give me a reason to be sad and depressed... assign meaning to my sadness. At least that makes sense... because what this is, what I have is... well, just impossible to label and even more difficult to treat by myself. At first I didn't want to talk about it to anyone, but eventually told everyone. I wondered why that was, but honestly it's not hard to see. I just wanted to make sense of my affliction, wanted others to have a reason to assign their negative opinion of my life in a bucket...
"He has cancer. It's no wonder he's so fucked up in the brain."
"He has cancer. Do you blame him for being so reclusive and messed up?"
End of the day though.. I'm glad I don't have a terminal illness. I certainly wouldn't want to go through the horrible experience and pain of cancer, death or otherwise. It's just one more reason why I yearn to validate the darkness that holds me. And no, I don't think it's the devil... I think the devil is a fairy tale... I think my issue is what I've made it, what my brain has created and manifested itself into what I've become. I'm the devil; stealing my happiness and turning it into an epic battle that cannot be won.
Append: It's a couple hours later, and a couple drinks later. It hasn't fixed or made it worse... it just is what it is. So time to dump a little more of my thoughts down on electronic paper:
I recently had a scare with cancer. Yes, that's right.. the big 'C' word. When you're in your 20s, that is just a crazy thought, something that only older people deal with. Well folks, that's where I am now... I'm almost 40 (next year)... and 40 year olds get cancer. So when my local doctor said,
"You're blood platelets are way too low. Time to see an oncologist."... you suddenly sit up and listen.
4 general appointments, radiology, and a bone marrow biopsy later... and I've been cleared of any cancer. Although I DO have the issue, at least it's not leukemia or something hideous. However today I find myself wondering if through all of that drama... all of that potential pain and suffering, if I somehow... somewhere in the darkest regions of my mind (and there are a more than a few) wish that I had something that would create attention for myself. I know that sounds horrible, awful and unspeakably horrific... it is. Which is why I'm not speaking it, but rather writing it in this journal no one will read. Something to give me a reason to skip work, give me a reason to be sad and depressed... assign meaning to my sadness. At least that makes sense... because what this is, what I have is... well, just impossible to label and even more difficult to treat by myself. At first I didn't want to talk about it to anyone, but eventually told everyone. I wondered why that was, but honestly it's not hard to see. I just wanted to make sense of my affliction, wanted others to have a reason to assign their negative opinion of my life in a bucket...
"He has cancer. It's no wonder he's so fucked up in the brain."
"He has cancer. Do you blame him for being so reclusive and messed up?"
End of the day though.. I'm glad I don't have a terminal illness. I certainly wouldn't want to go through the horrible experience and pain of cancer, death or otherwise. It's just one more reason why I yearn to validate the darkness that holds me. And no, I don't think it's the devil... I think the devil is a fairy tale... I think my issue is what I've made it, what my brain has created and manifested itself into what I've become. I'm the devil; stealing my happiness and turning it into an epic battle that cannot be won.
That's all for now...
Imagination lost?
Originally posted 5/27/08
Do you ever wonder where your imagination goes? I can remember a time when I was just a boy, and it seemed that ideas were on tap 24 hours a day. I used to write short stories, question and answer action-adventure books made up of torn notebook paper folded in half and stapled. These books were filled with stories of dinosaurs, dragons, knights and warriors all fighting for themselves or a counterpart. There was seldom an occasion when I couldn't churn out at least one or two of these per day in elementary school. It seemed the endless bowl of thoughts could not be emptied fast enough as my little hand wrote, not with my ten fingers on a QWERTY keyboard, but a No. 2 pencil gripped firmly in my right hand.
I can remember being so interested in English, grammar and the structure of all things writing that I would literally absorb anything anyone said to me. It seemed to me that as I grew older my love for writing followed me. I changed in my writing style; short stories and novellas, now more serious subject matters... usually along the lines of the paranormal or somehow a clever twisted end. As the stories seemed to get longer and longer, I seemed to lose a little focus on the story. I discovered the need for an editor. ;) I needed someone to proofread and re-arrange my thoughts into something more coherent.
Then.... it all just stopped. My moods seemed to change in high school, and my attention was turned to the elixir of evil that would only begin to plague me: women. They sucked all my creativity and imagination into any kind of strategic plan that would render me +1 at any given time. My short stories and novellas turned into poetry and sonnets that could be used to impress or entertain long enough to get the attention turned to me.
In the end, I find these days that even to begin the thought process to write a short story about anything seems like a lot of work for little reward. I don't have spontaneous or random ideas that I feel are worthy of writing, although any English teacher/professor I've ever had would slap me if they heard such nonsense.
My attempt to begin putting thoughts down on paper starts now. Maybe I'll look back from all this and appreciate these humble beginnings.
Do you ever wonder where your imagination goes? I can remember a time when I was just a boy, and it seemed that ideas were on tap 24 hours a day. I used to write short stories, question and answer action-adventure books made up of torn notebook paper folded in half and stapled. These books were filled with stories of dinosaurs, dragons, knights and warriors all fighting for themselves or a counterpart. There was seldom an occasion when I couldn't churn out at least one or two of these per day in elementary school. It seemed the endless bowl of thoughts could not be emptied fast enough as my little hand wrote, not with my ten fingers on a QWERTY keyboard, but a No. 2 pencil gripped firmly in my right hand.
I can remember being so interested in English, grammar and the structure of all things writing that I would literally absorb anything anyone said to me. It seemed to me that as I grew older my love for writing followed me. I changed in my writing style; short stories and novellas, now more serious subject matters... usually along the lines of the paranormal or somehow a clever twisted end. As the stories seemed to get longer and longer, I seemed to lose a little focus on the story. I discovered the need for an editor. ;) I needed someone to proofread and re-arrange my thoughts into something more coherent.
Then.... it all just stopped. My moods seemed to change in high school, and my attention was turned to the elixir of evil that would only begin to plague me: women. They sucked all my creativity and imagination into any kind of strategic plan that would render me +1 at any given time. My short stories and novellas turned into poetry and sonnets that could be used to impress or entertain long enough to get the attention turned to me.
In the end, I find these days that even to begin the thought process to write a short story about anything seems like a lot of work for little reward. I don't have spontaneous or random ideas that I feel are worthy of writing, although any English teacher/professor I've ever had would slap me if they heard such nonsense.
My attempt to begin putting thoughts down on paper starts now. Maybe I'll look back from all this and appreciate these humble beginnings.
A nerdy good time
Originally published 5/20/2008
Hello again,
So this morning I'm attending a conference in Ohio : "Intel IT Professional Seminar". I know you're all very jealous. I didn't sleep well last night in my hotel, but I assume the riveting lectures I'll sit through during the next 8 hours of technolog.... .... .... .... oh.. sorry, I just dozed off.
This conference is being held at the beautiful Hilton hotel here in Columbus, OH which actually is quite impressive. The floors are adorned with marble and pretty much every piece of trim looks as if it was hand made just for the folks here at the hotel. I suppose the most interesting thing so far is that the sodas they served us this morning, all lined up like bowling pins on a cloth-covered table, were actually glass bottles instead of the typical plastic. I found that very intriguing... almost as if they were saying that the "Hilton is too fancy for mere plastic bottles"... (insert snooty laugh here). Having finished by now at least one soda, I will admit that in fact soda does taste better from the glass. Here here... so I hold my empty glass bottle high and salute the old days, when our lives were much less complicated and every soda was consumed from that sexy, curved glass bottle.
Now... where is my environmentally friendly laptop with the green leafy label?
Originally pubished 5/20/2008
I woke up this morning to the sounds of the alarm clock buzzing in my ear... and in my natural routine I reach over and smack that very large button on top that says, "Leave me alone". Rinse-repeat. Four times. When I do rise from my warm, comfortable bed it's usually later than I want it to be and I rush around as if I'm late for something important (an internal mechanism considering there rarely is). I still feel like I'm asleep.
As I shuffle my feet across the floor towards the shower, I feel the sting of ache in my leg and curse myself for pushing myself too hard running the day before. I've decided to train for the Chicago Marathon this October... again. This will be my second Chicago, and my third marathon overall... this is sometimes met by most people with some form of respect or a wry look and the question, "Why in the world...?". I usually don't have a good answer for that. I suppose sometimes I think it's because I want to be driven, to feel the warm feeling of accomplishment rush over me as I cross that finish line that seemed so impossible when the gun was fired to start. Or maybe it's to keep my waistline from expanding or to add a few years of fight into my heart. This year it feels like a statement. "I won't let my life be a random series of events." "I will be in control of the things I want."
I am awake now. I hope I'm not dreaming.
Is escapting the problem?
Originally published 1/23/09 @ 7:26AM
So over the last couple of days I've been wondering about myself quite a bit. It's January after all and that's what we do in the beginning of the year, right? Reflect on the past, decide what to change and push forward with some set of goals that we hope and pray we can achieve in the coming months. I can't really say that I've "set" any goals... I've always been really horrible about doing such things with my personal life. However, I have been reflecting lately on myself and what it all means.
Random series of thoughts
Originally published 7/28/11 @ 2:00PM
When I was young, I knew nothing of how the world worked. I suppose that's probably a true statement for most of us. I grew up in a bubble. Middle class, blue collar wealth mixed with a conservative religious world view was my diet for life. I guess that probably shaped me in the beginning, giving me a sense of how I was told everything did and was going to happen. It's interesting now when I think about how things have changed in my life over the years and how all of those things have created an intertwined web of psychological and emotional truths that I've regurgitated over and again. Although a very different and twisted me exists today, there are still signs of all of those notions in you look hard enough. Now, I don't want you (the reader) to think that was entirely a negative opening statement. Let's not be so naive... not everything is so black and white, even if I was (or you were perhaps) raised to think this way. It's always deceptive no matter if you like it or not.
I love my parents, my brother, my extended family and the families that they've propagated as we all tend to do as human breeding machines. My mother used to tell me there is no feeling quite the same as that of a parent to their children. I have never experienced that, and honestly as I've grown older... never had the urge to long for it. I do ponder sometimes why I feel (or don't) the way that most I know do on the subject. I should probably feel wonderfully unique and empowered by that. Somtimes I do... most of the time I do not.
"I want whatever I don't have." That's really quite a boring statement. I'm sure a lof of us have said that to ourselves at some point in our lives. But for me, it's really a motto for living... it's what I adhere to on a daily basis. An obsession in that which is unattainable... even more interesting... my golden goose consists of a series of moments, events, memories and thoughts that I've already had. Things I've grasped firmly within my reach, a prize held triumphantly within myself... and let go. It's an evil, playful game that I create for myself in perpetuity. Sell... win... use... remove... regret. And now I'm already bored with myself again... ready to recycle it all. Truly, I am the best self con artist I know. ftw. So I suppose to put a finer point on it... "I want whatever I had".
We should always be willing to ask for help. Someone once said that to me... I was probably having a bad night but it sounded good at the time. A sign that our own human nature is so flawed that it yearns to be fixed. When in doubt, ask someone else what should be done. Find your way takes on a whole new meaning when your ACTUALLY lost. Some find solace in the bottom of a bottle, while others find a way to puff it into the air or swallow some magic. It all goes away for a while then returns with bigger teeth. How do you defeat something that isn't real? /shrug... I suppose the fight is supposed to be the interesting part. It makes conversation. It makes money. It makes life and death all possible. I must be out of shape.
In a world where everything I know is just a product of thousands of moments strung together to represent me... I sometimes lose track of how it's all supposed to add up. After all, I was always really bad at math. In hindsight however, I've had a good life: loving parents, stable household, food and shelter and as good a chance as any to make the American dream happen. The American dream (chuckle)... I grew up thinking about that a lot. I set myself to think that at a certain age I would be in place A, with B, C, and D. Like most things inside my head however, it was part of an elaborate puppet show created by myself to set the stage for a climactic plot that was destined to end in the inevitable tragedy. And as most stories show, the end is always the best part... where everyone gets what they deserve. That's what I worry about the most. (grin)
So I think i want to be done making changes, just because all this change has lead to such odd and disappointing ends. It's time to stop swimming to keep from drowning... and just realize that if I stop for a moment to put my feet down, maybe there will be something there to stand on. (laughter)... oh, how I joke with myself.
Laugh with me now... the joke is far better than the reality.
.
I love my parents, my brother, my extended family and the families that they've propagated as we all tend to do as human breeding machines. My mother used to tell me there is no feeling quite the same as that of a parent to their children. I have never experienced that, and honestly as I've grown older... never had the urge to long for it. I do ponder sometimes why I feel (or don't) the way that most I know do on the subject. I should probably feel wonderfully unique and empowered by that. Somtimes I do... most of the time I do not.
"I want whatever I don't have." That's really quite a boring statement. I'm sure a lof of us have said that to ourselves at some point in our lives. But for me, it's really a motto for living... it's what I adhere to on a daily basis. An obsession in that which is unattainable... even more interesting... my golden goose consists of a series of moments, events, memories and thoughts that I've already had. Things I've grasped firmly within my reach, a prize held triumphantly within myself... and let go. It's an evil, playful game that I create for myself in perpetuity. Sell... win... use... remove... regret. And now I'm already bored with myself again... ready to recycle it all. Truly, I am the best self con artist I know. ftw. So I suppose to put a finer point on it... "I want whatever I had".
We should always be willing to ask for help. Someone once said that to me... I was probably having a bad night but it sounded good at the time. A sign that our own human nature is so flawed that it yearns to be fixed. When in doubt, ask someone else what should be done. Find your way takes on a whole new meaning when your ACTUALLY lost. Some find solace in the bottom of a bottle, while others find a way to puff it into the air or swallow some magic. It all goes away for a while then returns with bigger teeth. How do you defeat something that isn't real? /shrug... I suppose the fight is supposed to be the interesting part. It makes conversation. It makes money. It makes life and death all possible. I must be out of shape.
In a world where everything I know is just a product of thousands of moments strung together to represent me... I sometimes lose track of how it's all supposed to add up. After all, I was always really bad at math. In hindsight however, I've had a good life: loving parents, stable household, food and shelter and as good a chance as any to make the American dream happen. The American dream (chuckle)... I grew up thinking about that a lot. I set myself to think that at a certain age I would be in place A, with B, C, and D. Like most things inside my head however, it was part of an elaborate puppet show created by myself to set the stage for a climactic plot that was destined to end in the inevitable tragedy. And as most stories show, the end is always the best part... where everyone gets what they deserve. That's what I worry about the most. (grin)
So I think i want to be done making changes, just because all this change has lead to such odd and disappointing ends. It's time to stop swimming to keep from drowning... and just realize that if I stop for a moment to put my feet down, maybe there will be something there to stand on. (laughter)... oh, how I joke with myself.
Laugh with me now... the joke is far better than the reality.
.
Monday, October 21, 2013
iPad
I love my iPad or reading and browsing the web, loaning to music etc.
But it REALLY sucks for typing. I need a portable keyboard.
Back again...
Som today is my last day off after my wedding/honeymoon. Yes, that's right... I'm married. It feels weird to think that I'm married after all these years but so far it's been petty good.
I'm sitting in the Pub drinking a Guinness. I would be drinkinga Queens Velvet... My fave here but they're out of bourbon barrel ale. Ugh. I shouldn't drink so early in the say anyway but I'm reflecting and that's a popular thing for me to do when I'm doing that.
I just watched "Carrie".. The 2013 remake with Juliane Moore and Chloe Moretz. It was a decent rendition of the King novel but it did something to me. The story of about a girl who is tortured and awkward in high school, and I the end goes crazy and kills half the school because she has telekinetic powers. I mean, who wouldn't want to kill half their highs school bullies if they had magical mind powers? Or maybe that's just me... I was horribly bullied and awkward in school... Didn't go to any proms or dances, missed the high school yearbook pictures even... Because I was embarrassed? No... Because I as avoiding a bully who was looking for me. The way I figured if he didn't have an update photo he may pass me by. Lol... As if.
Instead of feeling sorry for Carrie White in the movie, I found myself weeping remembering how awful I t was and connecting with the character on a real, personal level. Carrie had a over-enthusiastic religious mother who tried control her every move... That also sounds pretty familiar to me. I love my mom, and I know she was just doing what she thought was the best for me, but I couldn't help allowing it to take me back there in he early 80s where my mother blamed all our problems on the devil, told me any second Jesus would return and leave all the sinners here on earth for years to suffer horrible fates.... And to make sure I wasn't left.
Isn't that every child's fear? To be abandoned without hope, for their parents to leave them all alone? I thought daily I would turnaround to an empty house... Suffer the shock of being left, and knowing the horrors that were to come for me and my fellow sinners.
And if it weren't being left by Jesus and my parents, it was the fear of being beaten to death bad school bully, the occasional phone call with threats of killing me, or "finding me int he hallway at school and beating the shit out of me" for some unknown crime for which I had no knowledge. Or maybe the daily fear of being attacked by bees,a. Childhood trauma never dealt with. I lived my life in total fear.
And now, I live with new fears... Cancer, rabies, being the guy in the room who everyone knows is dumb and/or uninformed, financial ruin, diabetes, heart attack, seizure or an aneurysm.
Will I ever break free? Before I die that is? ...
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