I had to see it again... to make sure... but

Yep, Surf's Up is officially my favorite movie of the summer. It was going to be Hot Fuzz and don't get me wrong, that is a VERY close second, but Surf's Up is just so damn pitch perfect I can't stand it.
The characters are ALIIIIIIVE in ways that make me pine for the classic days of pre-Pixar disney. They have depth not normal for a cartoon. Motivations that, on the surface, seem shallow or undeveloped but thru the course of the movie reveal themselves to be complex.
The story is simple yet powerful. A young boy who lost his father at an early age finds a father figure and becomes obsessed with the accomplishments of that new "dad" without understanding the MAN. He goes on a journey and discovers that the father he needed by admitting he needed it.
The jokes are fresh AND old. The humor goes from simple fart and pratfall jokes for the kiddies to those the parents will understand (and in a couple of cases hope the kids don't know enough to question).
The musical choices work.
The scenery is beautiful.
The style (a documentary) is never forgotten and even the surfing footage is an animated form of surfing footage you can check out on you tube and stuff.
It just feels authentic.
I can understand why they say it's "based on a true story." IT FEELS TRUE.
I can't wait to own this.
Hell, I may end up seeing it again in the theatre before Die Hard and Transformers get here. Anyone want to go with me? :o)

Oh, Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer was a fun ride. Good summer flick. The plot is VERY loosely based on the comics and has some issues but overall the actors know their characters and while I don't judge Alba as harshly as others do I agree that McMahon is hands down the WORST possible Doom. The guy just can't DO it. He has the looks for the Victor Von Doom from the comics but not the air or the presence or the voice.

Ratatouille was another great pixar film. The animation is top notch, the character work the usual genius level and the story the norm. It's a tad too adult for the kiddies and the 2 hour running time may make parents want to skip it but I think the slightly older youngins can enjoy it. The opening short cartoon is a riot but the main film never reaches that level of... JOY. I left it wanting more. Not more of the movie but more FROM it. The themes and messages from it are the regular sort we get from Pixar. I just felt like I should've ben laughing more. I am sure most people will hold it in higher regard than Surf's Up but for me... SU was just a better movie. Not just for kids, for anyone.

In Memory (dated 8/25/96 with changes as of 12/22/96)

My mother asked me to come up with some things to say about my father in order to keep this from being too impersonal. No ill will is meant to the previous speaker but he didn't know J.P. Watson and therefore couldn't truly do him justice now when he deserves it most. But how do you sum up the totality of one's life in a few meager sentences and sentiments? In truth, I didn't know him as well as I should have and maybe I'm not the perfect choice for this but here it goes:
Most of my memories of my father come from the time we spent on Guam, just me, him and mom. It was four years of my life but it comprised a chunk of my memory. You see, my family was the only thing for me over there. I didn't have too many friends on the Navy base for longer than a few months while in the states I had the "luxury" of nearby friends so I spent an awful lot of time at home and with my parents on the weekends. Those weekends generally featured trips around the small island, one or two of which are captured on film and provide hilarious insight into the family structure. They say that if you want to really get to know someone, just travel across country with them. Well I really don't remember much of the trip the whole family took but I personally think that it was nothing compared to several trips around the island, about one a month. And, no, there wasn't really that much to see, we just saw it over and over again.
I remember my dad as the leader of the group with my mom a VERY vocal co-leader. He drove and she navigated. Actually, he did both but we only went where she wanted to go. He would do almost anything he could to please her. Even this simple thing. Same went for his kids. He refused to acknowledge limits when it came to getting his family what they wanted or needed. This became obvious to me over there.
Guam was also where I first really remember playing catch with my father. I know it's a staple of an American boy's childhood but I don't really remember it when I was younger. We only played for one afternoon and even back then I could see it take its toll. His health was better 10 years ago but he still was no spring chicken. But it was something he thought I needed and thinking back, I did. In more ways than one.
And that leads me to the main point of this tirade. Even with his poor health he never stopped. He'd slow down but never stop. It was one of the most amazing things I ever saw when dad used to watch TV. We had that old style cable box with numbers printed on a horizontal strip and you slid a plastic marker up and down the line, picking channels. This was down in Orlando and my brother should be able to back me up on this. I'd sit next to him and listen to the clicks as he slid the changer up and back, watching the channels change on the screen. While the channels still changed I'd suddenly hear snoring. I'd turn and look and there's dad, sleeping soundly but still changing channels. It was so cool. What does this have to do with anything? Not really my point but I just remembered that and wanted to share it and felt this was the perfect place. I believe everyone here has their own stories about him that will probably be exchanged later, if they haven't already, and I wanted to throw mine out there.
Anyway.
My dad was stubborn, almost to a fault, and you could see that he hated what was happening to his body. He played ball with a passion in his younger days and while only 50, he became winded simply playing catch. With his son who I might add was never a big fan of the game. He wanted to do what he thought he should be able to do. Whether it was work around the house, under the hood of the car or at work, he was angered anytime something as trivial as health got in the way. He tried to hide it and did a damn fine job since he was worse that most people, including some family, ever thought. Whatever task was put before him he would do his best to accomplish what he could and often did it better than anyone else. Including the so-called "healthy people". Events at the base within the past several years show that.
But that was what my dad was. A fighter. He demonstrated strenght of will and character that I challenge everyone in this room, city, state, country... thise whole damn world to try and match. That is my main point, I think. My father, at least to me, DEFINED strength. Working against all odds to do what must be done. That's strength. I respected my dad for that. I know he didn't think I did but Ialways ahve and always will. Anyone who talked to me knows that. It seems the only ones I couldn't express these sentiments to were my family. I'm sorry. It's too late to make up for it but I still wanted to take this time to say it about my dad and hopefully I can learn to better express myself to others.
My dad also showed me that love is unconditional. He, with my mom, showed me that no matter how mad you get, you don't forget those you love. I remember how they'd be so mad at me for... well, just about everything I did but if something happened or came up, they'd be there for me. I hope I learned this lesson as well as I wanted to.
I feel like I'm running out of thinds to say but I know that's not the case. Perhaps I'm merely running out of words. I suppose that means this would be a good place to wrap this up. I loved my father and always will. I respected my father and always will. I don't care what he thought, that was and is the truth. Period. He was a good man who didn't deserve the hand fate dealt him but I can't think of anyone who would have done as much with it as he did. He fought hard and deserved a rest. The doctor said he was tired and gave up. That he couldn't fight anymore. I say he deserved the break and all the R&R he can get and heaven better be great or else it doesn't deserve to have him. Even then I'd expect dad to figure out better ways to run it so God better pay attention.
It's amazing how all that matters
Between morning, dusk and dawn
Can all so easily be shattered
By two simple words:
"He's gone."

I miss him.

*******************************************
I never gave a eulogy. The above was polished up and presented to my mother at christmas time. I wasn't strong enough to get up in front of all those strangers and tell them how I felt. My last, best chance to show my father how much he meant and I couldn't do it. I have to live with that failure.
So, please... if your father is still around... or grandfather or ANYONE who had a part in raising you and making you the person you are... show them you appreciate it and lvoe them for it while you still can.
And if your dad wasn't worth a damn... I'm sorry. Go show love to whoever DID.
We are all a by-product of our family and upbringing and history. This doesn't excuse us from responsibility but should serve as an example. A chance to know ourselves better.
Happy Father's Day to anyone out there who has been blessed with that role and accepted it.

Reflections on imminent fatherhood

Yeah, that seems like it would be me, right? Short tempered and saying shit that just doesn't make a lick of sense. Basically, a big kid.
It's how people see me, I think.
And to some extent it IS true. I AM a big kid. I got to Toys R Us to look at stuff I want to play with. I see Disney cartoons because I want to see them. I still watch some saturday morning cartoons when I'm up. I love to joke around and make silly voices and play pretend and all that stuff. I go to the beach to play and swim and go to theme parks to ride the rides and look at the stuff.
I read comics and still buy doills but to collect them... well, except the ones I open up and put on my shelves.
I generally get happy meals at places to get the toys.
But you know what? That's not all I am. And it's not all I offer.
I will make a great playmate for a kid but will also help instill some of my own beliefs.
I hate lying and try to avoid it whenever possible.
I consider my word my bond and hate having to break it.
I consider respect something that has to be earned. The only people who bitch about that belief of mine are the ones who haven't earned it.
I'm fiercely loyal.
Stubborn to a fault and will only give up after a long fight but will admit when I'm wrong.
I apologize when I feel I've done wrong.
I love with everything I have and for all those who've ever heard me utter those words... you know I still love you and always will. I don't throw them about willy nilly. I say it when I believe it.
I believe in trying. Failure isn't a bad thing unless you didn't try.
I believe in responsibility... regardless of what some people think of me. Cough*Amy*cough*JoJo*cough.
I'm more than just a big, playful kid... even though that seems to be what initially attracts women to me. It's like my serious side freaks them out cuz they aren't expecting it or something. Like I can't be both? WTF?!!? But I AM both!
I'm the frosted mini-wheat of guys.
I have the kid side that will have fun play rasslin with you and making you laugh.
And the side that will hold you when you cry and probably join in.
The side that will pick on you and poke fun.
The side that will listen and offer whatever advice I can think of to help.
I will make someone a great husband.
And, dammit... I know I will make an amazing father.
But I'm still scared.

It's not how many times you get knocked down...

Something has to go right eventually, right? Let's see how this year has gone so far:
My mother keeps getting sicker and my sister seems to be racing her to the grave, my other sister can't stop drinking every night and refuses to see it as a problem, I get left for an ex-boyfriend more times than I care to count, I get some earth shattering news that should be cause for celebration but is done in such a way as to ruin it, a woman I cared for deeply has to deal with a tremendous loss and I am so closely associated with the idea that her husband hated me that I can't even talk to her without her bringing it up, I get in trouble at work for a friend's email again so that's two strikes on my file right around review time, I keep getting used by women to pass the time or make someone jealous or simply as a game, and then I get to the current event in my life.
Saturday night as I was heading out to have dinner with a friend I hit a puddle of something in the road, spun out and crashed my car into a guard rail. I was completely shaken up and out of it for many minutes before I could even start to call anyone. I called for my sister to come help me get the trivia equipment out of my trunk since it might start raining again and the truck wasn't shutting. The guard rail wasn't noticeably damaged so I was hoping to get out of there without any cops.
Yay for the good samaritans who called 911.
Bastards!
Kidding, I know their hearts were in the right place and I appreciate the effort. I can say that because ultimately I wouldn't get a ticket. :o)
I call my insurance company in case I still have roadside assistance (nope, expired in march) and I checked my card from the car dealer for same (nope, expired last march) but I at least reported the accident and asked them to refer me to a tow company so I could get the car home. It was still driveable but there were no longer any tail lights or brake lights so I wasn't too keen on driving at night and in the rain.
It was as I was on the phone with the insurance company that the cop arrived.
And then my sister.
With my mother.
So as I tried to get the number for the tow company, I also had to finish the report AND talk to the cop AND deal with my sister who wanted to get the shit out of my truck and get moving AND deal with my mother AND deal with the fact that I just got scared out of my mind and was still shaking and was simply trying to hold it all together.
Wait... what?
Yeah, I got freaked, ok?
Think about something... those of you who read this regularly know what happend to my first girlfriend's husband just recently, right? Late at night, he hit wrecked his car and died. So as I start to realize the back of my car isn't doing what it's told and I start to spin and that my relief that no other cars were around was fading as I saw that guard rail coming at me WAY too fast... well, I thought I was done.
Gone, John.
Over, Grover.
Dead, Fred.
Finito, Pepito.
Kaput, Helmut.
I had no life flash before my eyes. It was like the great book by James Morrow, "This Is How The World Ends". I saw a future that wouldn't be. I held my wife and child in my arms. I showed my kid to my mother and sister. I had to go out of town for a book tour. I heard from old friends hwo were doing well.
And it was fading.
I was sacrificing everything to go have dinner with a friend and felt stupid.
Then a funny thing happened.
The car hit the shoulder and spun around again and I hit the rail with the back end of the car and though I got jolted pretty bad (my radio flew out of the dash!), I was still breathing. The car came to a stop finally after hitting the rail again, just on the other side of the back end, and I was ok. I was off the road so no fear of other cars hitting me and I was breathing. I was ok. I wasn't bleeding or injured. And I just freaked out. I was shaking too bad to think beyond that.
A guy stopped and came up to the car and asked if I was ok and I snapped out of it for a bit and said yeah. I got out of the car and looked around. The passenger side was sinking into mud and the trunk was a mess and the lights were hanging off and stuff. A woman (who would call 911) came running across the road to check on me and I said again that I was ok. They asked if they needed to stay and I said "no" so they left.
I sat back in my car for a few minutes and then began to make the phone calls.
When I finally got back home and got into bed, I couldn't sleep. I kept seeing it over and over and over. I still do. I was afraid.
I want to hold my wife and kid, dammit. I want my mother to meet her new grandbaby. I want my sisters to meet their niece. I want to finally DO something with my life. I think I may have finally found a fear greater than my fear of failure.
Maybe.
But for now, I'm just still a mess.
I still see it and I still find myself shaking and scared. But I made it thru Sunday with all that happened THAT day.
I talked to Carla. We talked and hung out and she drove me to Publix and we talked. We talked about her boyfriend and what's going on there and I offered my advice and did my best to help her relax and have fun instead of stressing. She drove off after giving me a hug (which I have been sorely needing) and I came inside and collapsed. I barely made it to the couch and just lost all energy. I simply sat there and everything hit me at once. I got up after about 20-30 minutes or was it 2-3 hours... I don't remember. But I got up and went to bed so I could get up early today and get the stuff done to get my rental car and go to work early.
And then today... I get to work after they towed my car into the shop this morning. I got a rental (nice little 07 Mazda 3). I get a call around 4pm to tell me that the cost to fix my car would be about 5775.
I still owed about 6150.
They totalled the car.
So I have a rental until saturday and then.......... ?
But something has to go right eventually, right?
After all, it's not how many times you get knocked down.
It's how many times you get back up.

Macgyver ain't got NOTHIN on me!

So today at lunch I got a little flustered and upset and stuff and lost my concentration and did something I really don't do that often... I locked my keys in the car.
It was just after 4PM and I had to get back upstairs and back on the phones and wouldn't have time to work on it right then. I didn't want to spend the money on Pop-A-Lock but none of my friends or family had a slim jim or could bring me a coat hanger or something.
I felt like I was just gonna have to waste the money and have someone come out and take a LOT longer to open the car than it would take me.
Side note: why is it that none of the guys that ever come out will just let you borrow their tool so you can do it yourself? I even offered this guy 20 bucks about 4 years ago if he would just let me do it. It had already taken him about 40 minutes and he had tried every door and I was getting frustrated!
Anyway, so I was sitting at my desk, swamped by phone calls until almost 630 and getting nothing but jokes and less than helpful replies.
"Wow, that sucks!"
"You should carry extra keys!"
"Here you go" accompanied by either a picture of a slim jim meat treat or an actual slim jim meat treat.
ARGH!
I was trying to think of something... anything. My natural instinct is to solve a problem and always has been but I felt trapped. I didn't have much to work with, you know?
Then right around 7 I looked up at the easter basket a co-worker had given me. More specifically, I looked at the handle and that it looked pretty thin. It juuuuust might fit into the door. So I took the handle off and it got pretty straight.
Cool, I thought, and proceeded to use my scissors to cut some grooves into it.
My co-workers looked at me with confusion, bemusement and pity but I wasn't deterred! I just kept on working that puppy!
At 728 I logged out of the phones and told them I was going downstairs while I still had some daylight and not a lot of rain. Damn, it was cold. My hands were aching trying to hold the thing and NOT make it splinter. I just kept moving it around trying to find that one spot I knew was there from the last time. At one point the end started to split and I had to switch it around. I was worried isnce, if it went, I was screwed. No one was available to come help or at least, no one seemed willing. They were either busy or unable to drive out to where I was.
My co-workers all left. Sure, they stopped and offered assistance but it's hard for me to ask anything of them when they're walking towards their cars with their keys out and those "please don't ask me to help" faces.
I simply said I had it and told them I'd see them tomorrow.
At 738 I found the spot and the handle released.
That's right. In less than ten minutes I had opened my car door using nothing but the cheap 'wood' handle from an easter basket.
After the wonderful glow of achievment faded I started wondering if I should start putting the alarm on again.

Alone in the Park: Updated

Forget-me-nots

A year or so back I was sitting in the park, Hemming Plaza, eating my lunch. I had bought a hot dog, chips and Sprite from the nearby vendor and was just preparing to chow down. My mind was going over the state of my personal life.
I had just been sent reeling by the revelation of my Ex’s serious involvement with a new guy. They were living together and talking about marriage. I had just finally begun dating again and here she was living with a new guy AND getting all engaged.
Who was this guy who got her to so easily commit to him, something I had tried to do for YEARS?
What the hell was I doing wrong?
Where was I heading in my life?
When would I get there?
Why did HER happiness bother me so much?
How could she have so easily forgotten what we were…what we had… what was good?
It felt like she had moved on TOO easily. Made me feel like I meant nothing. I couldn’t let go of that. That she could let go and made it look… like we… were… nothing. I was an acquaintance at best, it seemed. I couldn’t NOT think about her and she had to be REMINDED I existed. She acted like I was just another “guy she fucked” and couldn’t forget how wonderful we could be together.
We weren’t perfect. Not all the time… but when we were “on”, it couldn’t be beat. Too much else got in the way and I couldn’t forget a single moment of it all. I remembered how it felt kissing her the first time.
And the last.
I remembered the fights and the nights filled with laughter.
I remembered her coming to be with me after my dad died and I remembered the infamous “dead one” comment that she never let me live down.
I remembered finding out she had slept with ANOTHER of my friends. I swear Kevin seems to be the only guy friend I had at the time she DIDN’T sleep with. Sure, we weren’t dating any of the times she did it but still… it’s the principle of the thing!
And now I find out she had met, moved in with and started talking marriage with a guy she had only had time to know for about 2 months. It took me YEARS just to get her to THINK about living together and here was this guy moving into HER house.
Why can’t I let go?
Why do I have to remember what she so easily forgot?
Why do I have to remember her when she obviously doesn’t remember me?
All of this and more came flooding into my mind as I sat there in the park. I just had to get away from work after finding out about the engagement.
I had to breathe.
It was then I noticed a woman, mid to late sixties, sitting across from me. She sat there looking down at a tiny bouquet in her hands as the petals fell, one by one, and I could see her lips moving. I wasn’t sure what they were but they seemed to be short, simple words. Since I was in need of something to get my mind off MY pain, I figured sharing someone ELSE’S would do the trick so I walked over to her and introduced myself.
“Hello, my name’s William, mind if I sit here?”
She took a moment before lifting her eyes up to meet mine, thought for a moment more and then gestured slightly with her head. “Sure,” she said in a hushed tone. “My name’s Marie,” she added after I had gotten comfortable.
Marie looked back down at her flowers as another petal fell. Again I could see her lips move but my new vantage point didn’t make it any easier to figure out the words. Before I had a chance to ask her, she began to speak.
“My husband’s name is Arthur,” she began, “and he’s the most wonderful man in the world. Whenever I was feeling even the slightest bit ill, Arthur would be home to take care of me. He’d cook for me and make sure I had enough blankets. If I wanted to go somewhere, he’d always be ready to go with me… not just take me but go WITH me. From the moment we met he never let me believe for one second that he didn’t love me.”
She stopped and looked around. I tried to follow her gaze to see what had got her attention but could only see a young man, younger than me, sitting at a table about 30 feet away from us. Marie stared at him a moment and then looked back down as another petal fell. Again her lips mouthed a few short words. She looked up at me. Through me. It felt as if she was using her eyes to force her next words into my brain.
“I remember going to bed every night next to him and waking up in the morning. I remember the joy his presence brought me because I was lucky enough to find the perfect one for me and have him see the same in me. I can remember every Christmas, anniversary, birthday,” she hesitated, broke her gaze to look down but no petal moved, then returned, “I remember every day and night with Arthur.”
The tears forming in her eyes were bringing some from mine. Within moments the tears were streaming down her face. Her bottom lip quivered and the shaking of her hands caused more of the petals to fall. I reached my hand out and touched her shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
She composed herself as best she could but avoided looking at me. She looked at the man across the way and then back to the flowers as she placed them beside her. “Now when I go to see him I have to have a nurse explain to him who I am and why I’m there. I have to meet him… for the first time… every day. For him, he acts like he’s making a new friend and enjoys the conversations. He enjoys telling me about his childhood and his old friends and the like; stories I’ve heard a million times before I’ve now heard a million times more. For him, it’s a new experience. For me, it’s a reminder of what I had and what I don’t. While I get to meet him and talk to him and be with him, I will never be able to be with my husband ever again. Not the man who WAS my husband. He is gone and with him… US. I am the one who remembers what we had and were and I have to keep it inside so that I can still enjoy the time I have left with him.”
Marie stood up and I joined her. She straightened her dress, and turned to me before saying her final parting words, “Why do I have to remember him if he doesn’t remember me?” With that she clasped my hand, kissed me on the cheek and left.
I stood there and watched her slowly make her way to a car that must’ve just pulled up. The faces of those inside told me they were kin. I knew Marie would be putting on her happy face and telling all about her time with her husband.
I sat quietly, letting the tears air dry, until curiosity again got the better of me. I got up and walked over to the young man at the table that had gotten Marie’s attention. As I neared him I could see he was in his very early twenties. He was in slacks and a button shirt, neatly pressed, but his tie was slightly loosened. I waited a moment for him to look at me. “Hello, my name’s William,” I said extending my hand. “Mind if I join you?”
“Hey,” he replied. “Mark,” he continued, shaking my hand.
His voice was a lot deeper than I expected for such a young man. He certainly wasn’t tall enough to warrant such a rich bass. The voice had a raspy quality to it that made me instantly picture him standing on stage in a smoke filled room either singing the blues or reading angry poetry.
“What brings you to the park, Mark?” I smiled at the rhyme. He smiled back but didn’t say too much. I figured he was sizing me up so I opened my stance and leaned forward just a hair more to show my interest was genuine.
“Karen,” he said.
“Karen?”
“Yeah, her name was Karen.”
The way he said it told me he expected that to mean something to me; probably because it meant so much to him. He grabbed the seat of the bench so tightly his knuckles went white for a moment. He began to rock a little and I could see the skin around his eyes turn a shade redder.
“Karen is… WAS my girlfriend.” The need for correction caused him pain. I could relate given what brought ME to the park. “She was so beautiful and funny and smart and, well…” He paused and lifted his hands from their vice-like grip and grabbed at the air as if trying to seize the words floating before him but gave up and simply said, “EVERYTHING.”
“She sounds wonderful,” I said.
“God, she was.” Mark smiled a broad smile, a smile of memory. “She used to come by my parents’ house JUST to say good morning before school. She’d run late some days because we’d talk too long and miss the bus.
“In college, she’d come by my classes anytime she didn’t have one, too, and wait for me. Don’t get me wrong, I did the same thing. She’d leave me notes on my car saying she loved me and missed me or just a little smiley face.” Mark chuckled. “I’d… I’d leave her notes simply saying ‘booga booga booga’.” Mark turned to look at me and saw the lack of full comprehension on my face. “It was an in-joke, came from that movie Porky’s 3. You ever see it?”
“Yeah, I saw it. The fake zombie thing?” I couldn’t remember if it was the second or third one actually. I knew it wasn’t the first Porky’s but suspected it was actually the second one. Seemed pointless to debate it since I couldn’t exactly prove my beliefs.
“Yeah, we laughed so damn hard at that so it became our thing. Well, MY thing, anyway.” Mark stared straight ahead and added, “but she loved it.”
“That’s great, I used to have a similar thing with an old girlfriend of mine.” That was true. I would simply leaves notes on Pam’s car saying ‘hubba hubba hubba’ anytime I got to see her that day so she’d know she turned me on. We were young and it was ok to still be thinking like that.
“We had a lot of things like that. We’d sit and just talk. We’d come here to this park and just sit on Sundays. It was our chance to catch up on the week,’ Mark shook his head after saying that. “It made no sense since we saw each other almost daily but never went a day without talking somehow. But those Sundays would still get filled with conversation.”
I knew I had to push him to get him to say why he was in the park THAT day since it wasn’t a Sunday. “So what happened?” I asked.
Marks eyes turned beet red. The sides started to shine as tears pooled. I could hear his breathing quicken, shallow and nasally. His hands returned to grab the bench.
“She died.”
“My god, I’m so sorry.” I suck at condolences. I don’t know how to give them and always feel phony when I try. “What happened?” When he didn’t answer right away I said, “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Car accident.” He looked to the ground on his left and his chin quivered a little. “Some dumbass drunk plowed into her car one night. Paramedics said she died on impact, no pain.”
I wanted to point out that that was a GOOD thing. At least she didn’t suffer. That should mean something, right? But I couldn’t say it. I felt silly for thinking it once Mark said what he did.
“No pain? What the hell does that even mean? She died, for crissakes! Can they truly KNOW she had no pain?” His voice was rising with each sentence until he was nearly shouting, “NO!” I realized that’s why his voice sounded the way it did. He had cried and yelled himself hoarse.
I tried to utter a word of understanding and agreement but it never made it out, not fully formed.
“And even months later can they still tell me she felt no pain? And… and… and what about everyone else?” Mark looked me in the eyes with a stare that reminded me of Marie’s but with so much more intensity that I was waiting for my head to explode. The tears were no longer contained by his eyes and came streaming down his face, staining his shirt. “She died,” he said, “but it killed ME.”
I nodded and let him continue.
“She’s gone. I can only hope and pray she truly doesn’t feel any pain. I’m feeling enough for us both. The idea that she may be hurting just makes it worse. But then I hear my mom and our friends telling me how she’s not ‘really’ gone. ‘As long as you remember her, she’ll always be with you,’ they say.”
Mark stood up quickly and turned, gesturing by swinging his left arm around to draw my attention to the expanse of the park. “So according to them,” he said, “as long as I remember her, she’ll be right here.
“With me.
“In this park.
“Do you see her? I sure don’t but they swear to me she’s here. And it’s not because I don’t remember her.” Mark quieted down and dropped his arms to his sides.
“I remember every single thing about her. I can’t forget a moment. She haunts my life because the only thing I CAN forget at times is that all I have are memories. That’s it, man. Memories of what we had. I spend all my time thinking about her and smiling at who and how she was and then I get excited and want to see her.” At that, he sat back on the bench.
Mark swallowed hard and used his sleeve to wipe his face. “And that’s when reality sets in.”
“I know, Mark,” I said. “Losing a loved one is hard. It does get a little easier but it takes time.”
Mark turned his head only slightly enough so he could make eye contact. “I know but it’s not about being able to ‘handle’ it. It’s that I WANT to forget. I want to not remember her. I want to move on because it’s too damn hard to be responsible for so much. She’s gone, she’s not coming back and yet I can’t forget her. I try and feel guilty about that as if it means I didn’t… DON’T love her.”
“It wouldn’t mean that, Mark.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what it means. If I did love her I wouldn’t want to forget. I just can’t deal with being the only one who does.”
“You’re not… her family,” I pointed out before being cut off.
“Her family didn’t know her like I do. The only person who can remember her like that, like the young woman she was becoming and not the growing daughter or the sister or the student or whatever,” he waited a beat, “is me.”
“It’s my job. My responsibility. And I can’t deal with it. I can’t be the keeper of her memory, not alone. Why do I have to remember us when she can’t? Without her, there is no US.”
I reached my hand out and touched his shoulder, squeezing a little. “It’s ok, Mark. Really it is. It’s ok to feel that way. Death is always hardest on the living. It’s that whole unknown factor of it all.”
“The what?”
“It’s like when you’re trying to talk to someone on the phone but your connection is weak on your end but not theirs. They can hear you fine but you come through a bit staticy.”
“Uh huh,” Mark said, obviously not sure of my point yet.
“Well, the other person knows both sides of the conversation while you can only know yours with any certainty. In the case of a loved one passing on, they know what is happening. Whether it’s heaven, nothing or something we haven’t thought of, they KNOW it. We, on the other hand, have to not only deal with the loss and the sadness but also the confusion and the simple fact that we have no clue what happened to them. They are simply gone and we aren’t. We are expected to move on and deal with the absence and mystery.”
“Yeah,” Mark said, “it’s like we get three days from work to adapt to a changed world and then get back to work.”
“Exactly, death only affects those close to the deceased. Everyone else is either trying to empathize or is trying to not think about it. We feel bad for bringing them down but feel angry that they don’t want to give us OUR time to mourn. And at the same time, we are left with so many reminders of them that sometimes the day-to-day living becomes unbearable.”
Mark sat still. He had folded his hands across his stomach, eyes closed. “I love her.”
“I have no doubts, Mark.”
“I will always love her.”
“I know.”
“But why do I have to remember everything? Why can’t I feel ok about letting go?”
I grabbed his shoulder and pulled him to me. Neither of us cared about maintaining any sort of manly image. We simply hugged. I patted his back and said in a soft voice, “Because you don’t want to let go yet.” I could feel his arms tighten around me and felt his body shaking from the crying, silent though it was. “And you don’t HAVE to let her go until you’re ready.”
He leaned back up and took a deep breath. I did the same. He sniffed and wiped his eyes again. I knew my lunch was almost over and he obviously needed to get somewhere himself.
“Thank you,” Mark said.
“No, Mark,” I replied, “thank you. You’ve helped me.”
He got up off the bench and turned towards City Hall. “I need to go.”
“Me, too.”
Mark walked off and made it about halfway to the street before turning back to wave. I returned the wave and nodded.
I miss Pam.
I miss many people at this point in my life.
I miss too many.
And missing is simply remembering without opportunity to build new memories, whether permanent or not. It’s a pain of loss and a burden of information. It doesn’t matter if the person is still around but doesn’t know you or doesn’t want to know you or, worse, isn’t around anymore at all, in the long run it’s all about the pain of remembering.
Remembering is looking back on everything that happened and deciding if you want to focus on what time you had or what time you didn’t. Frustration is when you think you have all the time in the world. Regret is when you realize you didn’t. We all have our reasons for not letting go when everyone else wants us to. That day I learned the only important thing about letting go is to do it when you’re ready. To force it causes stress and feelings of guilt. To let it control you simply makes your life a sacrifice to nothing. We all just need to find a balance and to realize that not forgetting yourself isn’t the same thing as forgetting someone else.

I'm tired. Why can't I sleep?

I haven't been sleeping lately. Not a lot.
I'm not really all that busy or anything, just not sleeping.
Why can't I sleep?
When the lights go out, my mind turns up the volume WAAAY too loud.
I hear the echoes of conversations had and thoughts unexpressed.
I see faces I'm not allowed to see anymore.
I see faces I wish I could forget.
Why can't I sleep?
All the decisions that have brought me to this point taunt me.
They laugh.
They jeer.
They ridicule.
They call me names like pussy, and moron, and oblivious.
I try to argue but my mouth simply becomes a nest for more self-deprication.
How do you argue with yourself and lose?
Easy... when you know you're wrong. And I've been wrong.
Why can't I sleep?
My mind replays the past few weeks over and over again.
My abilities are put on trial.
My worthiness is cross-examined.
My self-confidence is held in contempt and my desire to convince myself otherwise is sentenced.
How has it come this far? How have I gone this low?
Why can't I sleep?
Sleep is rest. Relaxation. A reward for a hard day full of accomplishment.
Why can't I sleep?
Why SHOULD I?

You so craaaaazy!

“The worst thing to call anyone is ‘crazy’. It’s dismissive.”
Dave Chapelle.

This was a blurb on Inside the Actor’s Studio before a commercial and I thought about the entire time. I mean, I didn’t change channels or ANYTHING because the comment intrigued me. Granted, he was mostly talking about celebrities who are having a breakdown of sorts but I felt he was limiting the concept. He explained how you have to be tough and strong to make it in the entertainment industry so when you see Martin Lawrence running around the streets with a gun or Mariah Carey taking her clothes off on TRL, you need to thin about what got them to that point and not simply say “they’re crazy” and forget about it.
But extend that out.
When someone comes to us and tells an idea of theirs that sounds silly or risky or just plain dumb and they go ahead with it, we consider them crazy.
Electricity.
Telephone.
Internet.
White out.
Post-it Notes.
Climbing Everest.
Hangliding.
Powered flight.
Skydiving.
Seeing eye dogs.
Helper monkeys.
Think about how INSANE these things and more must’ve seemed to people. Thinking about them now it seems like so many things are obvious.
The guy that designed the Smiley Face thought it was just a job and silly.
The guy who came up with the pet rock expected to sell a few hundred.
The slinky was an accident.
I believe so was gum, wasn’t it?
Our world changes constantly based on the crazy ideas of some folks.
But not every idea is going to be validated through time.
Not every risky venture in Hollywood can result in a Titanic or a Star Wars or a Passion of the Christ. Just look at how many have tried and failed.
Not every bomb at the box office can be a Waterworld.
Huh?
What do I mean by that?
Waterworld ultimately made its money back. People forget that. Silly people.
Crazy is a word thrown around much too often.
But it’s not for any of the reasons above that got me thinking that day I caught the show or why I felt compelled to write.
It’s for the people we all know who get labeled crazy.
OR worse… the ones that label THEMSELVES that.
Sure, they may use words like “depressed” or “ADD” or “SAD” or “broken” or “effed up in the head” or any number of others.
Some really do have something wrong up top. A chemical imbalance or traumatic experiences or something else.
But most tend to have issues they are more than capable of handling but feel overwhelmed because of the label that exists in their mind.
CRAZYThey feel they just aren’t right.
Some get told how crazy they are. Some get treated that way. Some begin to believe they aren’t like other people and can’t act like normal people or be around normal people and run and hide.
They become afraid to let their craziness become too well known.
I enjoy some amount of eccentricities. They are fun to watch and be a part of. Shoot, I have plenty of my own. I do crazy things. I actually know I have points of view that many don’t understand and call crazy.
But that’s the key.
They simply don’t UNDERSTAND.
We, as a race, don’t simply fear that which we don’t understand. We HATE it. Anything different than us must be bad and wrong. If it isn’t, well, then we must be wrong for not being like that, right?
I like women.
I love them.
But I don’t have to think homosexuality is “bad” or “wrong” or “unnatural” in order to validate my love of women. It’s wrong for ME, yes, but not wrong in general.
Heck, the way I see it... the more gay men out there, the more single women for ME.
Just like when my sister came out and worried I would be upset with her. Why? I didn’t get this. She said it was because we have half our family coming from the south who WOULD disown her if they ever found out. I simply told her I didn’t care either way. Not like I’d be upset she was “off the market”, you know? Though it DID make it odd when we would go out and check out the same women.
So why the tangent? Because some people call gay people crazy when it’s really just something they don’t understand or are afraid of because it challenges THEIR lifestyle.
I have enough crazy ideas in my head… ones that truly ARE crazy. I don’t need to be told anything that is just odd or different is also crazy otherwise I need to get fitted for my wraparound jacket ASAP.
Because of this, I have always tried to understand why people do things. I am fascinated by motivation. It’s when people do things that I don’t understand that I tend to ask the most questions. I WANT to understand why. I don’t tend to write too many people off as crazy. I have only met a couple of truly crazy people, not counting a few vagrants who MAY have just been faking it.
Even still, I wondered what could’ve taken them to that point in life.
Why does a beautiful and intriguing young woman consider herself “broken” simply because she requires medication to help her handle stress?
How is that different from a person who needs medication to keep their heart rate steady or their blood sugar in check?
OR someone dealing with an addiction who sees themselves as messed up instead of seeing it as a problem that they have identified and want to get help on… how is that different from a smoker or an alcoholic?
Why should someone who has too many regrets in their past not see it as a building block for their future instead of a reason to hold themselves back or as an excuse to keep doing whatever it is? Not because they’re crazy. It’s because they’re afraid or simply feeling weak.
Probably because of all the jerks who called them crazy over their life.Anyway… sorry if I rambled a bit. It’s been on my mind so I wanted to write about it.

My new toys.

Well, I think it's funny..

The wookie has no pants.

I've had a lot of time lately to realize certain things about my personal focus in life. Or, more to the point, it's apparent lack of focus.
I worry that my priorities are a bit askew.
Misdirected.
Misaligned.
F*cked up.
I thought I was doing so well when I stopped dreaming of writing and drawing and stuff and tried to get a "real job". I thought I had it all sorted out when I began looking at someone as a future wife/mother instead of a fun lay or good time. I thought I knew what was up when I went out of my way to get my OWN car instead of having the 'rents cosign with me. I thought my own feelings of self-sacrifice would be what makes me a real person... real man... real adult.
Lately I've started seeing it all differently.
I have learned that it's the writing and drawing that keep me sane. I doodle constantly at work, not enough to impact my efficiency but I know I could certianly be MORE efficient.
It's just that whenever I try to just focus on work... I go a bit bonkers.
The writing can just be emails to folks or blog comments or something but it's all very important. The drawing can be anything from simple doodles in the margins of my notepad to fully rendered cartoons or birthday cards... in COLOR. It doesn't matter... it's my sanity that's important. Cause if I ain't having fun at work, I tend to not want to go. Or when I do go, I tend to not really want to be there so my work suffers.
That's right... so letting me doodle and email people actually makes me a BETTER worker. I'm not kidding.
I've also learned that my need to "help" people has left me with nothing much in the way of MY life. I have friends whom I am incredibly thankful for and, in my quieter moments, I have moments and accomplishments that I can hold dear.
Except they aren't really MY accomplishments. They are things I helped OTHER people accomplish. Whether it's getting away from a bad boyfriend or putting in for a job and getting it or changing how they see themself... it ultimately doesn't benefit ME in the slightest. Of all the people I have helped or tried to help, it ends up being me that pays the price. So... hard as it is for me to say/type, I need to start being more selfish in MY life.
See, that's the key to it. It's MY life. I'm the only one who has to live it and when all is said and done, I have to take responsibility for my actions so I should reap some of the benefits of them, right? Is it wrong of me to think like that? I used to think so but now I'm not so sure. Because all my times acting as a TP (transitional person) may have gotten me laid and some nice time with some wonderful women... it only leaves me with memories. They get to move on, better than they may have been otherwise.
(This is not arrogance, btw, this comes from actual feedback from the people so please don't say anything about it, mmkay? Great. Moving on.)
But I get to feel hurt and used and abused and discarded. Yes, I set it up and yes I know it's coming but it has to be REAL for it have an impact on them so I have to take myself to a level that opens me up to extreme pain. It may be short-lived but it does hurt. It's the ones where I'm NOT trying to be a TP that REALLY hurts me and leaves lasting marks.
That brings me to the other point about finding a wife. I once seriously considered certain women simply because they had certain physical traits I wanted to add to the family bloodline. I won't say which traits cause it would give too much away but trust me... it was a weird point in my life. I would fall for women because of what they offered as a mate and not as a friend or companion or as a partner. It was more a case of COULD I spend my life with them more than do I WANT to. That's gotten me nowhere.
Basically, I was focusing on the future in the wrong areas and on the present in others and on the past in still others... none were lined up right.
That has to change.
Work should be about the future. I need to secure my financial outlook. I know that. But my sanity is also important to me so I need to also consider finding a job I can love.
The same is true for any woman I will let into my life. I have to be able to love her. Deeply. Without fear and without regret.
It's all about trust, right?
I need to allow myself to shift my focus and start to see the things that ARE important AS important.
Family.
Friends.
ME.
I need to remember to think about ME.
And for some of you, that will make you laugh because you think I already do that. For those of you... you really don't know me. I will ask for support when I am in pain when all else fails and I realize I can't do it alone. I have to have parched lips and be coughing up dust before I ask for a sip of your water. All someone I care about has to say is "man, I'm starting to get a little thirsty" and I'm buying them a case of their favorite soda.
THAT is who I am. THAT is who I have always been.
I don;t want to lose that... just augment it with a bit of self-importance.
Maybe that will keep me from being so easily swayed when someone actually likes me. And maybe it will keep me from going too overboard whenever I like someone.
Who knows?
I'm just thinking it's worth a shot.

In the interest of future relationships...

It as become evident that certain qualities of mine can/do become annoying over time. Sometimes it takes a few years, other times it takes only a few days, but these "quirks" of mine always seem to get in the way...
1) I talk a lot.
Wait... let me correct something real quick...
A LOT.
There, that's better.
See, I hate silences. It reminds me of being by myself and that makes me able to hear my brain yacking away so I prefer talking whenever I have someone around. That doesn't mean I never shut up... though that line from Shrek DOES come to mind... it means I prefer talking. I also tend to yammer and go off on tangents and so on. It's like my writing. Go look thru the blogs here and many of them were MEANT to be short. I start to write emails that are supposed to stay on one simply topic and, though they do stay on topic, end up being several pages long.
I know some of you out there know what I'm talking about.
So, yes, I talk. And while it's "cute" and "neat" and "cool" in the beginning to have a guy that talks about STUFF, some important, some silly and some pointless nonsense blather that makes you talking about purses seem relevant, it eventually becomes annoying. And even when I tell people to just tell me to shut up or stop talking or anything when I do go off on a rant, those same people end up getting angry at me. Why? Cause they don't want to hurt my feelings by telling me to stop talking. Instead, they'd prefer to leave me so they don't have to deal with EITHER situation. Apparently, a broken heart heals quicker than unwounded ego when someone does what I TELL them to do.
2) I like sex. I mean I REALLY like it. It's fun and I enjoy doing it. Actually, I enjoy foreplay the most. And oral. I looooove doing oral stuff. And finger stuff, that's awesome. Sex is fine and dandy but I love the other stuff more. Anyone who's been with me when I am seriously interested in them (and not during my unfortunate rebound phase from a couple years back) will know what I mean. I can sit and play with a woman's body for hours. I take a break and go right back to it. I'm not often interested in MY pleasure since I get so much from doing what I do. It gets me into trouble at times since I had gotten to the point where I saw fingering off a woman like shaking her hand. I had to work hard to break THAT particular mindset. But really, when all is said and done, I can have whole sex sessions where I never come once and look back on it as some of the best I've ever had.
Ah, sounds not so bad, right?
Here's the rub... I tend to be seen as ONLY interested in sex.
I don't get it either but just recently I was accused of only and always being interested in sex. That I wanted it all the time. Now, keep in mind that I came about 1/10th the time that she ever did but it still got to the point where she saw it as all about me.
So I've learned to include this as a list of things that are important to know about me up front. I will like having sex with you and will want to do it alot. I don't get bored easily with it and usually go out of my way to change and spice things up more for HER pleasure than my own so if you're expecting a kinky guy, that ain't me.
For more on sex, see 8.
3) I joke around a lot. I can come off as not taking too much seriously enough. In part, that's true. I don;t see why things can't be laughed at. It's called a "defense mechanism" for a REASON, folks.
Side note: the next woman who "points out" that I use humor as a "defense mechanism" as if I've never thought of that before... she's gonna get slapped. That's all I'm sayin'. WHACK!
Anywho, I can be serious and just cuz I make a joke doesn't mean I don't care of see it as serious.
True story time, kiddies... one of my fave jokes EVER was from Night Court when a doctor is looking at Bull, I think, and leans up and says "Well, his condition's stabilized." "Really?" "He's dead." I used to joke about that with my friend, Jon. Even after my dad died when I was talking to him I mentioned that joke. I was doing anything I could to find SOMETHING. That was also the day I was going by to look at my new place... I was finally moving out of my parents' and, in fact, had paid the money to do so on the day my dad died. About 90 minutes before, actually. So Jon and I went to see the new place and I ran into my soon-to-be roommate, Mike, who was a co-worker so he had heard about me dropping off my niece and nephew with their momma (also a co-worker) and asked "How's your dad?"
Without missing a beat, Jon turned to him and said "His condition has stabilized." He then looked to me and waited.
I realize the joke may have seemed awkward for Mike and all... but it helped me so damn much that day I can never repay my friend.
So yeah, I joke. I joke and try to laugh cuz when I die... I want to look back and remember that I enjoyed my time here more than regretted it.
Deal with it.
4) This joking attitude extends towards "cut downs". I make fun of myself and make fun of other people. We all do stupid things and I don't mind pointing out when people do it. INCLUDING MYSELF. I really don't mind. I may get pissy sometimes but if it's FUNNY, I'll get over it. I blame sitcoms, really, but that's beside the point. Truth is, I grew up being picked onas a kid. I have no shoulders so my head looks big. Also, my head really is big which just compounds that misconception. I had to learn to deal with it or go nuts back in grade school so I learned to deal with it.
Plus I went nuts but we won't discuss that here.
Side effect of it was that I also thought EVERYONE was the same way. I figured since it seemed we ALL did stupid stuff or had quirks then we've ALL been picked on. I also expect people to know what is and what isn't a joke. Come on, I called this one chick a cow who couldn't have weighed a buck twenty soaking ass wet and she acted like she was seriously putting on weight or something. WTF?!?!? It's all nonsense. Utter nonsense.
Yes, I've learned that people can be self-conscious or have self-esteem issues or not see themselves as I really see them but more as how I joke about them. I have tried (and made improvements) with my tendencies towards smartassness, but comments WILL come out. Either hit me back or walk away, I guess. But first, try to remember a simple fact about me: If I don't like you, I don't talk to you.
5) I like lots of movies but not EVERY movie. I like lots of music but not ALL music. Same with tv and books. I will most likely not like something you like and the inverse will probably be true as well. Whoopdee fucking doo. I don't get people who are hoping to meet someone who likes EXACTLY the same stuff. If that was the case with me, I would never have been exposed to some things, you know? I would never have heard some really great music or seen some really cool movies. Because... they weren't something I would've thought of checking out. I would've just gone on my merry way, oblivious to it. Shit, sometimes it's as simple as someone with different leanings being aware of the concert or flick because they watch different tv shows so they caught a commercial for it and mentioned it on a night we were hanging out.
I get tired, though, of people finding out I like horror movies and either a) thinking I like ONLY horror movies or b) thinking I like ALL horror movies. Neither is true.
Same goes with country music. I like OTHER stuff, too.
I've had so many people judge me based on an aspect of my taste instead of the bulk of it. I like pop music AND movies, too. I like chick flicks and ballads and hard rock and silly comedies and techno and cartoons and all sorts of stuff in between. Just cause I don't like your fave movie or book or tv show doesn't mean we don't have anything in common. Just means we don't have THAT in common. It ALSO doesn't mean I think you're stupid or that you need to see me as stupid. I personally like differences.
6) I will debate and discuss and argue. This goes back to number 1 and will include part of number 7. I enjoy conversation. Remember the talking thing? Taht goes for conversations, too. I don't mind being quiet as long as someone is talking. :o) If it's interesting, so much the better. I much prefer a DIALOGUE, though, more than a monologue. Granted, this CAN mean that at certain times, one person may end up doing more of the talking that the other.
You ever have a person ask you "How was your trip?" then later give you shit for not lett THEM speak more during your telling of the tale?
I have.
You ever have someone give you shit for THEM not talking to you even though you are always TRYING to get them to talk by asking them questions?
I have.
You know my fave? "What's on your mind?" Sometimes I use the "What's wrong?" approach if they give the impression that something is wrong. You know the usual response from those people that will eventually get mad at you for them not being able to talk to you?
That's right.
"Nothing."
It is frustrating for me to be faced with that and I will sometimes persist if I truly believe something is wrong or on your mind. So do us BOTH a favor and just ANSWER and all will be ok. If it's something you don't want to discuss, SAY that. But don't expect me to believe that you ain't thinking anything.
And yes, I am quite serious about the persistance thing.
7) I am a stubborn little SOB. I don't mind being wrong, I really don't, all I ask is taht you SHOW me I'm wrong. Prove it. Tell me. Talk to me about it and explain your side or show me the research or something. I would rather be proven wrong so I can be right from that point on than simply THINK I'm right. This, of course, tends to mean I will come off as confident (cocky?) and will not give up my POV until I am shown it's the wrong one to have.
But this stubbornness extends BEYOND just conversation. It goes for a most aspects of my life. I don't tend to back off or give up. Sorry but it's true. I will keep at something, especially if I think it's good to do so. Whether it's finding out what's wrong or getting you to quit smoking.
Yeah, about the smoking thing... i don't do it and don't hold it against you if you do though I don't think you should. If you WANT to keep smoking, then don't EVER tell me you want to quit. Ok? That just gets my motor humming and it takes a lot to make it stop. This also goes for sex... I try to keep it going as long as I can. Some people complain about that. Some don't. As long as I can take a break every now and again, we're all set for hours of fun in my mind. If you disagree, set that up in the beginning or else it's hard for me to break the habit. Speaking of habits...
8) I have one nasty habit after sex. No, I'm not talking about the urge to clean up on those occasions when I spooge. I'm talking about me saying a certain phrase over and over when I do. Sometimes even when I don't. See, I never think I do a good enough job. Regardless of the fact that I've only had two real complainers in my life (and you two know who you are!!), I still never think I've done enough.
So I say "I'm sorry." I've tried to stop or to only say it when relevant.
"Sorry I stepped on your hair."
"Sorry I bruised your thigh."
Stuff like that.
It helps sometimes but not always. The bigger the orgasm for me the more I lose control of that. A lot of this comes from my first girlfriend. She's why I had to fight my own feelings of inadequacy. She never let me think I was remotely decent at ANYTHING. And since my spooging meant sex was over (she also taught me that part about cleaning up IMMEDIATELY), whenever I did come, I would feel I had to apologize for the sex ending "too soon". Whether it WAS too soon or not. Granted, she wasn't one of those multi-orgasm chicks. We were generally lucky to get one out of her. And, no, that wasn't just ME having that issue with her, thank you very much. A lot of it was mental, sure, but I took it personally. She was my first and only frame of reference. This whole sexual self-esteem issue is probably the longest lasting part of our relationship. Remind me someday to tell you the BJ story.

That's all I got for right now. I'm sure more will come to me over the next few days.
Sorry I've been away, everyone. I've been busy.

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!!! 2007

First off, here's this year's cartoon. I was in a very weird place when I came up with this one... hope you don't mind.
















Now this one is a card front I did for a friend who after everythig we did to one another when we tried "dating", still managed to be there for me when I needed someone. She isn't the ONLY friend to do so but she IS the one who I can more easily give a card to. :o)

Ok, this is a shitty year, alright...

... But then... most of you have gathered that. Everything is confused... nothing makes sense... things that seemed so, well, RIGHT just a few short weeks ago now seem so far out of reach that i can't understand how I ever imagined them. I came close to losing my mother. I still may yet lose her. Actually, that's a naive statement. I WILL lose her, that's unavoidable but the thought of it has been slapping me in the face so much lately that I forget that I didn't used to ponder it. Now it's all I think about when I see her. Work is frustrating but some of that comes from me dating co-workers. One has moved on and is so giddy happy it sometimes makes me want to vomit (no offense) and the other hates me. The only other people I am halfway interested in knowing are, well, a bit odd and difficult to get to know. So much mystery and things being hidden and such.

It reminds me of the other night when we were searching for my sort-of ex after she stormed out. Her friend tried to call her on her cell and got that message "The subscriber you are trying to reach" message and she said to me, "Well, at least we know she was terlling the truth about that."

Later, her friend looked at me after talking with the ex-b/f and we were trying to figure out the next course of action and she said "That's assuming he isn't on his way to pick her up. She may have told him where she was."

"This is why I don't lie, dammit," I replied.

I'm paraphrasing, I'm sure. That night has become a jumble of events and crap but that idea was shared. It's the idea that we DIDN'T know who to trust. After all, we WERE dealing with HER ex boyfriend and HER family. All she had to say if she spoke to them was "Don't tell William" and voila, I'm out of the loop and so is her friend. IT just sucked.

Or with Ma... they've kept a LOT from me over the years because I'm "the baby of the family" so now I wonder if I ever get the WHOLE story. It's frustrating when what I know is BAD... imagine my worry when I have to consider there may be a lot I DON'T know. ARGH!

So what do I do? I can keep trying to keep my mind off everything and not worry about two women who are very important to me. Or, as some will suggest, focus more on someone who DIDN'T (possibly play me or screw me over). I can dwell on everything and continue not sleeping much. I can try and find something to occupy my time. Used to be so easy when I did trivia 3-4 tmes a week. I can always try to meet new people.

bwa ha ha ha ha ha ha

Sorry, that was funny to me.

It's just weird... there was a time when I was busy enough on my own and yet, the absence of one person leaves a hole that seems unfillable. Why is that? Why is it so hard for me to walk away from ANYONE or anything?

My friend, Jon, liked to point out that I simply MUST have the last word. That's not always true. I DO want understanding... I want to know the TRUTH of it all. So I ask a lot of questiosn about mom. I ask questions about my sort-of ex. I ask lots of questions becasue things don't make sense. Less than 24 hoursto go from hating me to loving me to hating me even more? WTF? How did mom get SO sick SO fast? How did I even GET this promotion if you're now saying on my review that I haven't done everything I need to do for the rank?

Confusion.

Crap.

Cock a diddle don't!

Ok, I've come to a decision... sex is just too much trouble. It keeps screwing EVERYTHING up in my life. Those who know me know that I loves me some sex... love just about everything about it. Sure, there's stuff I won't do but for the most part, anything involving me and a (usually) nekkid woman is fine and dandy and the prime ingredients for a fun night.

I am not being a pig here, just honest. I love the female form. I love the tastes and smells and how their skin looks. It's why I'm not a big fan of tattoos and overdoing the perfume. Get me a woman fresh from the shower before she puts all the lotions on and shit and I'm a happy guy!

So why does sex just get in the way? Not counting my recent heartbreak, sex often becomes a big deal in a young relationship. It's like once you start doing it, that's where your mind goes.

Assuming it's any good.

I once joked that in the beginning, you go to a movie and hope for sex after. Then you go to the movie and actually HAVE the sex after. Later on, you have sex BEFORE going to the movie and on good days, after, too. The trouble starts when you start havnig sex INSTEAD of the movie. You need to foster the REST of the relationship or you're in deep shit.

It's like, a great relationship will help make mediocre sex seem better but great sex won't save a weak relationship.

Hell, just last year I told someone that I was putting in so much effort to get her attention back and get time with her that it couldn't be about the sex... we didn't have that much yet and what we had wasn't that great. But we got along and I enjoyed the physical side more because of that.

So, with my recent mess in mind and realizing it DID start as a fling on my part... fuck buddy type of thing... and an affair on hers... also fuck buddy kind of thing, really since had she gotten it from elsewhere, she wouldn't have needed me. And I can think of others that began with me and the date getting too hot and too heavy too fast. Once the line is crossed, it's hard to back up and say "Whoops, forget that happened!" Even when both parties AGREE, the thought is still there. You more freely touch each other than had you not gone all the way... or even just damn close.

So, I'm wondering if I should give something a try that I have't considered since I stopped letting it be a status chosen FOR me... celibacy.

That's right, the C-word.

I think I have it in me to stand tall and resist temptation. I've done it before. Not by CHOICE, mind you, but I did. I know a couple of friends have recently decided to try this, too. Maybe I should contact them and be Quitting Buddies.

I'm not sure how well it would work. I know how easily tempted I am. Good lord, a woman just needs to shave her legs and wear shorts around me and I'll be wanting to know how her thighs feel aganist my cheeks.

Ah, man... I already have that in my head and I just started THINKING about trying this today!

Ok, technically I started it right after my last time having sex.

What? It helps me feel like I have already accomplished something and encourages me to try.

I'm still debating on the subject of self-gratification... I'm not sure if that should count. I mean, I would need to release tension SOME way and there's only so many hobbies I could do.

So that is where I'm at... after getting my heart stomped so thoroughly I am thinking about swearing off sex.

I'm sure if she knew she'd be thrilled to have had this effect.
So what do YOU all think? Should I give it a try? And I'm not talking priesthood celibacy, simply holding off on sex until the relationship is strong and not like third date stuff.

Yippee!!

My buddy, Jon, took me out tonite and helped keep me busy and distracted so I wouldn't do something stupid again like try to talk to C. I wanted to. Lord, how I wanted to. But I didn't.

Thanks to Jon.

Now, I am taking my nearly drunk ass to bed!

Hope all is well with everyone!

Anyone up for anything Saturday night?

When did I become the BAD GUY?

Last night was an extremely stressful night. After finally getting some relatively decent news in regards to mom... they are relatively confident it's NOT cancer... they don't know what it IS but they feel fine saying it "isn't cancerous". We still have to wait to know for sure but it's letting mom relax a bit.

Anywho, after finally breathing a sigh of relief, C (see previous blog where C was designated) agreed to go out last night with me and her friend. We were all worried about C and wanted to talk with her and make sure she was ok, given some of the more irrational behavior as of late. We agreed that I would go pick her up and would drive her out to the baymeadows area to meet her friend at Chili's. We had chatted throughout the day on email and I had even seen her twice and said hello. It felt like she wasn't hating me anymore.

So, naturally, I got my hopes up.

But I wanted to be in control this time. Not overdo it and try too hard so I picked her up and we dorve. She wasn't talking so I turned on the radio, then a CD. She would make some comments, so would I, but no real conversation. I didn't jump out of the car and run up and hug her like I wanted to or hold her hand while driving like we used to. See? Under control!

Anywho, we get there and have to wait on her friend so we get a table and order some drinks. We chat a bit about nothing major... work and such. Her friend comes and C starts to act distant. She watches TV and really doesn't join in the conversation so I talk to her friend. We steer the conversation towards things that are important... her and her recent choices... without actually specifically naming them or her. We address similar things in our own lives instead. She chimes in a couple of times and is acting rather ornery.

At one point while I am telling a story about Pam.. .if you dont know about Pam, ask... most of you do... but I dont name her by name, of course, no point... but C stands up and says "It's PAM, ok! I'm tired of hearing about Pam!" and goes out to smoke a cigarette.

Odd bit. Though she had obviously been wanting a cigarette so I didnt think TOO much of it. I knew she would get mildly irritated but more cause she had heard the story before more than because it was a Pam story.

I used the opportunity to talk to friend, who had been apprehensive about the evening's plan, and we agreed C was acting off. Distant. Quiet. We were growing concerned.

Her friend and I were having beers (2 4 1 all day every day, baby!) and C was having her vodka and cran. She ultimately would have three. She started to actually talk more and open up... but not in a nice way. Her depression was becoming painfully evident.

See, she has some problems... SAD and depression. She had been on meds and went ot therapy and was doing amazingly well. Then the holidays hit and her doc took time off and she hit some money troubles and couldnt afford to go. 6 weeks without therapy. I thought it was only 3. And she had fully gone off meds. She was still the C I knew but she was angry. Hostile. Mean, at times.

Then it happened. She told the story I was wondering about. The night before she had told her ex-boyfriend about her affair.

With me.

Before their breakup.

It did not go well.

As she told the story, she became more and more upset. She was starting to cry. She showed a mark on her hand where she had burned herself with her cigarette in front of him to make the pain stop. "It's better than cutting or hair pulling", she said. After another smoke break, she came back in to show a fresh burn.. i could still see the ash in the mark. Inf act, I can STILL see it... whenever I close my eyes.

This woman I love beyond reason (as evidenced by many of my actions) was sitting there, telling me how upset she was that she won't be able to date her ex because he's mad at her and showing me the scars from her self-torture. I tried to calm her with the same things I have told her... the ex has forgiven her before for stuff ("I've only seen him mad twice before") and he will get over this as well. IF they still care about each other, they will get thru it... he just needs time. She disagreed.

Oh, yeah... that was me trying to convince her not to give up on her ex. Yep, that's me... idiot.

Then she stops and turns to me and says something that floored me.

"I wasn't upset because of (ex). I was upset because I ruined it with YOU."

I was caught off guard after spending the preceeding several minutes talking about her ex and the morning listening to all the TRUTH she hid that essentially amounted to her pulling away from me and upset cause she kept cancelling on her other friends to see me (including the ex who she hung with on NYE). So I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Bullshit."

She stood up, said "Fuck you!" and stormed out of chilis. It was quite similar to the pam explosion so I told her friend let's wait a minute to see if she comes back. After a minute, I waived the hostess over with the check, paid in cash so we could leave without waiting any longer. I expected to get outside and see her walking around the parking lot or sitting by the car.

After all, we're in baymeadows and she lives over on main st and 9A... quite a haul even in a car. I drove, her cell was only getting incoming calls and she had no cash on her. Plus, she was wearing flip flops. How far could she walk?

So her friend gets worried (as do I but I cant show it) and we agree she should go check out the nearby places where C has been to in the past. I walk out to the street to try and see her but it's dark and she's wearing dark clothes and I have no idea which way she went. I walk around then head over to check on her friend. She's not in any of the other places. I get her friend to call her... no answer... so I say call her home and call her ex since she might call him to come get her or he might at least have an idea of where she's going. We ask them both to contact us if they hear anything since we're so worried.

Nothing is happening so we extend the call list to her sister. Her friend doesnt want me leaving yet since she's getting understandably freaked out. So I waiut, knowing that each moment could take her farther away... but we also dont know which way she headed or if she plans to come back to the parking lot or what... no ideas.

Finally I get her friend to stay at the restaurant and I go driving, thinking she might, in her state, plan to walk home. She finally gets word back from the ex that he got ahold of her for a moment and that she was up at the publix on southside in their bathroom.. .he had just talked to her a few minutes ago and couldnt get her to answer her phone again. So I turned and headed for the publix and told her friend to get up there. I ran inside.. .even went into the ladies room... nothing. No trace. No one walking around the parking lot or anything. With all the parking lots that a pedestrian can cut thru in the area, it was feeling like a needle in a haystack situation.

So her friend theorized she would go up baymeadows to 9A. It's a way to go if driving, certainly, but not sure about a walker. Then again, she WAS planning to walk home (that much she told her ex).

So now what?

Her friend is going up and down baymeadows while I go around the southside area and go back to check publix and everything.

We can't find her.

Her friend keeps calling everyone to see if they know anything.

C walked out around 8pm. We get word back around 10pm that her ex found her. Interesing... what a coincidence. Granted, HE didnt call us... he was having cell trouble, too. It all started to sound fishy to us both but were relieved she was safe.

I was also pissed that the guy couldnt figure out a way to contact us and let us know.

Oddly enough, it came down to a timing thing... she had actually left the publix before we ever got there and ended up down southside. That was a way I thought about checking but never made it that far since I didnt think she had time to walk that far. Again, our start times from publix were different.

I regret not going after her.

I regret not chasing after her.

When she told me that I was torn. I mean, on the one hand what she said was bullshit because she had just gotten thru telling us how upset she was ABOUT her ex and what she did.

Yeah... that was a fun part... I got to be called a "mistake". Yay me!

Ont he other hand, it was bullshit because she didn't RUIN anything. She damaged it, yes... she hurt me, most definitely, but nothing was ruined.

I should've done what I wanted to do and what I was hoping to do when I found her... run up to her and take her in my arms and tell her she didnt ruin anything... that I still love her and then jsut kiss her for all I'm worth.

I didn't get to do that.

The ex found her.

She hates me because I didn't chase after her. she feels I didn't try hard enough. A sentiment shared by her ex after I sent him a message asking if she was ok and also giving him grief for not telling her friend himself. We didn't even know where he was planning on looking so we weren't sure if we were all going to cross paths or waste time looking in the same place.

Yeah, see, MY goal was mostly to find her... no matter WHO did it. I even called a friend or two for help in finding her or calling her.

I drove for two solid hours.

Her friend did the same.

But according to her ex, he found her because he cared to find her.

Oh, and apparently I'm a "douchebag" because his girlfriend of so many years cheated on him with me. I told him he was understandably angry but that has nothing to do with telling me if she's ok. Then he calls me a douchebag. Apparently, it's MY fault she cheated. I hope he calls her nicer names. I'm sure he does since obviously, I'm the bad guy here.

And that brings me to the point... I somehow became the bad guy. At some point, because I didn't run after her... because I didn't immediately believe her comment and react like that... that I QUESTIONED it based on what hse had JUST told us all... because I didn't try hard enough to find her no matter how exhaustive a search we TRIED to do...

I AM THE BAD GUY.

She hates me more.

She went from loving me and being depressed because she ruined things with me... to hating me and never wanting to see me again.

I am again back where I was... I don't know WHAT to believe. I don't understand the shift. She won't talk to me and the way I am, it's murder for me. I don't just walk away without truth. As long as I have truth.. .no matter how painful it may be... I can USE that to walk away.

Instead, I am seen as the bad guy by a woman I loved and had hopes of marrying. She was so much of what I wanted for in a woman and more... stuff I hadn't thought about.

And she hates me.

Thoughts?

Mom

They are still waiting to do the colonoscopy. They have said it will be the "last one before lunch." According to Wanda, that is NOT a good thing. I will be heading up there shortly to try and see her before since should things go awry, she will be taken straight into surgery. Apparently, Ma was in denial when she referred to the growths as being on her spleen. They are most definitely some unknown things on her pancreas and surrounding areas so they will be going in to look for malignancies. Should they find them... it will most likely mean mom will not make it thru the year.

Her sister died at 60 from pancreatic cancer.

Her mother died at 59 from pancreatic cancer.

Two of her aunts died in their early 60's from pancreatic cancer.

Mom is understandably scared.

Wanda and Wendy have both agreed they are scr*wed.

I hate hospitals.

I hate going to them. Even to visit when it's something silly. Nothing good has EVER come from visiting hospital in my life. The closest I've come is to be able to say, "Well, at least you didn't die on that trip... came close but...." Very few people can get me to go to a hospital. Mom is one of them. But even then it's only when Wanda says I should come. When we know mom will be home in a day or two, I usually don't go. Yeah, like I said... I HATE hospitals. Call me a punk loser all you want but I hate them.

So, when I say to you all that I am going to go and see her today... keep this in mind. It means I am truly frightened.

And what REALLY stinks... you'd think all this would put my recent troubles in perspective. Instead, it simply makes the absence that much harder to take.

I can't wait until the first day this year where I actually have something GOOD happen.

I'm sure I'll be much better to be around then.

Well, at least closer to normal.

Anywho, that's the update as it stands now.

Talk at you all later.

New drawing: "She... hates me?"

Here it is in the actual pencil form....





And this is it in a "played with" format... used te charcoal feature.. which is odd since it was done in charcoal.






Anywho... yeah... this is how I found out she hated me. A text message.

2007 already shaping up to suck worse than 2006

Many of my friends and readers know what's been going on lately and how bad last year ended. I tried to stay hopeful for a happy 07 with chances at improving my life and loves but have been rather depressed.

This morning I woke up as my sister/roommate, Wendy, got ready for work. I had takena lot of melatonin last night but that stuff really just helps you FALL asleep... not STAY asleep... so I got up, went to the restroom and since I was awake, checked email. I got a message from my sister, Wanda, who lives with mom.

William and wendy,I am taking mom to Memorial ER.I will keep in touch with her status. Mom says "William go to work" and "Wendy,stay in bed,your sick" I will keep you informed.

The year was sucking and I hadn't even got out of BED yet!

I had spent much of yesterday over at Mom's to watch her. I had to do laundry and got a wlak in and did other things so she wouldn't feel like she was being mom-sat. Of course, Wanda asked me right in front of her to come back later that night to check on her. Wanda knew something was up but wasn't sure what. I'm not surprised, we've all been feeling it. We've always been sensitive to tragedy... what a shitty trait to share, right?

Anywho... I get a call around 8 from Wanda. Still not out of bed yet... The email sounded important but since Wanda wa there and telling me it was ok, I went back to sleep. I haven't been sleeping well even WITH the pills so only took me half an hour. It was during the phone call I got the REST of the story.

My mother was taken to Memorial ER this morning around 630. She had been noticing blood during BM's since yesterday and, though I was present much of yesterday, she hid that it persisted until Wanda got home and she made sure to check. They have since done a pelvic area CAT scan, no results yet, and have admitted her to do a colonoscopy tomorrow. They know two things for sure... she has gall stones and that the bleeding is serious.

The nerve wracking part was when the doctor said the one word that we never wanted to hear, "Pancreas."

We are all waiting and stressing since her sister died 5 years ago from pancreatic cancer. Her sister was 3 years younger than Mom is now.

We've all watched her health deteriorate this past year. We now worry that it's because of that damnable word.

If you're of the praying sort, I'd appreciate the sentiments. I may not be a believer but mom is. Thank you.

Gonna need some help with this one...

This is proving to be too much for me. I am coming up blank on what to do to keep my mind off things. I am not the type to run out and just drink my troubles away (dammit! that always looked so easy!). I need SOMETHING to do. I spent tonite Mom-sitting and playing around trying to delete all the comments on my MySpace page.

They really need a way to delete them all at once.

Anywho, I came home, watched some tv and am yet again contemplating taking 6-7 melatonin in order to just go to sleep. I can't read without my mind wandering. Writing has been fruitless unless it's a blog. TV has been nothing but poor choices... the ep of scrubs just on where Michael J Fox shows up had me in tears... not because it's simply a powerful ep (which it is) but because of where my mind went with it.

I can't keep being like this.

I feel stupid.

If she obviously can't give a righteous shit about me or us, why should I? Obvously, logically speaking, there is no point in dwelling on it since there is no hope. She made that quite clear.

My last spoken words to her were about me saying "I'd say feel free to call if you ever wnat to talk/need me but you wouldn't, would you?"

She simply said, "Probably not."

But she sure did rely to my general "Happy New Year, thank god this year is over" message with a nice big smiley face and all.

See? I know she was out having a blast last night. So why couldn't the knowledge that she was enough to motivate ME to do the same? What IS it about being dumped that makes it hard to really move on? You'd think just the act of BEING dumped would be enough to just say "Fuck her!!" and go off and live it up.

This is quite interesting.

Maybe I should use this time to study it and learn why it is this way.

Hmmmm.

Naw!

I want to just keep my mind off it until it's too far in the past that I won't even remember her face. Shouldn't be too hard... she has already blocked me and there's really no reason for us to see each other at work.

So... anyone of my Jax peeps up for any fun?

This is why I don't tell Mom stuff...

Ma: So why so grumpy?

Me: I've got a headache.

Ma: So what did you do last night to get a headache? Where'd you go?

Me: I tried to go out with Kevin... left before midnight. Wasn't feeling god... not in the mood.

Ma: What happened?

Me: Nothing. Just not in the mood.

Ma: You used to get like this with Pam whenever you two fought. You wouldn't be in the mood for anything. What happened with that girl you were dating... with the yellow car (ma sucks with names)?

Me: We're not dating.

Ma: Didn't you just bring her over here earlier in the week?

Me: Yeah.

Ma: But you're not dating?

Me: Nope.

Ma: Not seeing each other ever again?

Me: According to her, no.

Ma: What did you do?

Me: NOTHING.

Ma: You must've done something REALLY bad.

Me: I didn't do ANYTHING.

Ma: So what happened?

So, now, for ALL of you out there... here is what happened as best as I can understand it after talking at length with her yesterday... this is almost verbatim what I explained to Ma.

Ahem.

"Apparently it's MY fault because I wasn't supporting her request for space. She blames me for the times she cancelled on her friends to come see me even though I kept telling her to not do so, would get onto her if she did and would encourage her to see them. This is her view even though I never forced her to come over or spend the time In fact, 1/2 the times we saw each otehr (at least) she would ASK to come over and would TELL me she planned on staying. She stopped telling e when she SHOULD have had other plans because she knew I would get onto her... that much she admitted. So not only did SHE choose to come over, she hi details from me so I wouldn't make her feel bad about her decision. A decision supposedly based on the idea that she PREFERRED to spend time with me and that it was hard for her to say "No" when I DID invite her. So, you see, it's MY fault and she feels the need to not just distance herself from me but get rid of me completely because she actually LIKED ME TOO MUCH and worried she wouldn't discover herself, what with me encouraging ehr to do just that and offering to be right there with her if she was scared or nervous. So... we can't see each other again because we actually enjoyed seeing each other a lot and didn't get bored and actually went out of our way to see each other. As she would say, "No one else could get her out of her PJ's at 930 at night to drive 35 minutes to come see them" or "Take a spontaneous (to ehr) trip to Orlando withot knowing why." That's what I got from her esterday once she stopped trying to deliberately hurt me to get me mad enough to hate her an walk away to make it easier for HER to get ehr space since she couldn't simply take time on her own or talk to me and explain so I could be more supportive in giving her room.. something I never knew I was even enfringing on."

Ma: That's too bad.. I know how much you loved her.



That's mom... always prepared to throw salt on the wound.

Needless to say, Ma is now coming up with questions so I am keeping myself busy until I can think of an answer. Any ideas? Anyone else able to make heads or tails out of this one?

God did that year suck!

I once joked with someone that the years of my life is the opposite of Star Trek films... with me, it's the even numbered ones that SUCK. Granted, that's not a fair statement since I actually liked many of the odd numbered Trek films, personally. But that's not my point...

Let's take a walk down memory lane and examine just how much this year sucked.

I started off in the beginning stages of what could be an interestnig relationship. We had spent xmas eve together and would talk for hours online and in person and such. She alraedy had plans for NYE (which sucked since I helped her pick outfit and knew she would look frickin HOT!) and I had already made tentative plans with Kevin. Anywho, I would never actually see her, except for a brief glimpse in the mall, this year. Amazingly, a running joke between us was suddenly taken in the completely wrong context and she flipped out. Instead of simply talking to me or reminding herself she was, I dunno, DRUNK when she got mad... she simply ran.

During this time I had just started a new job at Kemper. It was ok but was turning out to be a lot more responsibility and work than what they were paying me for. The job was still kind of new... was a combo of two or three other positions, really... and the methods and procedures were still being ironed out. That just made it even MORE frustrating. But it was a new social environment and I was meeting new people.

After that debacle, I had been put off dating a bit so I wasn't actively searching... so of course this meant people found ME. I came across two people, one in a relationship that she desperately wanted out of... the other was recently out of one and was just wanting to hang out and see what happens. The former I had actually talked to online for almost 2 years by this point but was never allowed to meet her. The latter was just nuts. The former was a pot head, the latter was a recovering coke nut.

I also finally heard back from a woman I was deeply interested in from the previous year who had gone off thinking we would never get serious... prolly the fact that we never managed to really get out of her apartment all that often during our relationship. Not for lack of trying, mind you, so don't judge me! We began chatting again and she would tell me about her new guy and whatnot.

I was becoming more serious with my old net chum and wanted to start seriously dating her. She told me she had broken it of with her ex and we seemed to be doing ok... she had stopped smoking pot (go check out the Great Experiment blog set, part 1, for more on her). The other one had gone full on flake and was out of the picture...and turned out to NOT be a recovering coke nut after all. The "recovering" part was another in a long line of lies.

Anywho... job was going ok but I felt the first few tinges of possible burnout and me and the manage were working out possible ways to get me help. I was starting to talk with a co-worker more... hung out a few times... I ws never interested in her for more than bar buddy but she ended up proving too wild even for that. Ultimately, a misunderstanding would cause her to believe I was telling people stories about us. The only stories I told people was that I was truly not interested in her at all. Somehow this got warped into "Yeah, I fucked her". And people wonder why I always test the grapevine. But thru her I DID get to meet another co-worker who would become a big part of this year later on.

The girl I was most interested and I hd agreed to keep it light and fluffy for the time being so I did try and date. She met some of my friends and we sure were ACTING like we were serious. Turns out she was apparently just wanting the excuse to continue hanging with the ex. Ultimately she would go back to him. Several times. Good thing I kept dating.

I met a nice woman while trynig to hook my buddy kevin up with her. We had gone out to try and redo NYE since he had gotten food poisoning. The psycho chick went with us because we ran into her at D&B when she was celebrating her b-day and friends were wimping out on her so she tagged with us. She helped pick out the chick and even made the first move. Yadda yadda and next thing you know me and her are texting over the next few weeks, meet, hang out and we've chatted off and on ever since. That was a bright spot except for her never-endng quest to just toy with me and tease me. She's a good flirt and tends to fall asleep any time we were supposed to hang out. Oh, well... still a cool chick.

(Sorry if some of this is out of order... this is how I remember the year.)

I tried dating a co-worker.. we were just supposed to be fuck buddies... she agreed so don't give me grief... hell, it was more HER idea!!! Anywho, I made the mistake of actually telling her I was starting to LIKE her... we had a really intense conversation one day and it triggered something in me that saw her as more than just a pretty face. She apparently was also starting to like ME but was bothered by it and began to run and hide from me. She lied about things to break our plans or ran late for bullshit reasons (thought the reasons she gave ME were always serious.. the truth was not).

I was still interested in my net buddy and it finally came down to her deciding to go back to him. Later she would come to me and tell me her B-C pill was a lot less than effective and I would be back into the picture... but HE was still the one getting to see her and talk to her and help her thru the abortion of MY child. And because of how much the ordeal pained HIM she decided she simply HAD to give him another chance. Yep... no lie. She still found sex with him repugnant... hence how she knew it was MINE... but wanted to give it all another serious chance... after all, the previous two years wasnt nearly long enough a test run. Yes, I'm bitter. I feel I earned it.

I got a chance to be with my dream girl. It was nice. The dream will always be better. We're still friends. Awesome.

I met a very pleasant and attractive woman off yahoo personals/myspace who we will call A. I thought we hit it off. She disagreed after a while. Oddly enough.. and this is something I have never understood... A once got mad and broke up with me, so to speak, because I fell asleep before she got off adn didnt' call or email a good night to her. She took this to be a bad sign and got upset. And yet, apparently, during all that time dating she never thought we were a good match.

Women... y'all are confusing little nutjobs, ain'tcha?

Well, given that I enjoyed our company it was painful to see her go. But thru a strange turn of events, I had begun to hang around another co-worker, we'll call her C. It was fun and exciting. We were keeping it light, of course, since she was still with her boyfriend.

Ok, what? Jesus... it's not easy for me to find COMPLETELY single women anymore, ok? Good god, get off my back!

Anyho, we kept it light because of that. But see, she was friends with that other co-worker, we'll call her B... the one who went into hiding? She had been dating otehr people all along... some seriously, some not so much. I thought we had secured a friendship since she would get amd at me... VERY mad... but would always return. Usually whenever something was going wrong in her current relationship. Sh found out about me hanging with C, her former friend (and cube mate... shhhh dont judge!) and became irate. B was seriously ANGRY at me for it. "You and C are gonna start dating and fall in love adn all that!!" This was after she found out we were gonna watch a movie together. Our first hanging out opportunity. Yeah. So she kept it up like that for a while. It all came to a head and her "true" feelings were revealed. She was angry because she was jealous because, she claims, she truly did care for me VERY deeply. This was a shock to me. For me, the choice was simple... we could start dating. Because of what happened last time, I didn't want to be exclusive... besides B was still seeing this other guy and still obsessed over her ex.

And me and C were simply keeping it light. We had even talked about backing off a bit to make sure casual dating was ok.

This leads right into the LAST BLOG. It truly does. You can go read that one right now and come back if you need to.

Also during this time I was trying to get a different job. I was truly burned out on the other. It didn't matter if it was at the same company or not. I found one... the transition proved so fucking stressful I almost quit... and once almost got fired... and I felt swallowed up in a mire of ignorance and stress. I don't like that at work!

Plus, mom was getting worse and worse. My sister that lives with mom was also recovering from all her heart issues. My sister/roommate was drinking more and more and we were getting on each others nerves more often than not. My brother had vanished out of embarrassment... he didn't call his daughter on her 21st b-day or his son AT ALL. We found out he was a deadbeat dad, too.

My own health hasn't been all that peacy either... I got sick WAY too much and out of some stupid plan back before 01/01/06, I did't get med benefits. I wasn't supposed to be staying at Kemper for more than January so I wanted all the money I could get while I waited for WaMu to remove hiring freeze... I already had been GIVEN the job, I was told, they jsut couldn't hire me.

But the biggest problem in my life? That's right... WOMEN!! See, what sucked is that BOTH of them were telling me the SAME things about the other. Neither believed the other was actually interested in ME. It was a competition. They didn't want the "prize"... they simply wanted to beat the other person. "B is just worried that I (C) will tell you secrets about her!" "C is just jealous!" On and on it went. I was of the mindset that they were BOTH right.

Sadly, I was also easily convinced OTHERWISE. I gave B a chance... tried to. But neitehr one of us could forget what had happened before. Her lying... me benig with C.

During all this initial mess I was still, for some reason, interested in A. It became clear that A was never gonna happen so it did leave me with just B & C. I made a choice... based on logic and, well, ORDER of arrival... first come and all that... and then proceeded to have one big rollercoaster ride that ended with me squished.

I have no idea what to believe. Who is right? Who is wrong? Did I make the right choice in the beginning? Doesn't really matter since B is with someone she really likes. Granted, it was within like a week of us ending but still... I AM happy for her. I thought I could believe what C was saying... for the most part. But recent revelations have brought EVERYTHING into doubt.

My new years eve last night was painful... tear filled... I tried to go out... ended up feeling like shit and left before the midnigt hour. I saw some fireworks driving home, though. I was invited to a small gathering with some friends... good friends... that I dont see nearly enough... but I would've been piss poor company so I didn't go. They continued to invite me over even well after midnight but I couldn't do it. I went home, took some melatonin... kept taking it until they were all gone and passed out. I woke up with a mild headache, several texts, and no energy to do much of anything today.

BUT!!!!

Work is getting easier. A has said she wants to hang out some time... give a friendship a try. Mom has stopped her decline in health. I feel better PHYSICALLY though I stilll don't have time to walk like I want to. So maybe... just maybe 2007 will be a good year. Or it could break the pattern like Star Trek: Nemesis did.