My Journal 038

I am part Cherokee Indian. I have enough Cherokee in me that I was able to register as a Cherokee, but I am the last of the generation that will be able to do this. My Great-Grandmother was Cherokee, which is who I get it from. Last night was a special night in Cherokee lore and I would like to share it with you. But first, the story of my family.

All of this has been told to me. I will share the authors at the end. But as everything I have told you before I know to be true, I want to prefaces this by letting you know that this is all hear-say. But it was shared by several people, and the story was the same each time.

My great-grandmother was named White Swan. I am sure in your history class you have heard of the “trail of tears”. This was where they moved the Cherokee tribe from up north to points all over the south, while hoping that they all died along the way. White Swan’s clan ended up settling north of Seguin and south of San Marcos. Her name was chosen by her mother, who had visited the San Marcos River. Swans dot this river to this day, but it was the first swans her mother had ever seen. It was so beautiful that she chose this name for her first daughter.

During this same time, my great-grandfather was a Texas Ranger and the Sheriff of Seguin. I was told he had several “claims of fame”, but he was known for two important facts. One, he wouldn’t hang men. If you broke the law, and were convicted, he would make you spend your time helping the family you hurt. So if a man were convicted of murder, my great grandfather would take him to the family of the man he killed and he would have to perform the deceased work for the rest of his life.

Also, he was known as a fairly fast draw, but more than that; very accurate with a handgun. Supposedly he never missed. I recall my father teaching me and my brother weapons and constantly saying, “We never miss”. I guess that it is genetic. Actually he became sort of a folk hero for his actions as Sheriff. I have seen his picture in the Seguin city hall as recent as a year ago. I understand he is also in the Texas Ranger Hall of fame (No, not the baseball team).

One day, my GGF was paid a visit. A man rode into town to inform him that the “Hole in the Wall” gang was heading through Texas, and would be passing right through Seguin. I am sure you’ve seen the movie, “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid”. Well they were the leaders of this “Hole in the Wall Gang”. Of course in the movie Robert Redford and Paul Newman made these two characters seem cute, funny, and great guys to hang out with. But in reality they were thieves, rapists and murders.

My GGF was not going to allow this to happen. So he organized a group of men and planned an ambush just north of Seguin. He figured he would just kill them somewhere on the trail, and not worry about them stealing, raping and killing in Seguin. But his plan began to unravel soon after this. He had met a Cherokee hunter several years ago. Now the Cherokee and the settlers didn’t coexist well. So having a Cherokee friend was back then like being labeled a pervert today. So their friendship was kept private.

But they had met hunting deer several years earlier. They didn’t hit it off well at first, but when they ran into each other at the same place a year later they began to admire each other, and became good friends. He had taken a big risk coming into Seguin to speak to my GGF. He warned him that the Cherokee warriors were planning an attack on the same gang, as they didn’t want their women raped by the devils.

This news concerned my GGF. He didn’t want simultaneous attacks because the Cherokee may mistake his men for the gang’s men. It would create confusion. And he knew that the Cherokee wouldn’t be deterred. So he decided to move his attack farther north, beyond the Cherokee camp. He thought that by doing this he could mount his own ambush before the gang reached the Cherokee land.

But then another problem arose. The men he had organized found out that he was moving the ambush to help the Cherokee. No one liked the Cherokee and much less would help them. Many arguments ensued, but in the end it was determined that the men helping my GGF would not set up north of the Cherokee land.

So my GGF decided to face Butch Cassidy, the Sundance Kid, and the remaining 10 members of the hole in the wall gang alone. He figured an ambush of one man on twelve was ridiculous. So he put on his best church suit (In case he died) his white hat, and rode north of the Cherokee land where he stood alone on the road awaiting the dreaded bad guys.

I am told that when the gang came upon my GGF, he was standing in the middle of the trail with his jacked pulled behind his revolver. He also had a double barrel shotgun in his other hand, but lying on the top of his shoulder. Oh, and a big wad of tobacco in his mouth. When the gang got within ear shot of him he informed them that they would not be allowed to pass. He gave them directions to an alternate trail running about 50 miles west of Seguin.

Apparently Butch hadn’t heard of my GGF’s reputation. He just laughed. Also, Butch and Sundance were the leaders, but I was told that they were not the fastest guns or the deadliest. One of their gang, William Matthew Carver, was their shooter and he was fast. Sundance told Carver to dismount and draw against my GGF. My GGF did warn him one more time I am told, but Carver drew and fired faster than my GGF, but he missed. My GGF fired a split second later, and never misses. He hit Carver in the leg and dropped him.

At this point I am told that my GGF repeated the directions. Apparently Carver went for his pistol again, and my GGF shot him through the wrist. Then another member of the gang went for their pistol also. My GGF lowered his shotgun and made a comment about blowing his horses head through the man’s stomach.

Sundance stepped off his horse, helped Carver onto his horse, and they took the direction my GGF had given them. I understand that this gang was heading to Mexico, but they dropped Carver off in San Antonio for medical help. He never regained complete use of his hand, but he was able to walk again. He ended up enjoying San Antonio so much that he decided to stay there. He never rejoined the gang. He married a Mexican woman and started a family (Careful, foreshadowing)

While all this was going on, three Cherokee warriors were watching from a field nearby. After the gang left they approached my GGF to thank him for making the gang leave. The Cherokee were so thankful that they invited him to a celebration. Apparently my GGF is just like me, after a good fight you need a good party. So my GGF went to the celebration.

This is where he met White Swan, my GGM. Apparently he was attracted to her immediately. Men in our family tend to ignore most relationships, but when we finally see THE ONE, well we just sort of go crazy until we get what we want. My GGM had no interest in my GGF. She told him this many times, as did the tribal council. No one wanted my GGF around White Swan. But he wouldn’t give up. For months he rode out to the land twice a week just to try to see her. For months the tribe stopped him.

MY GGM began to become impressed with his persistence. She told her mother that any man brave enough to stand up to 12 armed devils was a powerful man. And any many that would put up with all the rejections the tribe had used, but still kept trying was a good and decent man. My GGM told her mother that she would consider him.

This created problems. First, the Cherokee don’t believe in love (Sound familiar?) and don’t even have a word for it. A marriage is arranged based on skills and to produce offspring, period. Second, my GGM had been promised to Gray Bear, the leader of the warrior section of the tribe. Third, Cherokee’s didn’t mix. The Cherokee was very organized and meticulous, and they feared that breeding outside of the tribe would dilute their persona.

But, my GGM went to the council anyway. I am told that she didn’t ask to marry my GGF, she DEMANDED it. She was refused permission, so she ran off and found my GGF. He was a man of dignity, so he returned her to the tribe. Upon seeing her dedication to this request, and knowing that my GGF had turned back the devils, and had returned their daughter; they decided to give my GGF a chance to gain a Cherokee name.

Basically, back then all you had to do was be approved by the council and given a Cherokee name. A Cherokee had to present you to the tribe. Once accepted, you became a u-we-tsi-dv-hi (Son of another). The person that presents you could only present one person a lifetime, they had to pick your name, they had to basically be a servant to the person they were bringing in to assure the tribe that this person was worthy, and the ceremony had to be held during the fall “Sky of arrows” display.

The Cherokee were very intelligent. They knew that once a year, in late October, the sky lit up with flaming arrows. They believed that these were the arrows of their fore fathers, letting them know that all is well. We know that each October the earth travels though the tail of Haley’s comet, and what we see is the meteors burning up in our atmosphere. But to the Cherokee was the most sacred night.

The council did not want my GGF in the tribe, but my GGM was a VERY DEMANDING lady. So the council came up with some tests that my GGF had to pass. This was in late September, so time was running out before the Sky of Arrows arrived. These tests were designed to be physical, mental and emotional; and created so that my GGF could not possibly pass them all. But our family is very persistent and never learned how to quit, especially when it comes to that one special woman. So he not only passed EVERY test, he passed them so significantly that he actually impressed the council.

He was given his name and allowed to marry my GGM. This is how I came to be.

So, if anyone ever asks if they can give you a Cherokee name it is a HUGE honor; and the greatest honor a Cherokee can bestow. It can only be given by that person one time in a lifetime. It is for an eternity. It must be done on the night of the Sky of Arrows. They must stand facing the sky and focus on a single arrow. Once done, the Cherokee is responsible for the life of the individual forever. The Cherokee basically becomes a slave to the person they present. It is a big deal to the Cherokee. It should be consider the greatest honor of respect a Cherokee can give to someone.

OK, part of this story was told to me by my grandfather. We were very close. He was the one who made me read the entire bible, and would make me discuss passages to ensure I had a good understanding. He taught me to think, and not to learn. He wanted me to be independent in thought. He also shared Cherokee rituals with me. He insisted that these rituals were real, and that someday in a vision quest I would hear from my Great-grandmother. His grandmother told him the part of the story about joining the tribe.

The part about facing the “Hole in the Wall” gang was told to me by the parents of one of my best childhood friends, Matt Carver. He was the great grandson of William Matthew Carver, a member of the “Hole in the Wall” gang. Carver told Matt’s father about the incident on the trail before Matt and I ever met. So that part of the story came from the man my GGF shot.

Last night was a very spiritual night, as last night was the night of the Sky of Arrows. Last night was the only night in a year that an honor can be bestowed. I was outside last night, watching the arrow of my Great-grandmother. She had told me to be there in a vision quest, she said I had to do something for her. Her arrow was true as I did exactly what she had told me to do. Now I just have to live life and find out if the rest of my vision quest comes true as well.

I am leaving for a while. I have to deal with something that has been bothering me. So internet access is not possible. My phone still will work, but there will be no posting for a week or so. I have a poem below where I try to explain where I am today. What I have to do is also part of my vision quest, and I hope to return very soon.

I am responsible for someone.

Have a fantastic week, I will definitely miss you.

The Reality of Life is Death

Years ago this wise man once told me,

In a typical mater-of fact way,

That in my life that all of my choices,

Left me here where I am standing today.

He told me that everyone will choose to

Be exactly where they want to be.

And precisely at any given moment,

What & where I am is totally up to me.

Looking back now I guess he was right then.

And my choices have led me to here.

My paths were so different and not perfect,

But there definitely was no “puppeteer”.

“Either live without lies or die alone man”.

This choice showed the path I must take.

My decision was my own, and I made it alone,

And my life was never even close to fake.

But this has now brought me to know disappointment,

A sensation that’s new to my soul.

So I desperately reached out to friends then,

But they were busy with their life and their goal.

Just a phone call or simple,”what’s up friend?”

May have altered this course of events.

“Hey Frank, I think now that I get it,

I can see how I caused you to resent”

You told me the problems you were facing,

And you asked me to help with your fight.

I knew all the factors, but I chose her again,

So all alone there you died in the night.

With MY friends I never shared this truth though.

I guess that I still wanted my pride.

So I hinted and I wished and I pushed them,

But I failed badly with everything I tried.

My message was missed over and over again,

As they dutifully went on with their days.

Deep down though I know I can’t blame them,

Who the fuck wants to deal with my craze.

So all alone I have made my last choice now.

Not to fade somewhere lying in a bed,

But to go out just the way I had lived life,

Gaining some revenge is where I am led.

So with sadness I wish friends farewell now,

As I leave for my next glorious quest.

I am choosing the path I was meant for,

While knowing meeting you has left me so blessed.

All the words that I’ve read were so touching,

And I loved all of the care that you’ve shown.

I hope those words that you wrote so politely

Will be written on my final tombstone.

My Journal 037

It was Tuesday night. I was near the end of one of the most positive days of my life. I felt good, my head was clear, and everything was just sort of “clicking” along. It was so good I even told one of you how good a day I had experienced, and I usually don’t share that sort of stuff.

All of that changed. It wasn’t immediate though, it happened one event at a time over a five to six hour period. I remember thinking at one point, “What next?” The funny thing is usually when you think that it is because the crisis is over, but I knew then that it wasn’t.

One thing after another crumbled down. There were disappointing actions, shocking news, sad news, frightening behavior, a weapon discharged, and my arrest (again), and it all ended up with me lying in the grass staring up at a full moon at 2:00 am wondering what I ever did to deserve all this. But then again, I guess I really do know what I did.

I haven’t slept since. My mind is contemplating every aspect of life. Damn I’m tired.

My big question now is this; if you have been so bad in life that you now have no chance for happiness, why keep trying?

My Journal 036

Wow . . so there is a topic for your class today that I wanted to discuss. But this being a public forum I am struggling with how to approach this particular topic. I’m not real good at innuendo or hints, as we all now know. I’m much better at “in your face” directness (Boy, this will sound really bad if you re-read this) But I guess that I have to try, because it is important. It will definitely slow me down, and possibly cause me to lose my thoughts from time to time. But hopefully we will get through it together and you will understand.

Aw geez!

Here we go?!?!?

Hmmm, there is an act that females occasionally perform for their man. It is an act that the female can perform fully clothed. (Are you up with me?) Ok, from my perspective and based on limited conversations with other males (we don’t chat like you do), this particular act if performed properly is the single most . . . ummm . . . errrr . . . enjoyable feeling for a male.

(Gosh darn this is hard)

Now it appears to me, and I believe that I am speaking for the majority of males now, that to the female it is not nearly as (Oh what did I call it . . . oh yes) enjoyable as it is for the male. For some women, or so I have heard (Hehehehe) it is just as enjoyable. The problem is for the other females, those that just do it because . . . Aw who knows?

(Crap, I’ve lost my train of thought twice already)

I really do have a point here. It’s just complicated to do without my analogies and typical whimsical comments. But I’m no quitter, so let’s push deeper. (Hmmm, was that a Freudian slip?) My point is this; no male will stray from a female that will perform this act with exuberance, on a regular basis, without prodding, and will finish it “neatly”.

(Wow, I hope you understand gibberish)

So let’s assume that you have found your male. That one male that is everything you’ve ever wanted, needed and desired. And as amazing as it seems, this make feels the same way about you. Now I am not a female, but if I imagined myself being one (STOP laughing) then I would imagine that I would want to keep my male and never have to worry about him straying.

(Lord forgive me for this debacle)

Anyway, I would therefore assume that you too would find it beneficial to know something that you could do to guarantee that the love of your life comes home to you every night. Believe me, it will work. But let’s discuss the specifics of the plan since you may be one of those “other” females that don’t find it as enjoyable. So I will briefly discuss each of the criteria I outline above just so you have a thorough knowledge of the situation.

(This just keeps getting harder)

(Oops, another Freudian slip?)

Again, by performing this act you eliminate a lot of your competition. But your worry should still be those females that really do enjoy performing this act. It’s sort of like eating spinach. You may not like it, but you know that you have to do it; where some may really enjoy eating spinach and even lick the bowl clean after. This is how you can eliminate those “spinach lovers”.

Hmmm, spinach lovers . . . ok, let’s go with that.

Exuberance

What I am suggesting here is to “act” like you enjoy it. But even more than that, act like you REALLY enjoy it. Let your male be creative with the positions. Let him participate, and moan a lot. Oh, also you can eat your spinach with one hand, so be creative with the other . . . you know what I mean?

And if you were to look up . . . oops, I mean make eye contact frequently it makes watching you eat spinach much more pleasurable. Males know that for you this may be a mundane chore, but we are easily deceived. So use you manipulation skills to make us THINK that you enjoy spinach.

Regular Basis

Ok, birthdays and every other anniversary are not considered a “regular basis”. I am thinking more along the lines of multiple times a week. Hey, make it multiple times a day and we will even take the trash out without being asked. Now that a bonus, right?

Speaking just for myself (Since I am fairly amazing in this department . . or so I dream) multiple times a day is VERY do-able.

Without Prodding

Ok, males know that you may not enjoy eating spinach. But heed my warnings, there are females out there that LOVE spinach, that enjoy eating spinach, that often beg to eat our spinach. (Are you getting my drift?) We, as males, also know that if we are ever going to get to . . . ummm . . I guess watch you eat spinach we will be force to beg you ourselves.

Even though this act is immensely pleasurable for males, having to beg 50 times just to enjoy watching you eat spinach once tends to “tarnish the luster”. Don’t misunderstand, we still want to be tarnished, but making us beg EVERY time when someone else is possibly begging us is a disaster waiting to happen.

So suggest it yourself occasionally. Or better yet, just take over and eat the spinach without being asked. You man’s had a tough day, he comes home to you tired and frustrated, he flops on the couch and considers becoming a vegetable. Hey, walk up to him and eat spinach!!! And if you worry about rejection, geez . . . get real. IT WILL NEVER HAPPEN!

Finish it Neatly

(This one will take some creative thinking)

Ok, when you eat spinach most males don’t care what you do with the . . . errrr . . . ummm . . hmmm . . juice? Yes, spinach leaves some juice once it is completely eaten. Now you can “dump” it out and we’re ok with it. But, if you were to “suck up” the leftover juice then you have an excellent chance of revitalizing his libido; to the point where the male could be capable of then doing something you like, such as  . . ummm . . licking the ice cream???

(Gee willikers)

Anyway, the spinach lovers usually do finish the juice of their spinach. I’m just saying, if you want to win then you have to compete. If you want to compete you need to know your competition. I mean if you can eat that darn diet yogurt then . . . .

Whew! I am sweating all over now.

Well, I hope I made my point here. Yes it was awkward, but I am trying to adjust my vocabulary (Happy Bananarama?) So I tried to make my points in a proper fashion. Also, I am open to rebuttals and comments.

Just try to figure out how to do that . . . it’s freakin difficult! J

Now I know that we have covered a lot of complicated content today. So, as a friend I want to let you know that if you need a private tutoring session, or even personal “hands on” training that I will gladly give of myself to assist you with your learning experience.

AND YOU WON’T EVEN HAVE TO BEG!

Miss you!

My Journal 035

Ok, it’s time for another of my “I JUST DON’T GET WOMEN” stories.

Monday night is my night to eat a meal. I picked Monday night because there is Monday Night Football. I do have a room, but my room has a 13” TV so I want to be somewhere else so I can actually see the game and not just hear it. We won’t go into my living arrangements today though. Just know that I only eat one good meal a week, and last night was it.

I go to this dive bar. You see, sometimes I like being left alone. When I am in that mood then don’t screw with me. I hate to be bothered when I am in my cave.

Oh, but this rule doesn’t apply to you. You can bother me ANYTIME.

Anyway, it’s this small Hispanic / biker bar off of an old side road. I’ve been there before, but I wouldn’t recommend it for just anyone. They have pretty good food and $1 longnecks during the game. So it was right up my alley for last night. I get my seat at the bar while noticing the “hard core” drunk passed out in one of the booths, and the two “yuppie” dudes trying out the wild side of life. And that was it, no one else in the bar.

I order chili and jalapenos, oh and a beer of course. The game is on a TV behind the bar. It hasn’t started yet, but the pre-game show is on. I dive into my chili, and take a few sips of my beer. Then I hear a female voice say, “Hi”.

There are probably 8 bar stools. I am on the 2nd from the right, which leaves 6 more to my left. Yet this young chick has chosen to sit in the stool just to my right and speak to me.
 Urgh.

I simply nod in her direction, hoping that by not speaking she will move on before I have to be my usual direct self and tell her to move. At that time I didn’t worry about all the questions I could have pondered; like why she chose to sit next to me, why not bother the two yuppies, why is she here at all, and why did she speak to me . . . a stranger.

I finish my chili. I don’t eat crackers, but the bartender did give me two packages. I was planning on taking them and placing them in the console of my car, just to have something on one of those nights when I don’t eat a meal. But this chick reaches out and grabs one of the packets while saying, “You don’t mind do you?” What could I say; she had already taken the packet before I had a chance to answer.

She begins to talk. She tells me her name and holds out her hand. I did glance at it, but just nodded and didn’t reach out to shake hands. Yet out of the corner of my eye I start to check her out. Not because I was interested, remember I am in my cave now. I was checking her out trying to find out what is motivating her to be here now.

She is a young Hispanic girl; I would guess that she was in her mid-twenties. She had a decent figure, although slightly heavy. She wasn’t fat, just heavy. She wore no jewelry, had on jeans that stopped at the knees, had on a Texans t-shirt where she had ripped the center to the bottom of her cleavage. She had on those cork bottom heels also.

My conclusion was that she must live in one of the small houses nearby, or a pretty run-down apartment complex about a half a mile away. He clothes weren’t dirty, her scent was clean and perfumed, and her hair was clean. I gathered that she probably wasn’t a hooker or she would have visited the yuppie dudes as they definitely appeared to have more money and were there to have fun.

My conclusion was that she was simply lonely. I figure she obviously wouldn’t sit with the guy passed out in the booth as she would have still been alone. I guess she didn’t choose the yuppie dudes because she wasn’t in the mood to be wild and crazy. And she didn’t choose the other end of the bar because she didn’t want to be alone. I guess I looked safe or something, I don’t know.

She struck up a conversation. Well, she actually just started talking to me, or should I say started talking at me. I wasn’t in the conversation. The game was starting now so I just sipped my beer and watched TV while she talked about things.

The bartender then came by and asked her what she wanted. I heard silence. I didn’t look her way, but again glanced out of the corner of my eye at her. She shook her head and said, “Nothing, I’m fine” Now we all know that if you want to sit in a bar you have to buy something. You can’t just “freeload”. So the bartender then looked at me and asked if she was with me.

She looked at me too. Damn! Sometimes I am just too nice of a guy. I didn’t verbally respond so as not to lie, but I did nod affirmatively. I guess I could tell that she had to be somewhere now too, sort of like me. I figured if she just wanted to sit (Oh, it was raining outside too) then she could just sit. I didn’t care as long as she didn’t bother me.

But, silly me, I didn’t think through the entire process. Now the bartender looks at me, after I had nodded that this chick was with me, and tells me that I have to buy her something. Oh the tangled web we weave when first we try to deceive!

Now she speaks up. She orders a Scotch! Hey, I have my limits also. I instruct the bartender that she will have a $1 beer, nothing else. Now I figure that she should have caught on by now that I am sitting alone because I want to be alone. I didn’t think I needed to explain it to her.

She reaches out and places her hand on my forearm as she says, “Thank you”. Ok, politeness is good, but let me tell you about being touched. Sometime during my 10 days of hell I mentioned before, I developed this phobia about being touched. It’s complicated so bear with me here. I LOVE physical contact with people that I know. But that contact must ALWAYS be in front of me. People I care about can hold my hand, touch my face, or rub my chest, as long as they are in front of me. But even people I know can’t come up behind me and touch me. And people I don’t know can’t touch me at all. Are you beginning to think I really am nuts?

So I jerk my arm away and decide it’s time for me to say something. As I do this I keep a calm tone in my voice, even though I want to explode for her touching me. I politely use words like “mam” and “please” while I explain my wishes to be alone. And as usual I feel I am very direct and clear.

But for some reason the simple fact that I finally spoke to her was like a win on her part. She just began talking and turned towards me crossing on leg over the other and bouncing her lower leg. Part of me was furious that she didn’t get it. But to be honest, while she was sitting sideways her top opened up a bit more and exposed a bit more. It was some nice “eye-candy”.

But I still really had no interest in her. I won’t go into why, but trust me when I say that nothing was going to happen. But she didn’t get that either. She continued to talk as if I was interested, which I wasn’t. Now I could tell from her conversation that she wasn’t very educated, not real bright, but did have some common sense. Maybe you could call it “street smarts” or something. But her talk was non-sense. I tried to ignore it.

But then she leaned over to me and whispered that I was the sexiest man she had ever seen.

Oh crap! You know, a year ago I would have been banging her within 5 minutes of that statement. But I am seriously in a different place today. So as I took stock of the situation I tried to find a way to explain my position clearer. I thought I had already, but apparently it didn’t take.

So once again, with politeness yet a firmer tone, I explained that she was an attractive girl but that I really had no interest in conversation, touching or sex with her. She stared at me for an eternity; I’m guessing that she doesn’t get refused too often. But like I explained to you, I have my reason.

I watch as her face turns to anger. She begins screaming at me, heck I wasn’t even paying attention to the words as I was so shocked that what I said would anger her. It became a scene as she slapped the bar in her tirade about me using words like “gay”, “impotent”, “ugly” and many more far worse terms.

Then, the bartender arrives. I am told that we BOTH have to leave. I am being kicked out of a dump because this chick wanted to screw and I wouldn’t. But I really am not in the mood for a confrontation, so I simply drop a few bucks on the bar and walk out. Yet as I get to my car, this chick is still screaming at me. Then she grabs a handful of rocks, dirt and debris and throws them at my car.

I just drive away thinking to myself, I REALLY JUST DON’T GET WOMEN.

As a humorous anecdote, I will leave you with some quotes my mom sent to me. This should help you understand her mind and part of why I am the way that I am.

It's not whether you win or lose, but how you place the blame.

We have enough youth. How about a fountain of "smart"?

The original point and click interface was a Smith & Wesson.

A fool and his money can throw one heck of a party.

When blondes have more fun do they know it?

Five days a week my body is a temple. The other two it's an amusement park.

LEARN FROM YOUR PARENTS' MISTAKES. USE BIRTH CONTROL

Money isn't everything, but it sure keeps the kids in touch.

Don't Drink and Drive! You might hit a bump and spill something.

If at first you don't succeed skydiving is not for you.

We are born naked, wet and hungry. Then things get worse. Although sometimes naked and wet is fun!!!!

Red meat is not bad for you. Fuzzy green meat is bad for you.

Ninety-nine percent of all lawyers give the rest a bad name.

One good thing about Alzheimer's is you get to meet new people every day.

Xerox and Wurlitzer will merge to produce reproductive organs.

ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE IS NO MATCH FOR NATURAL STUPIDITY.

The latest survey shows that three out of four people make up 75% of the population

I think Congressmen should wear uniforms like NASCAR drivers so we could identify their corporate sponsors.

Finally, please keep in mind that I have to take some time off next week. So don’t fret too much if I don’t post as much next week. But I will be around if you need me.

I Choose . .

To live by my choices, and not by chance

To make changes, and not excuses

To be motivated, and not manipulated

To be useful, and not used

To excel, and not just compete

I choose self esteem, and not self pity

I choose to listen to my inner voice,

and not the random opinions of others

I choose me

My Journal 034

Thank you for responding to my favor request. Like I said, all this new technology crap is like a rotary dial phone is to you. It is nice to hear about yourself, especially when it is things with which you agree.

So I am at the game Sunday, and it is Military Appreciation day at the stadium. Prior to the game several soldiers parachuted into the stadium, which was amazing. I’ve never parachuted before, not have I ever wanted to jump out of a perfectly good plane. I have “tethered” out of a helicopter a few times, and I’ve jumped from a really high bridge once. But to me it was amazing to see.

(No sunshine, I don’t want a lesson)

During the 2^nd quarter they honored two individuals who had served in Iraq. They got a standing ovation from the stadium, which was very classy. I’ve mentioned before that I’m not the type that needs personal “rah-rah” type of stuff. I can handle that myself internally. But it was touching to see an entire stadium on their feet applauding two individuals that risked their lives for me. And I am the first to thank EVERY soldier I meet for what they do for me.

As usual, it made me think though. What they did was documented. What they did was heroic. What they did was brave and amazing. It would be nice to be talked about that way.

No, I’m not crying in my cereal. I know that I was never in the military. I also was never heroic or brave or amazing. I’m just a guy that had a certain skill and was in the wrong place at the right time.

I was like the “punk” kid that files papers in the office. He’s quietly doing his job and no one notices him. Yet when your computer screen won’t work, he’s the only one, the ONLY one, which can get it working. You are panicked because you have important work to do, so you rush to him and demand that he drop his unimportant tasks (which to him could be the most important part of his day) and you coerce him to immediately get your screen working again.

He comes, he quietly fixes the problem, and he politely informs you that it is now working. But then there is that awkward moment. He stands there, perhaps for just one second. But that is one second that you don’t want him there anymore. Now you are able to work, so he should just know to leave. So you say something kind to placate him, yet he is bright enough to realize that it is really a brush off. He smiles, nods, and quietly returns to his filing.

He’s the guy you joke about when you’re with the other important people. He never gets invited out for drinks after work; you don’t really want him there and he probably wouldn’t go anyway. No one knows what he does for lunch, and no one asks him. He has never been the EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH. No one knows where he lives or what his hobbies are either. He just does his job and then disappears.

Then one day someone notices that he is no longer around, yet no one knows when he left, why he left, or where he was going. He’s just gone. He warrants a few cute jokes, and then he is forgotten.

The things I did will never be written about in books. No medals will ever be awarded either. I never existed. And no one here knew what I did or when I left.

But I do know that the people I was with really knew what I was doing, and I had their respect. That is the difference. And I respect them. Not because they noticed me, but because they were brave, and heroic. And I respect them because they didn’t need applause. They were there for you, and were willing to do whatever they had to do so that you could do whatever it was that you did Saturday night.

There have been times that I sort of wished that, since I was there too, that I had been noticed. But I then remember that I was the quiet filing guy, not the guy that sold the deal. That was my role.

But then, on one beautiful sunny day, I read words like yours. I get a phone call, or a text message, or an email from a friend. I think about you. Suddenly, I see that I did get an award. I was awarded you. Whatever I did in my life made me a person for which you have some form of respect. That is something that can’t be bought, bribed, stolen or given away. That makes your words priceless to me.

My intent was not to gain praise. I was just trying to figure out what to write about me in some dumb box on a computer screen. I expected some “good-natured ribbing” and a finishing line like, “But he’s ok I guess”. So to read what I did, from someone that means as much to me as you do, was truly my medal of honor.

My Journal 033

First I just looked up and saw that this is Journal #033. Wow, how time flies. Let me ask you, when I sent my first Journal, how many of you thought you would see #33? Well, my beautiful and sexy bitches (Just kidding), my goal is 999. I guess we will see.

Second, will someone make up a dummy account and be my follower? It’s lonely here, late at night, listening to Miles Davis, sipping Cognac . . .

Ok, this one will be complicated. I have trained you to understand that when I speak to you I am talking about  . . . what?

Class?

Bueller?

Bueller?

I am talking about ALL Texas men, right? Damn you should take notes! Ok, I know that when you read these “tidbits” that you skim through all the advice because you THINK you know men better than me. You probably just look for the one or two INCREDIBLY humorous sidebars I throw in and move on. Well THIS TIME pay attention.

This time I will discuss my personal take on a specific event we have all experienced. Again, this is not how ALL MEN will think because this is one area where I have drifted off of the path. Yup, believe it or not I am unique. And even though I follow the “Guy Code”, I do take liberties from time to time . . . and this is one of them.

FIRST DATES

We have all had at least one, right? You see I have no idea what a woman goes through before a first date with someone they are thrilled to be going out. But even I have actually been enthralled with a woman or two up to the point where I actually asked them out because I REALLY wanted to get to know them. And I can tell you this, from my standpoint, there is no better feeling in the world then the hour before the first date with someone you like.

Excitement – Nervousness – Uncertainty – Thrill – Happiness – Indecisions – Anxiety!

Yup, these are all there. So I will think back to a special lady that I asked out because I wanted to see if anything was there. Now keep in mind that I was once not quite as romantically inclined as I am today. Most of the time I didn’t necessarily ask a girl out, I instructed her as to when she needed to be ready, how she should be dressed, what we would do together, and what she was expected to do. Yes, I was a pig. But believe it or not, back then, NO ONE ever questioned me and they always said YES!

But that is not the first dates I am speaking about. Actually, doing that so many times sort of made me into what I am today. I guess when I look back at how I “used” those girls I really feel bad. I doubt any of them were scarred for life or anything. I mean they could have said no. Of course if you wanted to be “popular” you had better say yes. Anyway, these are not those dates and I am not that person.

So, on this one date in question, I thought this chick was cute, sexy, and funny. What an incredible mix. So I tracked down her phone number (Nope, she didn’t give it to me because she had no idea I was interested . . . I am VERY good at that). It was early evening and I decided that this was the time to call. The thought of calling was nerve racking. I actually wrote down the first line I would use when she answered, just in case my mind went blank.

Oh, and then I even did a flowchart of responses. You know, like a programmer’s flow chart. IF she said this THEN I would say that; but IF she said that instead THEN I would only say this. I had about 4 pages in my flowchart. I definitely wanted to control the conversation.

Yet the moment she said “hello” everything went blank. Heck, I couldn’t even read my words anymore. It was probably only about a second or two of silence after she answered before I finally spoke, but it my world it lasted about 20 years. Holy crap, I nearly crapped on myself.

Anyway, I finally spoke. She didn’t seem impressed. I later found out that she had a tip that I would be calling and she was doing your typical “woman” thing by being coy and appearing uninterested. Ladies, screw that! I almost gave up, and most males would have at that point. But I was determined, and I hung in there. But here’s a hint for you, If you like me then tell me. It’s actually one of my three rules.

People have a LOT of requirements for being in a relationship with someone, be it a romantic relationship, a work relationship, or simply a friendly relationship. But me, I have only three rules. And they really are simple.

·          Like me. I really don’t care how you show it, but saying it makes life a lot easier. FYI, guys either like or don’t like. It is really that simple. Females seem to have a thousand different levels of like, and I never really know what level I am on. So clueing me in occasionally would be nice.

·          Make time for me. I don’t need to see you ever day, but I need face to face contact or something. If you don’t ever have time for me, then the relationship is over. Oh, by the way, IGNORING me is the fastest way to prove to me that you have no time for me.

·          Be honest. We’ve discussed this before in detail, so I won’t go over it again. But this is a BIG rule.

I need to get back to my discussion.

So I finally got the words out and her response was “sure”. SURE? I bust a gut to build up the courage to ask you out and all you can say is “sure”? Do you know how deflating it was when I heard that? At that moment I didn’t want to go out at all. SURE? Dang, what a horrible response. So now I have asked, and I assume that SURE means I have to take her out, but damn!!!!

SURE??? Don’t ever just say “sure”.

I got past it finally, but the conversation ended immediately. I was torn for the next few days. I had committed to taking this chick out, and I did find her to be incredible. But that one word response made me want to go back to just calling up someone and saying, “Hey, let’s go get drunk and screw”.

I wore old jeans and a pullover shirt. I would have worn Dockers or dress jeans and a button down shirt if she had said yes instead. I had planned on taking her to a quaint and hidden little Italian Restaurant, but now I was going to take her to McDonalds. I’m kidding, but she getting Chili’s instead. Hey, if she didn’t want to be there enough to just say yes then she gets something less that the best.

But when she opened her door, ALL of that didn’t matter. She looked so damn amazing. And I don’t mean sexually. She looked good, better than I had ever seen or imagined. And she smiled. Ladies, smile at me and I will do ANYTHING that you ask.

She was beautiful. To this day I can remember exactly what she had on, how she smelled, what she did, everything. It was the grandest introduction I had ever had.

If only I could have talked.

I was lost. I couldn’t bring my lips to move. I stood there for an eternity drooling like a dog. How freakin’ embarrassing. But she was cool. She reached out, took my hand in hers, and said, “Are you ready to go?”

Oh, one more note about me. If you take my hand I am yours. I love touching and public displays of caring, and I love holding hands. So by taking my hand the world cleared up quickly.

My brain did come back on again. We did go to the Italian Restaurant. We did have a great time. There was no more nervousness, uncertainty or indecisions. It was all excitement and happiness. We laughed and we talked. She touched my hands several times during the meal. It was romantic and pleasant. Wow.

We did not have sex. By the end of the evening I sort of could tell that I was in if I tried. But I didn’t. I don’t have sex on a first date often. (God, that sounds “girlee”) It’s true. If I do have sex on a first date then I can assure you that it’s not about the sex. If I have sex on a first date it is because I believe I have bonded in some way with the lady.

Anyway, I never asked her out again. I did find out the next day that she actually broke one of my rules on the first date. She wasn’t honest about something. Now if we had been dating for a while then I probably would have gone to her and said “Hey, what the heck?” But since it was done on a first date then I felt it was important enough to end the relationship. I never told her that. I usually don’t.

I did run into her again about two months later. She did ask me why I never asked her out again too. But at that moment she had become one of the “sluts”, so I lied to her. I figured if she isn’t honest with me then I won’t be honest with her.

Crap, I digress again.

Look the bottom line is I LOVE FIRST DATES! They are exciting, fun, nerve wracking, and so on. But when I think about it, regardless of the outcome, that moment of asking for a date and gaining acceptance is the most uplifting experience in life. I have run out of tunnels in front of THOUSANDS of people screaming my name. For an aggressive “alpha male” like me that is the top of the world. But I will say that hearing a lady say “yes” sends more excitement through my body than anything else I have ever done.

And yes, I have had a FIRST DATE with most of you. And each time my heart went “pitter patter”. J