What a difference a day makes!!!
I went to my favorite team’s football game today. When we set up to tailgate, this SUPER HOT babe friend of mine showed up. She was beautiful, sexy and fun. OMG, I had so much fun talking to her. But she is the one that told me I had no chance to be with her, so I took it all in stride. But DAMN she was hot!
She left. As usual I started mingling with all the people around us. We had a pair of couples right next to us. One couple was married and one couple was dating. I don’t do taken women, so I was friendly and respectful. But the dating woman was VERY friendly. I mean VERY friendly.
As the day wore on, the married woman told me that the dating woman was interested in me. The next thing I knew, both women were dragging me off to the side to talk. And the dating woman even told me she was attracted to me. But her man was nearby and I really don’t interfere in relationships.
So the woman on the date is a divorcee with two kids, blonde, and was a cheerleader. Damn, right up my alley. She told me she wanted to give me her number, but as she was trying her date walked up, she got nervous, and I didn’t get it. But her friend gave me her number and told me to call her.
Argh!
Yup, I did call her. And now she is sneaking off to talk to the dating girl. (BTW, the dating girl’s name is Kerry)
Honestly, I feel like a shit because I think I am “snaking” a girl away from her date. And trust me I don’t want to be that guy. But she is really nice, cute, and so far very fun.
So . . . . .
Am I a dick for “snaking” this woman?
And why didn’t I ask out my SUPER HOT friend?
Argh!
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Saturday, September 29, 2012
My Journal #308 - Well, well . . . .
Well what do you know? My friend who is a shrink (notice I didn’t say MY SHRINK because I don’t have one and don’t need one) is a reader of my journals. He’s a sneaky little so-and-so! Oh, and better yet; he read the journal I deleted BEFORE I deleted it. So this afternoon I get a call from him.
He tries to tell me I had some sort of a break from reality and my anger was the cause.
[Who, me?]
I believe I once told you how I have an abundance of some chemical in me that gives me additional energy and stamina. No, it’s not like a super hero type of a thing. It just makes me keep going when my body wants to quit. And apparently this same chemical is what throws me into these anger rages. And furthermore, it’s in my file that this is what my old employer was worried about when they decided to release me from my contract some 25 years ago. They feared that my memories of that time would manifest into more rage and I could be a threat to people.
[Really, me?]
He also knows why I went into my rage. And based on what I told him he claims that my anger is mis-placed. He claims that my anger is with something completely different and I am manifesting this rage onto someone. Basically they are not the trigger; this other thing is the real trigger.
[Gee, I sure hate that medical mumbo-jumbo!]
AND GET THIS! He feels he has an obligation to report my recent anger outburst.
[Now I am getting pissed again!]
So I have agreed to do three things. First, I will agree to meet with him once a week (Urgh!). Second, I will go back to using this page to vent my thoughts. And third, I have to apologize to the person with which I was so angry (Double urgh!)
[Fuck, she probably doesn't even know I'm pissed . . . and she DEFINITELY doesn't care if I am!]
He suggested I continue to beat the hell out of my weight bag (which I completely destroyed in a week’s time) and go back to . . . ummm . . . meditating. (Yup, I used to do that also) And he is being fairly insistent that I share my store that I haven’t told. (Prolly not doc!)
So this is me venting my thoughts.
There, I feel better already.
Oh, there is some good news! The CL lady I had a date with last weekend that had since vanished . . . she’s back! Apparently she had a family emergency and has been tied up with it. She has to stay home tonight with her daughter so we are going to have an email date (Her idea, not mine) I wasn’t crazy about the idea, but she said that she missed me last week. (Ahhh) So how could I refuse someone that says the things I need to hear?
So I’ve got an email date tonight. I’m not sure how it works, but she told me she would figure it out.
And yes, I will apologize to the person that has made me so ANGRY for the past few months. But not tonight.
[You read that doc?]
Ok, I’m “sexting” with someone right now (God I love when that chemical kicks in) so I need to run. But really, I will be fine.
JUST DON’T ANYONE PISS ME OFF!
He tries to tell me I had some sort of a break from reality and my anger was the cause.
[Who, me?]
I believe I once told you how I have an abundance of some chemical in me that gives me additional energy and stamina. No, it’s not like a super hero type of a thing. It just makes me keep going when my body wants to quit. And apparently this same chemical is what throws me into these anger rages. And furthermore, it’s in my file that this is what my old employer was worried about when they decided to release me from my contract some 25 years ago. They feared that my memories of that time would manifest into more rage and I could be a threat to people.
[Really, me?]
He also knows why I went into my rage. And based on what I told him he claims that my anger is mis-placed. He claims that my anger is with something completely different and I am manifesting this rage onto someone. Basically they are not the trigger; this other thing is the real trigger.
[Gee, I sure hate that medical mumbo-jumbo!]
AND GET THIS! He feels he has an obligation to report my recent anger outburst.
[Now I am getting pissed again!]
So I have agreed to do three things. First, I will agree to meet with him once a week (Urgh!). Second, I will go back to using this page to vent my thoughts. And third, I have to apologize to the person with which I was so angry (Double urgh!)
[Fuck, she probably doesn't even know I'm pissed . . . and she DEFINITELY doesn't care if I am!]
He suggested I continue to beat the hell out of my weight bag (which I completely destroyed in a week’s time) and go back to . . . ummm . . . meditating. (Yup, I used to do that also) And he is being fairly insistent that I share my store that I haven’t told. (Prolly not doc!)
So this is me venting my thoughts.
DON’T EVER FUCKING IGNORE ME!
I MAY BE A SHITTY FRIEND, BUT TRUST ME THAT BEING MY FRIEND IS WAY BETTER THAN BEING MY ENEMY. YOUR LIFE EXPECTANCE MORE THAN DOUBLES!
There, I feel better already.
Oh, there is some good news! The CL lady I had a date with last weekend that had since vanished . . . she’s back! Apparently she had a family emergency and has been tied up with it. She has to stay home tonight with her daughter so we are going to have an email date (Her idea, not mine) I wasn’t crazy about the idea, but she said that she missed me last week. (Ahhh) So how could I refuse someone that says the things I need to hear?
So I’ve got an email date tonight. I’m not sure how it works, but she told me she would figure it out.
And yes, I will apologize to the person that has made me so ANGRY for the past few months. But not tonight.
[You read that doc?]
Ok, I’m “sexting” with someone right now (God I love when that chemical kicks in) so I need to run. But really, I will be fine.
JUST DON’T ANYONE PISS ME OFF!
My Journal #307 - And now . . . . .
I deleted this blog.
Someone had already read it.
To who ever that was, I'm sorry . . . but I shouldn't have told that story.
Someone had already read it.
To who ever that was, I'm sorry . . . but I shouldn't have told that story.
Many years ago I would send emails to my friends. Those emails were intended to inform and entertain. Then it was suggested that I keep this journal, that way many more people could be entertained.
When I set it up, I made a rule that I would never write a journal out of anger. Since I am seldom angry, that wasn’t an issue. Over the years I have written a few journals that I edited or deleted. But those were more of a drunken mix of illiteracy and not anger.
Last night I became VERY angry. Then something inside of me died. I’ve never felt so much pain. Then I went out and hurt a nice person by doing the same thing that someone just did to me. I ignored them. Then to make matters worse, I took advantage of another person for my own pleasure.
I’m taking a vacation from writing.
I never knew . . . .
Oh fuck it?!?!
Friday, September 28, 2012
My Journal #306 - Licking "Eclairs"?
It’s Friday again . . . . seems like this is happening every week now!!!
Martel – Don’t spend too much time thinking about stuff, go do it.
Sasha Lucille – The pump is down, maybe the pool is closed this weekend?!?
HMPOA – Seriously, go buy some heels. The flats just aren’t you.
Sunshine – I was thinking about you last night.
Banana Rama - Miss you!
As those of you that have been following me for a while already know, I love it when women eat “broccoli”. I even dedicated an entire page to how a woman can keep her man if she follows three rules about eating “broccoli”. But I believe that my love of this act may exceed the average.
For the record, most men love this. It’s sort of a sensation / power thing. So I don’t know any man that would say something like, “Nope, I’m not interested. Want to read books instead?”
Well what I am wondering today is this . . . . Do women love it as much when men lick “éclairs”? The honest impression us guys get is that the woman have a “take it or leave it” attitude that pertains to any type of . . . . ummm . . . . . Baking?
[C’mon, work with me here . . . . my creative word juices aren’t flowing while I think about this type of stuff!!!]
As some of you know, I was actually trained by an older woman on how to pleasure women. One thing she made adamantly clear is that the “spot” is everything and the only part of the “éclair” that the male needs to . . . . hmmm . . . . crack down on? Anyway, let’s call that properly licking the “éclair”.
So if a guy wants to and can properly lick an “éclair”, would he be willing to JUST do that and not worry about anything else? I mean most guys lick “éclairs” so that they can watch his mate eat “broccoli” or maybe even watch as the hot dog and the hot dog bun come together.
[I bet you’re lost . . . I sure am!?!?!]
And of course I haven’t talked to every male, and even those that I have talked with . . . well . . . licking “éclairs” is not a topic I choose to share with other guys. I mean I have been told I am sort of good at it, so why would I want to help my competition?
[Maybe I am digressing for a reason here?]
Again, I haven’t talked with every male; but I believe that I am one of the few (if not the only) that can lick all the cream out of an “éclair” and be so happy (or excited) that I can keep licking until more cream comes out.
[Crap, what was the point I was trying to make again?]
Oh, yeah! I remember now . .
Can the female just lie back and relax, while watching her mate LICK an “éclair” over and over again?
Would she need something more, like placing the hot dog in the bun?
Would she feel obligated to do more?
[This could go on forever, but I’m getting way too horny!]
OK, BOTTOM LINE . . . .
I personally have no problem, and even greatly enjoy, simply licking the “éclair”. And even though I do need more from time to time, I enjoy just licking the “éclair” and then showing off my skills. So I wonder if the females enjoy it as much as . . . .
[Geez, what a messed up Journal]
OK, I give up . . . . just forget that I tried!
Have a great weekend, and think about me a dozen or so times.
Martel – Don’t spend too much time thinking about stuff, go do it.
Sasha Lucille – The pump is down, maybe the pool is closed this weekend?!?
HMPOA – Seriously, go buy some heels. The flats just aren’t you.
Sunshine – I was thinking about you last night.
Banana Rama - Miss you!
As those of you that have been following me for a while already know, I love it when women eat “broccoli”. I even dedicated an entire page to how a woman can keep her man if she follows three rules about eating “broccoli”. But I believe that my love of this act may exceed the average.
For the record, most men love this. It’s sort of a sensation / power thing. So I don’t know any man that would say something like, “Nope, I’m not interested. Want to read books instead?”
Well what I am wondering today is this . . . . Do women love it as much when men lick “éclairs”? The honest impression us guys get is that the woman have a “take it or leave it” attitude that pertains to any type of . . . . ummm . . . . . Baking?
[C’mon, work with me here . . . . my creative word juices aren’t flowing while I think about this type of stuff!!!]
As some of you know, I was actually trained by an older woman on how to pleasure women. One thing she made adamantly clear is that the “spot” is everything and the only part of the “éclair” that the male needs to . . . . hmmm . . . . crack down on? Anyway, let’s call that properly licking the “éclair”.
So if a guy wants to and can properly lick an “éclair”, would he be willing to JUST do that and not worry about anything else? I mean most guys lick “éclairs” so that they can watch his mate eat “broccoli” or maybe even watch as the hot dog and the hot dog bun come together.
[I bet you’re lost . . . I sure am!?!?!]
And of course I haven’t talked to every male, and even those that I have talked with . . . well . . . licking “éclairs” is not a topic I choose to share with other guys. I mean I have been told I am sort of good at it, so why would I want to help my competition?
[Maybe I am digressing for a reason here?]
Again, I haven’t talked with every male; but I believe that I am one of the few (if not the only) that can lick all the cream out of an “éclair” and be so happy (or excited) that I can keep licking until more cream comes out.
[Crap, what was the point I was trying to make again?]
Oh, yeah! I remember now . .
Can the female just lie back and relax, while watching her mate LICK an “éclair” over and over again?
Would she need something more, like placing the hot dog in the bun?
Would she feel obligated to do more?
[This could go on forever, but I’m getting way too horny!]
OK, BOTTOM LINE . . . .
I personally have no problem, and even greatly enjoy, simply licking the “éclair”. And even though I do need more from time to time, I enjoy just licking the “éclair” and then showing off my skills. So I wonder if the females enjoy it as much as . . . .
[Geez, what a messed up Journal]
OK, I give up . . . . just forget that I tried!
Have a great weekend, and think about me a dozen or so times.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
My Journal #305 - A fine line
I am learning that there seems to be a fine line between being aggressive and being a stalker. And quite frankly, this is all new to me so I have no clue where that line is.
As usual, allow me to explain.
I’ve never had a woman not want to be with me. I’ve only had one woman that ever avoided me. So I am not used to handling this type of crap. But now I am having to try to learn while under fire.
I had my CL date Saturday night. I know it sounds weird to get a date off of the internet, to exchange about 4 emails and a picture, and then to get together for a casual dinner all in about 8 hours. But it happened.
She was cute. We talked, laughed and smiled a lot. When we said goodbye she asked me if she would see me again. I replied that I would like that. When I got home I sent her a text thanking her for seeing me, and we exchanged about 4 text messages until she said she needed to get to bed.
And then . . . . poof!
I sent her a text message the next morning and didn’t get a reply. So that night I sent an email to the address where we started talking and as of today I’ve received no reply. So what am I supposed to do now?
Maybe I am wrong, but in my opinion if you have some sort of history with a person then in this specific scenario I would attempt to contact them again. But since I have had only 8 hours of history then I feel the proper move is to simply let it go.
That being said, I have a similar scenario with someone that I’ve known for several years. So since there is history, I am doing something that may be silly or worse yet . . . crossing that line. I just don’t know for sure. But I have to follow my gut because I know no other way to go. I want communication with this other person, so I will try; and hope it’s not crossing that unknown line into stalking.
Well, wish me luck or reply to my email with advice. But I am moving forward.
And I think I will put another ad on CL this weekend. Who knows what may happen?
As usual, allow me to explain.
I’ve never had a woman not want to be with me. I’ve only had one woman that ever avoided me. So I am not used to handling this type of crap. But now I am having to try to learn while under fire.
I had my CL date Saturday night. I know it sounds weird to get a date off of the internet, to exchange about 4 emails and a picture, and then to get together for a casual dinner all in about 8 hours. But it happened.
She was cute. We talked, laughed and smiled a lot. When we said goodbye she asked me if she would see me again. I replied that I would like that. When I got home I sent her a text thanking her for seeing me, and we exchanged about 4 text messages until she said she needed to get to bed.
And then . . . . poof!
I sent her a text message the next morning and didn’t get a reply. So that night I sent an email to the address where we started talking and as of today I’ve received no reply. So what am I supposed to do now?
Maybe I am wrong, but in my opinion if you have some sort of history with a person then in this specific scenario I would attempt to contact them again. But since I have had only 8 hours of history then I feel the proper move is to simply let it go.
That being said, I have a similar scenario with someone that I’ve known for several years. So since there is history, I am doing something that may be silly or worse yet . . . crossing that line. I just don’t know for sure. But I have to follow my gut because I know no other way to go. I want communication with this other person, so I will try; and hope it’s not crossing that unknown line into stalking.
Well, wish me luck or reply to my email with advice. But I am moving forward.
And I think I will put another ad on CL this weekend. Who knows what may happen?
Monday, September 24, 2012
My Journal #304 - Other people's standards?
Why do people lower themselves to other’s standards?
In the past few weeks I’ve seen or heard about several people I know that did just that. And I don’t understand why anyone would do that. People have certain morals, yet they relax them when they go out with friends that have lesser standards. People have certain limits, which they establish based on experience. Yet they will exceed these limits when someone else does.
And like my mom used to say, “And if Bubba Kennedy jumped off a bridge would you do it too?”
[Bubba Kennedy was my cousin and my best friend for a while, and I decided to lead not follow!]
My guess is they lower themselves because it’s easier than standing up for them. Or maybe they just don’t want a confrontation, so they relax their standards just to get by. Or maybe they are just so frightened of hurting someone’s feelings that they choose to abuse their standards instead.
I don’t mind speaking my mind, as most of you already are well aware. What I find odd is that everyone agrees that I am not judgmental. Yet most of you have accused me of judging you when I render an opinion to you. My point is that I can have an opinion about right and wrong and I can express that opinion to people I care about. I don’t worry about whether I hurt their feelings or make them mad either. They should know I care and because I care they should know I am only doing it for what I perceive is their benefit.
Hey, I could be wrong. But in case I am right (which is usually the case) I have to speak up.
So why am I different?
Am I the norm and I just can’t see all the others like me?
Why would anyone just go along?
In the past few weeks I’ve seen or heard about several people I know that did just that. And I don’t understand why anyone would do that. People have certain morals, yet they relax them when they go out with friends that have lesser standards. People have certain limits, which they establish based on experience. Yet they will exceed these limits when someone else does.
And like my mom used to say, “And if Bubba Kennedy jumped off a bridge would you do it too?”
[Bubba Kennedy was my cousin and my best friend for a while, and I decided to lead not follow!]
My guess is they lower themselves because it’s easier than standing up for them. Or maybe they just don’t want a confrontation, so they relax their standards just to get by. Or maybe they are just so frightened of hurting someone’s feelings that they choose to abuse their standards instead.
I don’t mind speaking my mind, as most of you already are well aware. What I find odd is that everyone agrees that I am not judgmental. Yet most of you have accused me of judging you when I render an opinion to you. My point is that I can have an opinion about right and wrong and I can express that opinion to people I care about. I don’t worry about whether I hurt their feelings or make them mad either. They should know I care and because I care they should know I am only doing it for what I perceive is their benefit.
Hey, I could be wrong. But in case I am right (which is usually the case) I have to speak up.
So why am I different?
Am I the norm and I just can’t see all the others like me?
Why would anyone just go along?
Sunday, September 23, 2012
My Journal #303 - God for a day?
What if you could be GOD for a day?
If I could I would make a few changes.
Everyone would have a light attached to their forehead that will work as a lie detector so everyone will know when someone is lying. And lying would be a crime.
Injuries would heal with no scars and no permanent damage.
Three months out of the year the females would have to pay for dates.
If you take money from the government you immediately give up your right to vote. If you take money for longer than a month everything you own is sold and you are moved into a housing area and your meals are chosen for you. And you have to work cleaning the housing area for 8 hours every day except Sunday.
If two countries decide to have a war, then each country will pick 6 guys and they are sent to a deserted island. Last man standing can declare their country a winner. Oh, and the two leaders that chose to go to war make up the 7th man on each team. So now they have “skin in the game”.
There would be no sexually transmitted diseases or unwanted pregnancies.
Clothes would never have been invented.
You are born old and each year you get younger. That way when you get to be 21 years of age, you have 60 years of knowledge and you can really enjoy being 21.
Convicted murderers and rapists would be executed 1 minute after their conviction; and family members of the victims can choose to be the executioner. Oh, and the family members of the convict are billed for the disposal of the deceased’s body.
Everyone would understand that we all have equal OPPORTUNITIES but not equal RESULTS.
Everyone would understand that we have RIGHTS, but only after we have contributed to something.
Everyone would have their own love story.
You could take a pill to be in shape.
Telling someone you love them would be the greatest sign of respect, and you would not be considered “creepy” for saying how you feel about someone.
When you die you would get 3 bonus hours to say goodbye to those you care about.
Phones would never have been invented. To talk to someone you would have to walk up to them and speak.
The internet would never have been invented. If you want strange men to see you naked you would have to find them and disrobe in front of them. (Of course if the no clothes rule took effect this would be negated)
You could take a pill to forget any bad memories you have.
And finally . . . . .
People would realize that a rude comment cannot be refuted simply by placing a “smiley face” after it!
If I could I would make a few changes.
Everyone would have a light attached to their forehead that will work as a lie detector so everyone will know when someone is lying. And lying would be a crime.
Injuries would heal with no scars and no permanent damage.
Three months out of the year the females would have to pay for dates.
If you take money from the government you immediately give up your right to vote. If you take money for longer than a month everything you own is sold and you are moved into a housing area and your meals are chosen for you. And you have to work cleaning the housing area for 8 hours every day except Sunday.
If two countries decide to have a war, then each country will pick 6 guys and they are sent to a deserted island. Last man standing can declare their country a winner. Oh, and the two leaders that chose to go to war make up the 7th man on each team. So now they have “skin in the game”.
There would be no sexually transmitted diseases or unwanted pregnancies.
Clothes would never have been invented.
You are born old and each year you get younger. That way when you get to be 21 years of age, you have 60 years of knowledge and you can really enjoy being 21.
Convicted murderers and rapists would be executed 1 minute after their conviction; and family members of the victims can choose to be the executioner. Oh, and the family members of the convict are billed for the disposal of the deceased’s body.
Everyone would understand that we all have equal OPPORTUNITIES but not equal RESULTS.
Everyone would understand that we have RIGHTS, but only after we have contributed to something.
Everyone would have their own love story.
You could take a pill to be in shape.
Telling someone you love them would be the greatest sign of respect, and you would not be considered “creepy” for saying how you feel about someone.
When you die you would get 3 bonus hours to say goodbye to those you care about.
Phones would never have been invented. To talk to someone you would have to walk up to them and speak.
The internet would never have been invented. If you want strange men to see you naked you would have to find them and disrobe in front of them. (Of course if the no clothes rule took effect this would be negated)
You could take a pill to forget any bad memories you have.
And finally . . . . .
People would realize that a rude comment cannot be refuted simply by placing a “smiley face” after it!
Saturday, September 22, 2012
My Journal #301 - My goal Update
I promised an upbeat journal this weekend, and I had three goals. So here we go!
Goal #1 was a nice dinner with a new lady.
I had a friend once tell me that they enjoyed reading the personal ads on Craigslist. So I tried it last night. I even put an ad out there, and as usual I was 100% honest. I received about a dozen replies that wanted me to sign up for some site for money. But I had two replies that were real ladies.
One was interested and sent me a picture. I replied with a picture. To make a long story short, I achieved my Goal # 1 and tonight I had dinner in the Woodlands with a very nice Hispanic school teacher. Yup, I kissed her goodnight and she said those magic words . . .
“When can I see you again?”
Goal # 1 achieved!
Goal # 2 sort of achieved!
Goal # 3 was to write an upbeat journal about my weekend.
So here it is. My head is in the right place. My San Marcos connection has given me so much information on my problem that I am cool now. And I have a really nice lady that wants to see me again. And I believe that to her I am the priority, and not just an option.
And to make matters even better, I got a text message from the lady lawyer I went out with two years ago. I haven’t replied yet because I am focusing on my school teacher friend.
So I am upbeat.
Goal # 3 achieved!
I hope you read my “Isn’t it True” journal. Sasha Lucille sent that to me and it just sort of fit where I am. Thanks my sexy lady!
Hopefully my Texans will beat the crap out of those pesky Broncos and my weekend will be complete.
I am in a good place!
Goal #1 was a nice dinner with a new lady.
I had a friend once tell me that they enjoyed reading the personal ads on Craigslist. So I tried it last night. I even put an ad out there, and as usual I was 100% honest. I received about a dozen replies that wanted me to sign up for some site for money. But I had two replies that were real ladies.
One was interested and sent me a picture. I replied with a picture. To make a long story short, I achieved my Goal # 1 and tonight I had dinner in the Woodlands with a very nice Hispanic school teacher. Yup, I kissed her goodnight and she said those magic words . . .
“When can I see you again?”
Goal # 1 achieved!
Goal # 2 was a trip to Denver to watch my Texans play the Broncos. I had made a previous bet (yes, I gamble a lot) and the bet was a trip to Denver. I won the bet, but my friend welched. But she did agree to take me to a sports bar tomorrow and cover all my wings and beer during the game. Oh, and we are going to Vegas instead. Not a bad tradeoff.
Goal # 2 sort of achieved!
Goal # 3 was to write an upbeat journal about my weekend.
So here it is. My head is in the right place. My San Marcos connection has given me so much information on my problem that I am cool now. And I have a really nice lady that wants to see me again. And I believe that to her I am the priority, and not just an option.
And to make matters even better, I got a text message from the lady lawyer I went out with two years ago. I haven’t replied yet because I am focusing on my school teacher friend.
So I am upbeat.
Goal # 3 achieved!
I hope you read my “Isn’t it True” journal. Sasha Lucille sent that to me and it just sort of fit where I am. Thanks my sexy lady!
Hopefully my Texans will beat the crap out of those pesky Broncos and my weekend will be complete.
I am in a good place!
Friday, September 21, 2012
My Journal #299 - Season for Sex?
It’s another Friday. I’ve got ANOTHER meeting today (gag), but as soon as it’s over I am going to begin planning my escape. I hope to be partying by 3 pm. Yippee!
And now for my Friday SHOUT OUTS!
Martel – Thanks for being a good friend, especially recently.
Banana Rama – So, you’re taking a trip with your beau? Do I hear wedding bells?
HMPOA – The sweetest words I heard this week was when you said, “I can!”
Sasha Lucille – I will miss you this weekend. :(
Sunshine – Tap, tap, tap . . . I’m waiting?! [Do you really think I believe you are TOO BUSY to even say hello?]
What do you consider to be the best season, or time of the year, for sex? Ok, for guys EVERY season (and for that matter every day) is just right for sex. But I have my preferences.
Winter would be my last choice. It’s too damn cold. But to make winter work I would suggest leaving a window cracked, lighting a fire in the fire place, and tossing a bear skin rug on the floor in front of the fire. Just remember to roll away from the fire when you change positions. I would also suggest a blanket for cover, and the missionary position would allow both parties to share body heat better.
Spring would be my next to last choice. I’m too active. It’s like I’ve been cooped up all winter and when spring arrives I just want to run. So to make the spring work I recommend driving down the highway in a convertible, with your babe’s head in your lap. Just don’t forget to steer. Or better yet, daring public sex.
Summer would be my second favorite. I love steamy, hot, passionate sex. My favorite spots to get some tail are pools and rivers, but an air conditioned hotel room on a HOT day is very refreshing. Yet I would say the best summer location for sex is in the water. Just forget the oral stuff when in the water, you could drown.
And that leaves the fall, my favorite time for sex. It’s cool, but not cold. It’s sunny, but not hot. I’ve just finished a busy summer and now I’m ready to spend quality time inside. I bet I could go for four hours right now. And the best part is everything is available, and no position is off limits due to temperature concerns.
Ummmm . . . . .
Finally, I heard a group of males discussing their favorite sex positions. It made me think that I really don’t have a favorite. I’m sort of in to ingenuity and spontaneity. And I tend to switch positions numerous times during an episode. And sometimes I get this thought and decide to try it right then.
So I guess I don’t have a true favorite. But if my partner does then that position will immediately become my favorite.
Have a great weekend!
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
My Journal #298 - My Grandfather
Before I begin, let me say that if I had to pick only one mentor, idol, person that made me who I am then I will pick my grandfather.
My grandfather was the son of the famous Sheriff and savior of Seguin Texas. He was the son of White Swan, a full blood Cherokee Indian. But most important to me, he was the man that showed me life, and helped me understand that love exists. Further he told me that ”the one” would appear to me, that it would be a hard fight to win her heart, but when I did I would have the greatest love that ever existed in anyone’s life.
When I was born my folks had nothing. He took us in on his ranch. He taught me as a baby to work hard, to work harder than everyone else. He made me believe that I was special and that the future was in my hands.
When I started playing football, he made every game. At 70 years old he sat in 20 degree weather with sleet to watch me help defeat our arch rivals. As a kid, the year I scored more touchdowns than anyone in the city, he was standing in the end zone for every single score to remind me that 10 other boys helped me get to this point.
When my leg was crushed he was the first one at the hospital. He listened as the doctors told him that I would never walk again. He came to me, while I was still covered in blood and mud. He leaned down to me and asked me what my dream was. I told him my dream was to play in the NFL. He patted my crushed leg and said, “Then don’t listen to the doctors. You have the heart of a Cherokee and no matter what they say, if you want to walk, run, or play ball again then you will.”
When my sister was attacked when I was 12, he came to me and told me that my only purpose in life was to avenge her. He told me that the law was good, but in this case it was helping the shits that hurt my sister. He told me to do what I know needed to be done. Then he told me that what happened to her, regardless of what I think, was not my fault.
[Don’t you wish now that you had asked about this story?]
When I finally reappeared from my job with the government, he looked at me and hugged me. Then he told me that killing people is a very horrendous thing to do, but if in my heart I believed I had saved lives then I should be proud. I had not told him what I had done; he just looked in my eyes and knew. He told me that the blood pumping through my heart was the same blood that mad his father the famous man that he was.
Most of you think I am nuts when I tell you that I still talk to him. He introduced me to Cherokee traditions, such as giving a Cherokee name to someone; but just once in your life. He also showed me how to take Vision Quests so we could talk for an eternity. And I have done this many times. He told me he talks to Sunshine’s ancestors and how I need to remain a part of her life.
[I tried]
My grandfather was the opposite of me. He was quiet, conservative, and never had a fight in his life, other that WW1. He was only with one woman his entire life. My grandmother died a horrific death when my dad was a kid. Yet my grandfather never dated another woman. I once asked him why and he told me that love is forever. He fell in love and no one will take his true love’s place. That was when he told me about my one true love, which he described in great detail.
He told me that she would be very different, and that she wouldn’t believe in me because of the things I have done in my life. But he told me to stand by her because no one else would. He said that once she fell in love with me that our love would be monumental. He also said that once I was with her that no one else would ever turn my head again.
My grandfather died while I was in college. His funeral was on a Thursday, at the same time as I had a major final exam. I took a Vision Quest to ask him what I should do. He told me that my life was dependent on my exam, and he already knew that I loved him. I took my test while they buried my grandfather.
I made a 100.
My grandfather is the man I wished I was. He never hurt anyone other than in war. He laughed a lot, worked harder than anyone, and loved me regardless of what I became. If I was him I would never have been screwing every girl I met. If I were him I would never have become what I became for our government. I would have said no, and I would be happy today.
And for the love of my life, I guess I haven’t met her yet. Based on what he told me I thought I had met her. But life is cruel as I wrote yesterday. So I still believe that the woman he spoke of is still out there, waiting for me.
Tonight I hope to chat with him again. We all need someone, right?
Thanks Grandpa!
My grandfather was the son of the famous Sheriff and savior of Seguin Texas. He was the son of White Swan, a full blood Cherokee Indian. But most important to me, he was the man that showed me life, and helped me understand that love exists. Further he told me that ”the one” would appear to me, that it would be a hard fight to win her heart, but when I did I would have the greatest love that ever existed in anyone’s life.
When I was born my folks had nothing. He took us in on his ranch. He taught me as a baby to work hard, to work harder than everyone else. He made me believe that I was special and that the future was in my hands.
When I started playing football, he made every game. At 70 years old he sat in 20 degree weather with sleet to watch me help defeat our arch rivals. As a kid, the year I scored more touchdowns than anyone in the city, he was standing in the end zone for every single score to remind me that 10 other boys helped me get to this point.
When my leg was crushed he was the first one at the hospital. He listened as the doctors told him that I would never walk again. He came to me, while I was still covered in blood and mud. He leaned down to me and asked me what my dream was. I told him my dream was to play in the NFL. He patted my crushed leg and said, “Then don’t listen to the doctors. You have the heart of a Cherokee and no matter what they say, if you want to walk, run, or play ball again then you will.”
When my sister was attacked when I was 12, he came to me and told me that my only purpose in life was to avenge her. He told me that the law was good, but in this case it was helping the shits that hurt my sister. He told me to do what I know needed to be done. Then he told me that what happened to her, regardless of what I think, was not my fault.
[Don’t you wish now that you had asked about this story?]
When I finally reappeared from my job with the government, he looked at me and hugged me. Then he told me that killing people is a very horrendous thing to do, but if in my heart I believed I had saved lives then I should be proud. I had not told him what I had done; he just looked in my eyes and knew. He told me that the blood pumping through my heart was the same blood that mad his father the famous man that he was.
Most of you think I am nuts when I tell you that I still talk to him. He introduced me to Cherokee traditions, such as giving a Cherokee name to someone; but just once in your life. He also showed me how to take Vision Quests so we could talk for an eternity. And I have done this many times. He told me he talks to Sunshine’s ancestors and how I need to remain a part of her life.
[I tried]
My grandfather was the opposite of me. He was quiet, conservative, and never had a fight in his life, other that WW1. He was only with one woman his entire life. My grandmother died a horrific death when my dad was a kid. Yet my grandfather never dated another woman. I once asked him why and he told me that love is forever. He fell in love and no one will take his true love’s place. That was when he told me about my one true love, which he described in great detail.
He told me that she would be very different, and that she wouldn’t believe in me because of the things I have done in my life. But he told me to stand by her because no one else would. He said that once she fell in love with me that our love would be monumental. He also said that once I was with her that no one else would ever turn my head again.
My grandfather died while I was in college. His funeral was on a Thursday, at the same time as I had a major final exam. I took a Vision Quest to ask him what I should do. He told me that my life was dependent on my exam, and he already knew that I loved him. I took my test while they buried my grandfather.
I made a 100.
My grandfather is the man I wished I was. He never hurt anyone other than in war. He laughed a lot, worked harder than anyone, and loved me regardless of what I became. If I was him I would never have been screwing every girl I met. If I were him I would never have become what I became for our government. I would have said no, and I would be happy today.
And for the love of my life, I guess I haven’t met her yet. Based on what he told me I thought I had met her. But life is cruel as I wrote yesterday. So I still believe that the woman he spoke of is still out there, waiting for me.
Tonight I hope to chat with him again. We all need someone, right?
Thanks Grandpa!
My Journal #297 - Some stats
When I wrote my Journal “A-Ga-Li-Ha” I set a personal record for hits in a day. I average about 30 hits a day. But on that day I had 50 + hits for that journal alone, and over 70 hits total. That was my biggest single day thus far. Tonight I checked my email account attached to this page, and I had 12 emails. That means that 12 people read my words and took the time to email me about those words.
It is nice to know I reach people and the words mean enough to illicit a response. So I went to my Journal Page and I have had over 60 hits on my Journal “Revelations”. I guess I am sharing this information with you simply because it amazes me. So please keep reading.
In the emails I received, people made suggestions. People also asked for more information. I do enjoy suggestions and I try to act upon them. But when it comes to more information I tend to be very aloof. I use pen names for my friends. I try to avoid using names of places and towns. I guess I don’t want my words to cause a detriment to anyone else.
[Of course I don’t need my name out there on the Internet either . . . too many enemies!]
So . . . . to be perfectly clear . . . .
A-Ga-Li-Ha is not a pen name of a new friend. It is a very special name given to someone who once was my closest friend. And I won’t be mentioning this particular name again.
My two friends from last night are people I have mentioned, but not one of the group I call “My Ladies”. And I won’t give out their names or their challenges as it is personal.
I will no longer give out the names of the towns or clubs I WILL BE visiting. I used to do that, but like I wrote . . . if you want to be a part of my life, then ask me. Otherwise, thank you for reading.
Ok, moving on . . . .
I am so ready for this weekend. I have either been pissed or in a funk since way back when I was stood up on the fourth of July (With no freakin’ explanation). I really haven’t been a whole lot of fun, nor have I had a lot of fun. My head hasn’t been right and I have been wasting my weekends.
But enough time has passed that I am rebounding. So I have set a few goals for this weekend.
1. Dinner and drinks with a new lady (possibly followed by an intimate evening).
2. A road trip (possibly a trip to watch my favorite NFL team play).
3. Write an upbeat Journal.
2. A road trip (possibly a trip to watch my favorite NFL team play).
3. Write an upbeat Journal.
My usual standards remain in place; meaning lots of Jack Daniels, lots of Tortilla Chips, Lot’s of Corona’s, and no shoes. Now doesn’t that sound like a blast?
Have a great evening, keep reading, and definitely write if you have a thought for me. I love hearing from my readers.
My Journal #296 - Revelations
I had a few revelations last night. And guess what? I’m going to share them with you.
I was with two close friends supporting them as they both had horrible days. They didn’t have to call me or let me know. As a friend I contacted them in the morning just to say hi. One confided their problem right away. The other I figured out based on their reply to me. So we decided that for one evening we would forget the bad day, and ignore that tomorrow will come and we all need a plan. For one evening we would “Party like there was no tomorrow”.
We had a good time and they cheered up a bit.
This brought me to my first revelation. Had I not contacted them in the morning just to say hi, I may not have known of their tribulations in time to help? I’m sure that eventually they would have told me, but because I cared I checked in with them. And because they cared they shared their challenges. Then because I care I did something for them.
That defines friendship to me.
I have been doubting my ability to be a friend lately. I believe that my recent challenge is with the definition of friendship. I sort of bought into someone else’s definition and it began to skew the way I behaved. But last night I was re-assured that a friend to me is defined by how I WANT to treat someone, and friendship exists if someone WANTS to treat you the same way.
When I was involved in that horrific auto accident, I wasn’t able to contact anyone. But to my amazement all but one of you found out what had happened and where I was. That proved friendship to me. I now knew that if something bad happens to me, someone would care enough to miss me.
[The one who didn’t realize I was missing actually blamed me for not letting them know]
So as I am with two friends last night, I begin to feel comfortable about my current friends. I will always have room for new friends, but I don’t need to go searching for friends or much less make exceptions for people that don’t care nearly as much about me as I do for them. If someone doesn’t want to be a friend on my terms, then they can find someone else who does.
Later in the evening I decided to stay downtown. We had been in the Mid-Town area and had been drinking. So my first thought was to sleep in my car in a parking lot. (Yup, I am cheap!) I always keep several changes of clothes with me, but my challenge would be a shower. I could probably make it another day without one, but I just feel better when I shower.
So I decided I needed a room. I have a hotel where I stayed when I left the house. It is inexpensive, but not great. It is also my “hookup” hotel. So I figured I would go there so I could get a shower and sleep in a bed. But since I had been drinking, and possibly wasn’t thinking correctly, I splurged and I got a fancy room in a downtown hotel.
[Urgh . . . expensive]
My room was up on the 30th floor. When I walked into my room I opened the blinds. I had this amazing view of downtown and another view that I enjoyed more. It was a view of the freeway and all the lights traversing through the darkness. It was like a neon snake withering through an urban area. I stood and watched the lights for an hour or more. It was very relaxing and mesmerizing.
That was when I had my second revelation.
My first job in Houston was downtown at a law firm. My office was on the 34th floor. One of my duties was to perform a backup of the computers every morning. Since I always rise early, I would begin this backup around 5 am. Since there was nothing I could do until the backup was complete, I would spin my chair around and gaze out the window . . . watching the traffic.
It’s like I had come full circle. I began my career early in the morning watching the traffic. I recall all the dreams I had back then. Some were professional goals and some were personal dreams. I remember as I would watch the traffic I would think about my goals and dreams and wonder where I would be in 25 years. And last night I was in the dusk of my day, and my career; yet I was still watching the same beautiful sight.
What seemed the most amazing to me was that as I stood in a hotel last night watching the same freeway from my past, I realized that I had achieved everything professional that I wanted to achieve and that all my personal dreams had come true; except for my biggest dream. I still hadn’t walked down a beach at dusk, holding hands with someone that loved me.
So my second revelation was that even though I achieved over 100 goals I had, over achieving on most of my goals; the fact that my one biggest dream hadn’t come true yet meant I had failed. It seems that realizing dreams is far more important than achieving a goal. I never would have believed that is true at 25 years of age. But last night it all came full circle.
Basically, the things you get in your private time are the most valuable and you set work goals just to get you to your dreams someday. And I have wasted a ton of time working my dick in the dirt to achieve goals, and I haven’t had that blonde, blue eyed, big boobed, bikini clad hottie for my walk on the beach.
And amazingly that was when I had my third revelation.
I need to back up just a bit and describe the perfect woman for me as my partner and lover. She would be blonde with blue or green eyes that could melt a heart. She would have a smile that is so contagious everyone smiles around her. She wouldn’t be “Model skinny” and she would definitely be blessed upstairs. She would have long and sexy legs and love wearing heels. Her personality would be aggressive, driven and decisive; but wild and carefree at the same time. She would need to be my best friend and my lover. She would be a lady in public, and my own personal hooker in private.
So my third revelation is derived from the fact that I met this person . . . and she didn’t want me. And that third revelation is that life is cruel.
I’ve had one dream since I was a kid, and that dream was this infernal walk on the beach I keep seeing in my head. In my dream I can see the woman I am with, I can sense her personality, and I can feel my emotions. It is absolutely everything I ever wanted, just like I see it in my dream.
And then I meet her. And then she drives me nuts. And then in her own way she tells me to fuck off. Is that my reward for life?
Ok, so I was a dick in my youth. And I did some god awful horrible things as well. But I also did a lot of good. I became a helpful and caring man. I’ve helped people and saved lives. I’ve lived by a moral code.
But I guess all that doesn’t mean anything. My dream not only goes un-fulfilled; it goes away after meeting the person of my dreams.
Ok, that’s it. That is all my revelations from last night. It wasn’t my best day, but I guess I’m ok.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
My Journal #295 - Sanity Break!
I took off early from work today. Why? Because I damn well felt like it, that’s why. And what am I going to do? I’m going to be a friend to two of my friends that are having a tough time. We are going to go get a few drinks, eat some very fattening appetizers, and raise a little hell.
And yes, the troubles my two friends are having are big. They are big enough to warrant all of us bailing and cutting loose. I just left earlier, so you get a quick note.
I’m already planning my weekend. Details to follow. But for now, I am going to go start bashing life, cussing and venting with people that need someone to be there for them.
Ciao!
And yes, the troubles my two friends are having are big. They are big enough to warrant all of us bailing and cutting loose. I just left earlier, so you get a quick note.
I’m already planning my weekend. Details to follow. But for now, I am going to go start bashing life, cussing and venting with people that need someone to be there for them.
Ciao!
Sunday, September 16, 2012
My Journal #294 - Questions?
I have received two emails and a text message asking why I wrote two journals specifically for one person. I don’t know, maybe to be different?
And then I’ve been asked twice why I wrote for this particular person. Hmmm, let’s see . . . .
Yup, she told me she would never be what I was looking for. I appreciated her honesty. The timing was about two years off, but honesty is honesty. And even thought EVERYONE else finds me irresistible . . . . she doesn’t. And I believe that if everyone else wants to hang with me, and only one person doesn’t; then it’s not my fault . . . . so it’s not my problem.
Yup, I’ve accepted that she is not the one that will walk down the beach with me. No big deal because I will find someone that will. Heck most girls never say no because I'm apparently a great catch. But that doesn’t mean we serve no other purpose in each other’s lives. I just need to figure that part out. But in the meantime, I date other hotties.
So the reason I wrote to her is because, just like the rest of you, she touched my heart.
I have also been asked about my date Friday night. Well I’ve decided that this journal is not the place to discuss my CURRENT personal life. Those of you that care stay in touch with me and ask, so why give away the details here?
Obviously anyone that just reads here and doesn’t communicate with me personally probably doesn’t really give two craps about my personal life.
So tonight I’m doing my usual Sunday night adventure. I’m sitting on the deck, only not gazing at the moon. It’s raining. So I’m just watching it rain and readjusting my meters. Of course my sweet baby girl Sammy is here with me. She sits with me where ever I go. Hey, she’s getting old now so when I’m active she avoids me. Sunday nights are our time and there is nothing better than having a loyal friend snoozing at your feet while you reflect.
I hope you have a great week ladies.
I’m good!
And then I’ve been asked twice why I wrote for this particular person. Hmmm, let’s see . . . .
Yup, she told me she would never be what I was looking for. I appreciated her honesty. The timing was about two years off, but honesty is honesty. And even thought EVERYONE else finds me irresistible . . . . she doesn’t. And I believe that if everyone else wants to hang with me, and only one person doesn’t; then it’s not my fault . . . . so it’s not my problem.
Yup, I’ve accepted that she is not the one that will walk down the beach with me. No big deal because I will find someone that will. Heck most girls never say no because I'm apparently a great catch. But that doesn’t mean we serve no other purpose in each other’s lives. I just need to figure that part out. But in the meantime, I date other hotties.
So the reason I wrote to her is because, just like the rest of you, she touched my heart.
I have also been asked about my date Friday night. Well I’ve decided that this journal is not the place to discuss my CURRENT personal life. Those of you that care stay in touch with me and ask, so why give away the details here?
Obviously anyone that just reads here and doesn’t communicate with me personally probably doesn’t really give two craps about my personal life.
So tonight I’m doing my usual Sunday night adventure. I’m sitting on the deck, only not gazing at the moon. It’s raining. So I’m just watching it rain and readjusting my meters. Of course my sweet baby girl Sammy is here with me. She sits with me where ever I go. Hey, she’s getting old now so when I’m active she avoids me. Sunday nights are our time and there is nothing better than having a loyal friend snoozing at your feet while you reflect.
I hope you have a great week ladies.
I’m good!
My Journal #293 - For "A-ga-li-ha" (2)
I went to Kemah today. An old friend was there and he had secured a 50 caliber long rifle. I had never used one before. I was very excited about using it for the first time. My first shot ended up about 6 inches high. My second shot was dead on. That was when I began to appreciate the power of a 50 caliber arm weapon.
By nightfall a couple of other guys from a previous team I had been on arrived. We drank a lot, because that is what guys that have gone to war do when they get together years later. They drink to forget faces, and to remember faces.
I have to remind you again that I was never in the military. But I stood by many men who were. I fought with these men, I killed with these men, and I watched some of those men die within an arm’s reach of me. As we sat together, talking about departed friends and crazy situations I came to a new realization.
Real life isn’t a movie. In real life the survivors don’t wander off in to the sunset with their heads held high. Nope, in real life the survivors jump every time something falls and crashes; real survivors can’t sleep for fear of their nightmares; and real survivors don’t come home a hero.
And in real life, the woman that saved your life avoids you when you finally find her.
You’ve all heard my story about Somalia. It was the only time in my life that I really wanted to die. That was when a voice spoke to me. It wasn’t that voice that always pushed me on to success. That voice had left me a long time ago. No, this voice was a female voice that told me to live.
I did live. And I spent the next 20 something years searching for that woman. About three years ago I found her.
Now if real life was a movie, she would have been in a crisis and I would have been her savior. We would have hit it off, fallen in love and lived happily ever after. But that didn’t happen because real life isn’t a movie.
In my real life, the real life that we all live in today, that woman won’t believe in fate. She can’t imagine being so tired and hurt that you believe in angels. In real life, she thinks you are insane for telling a story about a war in a faraway place and how this mystical angelic voice pulled you out of the jaws of evil. In real life she is more beautiful than any movie can portray, and you have become a beat up and broken down nothing.
In real life there is no magical moment, no amazing glance, and no butterflies in your stomach, no intimate touch, no special kiss, and no sunsets. In real life you don’t connect. In real life she is interested in men that never ran to the war, never fought to save the man next to them, never had explosions and bullets hit the man to your right and to your left yet miss you. In real life she doesn’t care that you hate the fact that you lived while your friends died.
I have many faults. And one of those faults used to be that I lied. But I can’t lie anymore. My story is true. As I was being tortured a voice came to me and told me to live because the voice would need me. The story is real, just like life. The only problem is that the voice doesn’t need or want me.
I lived. And because I lived many others died. Maybe I was delirious. Maybe I should have died; maybe all those other men should have lived; maybe one of those men was the one for the voice.
Lord, I wish life could be like the movies.
When we met she would have believed me. When we met she would have remembered me from her dreams. When we met she would need me. And then we would have ridden off into the sunset together.
I hate real life.
I’ve gotten no signs. I’m walking away now, towards my own sunset. And all I can think is . . .
Why did I live when others died?
And why did that voice save me for all this hell?
Four men drank a ton of tequila tonight. Four men smoked some illegal cigarettes. Four men remembered the faces of dozens of missing friends. Four men talked about why they lived.
And then four men went back to the real world.
So I ask you, and you know who you are . . . . . Why me?
By nightfall a couple of other guys from a previous team I had been on arrived. We drank a lot, because that is what guys that have gone to war do when they get together years later. They drink to forget faces, and to remember faces.
I have to remind you again that I was never in the military. But I stood by many men who were. I fought with these men, I killed with these men, and I watched some of those men die within an arm’s reach of me. As we sat together, talking about departed friends and crazy situations I came to a new realization.
Real life isn’t a movie. In real life the survivors don’t wander off in to the sunset with their heads held high. Nope, in real life the survivors jump every time something falls and crashes; real survivors can’t sleep for fear of their nightmares; and real survivors don’t come home a hero.
And in real life, the woman that saved your life avoids you when you finally find her.
You’ve all heard my story about Somalia. It was the only time in my life that I really wanted to die. That was when a voice spoke to me. It wasn’t that voice that always pushed me on to success. That voice had left me a long time ago. No, this voice was a female voice that told me to live.
I did live. And I spent the next 20 something years searching for that woman. About three years ago I found her.
Now if real life was a movie, she would have been in a crisis and I would have been her savior. We would have hit it off, fallen in love and lived happily ever after. But that didn’t happen because real life isn’t a movie.
In my real life, the real life that we all live in today, that woman won’t believe in fate. She can’t imagine being so tired and hurt that you believe in angels. In real life, she thinks you are insane for telling a story about a war in a faraway place and how this mystical angelic voice pulled you out of the jaws of evil. In real life she is more beautiful than any movie can portray, and you have become a beat up and broken down nothing.
In real life there is no magical moment, no amazing glance, and no butterflies in your stomach, no intimate touch, no special kiss, and no sunsets. In real life you don’t connect. In real life she is interested in men that never ran to the war, never fought to save the man next to them, never had explosions and bullets hit the man to your right and to your left yet miss you. In real life she doesn’t care that you hate the fact that you lived while your friends died.
I have many faults. And one of those faults used to be that I lied. But I can’t lie anymore. My story is true. As I was being tortured a voice came to me and told me to live because the voice would need me. The story is real, just like life. The only problem is that the voice doesn’t need or want me.
I lived. And because I lived many others died. Maybe I was delirious. Maybe I should have died; maybe all those other men should have lived; maybe one of those men was the one for the voice.
Lord, I wish life could be like the movies.
When we met she would have believed me. When we met she would have remembered me from her dreams. When we met she would need me. And then we would have ridden off into the sunset together.
I hate real life.
I’ve gotten no signs. I’m walking away now, towards my own sunset. And all I can think is . . .
Why did I live when others died?
And why did that voice save me for all this hell?
Four men drank a ton of tequila tonight. Four men smoked some illegal cigarettes. Four men remembered the faces of dozens of missing friends. Four men talked about why they lived.
And then four men went back to the real world.
So I ask you, and you know who you are . . . . . Why me?
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Heroes ~ David Bowie
Heroes
David Bowie
David Bowie
I
I will be king
And you
You will be queen
Though nothing will
Drive them away
We can beat them
Just for one day
We can be Heroes
Just for one day
I will be king
And you
You will be queen
Though nothing will
Drive them away
We can beat them
Just for one day
We can be Heroes
Just for one day
And you
You can be mean
And I
I'll drink all the time
'Cause we're lovers
And that is a fact
Yes we're lovers
And that is that
You can be mean
And I
I'll drink all the time
'Cause we're lovers
And that is a fact
Yes we're lovers
And that is that
Though nothing
Will keep us together
We could steal time
Just for one day
Will keep us together
We could steal time
Just for one day
We can be Heroes
For ever and ever
What d'you say
For ever and ever
What d'you say
I
I wish you could swim
Like the dolphins
Like dolphins can swim
Though nothing
Will keep us together
We can beat them
For ever and ever
Oh we can be Heroes
Just for one day
I wish you could swim
Like the dolphins
Like dolphins can swim
Though nothing
Will keep us together
We can beat them
For ever and ever
Oh we can be Heroes
Just for one day
I
I will be king
And you
You will be queen
Though nothing
Will drive them away
We can be Heroes
Just for one day
We can be us
Just for one day
I will be king
And you
You will be queen
Though nothing
Will drive them away
We can be Heroes
Just for one day
We can be us
Just for one day
I
I can remember
Standing
By the wall
And the guns
Shot above our heads
And we kissed
As though nothing could fall
And the shame
Was on the other side
Oh we can beat them
For ever and ever
Then we can be Heroes
Just for one day
I can remember
Standing
By the wall
And the guns
Shot above our heads
And we kissed
As though nothing could fall
And the shame
Was on the other side
Oh we can beat them
For ever and ever
Then we can be Heroes
Just for one day
We can be Heroes
Just for one day
We can be Heroes
We're nothing
And nothing will help us
Maybe we're lying
Then you better not stay
But we could be safer
Just for one day
Just for one day
We can be Heroes
We're nothing
And nothing will help us
Maybe we're lying
Then you better not stay
But we could be safer
Just for one day
Friday, September 14, 2012
My Journal #292 - For "A-ga-li-ha"
I am almost to my 300th Journal. In all my previous journals I’ve never written one specifically to anyone. It’s just not my style. But tonight I will change that. This journal is specifically written for A-ga-li-ha. I don’t know if she has ever read one of my journals, or if she will ever read this one. But tonight I write just for her.
In one of my previous journals I mentioned a great lady named Teri. Teri is a year younger than I. But Teri is the one that turned me back into the person I was, and made me the person that I am today.
If you recall, at 14 years of age I was a High School Freshman. I was the superstar of sports and women at the mere age of 14. I had made the all-city team as a youth and in Junior High in Football, Track, Baseball and Boxing. I had led the city in touchdowns for 5 years and had the single season record of 26 touchdowns in one season.
At 14, I was playing Varsity football and starting at four positions. I was the fastest kid in the city, even though I was the youngest kid to participate in Varsity track. Yet on a frozen day in February of 1974, I found myself lying on a football field with my right leg bent behind my collapsed body, the tibia bone broken in four places, the fibula bone protruding through my skin just below my knee, my ankle broken in two places, and my knee ruined for life.
Up to that point everyone claimed I got whatever I wanted from life, and that I easily won everything I ever tried. Girls never said no to me. And whatever sport I was in at the moment, I found a way to win no matter the odds. But it wasn’t as easy as everyone thought. I would fall behind, and I would begin to accept that I was too small, or too slow, or too weak to win. But in that moment something inside of me would come out and talk to me. Even though I was tired, hurt, cold, and bleeding; this voice would urge me on. This voice would remind me that I can win. And somewhere deep inside of my soul this other person would arise. This other person wanted to take more pain, just to prove that I could win. And somehow I would find that extra something to push me, and I would win.
But as I lay on that ice covered field in 1974, I knew my athletic career was over. As I later lay in a hospital bed, with wires protruding from my leg, I listened intently as expert doctors would whisper to my family that I would never walk again, much less run or have a chance at sports. My life had ended.
At 14 I started using drugs and drinking to make the pain and shame go away. I accepted that I would never be the person I always dreamed of being.
And as I wrote before, that was when Teri showed up. She took me under her beautiful wing, nursed me back to health, and then made me believe that what had happened was a setback and not a career ending move. Teri made me believe in myself again, and she got me to find that voice that would urge me on when all the chips were down. Teri brought me back.
Teri loved me. What she did for me she did out of love. But she did it knowing that what she would make me back into was the man that never noticed her before. And when I made it back to all the sports I loved, I won many more awards; and almost lost Teri.
When I was down, the girls disappeared. The glory vanished. And Teri brought it all back. And when I was back the girls came back; and I pushed Teri from my life.
My senior year I was at an awards banquet, and I saw Teri. She was so happy that I was in the limelight again, even though it meant that we were no longer close. I went to Teri to thank her for all that she did, and she cried. She told me that by pushing me back to stardom she knew she was giving up her chance to ever have me. But she knew that if I wasn’t that guy, then I would never be happy.
As we spoke, I asked Teri what I could do to thank her for all she did for me. She looked me in the eye and said . . . .
Teri walked away after that. To this day those words ring in my head. I became a guy that would fight for people and always refused to quit. I just never knew how hard the fight for the one I wanted would be. It would turn out to be the fight that causes more pain that that frozen day at 14; or the pain caused by my choices that felled my sister at 12; or the pain of my 10 days of hell in Somalia.
Several years ago I met A-ga-li-ha. She was a beautiful girl that everyone would eventually give up on. I fell for her, she is the one, and I swore that I would fight for her like Teri had suggested. A-ga-li-ha was the perfect companion for me. But she didn’t believe in herself, and she never gave anyone a chance to prove her wrong. She would intentionally inflict pain on those that got close, hoping that they would walk away. But I believe that she deeply wished that they wouldn’t quit.
So I fought for my version of “The one”. No matter what she did to me, or to others, or what people said about her; I knew her soul. And I knew that she was the one for me. So I fought, and for years I kept fighting. I couldn’t quit, I wouldn’t quit.
Finally A-ga-li-ha told me to give up. She told me I couldn’t win. And for a while I trusted her. So I quit.
For me, and for Teri, and most importantly for A-ga-li-ha I decided that I would keep fighting. I went through all that pain, all that suffering, and all that soul searching not to prove I was one of the best athletes in the state. No, I believe that I survived all that so that I could endure the wrath of A-ga-li-ha. She needed someone to believe in her. She needed someone to fight for her. She needs someone that doesn’t know how to quit.
So this one time, I kept fighting for her!
I can’t make someone like me. But I can keep fighting until my last breath is expended. Maybe I will fight for an eternity just to end up losing. But what I’ve learned about me is that I always have more fight in me. And until I am dead, I will fight for A-ga-li-ha.
Today she ignores me. Today she searches for someone else, or something else; just as I searched for alternatives back when I had a metal brace running the length of my leg. She pushes people away when they get too close, because they want more from her; just as I pushed people away when they wanted more from me.
But Teri fought through all my rudeness and objections. And I will keep fighting through all of A-ga-li ha’s rudeness and objections.
So Teri, if you ever read this . . . . thank you for reminding me that I can’t lose.
And A-ga-li-ha . . . . . I won’t lose! But I need your help. Be my Teri once again and give me a sign of hope. Let me know that all the pain I’ve been through for you is justified. Send me a sign that I am right, and you want me to fight for you.
I have plenty of fight left. More than any other man alive.
In one of my previous journals I mentioned a great lady named Teri. Teri is a year younger than I. But Teri is the one that turned me back into the person I was, and made me the person that I am today.
If you recall, at 14 years of age I was a High School Freshman. I was the superstar of sports and women at the mere age of 14. I had made the all-city team as a youth and in Junior High in Football, Track, Baseball and Boxing. I had led the city in touchdowns for 5 years and had the single season record of 26 touchdowns in one season.
At 14, I was playing Varsity football and starting at four positions. I was the fastest kid in the city, even though I was the youngest kid to participate in Varsity track. Yet on a frozen day in February of 1974, I found myself lying on a football field with my right leg bent behind my collapsed body, the tibia bone broken in four places, the fibula bone protruding through my skin just below my knee, my ankle broken in two places, and my knee ruined for life.
Up to that point everyone claimed I got whatever I wanted from life, and that I easily won everything I ever tried. Girls never said no to me. And whatever sport I was in at the moment, I found a way to win no matter the odds. But it wasn’t as easy as everyone thought. I would fall behind, and I would begin to accept that I was too small, or too slow, or too weak to win. But in that moment something inside of me would come out and talk to me. Even though I was tired, hurt, cold, and bleeding; this voice would urge me on. This voice would remind me that I can win. And somewhere deep inside of my soul this other person would arise. This other person wanted to take more pain, just to prove that I could win. And somehow I would find that extra something to push me, and I would win.
But as I lay on that ice covered field in 1974, I knew my athletic career was over. As I later lay in a hospital bed, with wires protruding from my leg, I listened intently as expert doctors would whisper to my family that I would never walk again, much less run or have a chance at sports. My life had ended.
At 14 I started using drugs and drinking to make the pain and shame go away. I accepted that I would never be the person I always dreamed of being.
And as I wrote before, that was when Teri showed up. She took me under her beautiful wing, nursed me back to health, and then made me believe that what had happened was a setback and not a career ending move. Teri made me believe in myself again, and she got me to find that voice that would urge me on when all the chips were down. Teri brought me back.
Teri loved me. What she did for me she did out of love. But she did it knowing that what she would make me back into was the man that never noticed her before. And when I made it back to all the sports I loved, I won many more awards; and almost lost Teri.
When I was down, the girls disappeared. The glory vanished. And Teri brought it all back. And when I was back the girls came back; and I pushed Teri from my life.
My senior year I was at an awards banquet, and I saw Teri. She was so happy that I was in the limelight again, even though it meant that we were no longer close. I went to Teri to thank her for all that she did, and she cried. She told me that by pushing me back to stardom she knew she was giving up her chance to ever have me. But she knew that if I wasn’t that guy, then I would never be happy.
As we spoke, I asked Teri what I could do to thank her for all she did for me. She looked me in the eye and said . . . .
“I just wished that one time you would have fought for me! But someday you will find someone worth fighting for. I hope you fight just as hard for that special woman as you fought to get back here tonight.”
Teri walked away after that. To this day those words ring in my head. I became a guy that would fight for people and always refused to quit. I just never knew how hard the fight for the one I wanted would be. It would turn out to be the fight that causes more pain that that frozen day at 14; or the pain caused by my choices that felled my sister at 12; or the pain of my 10 days of hell in Somalia.
Several years ago I met A-ga-li-ha. She was a beautiful girl that everyone would eventually give up on. I fell for her, she is the one, and I swore that I would fight for her like Teri had suggested. A-ga-li-ha was the perfect companion for me. But she didn’t believe in herself, and she never gave anyone a chance to prove her wrong. She would intentionally inflict pain on those that got close, hoping that they would walk away. But I believe that she deeply wished that they wouldn’t quit.
So I fought for my version of “The one”. No matter what she did to me, or to others, or what people said about her; I knew her soul. And I knew that she was the one for me. So I fought, and for years I kept fighting. I couldn’t quit, I wouldn’t quit.
Finally A-ga-li-ha told me to give up. She told me I couldn’t win. And for a while I trusted her. So I quit.
For me, and for Teri, and most importantly for A-ga-li-ha I decided that I would keep fighting. I went through all that pain, all that suffering, and all that soul searching not to prove I was one of the best athletes in the state. No, I believe that I survived all that so that I could endure the wrath of A-ga-li-ha. She needed someone to believe in her. She needed someone to fight for her. She needs someone that doesn’t know how to quit.
So this one time, I kept fighting for her!
I can’t make someone like me. But I can keep fighting until my last breath is expended. Maybe I will fight for an eternity just to end up losing. But what I’ve learned about me is that I always have more fight in me. And until I am dead, I will fight for A-ga-li-ha.
Today she ignores me. Today she searches for someone else, or something else; just as I searched for alternatives back when I had a metal brace running the length of my leg. She pushes people away when they get too close, because they want more from her; just as I pushed people away when they wanted more from me.
But Teri fought through all my rudeness and objections. And I will keep fighting through all of A-ga-li ha’s rudeness and objections.
So Teri, if you ever read this . . . . thank you for reminding me that I can’t lose.
And A-ga-li-ha . . . . . I won’t lose! But I need your help. Be my Teri once again and give me a sign of hope. Let me know that all the pain I’ve been through for you is justified. Send me a sign that I am right, and you want me to fight for you.
I have plenty of fight left. More than any other man alive.
My Journal #291 - I dip!
I’ve got a lot to share today, so let’s get right to it!
HMPOA – Kemah . . . . what a blast . . . . and it is so refreshing to ask someone out and they respect you enough to actually answer.
Banana Rama – Sorry I couldn’t think of anything good, but I’m still thinking.
Martel – Missed you this week.
Sasha Lucille – One more weekend at the pool . . . . maybe?!?!?
Sunshine – Do you even know what it means when I say I want to paint your toes?
I got an email from Lovelygirl and I even read it and replied. Apparently she still reads my Journals and has put two and two together and figured out the basics of what happened Sunday afternoon. I figured since she was guessing correctly, and asking questions I would go ahead and tell her what happened. So we exchanged emails and text messages, she gave me some more of her sage advice. So we are talking again.
Oh well . . . .
I guess I’m over being angry now anyway. I got pissed off again yesterday right when I came to that conclusion, and I figure that must just be the way it’s going to be. So I’m not mad anymore . . . disappointed, but getting used to that too. I’ll just take what I can get and move away when I can’t. So . . . . ok . . . . I’m good now, or as good as I’m going to get.
A health report – My ribs are healing nicely; my necks is back to normal; my knee is still crap, but it’s back to being the old crap and not the new seriously messed up crap; my tooth is still broken but I’m gluing it together every few days; and I ran a 10K after work yesterday. (Take that Tiffany :))
Nope, I’m not going to discuss my mental health.
I dip. I was raised in THE REAL country on a chicken ranch, while working cattle and horses for my cousins. I used to be a Skoal man until it got more expensive than a mortgage payment. So now I use a cheap alternative. I was buying about three cans a week, and each can is about $5.
I’ve been dipping since I was 8 years old. My first dip was with my cousin Mike behind Aunt Ruby’s store, and we tried Garret & Son’s Snuff. We both got pretty dizzy, and he threw up. But I was cool. So I have been dipping since I was 8.
I quit over a month ago. Well technically I didn’t quit, but I cut back a bunch. I don’t dip at work anymore, I don’t dip in my car, and I don’t dip on dates anymore. I usually have a dip after my dinner and sometimes a second dip late in the evening. And that is it.
I bought a can the last week of July. It lasted me about three weeks (Remember I used to use three a week). I bought a can in August and just finished it this weekend. So it appears I will use three cans every two months.
Why did I quit?
I’m not worried about cancer. All the males in my family have dipped since birth and no one in the family has ever had any form of cancer. It was just that one day I spit out a used dip, and a matter of minutes later I realized I had already put another dip in my mouth. I didn’t remember doing that, so I thought I probably just was on cruise control and automatically took a dip. I didn’t like the thought of that.
So I chose to cut back. Then I realized how much money I could save. I figure I will save about $800 a year. Hey, there’s the money for that damn cruise I’ve been wanting to take.
The second reason I sort of quit was my hot friend Martel asked me to quit. At first I thought that it was none of her business. But then I was touched that she had the balls to tell me something she knew I wouldn’t like, and to ask me to do something that she knew I didn’t want to do. Cudos Martel!
Again, thank to all of you for your kind words and friendship. July and August were literally the worst two months of my life. But now it’s September and time to move on.
Think about me a dozen times this weekend!
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
My Journal #290 - Book Smarts vrs Common Sense
In my opinion, when it comes to “intelligence” there are two types of being smart. There is “book smart” and there is “common sense smart”. And these are very different types of intelligence. And since there are two types of intelligence then there must be four different types of people.
Those with book smarts and common sense.
Those with book smarts and no common sense.
Those with no book smarts yet common sense.
Those with neither.
If a person has book smarts and common sense then they are a bit tricky. Welcome to my world. Most people that possess both are rather conceited and arrogant. That sometimes makes them hard with which to deal. I am told that I am in this category. But I have learned how to “dum” myself down for conversational purposes.
Anyway, these people not only understand written concepts, they have the ability to see the uses of the concept. They also know how to apply the uses of the concept. For me, these are very interesting people to be around.
If a person has book smarts and no common sense, they are a pain in the ass. They can recall some of the most mundane data ever written, and recite it perfectly. But they really have no idea what it means, unless someone told them what it means to them. They have no ability to apply the data to any practical purpose.
And these people are always in trouble. They become frustrated with people that don’t remember all the crap they remember, and inside they are frustrated that someone else can take the data and put it to good use. They are usually doing really ignorant things and blaming others. Personally, these people are impossible with which to deal.
If a person has common sense and no book smarts, I seriously can get along with them. They may not know every detail of every word ever written, but they can see things in their mind and when given a piece of data they immediately produce something.
These people are fun to chat with. They don’t get tied up in mundane topics, but they pick up enough about other topics to be interesting. And because of their ability to use common sense, they make the conversation down right fun.
If a person has neither, well they are at least more entertaining that those people with book smarts and no common sense. You need to move slowly with the people, but they too can be entertaining.
So, I’ve taken each of you and put you into a category. Email me where you see yourself and then we will have a topic to discuss.
Those with book smarts and common sense.
Those with book smarts and no common sense.
Those with no book smarts yet common sense.
Those with neither.
If a person has book smarts and common sense then they are a bit tricky. Welcome to my world. Most people that possess both are rather conceited and arrogant. That sometimes makes them hard with which to deal. I am told that I am in this category. But I have learned how to “dum” myself down for conversational purposes.
Anyway, these people not only understand written concepts, they have the ability to see the uses of the concept. They also know how to apply the uses of the concept. For me, these are very interesting people to be around.
If a person has book smarts and no common sense, they are a pain in the ass. They can recall some of the most mundane data ever written, and recite it perfectly. But they really have no idea what it means, unless someone told them what it means to them. They have no ability to apply the data to any practical purpose.
And these people are always in trouble. They become frustrated with people that don’t remember all the crap they remember, and inside they are frustrated that someone else can take the data and put it to good use. They are usually doing really ignorant things and blaming others. Personally, these people are impossible with which to deal.
If a person has common sense and no book smarts, I seriously can get along with them. They may not know every detail of every word ever written, but they can see things in their mind and when given a piece of data they immediately produce something.
These people are fun to chat with. They don’t get tied up in mundane topics, but they pick up enough about other topics to be interesting. And because of their ability to use common sense, they make the conversation down right fun.
If a person has neither, well they are at least more entertaining that those people with book smarts and no common sense. You need to move slowly with the people, but they too can be entertaining.
So, I’ve taken each of you and put you into a category. Email me where you see yourself and then we will have a topic to discuss.
My Journal #289 - Pietro
“I love you, and because I love you, I would sooner have you hate me for telling you the truth than adore me for telling you lies.”
Pietro Aretino
I think that this sums me up better than most other quotes. I believe that if you care about someone you have an obligation to tell them any and all truths. I also believe that the difference between like and love is if you are willing to hear AND ACCEPT the truth that someone tells you.
Most people I consider friends feel the same way. Trust me, they bust my balls a lot when I get goofy with a girl or wander off in my own thoughts. And that type of a relationship works for all of us. Therefore, I would say we love each other. Not like we light candles and play hide the salami sort of love. It’s more the sort of love where you trust implicitly, and you never doubt.
In the past I tried modifying this for a few people. I guess I was so enamored with them that I hoped that the truth wouldn’t become an issue. But being deceived, even through avoidance, is like a cancer that spreads and eventual eats you alive from the inside out. In each of those instances where I tried to coexist with a non-truthful person it ended badly.
Well, except for HMPOA. But she ALWAYS came back within a few hours and confessed her lies. And she finally matured and now even she realizes the value of being honest with those you care about.
So if someone won’t be honest with you, forget them. And if you care about someone be honest with them. Like the quote says, I’d rather you hate me for being honest than adore me for lying.
Anyway, I just thought I would share this.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
My Journal #288 - Remember The Day!
I hope that everyone remembered what today is. Some say it’s the anniversary of the greatest tragedy in American History. I say it is the anniversary of the day we as a nation woke up, stood up, came together and said “NO MORE!”
Take a moment to pray for the souls of those that perished on that fateful day, and don’t forget to pray for those that died or were injured in the hunt for the man responsible.
God Bless America!
I received a call at the office today. It was from my friend that used to be my shrink. He said he tried my cell phone but it is disconnected. He was worried, so he called my work number to check on me. He had been on vacation and just got back, so he wanted to know if we could catch up on things.
Hey, a free beer is a free beer.
As soon as I sat down with him tonight he noticed my knuckles were raw and cut. He asked if I was fighting again. I let him know that I had purchased a heavy bag and had spent the night beating the crap out of it. He suggested I invest in striking mits.
He asked if I ever shared my other story, which I haven’t. (Hey, you all had a chance and no one asked) I guess he could sense my anger so he asked what had happened. I did try denying it, but this guy knows all my deep dark secrets and he is aware of the challenge I had been facing with one person.
So I told him what this person did on Sunday. He listened intently and his first question to me after listening was, “What are you going to do about it?”
I told him I was through with that person and explained how I wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of knowing how what they did affected me. To my surprise he suggested that I confront this person and tell them how shitty what they did was. This surprised me because when he was my shrink his goal was to keep me from becoming violent.
He also told me that from what he has learned about this person that he agrees it was a VERY deliberate action in an attempt to hurt. I agree with that as well.
He told me again that I am probably the sanest person he ever met; and he trusted that I could present my disgust to this person without becoming violent. He even went so far as to say it would probably be good for me to put them in their place in a calm and polite manner.
I told him I was still a long way away from being calm around that person again.
Since we were talking I asked him about requesting something back that I had once given to this person. He said I am the best judge on what I should do, and whether I should ask for it. But he said I need to understand why I want it back.
If I want it back simply because it means a lot to me, and I know it doesn’t mean shit to them now that I know how they feel and what they really are like; then I should ask for it back. But if it is just a way to do my usual and pick a fight so I could feel justified for blowing up then I shouldn’t do it. He said they have this strange control over me, and I need to break that hold. By picking a fight I am doing exactly what they want.
So his final advice was to confront the person regardless of their schedule, to take control of the situation, to let them know how horrible what they did was, and then to let it be their problem.
I worked on my heavy bag again tonight after our drinks. Then I had a glass of Jack Daniels Single Barrel and sat down to think. Here is my conclusion.
I doubt I will ever hear from this person again. But if I do then I will ask for my property back with no explanation. If they have the guts to ask why then I will tell them. And if they ever ask what is wrong, I will give them a chance to let it go. If they don’t then I will tell them as calmly as I can.
For the record, this friend / shrink is pretty good. I do feel better after talking to him. I’m still furious beyond control with the person that “pin pricked” me again.
But I am better.
And my previous offer is still out there. If anyone wants to know what happened when I was a kid and how it probably started my world spiraling into the person I became; then ask me. But it will have to be a face to face talk. I won’t write this shit down.
Have a good week.
Take a moment to pray for the souls of those that perished on that fateful day, and don’t forget to pray for those that died or were injured in the hunt for the man responsible.
God Bless America!
I received a call at the office today. It was from my friend that used to be my shrink. He said he tried my cell phone but it is disconnected. He was worried, so he called my work number to check on me. He had been on vacation and just got back, so he wanted to know if we could catch up on things.
Hey, a free beer is a free beer.
As soon as I sat down with him tonight he noticed my knuckles were raw and cut. He asked if I was fighting again. I let him know that I had purchased a heavy bag and had spent the night beating the crap out of it. He suggested I invest in striking mits.
He asked if I ever shared my other story, which I haven’t. (Hey, you all had a chance and no one asked) I guess he could sense my anger so he asked what had happened. I did try denying it, but this guy knows all my deep dark secrets and he is aware of the challenge I had been facing with one person.
So I told him what this person did on Sunday. He listened intently and his first question to me after listening was, “What are you going to do about it?”
I told him I was through with that person and explained how I wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of knowing how what they did affected me. To my surprise he suggested that I confront this person and tell them how shitty what they did was. This surprised me because when he was my shrink his goal was to keep me from becoming violent.
He also told me that from what he has learned about this person that he agrees it was a VERY deliberate action in an attempt to hurt. I agree with that as well.
He told me again that I am probably the sanest person he ever met; and he trusted that I could present my disgust to this person without becoming violent. He even went so far as to say it would probably be good for me to put them in their place in a calm and polite manner.
I told him I was still a long way away from being calm around that person again.
Since we were talking I asked him about requesting something back that I had once given to this person. He said I am the best judge on what I should do, and whether I should ask for it. But he said I need to understand why I want it back.
If I want it back simply because it means a lot to me, and I know it doesn’t mean shit to them now that I know how they feel and what they really are like; then I should ask for it back. But if it is just a way to do my usual and pick a fight so I could feel justified for blowing up then I shouldn’t do it. He said they have this strange control over me, and I need to break that hold. By picking a fight I am doing exactly what they want.
So his final advice was to confront the person regardless of their schedule, to take control of the situation, to let them know how horrible what they did was, and then to let it be their problem.
I worked on my heavy bag again tonight after our drinks. Then I had a glass of Jack Daniels Single Barrel and sat down to think. Here is my conclusion.
I doubt I will ever hear from this person again. But if I do then I will ask for my property back with no explanation. If they have the guts to ask why then I will tell them. And if they ever ask what is wrong, I will give them a chance to let it go. If they don’t then I will tell them as calmly as I can.
For the record, this friend / shrink is pretty good. I do feel better after talking to him. I’m still furious beyond control with the person that “pin pricked” me again.
But I am better.
And my previous offer is still out there. If anyone wants to know what happened when I was a kid and how it probably started my world spiraling into the person I became; then ask me. But it will have to be a face to face talk. I won’t write this shit down.
Have a good week.
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