The only negative of hatch day was that my half-heartedly promised birthday gift didn’t happen and I had a glimmer of thinking (there’s my real problem: thinking) that maybe it might pan out today. But, this game is just a game. Oh well. I’m rewinding to Sunday’s resolutions. Maybe. I think. Probably. If I can. But not out of spite, but out of love and out of self-preservation and—mostly—out of continued hope.

These have to be watched in order so that the million dollar question can be asked: is it where we start or where we end that matters most …?

As wicked as you are
You’re beautiful to me

There you stood in disbelief,
trying all you could to see through these lies
And every word that I could breathe,
would find you more inclined to leave, but I tried
And knowing what I’ve done to you,
with every thought you suffer through
My heart as black as evil can
And everything I could have been,
erased by what I wanted then
I couldn’t think a lesser man

All the delicate ways
That I deepened our graves
My apology pales

You gotta squeeze a little, squeeze a little
Tease a little more
Easy operator come a knockin’ on my door
Sometime, anytime, sugar me sweet
Little miss innocent sugar me, yeah

I couldn’t resist. Sorry. I am, of course, a child of the 80s after all. LOL!

Most people know that both Jinx and I are diagnosed with Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder. Not really a big secret if you’ve ever been around either of us for longer than 30 seconds[1].

I’m working on reworking our diet to help out since many of the neurological issues are very much triggered by the foods we eat. I have a friend who got both her kids completely off medication by following this one doctor’s plan which is more individual-type geared rather than just some generic one-size-fits-all plan. So I started working on determining which subtype of ADHD Jinx and I were. His mother helped out by providing an external perspective as well.

But—and this was part of the point about the Alcoholics Anonymous quip in my last post—sugar is one of the main villains in the fight against ADHD. I’ve eliminated much of the obvious sugar from our diet already. And it shows. However, think about this a minute:

A therapist came up to [Dr Amen] during the break with this story. He said, “I’m so glad you mentioned the sugar. I used to be a very angry person; sometimes I would even scare my family. It made me feel terrible. I even took anger management classes, but they didn’t seem to help. When I eliminated sugar in my diet, I noticed almost an immediate reduction in outburst, plus I felt more energetic, lost weight, and was much more focused.” His personal experience was the same as [Dr Amen's] clinical experience.

Even though we didn’t actually eliminate sugar but merely reduced it by a great amount, I can still say that the amount of outbursts from Jinx has been reduced a great deal and my own focus and anger issues have begun to decrease as well. Neither of us are “there” yet, but I can certainly see progress that makes me take this whole thing very seriously.

So what’s this thing with Alcoholics Anonymous? They serve coffee and donuts. So? Right? What do you put into coffee? What is a donut but little more than sugar in the round? This is why we don’t give ADHD children donuts for breakfast. Not only do they bounce off the walls, but they have no focus, gain weight, and end up with a crash when it’s done. Same with an alcoholic except even more dangerous. Alcohol metabolizes into sugar. In fact, one of the major weight gain villains is alcohol. The calorie intake alone from alcohol is whacked when it comes to proportion with other beverages because of the way that the alcohol is broken down by the body. But, the bottom line is that alcohol is converted to sugar (basically). So when an alcoholic decides to stop drinking and then goes to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting with coffee and donuts, they aren’t “getting cured.” They are merely substituting one sugar addiction for another. So instead of removing what the body does with alcohol, they continue it. Which means, it’s just that much easier to do a reverse substitution of alcohol instead of coffee and donuts. Catching on now?

What makes alcoholics so amazingly hostile both before they sober up and after they start to sober up but collecting their karma points in the form of little plastic chips? Sugar feeds anger and hostility. What is alcohol? What is coffee and donuts? Why are Sunday morning Christians trying to cleanse the world by the sword?[2] Why is it so hard for a recently sober person to focus on more than one thing at a time? Why do family members often complain that their newly sober loved one hasn’t actually changed at all in their personality? The sugar intake has not changed and the feedback loop from sugar to brain says, “fuck you!”

It’s not like this is new information, mind you. When I sobered up through that little mandated program the State of Texas so conveniently provided to me, the first two “sessions” were about diet. The first thing they did was explain proper breakfast foods. Oh. And they didn’t have a single coffee pot in the whole place and the “snacks” were hard boiled eggs and small tuna/wheat toast munchies. And water. Lots and lots of water. Not only have I remained sober since that point but my ability to return to a moderate alcohol intake[3] is not feeding the body’s addiction to the sugar[4]. I’m not saying this to pat myself on the back—though I won’t deny a sense of pride for having kicked yet another horrible habit in my life—but merely to suggest that I think diet had a huge impact on my success back then.

So, this isn’t really going anywhere. It’s merely my acknowledgement that sugar is a major, major culprit in my home and I know it and I’m working to reduce it as much as 90-95% as I am able. And, of course, it is my explanation as to my Alcoholics Anonymous snark earlier.

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1. … which is about the length of time it takes for one of us to bounce across a wall or chase a tangent. [↩]
2. Oops. Sorry. Crossed wires. [↩]
3. … which really means that I could do one or two drinks a year a couple years back, but now just don’t care to drink at all. [↩]
4. … and, in fact, most drinking now makes me slightly ill-feeling which is why I just don’t go out of my way to drink at all. [↩]

Anyone getting in a little humping over the holidays? Yeah. Not me either, though I bet there are plenty of people who will get some. Anyone up for a holiday betting pool?

Did you hear the joke about the first Thanksgiving? The one about if the Indians had given the pilgrims a donkey for that first dinner instead of a turkey, we’d all be getting a piece of ass this upcoming holiday …?

I promise not to give up my day job until after I finish school. And I promise not to go into comedy. Really.

For those who were asleep, yesterday was indeed my hatch day. For those who weren’t paying attention, I even gave the year of my birth—ironically, the same year as the establishment of the Church of Satan. A coincidence? I think not, my dear friends[1]. The only complaint I have is that my half-heartedly promised birthday gift never showed up, but I’m rolling with the disappointment. It’s not like this was unanticipated. In fact, I think I even said so before I reached yesterday. Not that it was a difficult prediction. However, my highlight was a handsome young man who decided that he wanted to take me to dinner. And so we ended up at Olive Garden, which just so happens to be one of my very favorite places to eat. I had my usual salad, breadsticks, and soup while he had a pizza and milkshake.

This will make Gerald smile:— Jinx and I are participating in the “Guest at your Table” program with our church[2]. It is little more than a box to catch loose change, but the opportunity to talk over dinner about various world issues—such as children not being able to have dinner or not having computers or a Playstation—has been quite remarkable. Jinx opens up and asks questions and I have to find answers, so it’s becomes an excellent dialogue for us both as well as putting our money, however little it may be, to use in something other than our own gratification-oriented whims[3]. Hopefully I will be able to use this as merely one in the beginning of lessons toward how to look beyond one’s selfishness, insecurities, and primal urges to see other people as part of the same web of life to which we all belong and then to do something about it.

We are not going out of town after all but we will be otherwise occupied for this holiday unless something else comes up that is more worthy of our time. Given certain other experiences of the last 48 hours, I’m remaining flexible to see if maybe family actually does take priority over anything else. We also already have our “tree trimming” plans at church since my offer for a hard-to-get-tickets-for rock concert on the same evening was turned down. And, later in the month we will be going with our church’s pagan earth-oriented spirituality group to the 16th Annual Winter SolstiCelebration (link to PDF event flyer) down at the Cathedral of Hope.

We’ve been working around here in the homestead on the concept (and consequences) of lying. I have a private post about a conversation I had with Jinx over this, but I’m not making it public[4]. But we had a scrap last night over a lie about his nighttime medicine. So, at nearly 1am, he was still awake because I trusted him over my instincts. Since I would hate to be wrong and overdose him, I rolled with it. Granted, it is a holiday night (along with the rest of the week nights this week, of course), but that does not excuse lying. I couldn’t decide on the fly how to deal with it other than I told him that I was disappointed and I would discuss it with him in the morning. Given my new policies on dealing with infractions (rather than the heated, angry method I’ve used in the past—trying to get away from heated and angry in total), I may just have him spend an hour cleaning this morning before starting his day.

Oh. A quick interlude here. Let me tell you: horny goat weed rocks. That’s all I’ll say for now. LOL!

Random Fact: Do you know why Alcoholics Anonymous fails more often than not? While I would only love too much to say that it was the fallacy in principles on which it is formed, alas, I would have to admit that such a goal would be just as fallacious and spiteful rather than truthful. No, in fact, the reason why Alcoholics Anonymous fails more often than not is because their meetings provide coffee (and usually donuts or breads stuffs of some kind) to alcoholics[5].

I think my dog is sick again. She’s acting mopey and apparently performed another Houdini trick out of her cage to go throw up in my living room. Still trying to figure that one out. She doesn’t seem to have any other symptoms at the moment, but I know that she needs to go to the vet for a check up in January (when I can afford it).

So today is officially the first day I start working on holiday plans. What to do, where to go, who to do it with (heh. sorry, my brain is definitely in the gutter this morning), what food to prepare, etc etc. I picked up a huge grapevine wreath from one of the Freecycle lists and I plan on stripping it down and making something with it for the holidays too. Was thinking about making that a family project, but we’ll see.

Overall … a good week so far. We’ll have to see how the rest plays out.

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1. Heh. I’ve always wanted to end a sentence like that! [↩]
2. … of which the decision was made final yesterday afternoon by Jinx that we’ve officially adopted this church as our own. [↩]
3. I did ask his mother to participate in her own way if she could but I received, of course, no response to that email—since it probably didn’t make her feel attacked or put her on the defensive. Here I am trying to teach my son about a love that is beyond mere words and spasms and any expression of that kind of love between adults is seen as something to blow off and ignore. Great role model material, to be sure. Fortunately, he doesn’t know I asked her, so he can’t be disappointed like I am. [↩]
4. It’s available to most who already have registered accounts here should they wish to go find it. [↩]
5. I’ll have an entire post on this—the food stuff, not the AA stuff—later in the week sometime. [↩]

Once again, here we go. I do this every year. It’s always interesting to me to see how this goes. And, yes, I still can see the patterns and the aspects of life that come about only to fit perfectly within the spheres of my life.

And this year? Oh, the irony that abounds already puts a smile on my face. (And, yes, the picture is only a couple days old now. Feel free to click to see me grow bigger.)

See ya next year!

Due to today’s events and other things going on, Naughty Knotty Tuesday will be back next week, same day, same blog, same irregular time.

I know how much you all were so looking forward to the exploits of today’s adventures.

Get over it. ;))

See ya next week and have a great, great Thanksgiving holiday!

It seems to me, among many other flies that I could point out in the ointment, Thelema—and, more specifically, those organizations who proclaim themselves bastions of thelemic culture—misses one vital piece of the whole floating device on the ocean of religiosity. Allow me, if you will, to quote at length one of the foremost experts (if not the foremost expert of experts) in the studies on the historical Jesus, John Crossan. This quote, completely out of the original context, to be sure, grabbed me immediately and spoke volumes as to part of the key both to Christianity’s success outside of Judaism and to Thelema’s failure—thus far—to secure a position as a viable spiritual and religious culture outside of Christianity.

[In Luke 24.13-33, two individuals] travel from Jerusalem to Emmaus on Easter Sunday. One is named and male; his companion … unnamed, is presumably female …. The risen Jesus joins them on their journey. But the road to Emmaus is not the road to Damascus [where Pauline Christianity, as a separate faction, would arise]. This is an apparition without blinding light or heavenly voice. This is a vision without slow demonstration or immediate recognition. Even when Jesus explains the scriptures about suffering and glorification of the Messiah, the travelers do not know who he is. But they invite the stranger to stay and eat with them. He does not invite them. They invite him.

As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. But they urged him strongly, saying, “Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.” So he went in to stay with them. (Luke 24:28-29)

You will notice how that invitation is emphasized. The pair have presumably arrived at their village home and, but for the invitation, the stranger would have passed on and remained unrecognized. … [But] it is the invitation that leads to the meal that leads to recognition. “Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight,” as 24:31 puts it. Resurrected life and risen vision appears as offered shelter and shared meal. Resurrection is not enough. You still need scripture and eucharist, tradition and table, community and justice; otherwise, divine presence remains unrecognized and human eyes remain unopened[1].

The bold emphasis is mine. Let me quote that portion again in pieces.

You still need scripture and eucharist. In other words, you still need the external Word and the semiotic element of internalizing that Word.

You still need tradition and table. Such a powerful combination right there. Tradition is the binding force of the community and the individual alike, but it is the table that not only is tradition shared, but tradition is challenged in an appropriate manner and even changed through the stable guidance of a shared meal, of a shared experience among those who are equals around the table.

You still need community and justice. I find these two individual pieces to be fascinating as presented. Community and justice as yet another layer of that divine presence. I might have phrased these in a bit different manner, but I think the point of community as larger aspect of justice is incredible. Look at the other two groupings. Scripture is the larger, more public or communal piece of that pairing. The eucharist is the individual or more personal aspect of what scripture symbolizes. Tradition, again, is the larger piece. The table, as a symbol, is the smaller aspect of that same piece. And so we see community as the larger piece here and justice as the subset, the individual piece. And justice, if it is to be a binding force, must be instilled on the individual level before it will function on the communal level.

In all of these pairings what we find is spirituality in action on both a macrocosmic and microcosmic scale of personal religion (scripture and eucharist), foundational and developmental culture (tradition and table), and communal society (community and justice). But it is not specifically the symbol, i.e., the resurrection, that is the key to either the resurrected life or the divine presence itself. It must be invited into the hearth and shared with a meal.

I started out by saying that I believe thelemic organizations, or many of them, had missed the boat. There are several reasons for this, but one of them is this lack of understanding as to the divine presence. We have people who have lost touch when both themselves and this presence of life itself by proclaiming naturalistic religion and psycho-babble as the same as this divinity within. They deny the scripture and the sacrament. By denying the scripture they betray the external symbol of our religion. By denying the sacrament they betray the internal symbol our of spirituality. These same people, whether they like to admit it or not, are influential in shaping our next generation.

But equally as dangerous is cultic tendencies of organizations to horde the Truth and betray both tradition and the table. By holding so closely to tradition they betray its living nature. By denying the table, they betray the nature of universal change, i.e., that inner sense of rebellion and questioning of authority that promotes healthy and positive evolution, that constantly shapes tradition for new and future generations.

The glue that has the potential of reconciling these two extremes is community and justice. And both extremes deny these and betray the nature of the social and individual in near equal measure.

It is important to realize that with any religious or spiritual path, the “resurrection is not enough”—whether literal or metaphorical. Just because there is an event does not mean that it is important without any follow through that comes later and puts that events both into perspective and into personal practice. Part of the push to see the HGA experience as something more than just an event but as a lifelong “conversation” process is precisely for this reason.

One can have the knowledge, i.e., the “resurrection,” but without the ongoing conversation. This last piece is not related to dialogue per se—though there is certainly some correlation—but actually comes from the Latin word conversātiō (which, ironically, is a feminine word in the Latin) which means a “way of live, conduct, or behavior.” It is more directly related to conversion and a monastic life than any kind of verbal discourse. The Conversation portion of the HGA experience is directly related to what Christians call “born again.” The problem is that they see it as a single point-event—much as Thelemites see the Knowledge portion of the HGA experience—and then it’s over. The conversion is a one-time deal[2].

But to know something, i.e., to have that “resurrection,” is not enough. One must go on to the conversation, to the conversion, that is a change in the way of life itself. And such an experience is not something that will go unnoticed. Nor, might I add, is it something that will only happen once in a lifetime. This is an ongoing evolution in one’s life. And it is through that evolution that we manifest these changes to the world. The real promulgation of the Law is through our lives living out both the scripture and the sacrament, the tradition and the table, and the community and the justice out in the real world to real people with real meaning.

Anything less is just lip service.

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1. Crossan, John. The Birth of Christianity, 1998. xi. [↩]
2. Granted, depending on which sect of Christianity you pull out from under their rock this may be a bit different. [↩]

So my normal Sunday post didn’t really work for me. Here’s a quick replacement. I’ve been mulling over this for a while now. Tillich presents five presuppositions necessary for rejecting both the old and the new orthodoxy as provided, mainly, by Karl Barth.

First, one must say that revelatory experiences are universally human. Religions are based on something that is given to man wherever he lives. He is given a revelation, a particular mind of experience which always implies saving powers. One never can separate revelation and salvation. There are revealing and saving powers in all religions. God has not left himself unwitnessed. This is the first presupposition.

The second assumption states that revelation is received by man in terms of his finite human situation. Man is biologically, psychologically, and sociologically limited. Revelation is received under the conditions of man’s estrange character. It is received always in a distorted form, especially if religion is used as a means to an end and not as an end in itself.

There is a third presupposition that one must accept. When systematic theologians assume the significance of the history of religions, it involves the belief that there are not only particular revelatory experiences throughout human history, but that there is a revelatory process in which the limits of adaptation and the failures of distortion are subjected to criticism. Such criticism takes three forms: the mystical, the prophetic, and the secular.

A fourth assumption is that there may be—and I stress this, there may be—a central event in the history of religions which unites the positive results of those critical developments in the history of religion in and under which revelatory experiences are going on—an event which, therefore, makes possible a concrete theology that has universalistic significance.

There is also a fifth presupposition. The history of religions in its essential nature does not exist alongside the history of culture. The sacred does not lie beside the secular, but it is its depths. The sacred is the creative ground and at the same time a critical judgement of the secular. But the religious can be this only if it is at the same time a judgement on itself, a judgement which must use the secular as a tool of one’s own religious self-criticism.

Only if the theologian is willing to accept these five presuppositions can he seriously and fully affirm the significance of the history of religions for theology against those who reject such significance in the name of a new or of an old absolutism.

On the other hand, he who accepts the significance of this history of religion must stand against the no-God-language theology. He must reject also the exclusive emphasis on the secular or the idea that the sacred has, so to speak, been fully absorbed by the secular.

—The Significance Of The History Of Religions For The Systematic Theologian. Paul Tillich, 1965

5 in the morning came really early … um … this morning. I had issues trying to sleep last night and didn’t even get in bed until after 1:00am. Back up at 5 again and on through dawn. Great. The day is quiet enough. It’s a holiday week and even though I still have work in one class, then other is all “makeup” work and I’m already caught up.

In many ways in life, I feel like a newborn with a machine gun. So many things are new in life and that’s exciting, but I’m not willing to be fucked with anymore as I emerge into this new world around me[1]. However, life has turned out to be much more colorful than even I gave it credit for being in the first place. I prefer this life. I spent so long hiding from it because of fear of people, fear of exposure, fear of interaction. I’ve even ruined whole relationships for this fear. Better late than never, I guess.

I’m still working on plans. It appears we may still be leaving town this weekend. Given that we have no family in town for the holiday and no plans, we got offered a trip out east and I think we’re going to take it. I have to work out a couple of details, but it sounds like fun. And it gets our 2009 travel plans off to a good start.

Have I mentioned that I miss her so much it physically hurts? Yeah. Okay. Let’s get something clear here:

Bitchy, Hormonal Interlude: Skip As Needed

You’re kidding, right? The whole current situation makes 2004 look like a holiday in Portugal Paris. I mean, I’m not sure I’ve actually been through anything like this before. It is now at the ludicrous stage of impossible to grok any rhyme or reason to her motivations, actions, desires, goals, plans, anything. I’ve never been more confused over all this than I am today. Never! And I’ll say this one more time: getting the shit beat out of me on a regular basis was much easier to deal with. But I have no more illusions about ’staying together for the children.’ Jenn cured me of that when she very patiently explained that “being a man” was no excuse to put up with the abuse even to keep a family together for the kids[2]. Of course she now thinks I’m supposed to take her shit too. But I’ve learned well. Maybe not well enough, but I’m not perfect by any means[3]. I just have so much equity in this relationship (a topic I’ll come back to later in my Sunday post that hasn’t been finished) that I don’t want to see it lost over either of us being stupid (which we are being anyway even if I’m the only one that can admit it).

I only wanted (still only want?) one thing for my birthday this year  (and it was not sex—though I certainly wouldn’t turn it down at this point). I’ve spent two months trying to prep the groundwork for this but, alas, it’s not happening that I can see. So while certainly a guilt trip—with flourish even—the final insult to injury will be complete and I will be finally cured seared of all attachment to this fucked up situation. Should this actually play out as I anticipate, then I certainly know that the future is singularly fixed with only Jinx and I moving on (and away soon). Fortunately, however, the drama will go away too—never to be seen or heard from again. Maybe there is a god after all? The problem is, of course, that I wish to be surprised by what I’m not anticipating. I guess I want to anticipate the unanticipatable or some kind of miracle? Yeah. Okay. Explain that one to me. LOL!

Moving Right Along Into Manic Mode

I owe three people emails today. I need to get started on my homework. Work is uber-slow for some reason.

Speaking of work, the idea that these guys can all sit around over there in a pow-wow and do nothing but talk golf, women’s breasts, and beer is astounding to me. Is this how I’m supposed to be to be successful, “keep” a woman, and find fulfillment in life? How utterly pathetic!

I was told this morning that I have no ass. Actually, I was told that I have no ass and that it was getting even more nonexistent. What the hell? I have an ass, thankyouverymuch!

I have like 5(?—huge, at least) gallon pasta cooker. I only mention that because I spent all last night making Chex Mix. LOL! That entire thing is full up! Of course, I then realized this morning how inconvenient that is when Jinx reminded me that I promised to make him spaghetti tonight for dinner. Oops. I’m not sure how the munchies will help my fitness goals[4], but I’ll have to play it by ear.

Oh. Speaking of fitness goals …! I went jogging this morning. Oh. My. Fucking. God. First, I’m not really sure my knees can handle this kind of abuse (and any comments from the peanut gallery will be met with swift sarcasm and sharp wit). Second, I need to learn how to run again. I know that sounds really weird, but I found myself trying to figure out how to pace myself. I mean, I’m a former track and field guy but this isn’t like riding a bike[5]! I’m going to keep going, of course, but … fuck! … this is going to be tough.

But just think about how fucking fine I’m going to look next summer when we hit the beach and I take off that shirt (with SPF 9000 sunblock, of course)! LOL!

Speaking of food: I’m getting this whole shopping thing down too. Jinx and I went grocery shopping last night. I have a budget of $200 and I make my list before I leave the apartment home. I’m pretty good, usually, at sticking to the list. Except this time. I was throwing shit in my basket right and left. But it was like the Chex Mix. I spent a little more to buy all the stuff for it than just a single bag of the pre-made stuff, but came out with six/seven times more Chex Mix with just the stuff I like in it. So worth it. But, really, I was picking up stuff that really wasn’t on my list and only forgot to pick up two “optional” things that I’ll go back and get for later this week. My total? $160. And, like I said, that included the garbage that wasn’t on my list that I last-minutes-shoved into my basket. Hello? We have so much stuff right now that I was running out of places to put it all. We are stocked to the gills and I might not even have to do a full shopping next paycheck.

Uh huh! Uh huh! Im in uz grocery store scarin’ uz lettuce, makin’ it wilt! Uh huh! Uh huh!

Speaking of healthy things, I started buying this bread for Jinx. He loves it. It’s sugar-free bread! He doesn’t seem to mind that it’s wheat bread either even though he initially tried to turn his nose up at it. But I really never thought I’d get him off white bread. Now I’m working through trying to learn what else I can get rid of and replace to continue the trend of removing the far majority of processed sugar (for starters) out of his diet. I know I won’t be able to eliminate it all, but even a 50% reduction would be helpful and I think (with wide estimates here) that I can get him down by 80-90% by the end of January if I try hard enough.

Okay. Well. That’s it I think. I’m all talked out for the day. I just need to work on my Sunday post (that will come out after this Monday post and I need to work on that better next weekend!) and figure out how to get into some trouble around here.

Anyone up for a little trouble with me?[6]  Heh.

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1. And, quite simply, I just want someone who will love me for me without reservation or regret. And: yes, yes; I know that I have Jinx, but I’m talking about adult relationships here for many different and I would think obvious reasons. Since I’m not going to get what I desire, I’ll have to start working on settling for what I can get or remain alone. A weekend spasm may be okay for some, but I’m not satisfied by such shallow behaviors and base urges. They’re fun with someone special, but I’m not interested in “just a fuck” or a weekend fling “because I can.” I’m not an 18 year old teenager in heat anymore. [↩]
2. And, to be frank about it, I have yet to consider staying with Jenn “for the kiddo.” Not happening and not interested. I want—*sigh* yes … still … even now—to stay with her because I care about her, her future, our future, us, and I love her. Just not sure how hard it is to grasp this concept. [↩]
3. I am, however, very grateful for the lesson in life even if it has certainly been learned so well now as to be extremely dangerous. I will only take so much—even though that is far, far more than most normal human beings—before I pack it all up and go home leaving a trail of mass destruction and chaos in my wake. I am just that petty thanks to Jenn’s careful training of how to deal with abusive partners. The Psycho™ still has never fully recovered from losing that war no matter how many more battles she won over me. I’m not the pussy that Jenn found 13 years ago though either—I only play one for effect. Wow. I just have this strong urge to break out into quoting Darth Vader: When I left you, I was but the learner; now I am the master. [↩]
4. … even if it might help my ass! [↩]
5. I really hope sex isn’t this hard to relearn! LOL! [↩]
6. Sorry, though. If you aren’t blonde (under black for now), beautiful, and run by the name Jenn, I doubt we’re going to find much trouble together. At least for quite some time to come. Sorry. [↩]

I wish I could be
As cruel as you
And I wish I could say
The things you do
But I can’t and I won’t live a lie
No, not this time

[YouTube video here]

I’ll eventually get Sunday’s post up tonight. It’s started, at least, I assure you.

But I’ve had a miserable day. Okay. That’s neither true nor fair. I’ve had a marvelous day. It just hasn’t been a day for getting blogging or emails or anything like that done. I could make some off-handed remarks on G’s journal, but that’s about it. Otherwise, it’s been church, food, shopping, homework, exams (and I still have one more to take tonight before bedtime), and a mess of child and dog. But my home is spotless and I am making the first batch of Chex Mix in the oven right now.

So, today’s post will get done. It’s just going to be later[1]. LOL! (And for those behind the times, I’m working through the seven Principles of Unitarian Universalism in my Sunday series.)

In other news, life has become much, much simpler in the last 24 hours. We’ve lost our baggage and now setting off on a new adventure without any. Imagine that.

Wanna take a ride?
—S.R. Hadden to Ellie Arroway in Contact (1997)

innervox

1. I can’t do it. I’ve had my world blown up again tonight—yes, yet again—and I’m tired and I somehow didn’t make a perfect score on my last exam tonight. I’m not in the frame of mind to finish this post. [↩]

For those who have ears to hear: it’s all I have left to say.

Foundations

In the end we’re all just chalk lines on the concrete
Drawn only to be washed away
For the time that I’ve been given
I am what I am

I’d rather hate you
For everything you are
Than ever love you
For something you are not

I’d rather you hate me
For everything I am
Than have you love me
For something that I can’t …

Its never enough
Its never enough
No matter what I say

Endgame

I’d give it all to you
I offer up my soul
It’s already over, already over now!

Give it all to you
Letting go of me
Reaching as I fall
I know it’s already over now
Nothing left to lose
Loving you again!

It’s so freakin’ freezing! (Actually, it’s just low 40s, but still…)

It looks like we will be trying to hit five states in five months in 2009 plus one possible overseas venture (though this latter is the prenascent stages of planning so I can’t really say much). Some may wish to keep their hotel rooms to hide things, but we’re planning on trying to get around without hotel rooms to see if we can’t meet some old friends and make some new ones. Since Jenn made her final intentions clear on Friday, the push to figure out new job possibilities and living arrangements will begin soon[1]. I feel like breaking out into Motley Crue: My heart’s like an open book / For the whole world to read / Sometimes nothing—keeps me together / At the seams / I’m on my way / I’m on my way / Home sweet home. It’s been a tough ride thus far and I think I’m starting to see the light[2]. Life around here is about to take off not just for the better—since it’s already that—but to new and spectacular peaks and valleys.

But let’s talk about the fun stuff! As if travel isn’t fun! Puh-lease!

Jinx and I went to Half Price Books, Gamestop, and IKEA and had a blast. We had Swedish meatballs for a snack since we’re having early dinner with my dad, grandmother[3], and other son late afternoon. I did pick up some DVD racks that just rock cool. Granted, that means that I have to be Mr Fix-it Man and put them up. I’m still trying to get the hang of things that I didn’t used to do on a regular basis. Not really my forte. But I’ve become quite handy with a screwdriver.

[dramatic pause inserted here]

I might even have to start craving power tools for Yuletide.

[another dramatic pause inserted here]

So very few people will actually get the humor in that and, sadly, the one who will doesn’t give a rat’s ass[4]. But we did stop by Half Price Books. I found a collector’s set of the Beauty series by Anne Rice. I almost bought them since it would appear that our library is going to be torn asunder by the same selfishness as our lives. But I really wanted to buy them as a gift[5] and decided against it. I did, however, pick up three books that were on the clearance shelves:

• The Plucker: An Illustrated Novel by Brom
• The Ruins by Scott Smith
• Poetry and Prose by Walt Whitman

Running around IKEA is just not the same withou…

Jinx and I had a blast running through IKEA. I so wanted to make some larger decisions than I did, but I needed a new set of flatware (since I just don’t have enough, believe it or not, for three since I try to minimize using the dishwasher every day) and a papertowel holder, and just some other small things. And I did pick up a bag of meatballs (minus the lingonberries this time) and the DVD racks. I probably shouldn’t have, but it’s just one more thing I can get out of my hall closet and out into the open.

Going to head off to finish cleaning the apartment our home and get all the laundry put up. Then it’s off to dad’s for a bit and see what the rest of the evening holds. We are working on planning next weekend out of town with some friends since we’re not doing Thanksgiving this year at all[6].

I gotta stop this bitter thing. Saturdays are supposed to be about the fun stuff. I guess I’ll work on getting these posts right starting next week. I mean, I stopped repressed everything else so that I can turn my life into a ticking emotional timebomb, but apparently this is the way I’m supposed to be since peace, love, and happiness is not allowed[7].

Okay. I’ll end with something goofy. While this is certainly a “home made” movie (and the creator admits it), it’s not the video but the song that struck me. LOL! It’s cute. And it’s one that will just go right over someone’s head. Of course, the video gives me heartburn for the simple reason that I can relate right now and it’s depressing to me to work so hard for so many years to have and give so much only to have it be tossed away for nothing more than a wet spot in the sheets.

I can’t help it, I’m just falling; I’ve learned from my mistakes and baby I’m not stalling
Sweet light pouring, sweet like cheesecake, porcelain skin, for heavens sake
Just gimme a break, just gimme some time, just gimme that look and I’ll make you mine, oh Valentine
What a pick-up line, butterflies and cloud nine, in decline all the time
You always do, you always do, you put me through this mess everyday

innervox

1. I’m still living in a state of willing denial and need some time to process all this new information (and allow the fantasy in my head some time to change her mind). [↩]
2. Maybe not, but it’s fun to think that one has finally reached a plateau of understanding. The loss is sharp, but the future is full of so much possibility and potential just waiting to be explored. Tough shit for those who aren’t interested in going with us. Their loss—and I’m beginning to feel no sympathy for demands that are highly unreasonable. Get on the tour bus or stick with the little bicycle you’ve picked up out of the gutter. Once the bus leaves, it ain’t coming back for any reason at all. But shut the fuck up either way and shove that attitude back in some unused hole. [↩]
3. … whom I haven’t seen since my mother died last year [↩]
4. I guess I just so really miss the humor, conversation, and connection we had that she claims (ironically, given the ability to joke about certain obvious things that only she would really get) never were real. It’s actually quite heartbreaking. I really don’t want to have to spend another 13 years trying to start over to just reach the point with someone where a single sentence can hold so may different layers of personal meaning that are filled with joy, laughter, love, and incredible memories. [↩]
5. As I sat there are stared at them, though, I realized they would be taken as expected, never really appreciated for the gift (or the meaning behind the gift), and then such thoughts yet again turned to someone other than me. I’m dealing with some harsh realities here. Nothing I do is good enough at all for someone who claimed to have loved me so much. [↩]
6. It’s all good. It’ll be fun for us both to get away from the uncertainty, chaos, and lack of presence that addiction has pissed all over us for the last couple of years. It’ll be really nice to be around people who care about us rather than just themselves. [↩]
7. It’s just that getting out to “live life” makes me realize how much my experience of life itself was wrapped up totally in my experience of living my life with her. Obviously, the converse, for her, is not true. So many things are still fun but ultimately feel empty because I’m not enjoying them with her next to me smiling, laughing, playing, and enjoying the same things like we used to do—even though she still sits around claiming otherwise. And, quite frankly, nearly all of … well … everything is stuff I would just rather do with her than without her. Most of it was special because she was part of it not because of the experience itself. [↩]

See? I finally figured out the problem. I don’t understand it, but that is because I’ve never had this problem.

I’m not shallow.

Now … I’m sometimes stupid, but I’m not shallow by any stretch of the imagination.

So when you ask someone which of the two choices they want to keep …

1. Fuck Buddy
2. Family

… and they have to actually think about that, you just don’t get any clearer about what they hold in the way of priorities. It’s really is that simple and not something likely to be misunderstood at all. And I don’t mean a shocked hesitation of “I can’t believe you would even ask me such a question,” but a flat out “I need to think about that because I don’t know how to phrase my answer” pause of thought. Huh? A over there. B over here. Which do yo want to keep? See? Easy. No special wording required.

Personally, I picked B and I did so without even thinking about it. It came naturally as if already part of me. I’ve had A before and found it unrewarding in the big picture and it contributed nothing to the priorities of my life—except more pain, heartache, and trouble. No thank you. I’ll take the hardships of a committed and delicate relationship any day over the transient spasm of a weekend wet spot.

Not everyone has the same priorities in life.

And that’s a major problem.

I’m starting to figure out where the bank of this river in Egypt actually is and heading that direction to stop swimming in the muck.