Our Own Petard

Anger, frustration, disappointment and defensiveness… where do these emotions come from? I have an inkling of an idea but that is all it truly is… an idea. See, I’m not a brain doctor, or a social expert or even a human relations board certified mentalist. Nope, I’m just an observer of human behavior and interactions.

            A voyeur so to speak. For example, if I go to the mall, airport, park or even at either one of my jobs, if I’m not careful, I end up watching people for endless hours. Usually it starts of innocently enough, just wondering where they are coming from, where they are going, what they are buying and if they are truly happy. Then, my maniac gets loose from his chains and all sorts of guttural thoughts come to mind. Is that man cheating on his wife with that woman? Has that kid just stolen something from that store? Does that young girls parents know she is not at school in the middle of the day and that she is at the mall with someone who is at least twenty years her senior?

            Yeah, and those are just the light thoughts. What I don’t see is a young couple out shopping for items for their first apartment. Or the fact that this young kid just finished his shift at the store he is currently employed at or even that the man is taking his daughter our shopping for her birthday and also to celebrate that she is an honor roll student. Nope, my head goes right to the dark side of human nature. Which can suck in life. Always seeing the bad and fighting to see the good.

            I could blame television and social media. It would be easy. After all, if any of you ever sit at home during the day and flip through the endless channels that are available to us, you will see what I mean. Steve Wilkos, Oprah, Maury Povich, Whatever-Court, any reality show and the news is enough to drive you to the dark side and call Emperor Palpatine your daddy. However, if like me, you get disgusted and try to find something on the internet to watch, like youtube videos or shows on demand, it just gets worse. I don’t understand how a video with Neil DeGrasse Tyson talking to congress on space exploration only has a few hundred thousand views and some idiot teenagers fighting in a school parking lot over something inane has over two million views.

            Actually, that’s a lie, I do understand why. It’s because at our core, as human animals, we would rather see conflict and ass-whooping over trying to educate ourselves and learn something that could be helpful to our future existence. Which is why I suppose I avoid popular shows on the black box and on the internet.

            I find myself listening to debates between creationists and atheists or watching informative videos or programs based on the advancement of the human race. No, I don’t watch cat videos, or fight videos and I try my damndest to not watch any reality based programming. It’s not easy, simply because there are times when people in my life are watching them and I can’t avoid them. When this happens, I usually end up just replaying what I’ve heard or seen on an educational podcast or video and replay the information in my head and try to understand a deeper meaning to what was said.

            I suppose my point to this so far is, we, as a human race, as americans, end up taking our cue from what we input into our own brain. If we see on television or internet men and women fighting and bickering over trivial bullshit even though they are not married and the woman has four kids from three different daddies and the man has five kids from four different women yet they both expect each other to be faithful to each other seems like a contradiction in human intelligence. After all, how can you expect someone to live up to your expectations even though you can’t live up to those expectations yourself? You can’t. And I’m sure I could look up on the internet the probability numbers on this situation, but I don’t want to. Because it just makes my head hurt and my heart ache for our future.

            Which brings me to my initial point, where does all the strife come from? I’d like to be able to just point to the media and blame them, but I can’t. Simply because the media only broadcasts what is consumed by the public. If the public likes to watch idiots fight on television over paternity tests or misdemeanor damaged property, then they’ll give it to them. If the public wants to watch half naked self-proclaimed celebrities argue the trivialities over who has the best smelling vagina, then so be it. But be warned media, I won’t partake. Sure, I’ll eventually get the information through the social networks weeks, months and sometimes years later, but to expect me to stay current on the comings and goings of the shenanigans of the media decreed kings and queens of the world at whatever moment they feel. Also, these pronounced rulers of pop culture seem to change not just on a daily basis but on an hourly basis as well. Which even writing about gives me a migraine.

            This is the crux of my problem. You see, I believe that this is where most of all the bad shit in life comes from. Not the media, they are just corporations trying to make money. Which they do through commercial sales. The only way to get good commercial sales is by showing the numbers of the people watching the programming they have. Which means, the corporations are subject to the wants and desires of the general public. Which means, we, as media consumers actually have the power to improve what we watch and what is programmed for us on not just the airwaves but also the internet. I have little faith in the American general public though. It seems they, as a whole, more than relish in the travails of the trivial.

            So, when I feel angry, frustrated, defensive or even insulted, it would be easy for me to point the finger at the media but I’d be pointing to the wrong culprit. The true culprit is the wonderful men and women of this country I served to protect and serve not just in the united states military but also as an employee of a law enforcement agency. For they are the true guilty party.

            Guilty in the fact that they demand to see people more devoid of humanity than they themselves are, just so they can feel better about their lives and how insecure in their positions they are. They thrive on the angst and frustration of people they deem less intelligent, less righteous and even less moral than they are, and those feelings in turn become a spark for their own lack of self-control when a situation comes up where they should act level headed and sane. Nope, they shelve those thoughts and dive head long into an empty pool of disaster because that is what they have seen and learned from. They end up imitating the information they themselves have demanded. Then, when the outcome is more explosive than what they thought it should be, and they are surprised… I laugh, because I know, they are only responsible for their own actions by their own actions because of their own actions.

            Have a great week.

Hopeful Birthdays

Next Tuesday marks the sixteenth birthday of my daughter. An epic birthday for just about everyone. I’m happy for her. She is seemingly well adjusted. Has good relationships with myself and her mother as well as just about everyone in her life. She likes school, has friends and is involved in several extracurricular activities. In other words, she is a lot more advanced at her age than I was.

            All of this is makes me feel like I’ve accomplished something. I mean, after all, as parents, all we really want is for our kids to have it better than we did when we were at whatever particular age they are. I like to think I’ve been somewhat successful in this goal. After all, when I was her age nothing in my life was concrete. Most days, I didn’t even know when or if I was going to eat, let alone where I was going to lay my head for the night.

            As for my birthdays, they were never really anything special and I don’t remember very many of them. However; for my child, I’ve tried to always give her what she’s wanted for her date of entrance into this world. I like to think I’ve been successful with this. Of course, I’ve always had help in doing making her special days come true.

            This year, her wish was quite simple. She wanted a girl’s weekend in a hotel at a beach. Since her birthday is in October it is off season for most beach front resorts. Now, financially, I really can’t afford for her to go off for a full weekend, or even one day. Yet, when I thought about her request I really couldn’t come up with a reason to say no. Aside from the bills. On the heels of that thought was maybe the maniac of my conscious saying “Do it. Damn the bills. Let her have her weekend.” Of course my pragmatic side attempted to skewer the maniac with a flaming spear gun. The maniac ducked, laughed maniacally and shouted “LET HER GO!” he then bum rushed the pragmatist in my head, kicked him in the junk and then proceeded to stomp the level headed imaginary sense of self into a greasy, bloody puddled of primordial ooze.

            Yup, the maniac won, and in doing so, my daughter won.

            She, my offspring, two of her friends and the mother of my child are all going on a road trip starting tomorrow. They have a beach front hotel room, a swimming pool, a metric ton of snacks, music and boy talk to catch up on over the next forty-eight hours of estrogen fueled reprieve.

            I couldn’t be happier for them. If not a bit jealous.

            I mean, I can’t imagine how much fun they are going to have. I can imagine what I would have done at sixteen with two of my best pals and my father or father figure in a hotel room at a beach resort for a weekend. Especially since where they are going is going to have a ridiculously large car show going on all weekend. Not that these girls are gear heads. Although my kid loves Harley’s and Mustangs, I’m sure she will see a few motorized transports that will catch her eye. Not to mention, she has her learners permit and wants nothing more to do than drive all day and all night. Yeah, I’m sure they are going to have a blast.

            I’m glad I could do this for them.

            Which brings me to this past week.

            I met a man and his mother this week. When I met them, they looked as if they’d been run through some sort of medieval torture device. I saw the stress and pain on their faces and in their eyes. So I talked to them. What I found out was tragic.

            I’m not going to go into too many details of their situation simply because I don’t have permission to do so. What I will say is that the man with the help of his mother are from another state and embroiled deeply in a custody battle for the man’s four year old little girl. It seems this battle has been going on for several years and across several state lines. Somehow, they ended up in my adoptive burg I like to call home. Also, oddly enough, they ran into me, the semi-self-proclaimed “Prince of Portsmouth”.

            I say semi-self-proclaimed because I never used that title until a good pal of mine called me it one day. That, however; is a story for another day. Regardless, once they laid their burden upon my shoulders I knew I had to help them in any way I could. When they informed me of their local attorney’s name, I recognized it as one of the best family practices in town and told them so. I also informed them that I knew the attorney’s personally and when they meet them again, tell them I said hello.

            When the mentioned the judge who is handling the case, coincidentally enough, I knew him as well. I assured them that they were in good hands and he is a just and fair man. Which is about the time the grandmother of the child pulled out her phone and showed me pictures of her grand-daughter. A small, curly blonde haired, blue eyed cutie, playing in the snow. Making snow angels, snowballs and hugging her grandparents. My heart leapt with happiness to see such a wonderful moment in life. Then it tore apart. Thoughts of this young lady growing up without the influence of her father or grandparents and all the joys of frolicking in snow, baking cookies, making hot cocoa or even just enjoying a walk amongst the fall leaves while holding hands of the ones who care for her was almost too much to bear.

            So I gave them more information about my fair city. I told them who they should speak with in the court system and who would help them. Gave them the names of the people who make sure the proper paperwork gets filed on time and filed properly and without mistakes. I encouraged them to look up these people and I also informed them that if they were religious and thought they needed prayer, I could help them in that aspect as well.

            They were grateful for the knowledge and then asked me where they could get pictures of the child printed. I readily told them.

            When they departed, they didn’t seem so distraught, so oppressed or even so hopeless. No, they actually seemed happy. Which is cool.

            Not twenty-four hours later, I got word that they in fact had gone to court, met with some people I had advised them to meet with and everything went off pretty much without a hitch. Also, I received a friend request on facebook from the father of the young lady.

            I don’t know why I did all this for them. Not that I really did much really. I just tried to help them work their way through southern politics and paperwork. Most days, I’d just wish them well.

            Maybe it is because my daughter is so near and dear to me. Maybe I can’t imagine a father not being able to have a healthy and wonderful relationship with their kid. All I know is that something inside of me compelled me to help them. So I did. And now, I hope for the best outcome for them.

            After all, there is no greater joy in a parent’s life than when they are able to make the dreams of their children come true. If you don’t believe me and you are a parent, just wait until Christmas morning when your offspring open that unobtainable gift that youscoured the internet for, fought other adults at the toy store for or even called in more than several favors to obtain.

            The joy, the love, the sense of accomplishment and the unadulterated bliss a parent feels at those moments is more than one human can humanly contain. Nope, it has to be shared. Shared with friends, family and passer-by’s. It’s what we do.

            We give the gift of small miracles in the hopes that one day our children will be able to do the same for their kids. A lesson they learn from the feet of their parents.

            Goose, Happy Birthday! I hope you have a great weekend and that you have a hundred more miracle birthdays ahead of you.

            For the rest of you, you know what I’m going to say…

            Have a great week.

Pimping

Tomorrow, if all works out, I will be doing my second ever public reading. That is, if the weather cooperates for me and my fellow readers. Unfortunately, two writers have already canceled on us. I can’t blame them. After all, their trips would have them drive about five hours here, relax for a bit, get a bite to eat, read their tales, go to their hotel room, sleep, wake up and drive home another five hours in rain. So yeah, no one can blame them.

            In light of the recent meteorological events, we have been preparing for this night since February. By we, I mean myself, my buddy Mark, my co-worker Slim and all the writers. We’ve been meeting in person, talking on phones, building websites, writing stories, passing out flyers, practicing our readings of stories and fighting over food, snacks, beverages and any and all basic details of the logistics of the event.

            Yet through all of this, I’ve been practicing my story and helping another writer with theirs. Which is cool since this is actually going to be her first reading and she was and most likely still is, very nervous and that is to be expected. After all, I remember how nervous I was last year and I can only imagine what she must be going through. I hope she does as well as she has in practice.

            As for the other guys who are reading, I know they’ve had years of experience. They are professional, well as professional as writers can be on a dismal, rainy October evening.

            No, my biggest concern is with the attendance. I’m hoping for a good turnout. That the weather won’t be a deterrent for visitors who’ve been looking forward to attending. Yeah, to say that I’m nervous about attendance is like saying the universe is big. I have no idea what is going to happen and I don’t like it.

            People are worried about weather, hurricanes and getting stranded. I don’t worry about such trivial occurrences. I worry whether or not we can pull this event off and if it is a success, can we do it again next year.

            So where does this all lead too? Simple, if you are in the greater Hampton roads area, and you have nothing planned for October 3^rd between 7 and 9 pm, get yourself and loved ones to 420 High St. and support your local horror writers who are starving for your attention.

Have a great week.

A Little Lighter.

A couple weeks back, I was at a mega-store. Okay, maybe not a mega-store, but it was a super-store. Kroger. They are primarily known for selling groceries. However; in light of this, they also sell clothes, toys, books, health and beauty items and they even have a pharmacy. Which is the reason I was there, to pick up some medicine, so while I was waiting for the medicine to be ready I walked over to the men’s clothing area because, as I stated before, I needed new underwear.

            I found a package of cotton that suited my needs and went to purchase them. I used the self check out aisle. I don’t like to do this, but all the human operated aisles were full of people with loaded baskets and I only had one item. Now, I have a very good reason for not liking self check out. Okay, reasons. Primarily, as part of the cost of any item in the store, there is also factored into said cost the money they need to pay for their cashiers, their managers, their cleaning staff and even the stock boys. When I use self-check-out, I’m not getting paid nor am I getting a discount on the products I’m purchasing. Basically, I’m paying a premium for a product and the company is getting a free employee whom they don’t have to pay taxes on, or medical care on, or social security on, or unemployment taxes on… or any of those many other hidden costs of business. Also, why would I want to work for free?

            Another reason I don’t like these machines is that you will always have problems with them. Either the computer doesn’t scan the item correctly, or it doesn’t recognize the produce you’re trying to weigh, or even the scale where the bags are doesn’t realize you’ve already put the groceries into the bag on the scale. When any of this happens you have to push a button and wait for, oh, lets’ say… ten minutes for a manager to arrive, fix the problem by pushing various touch screen buttons and threaten the computer with destruction by waving an overripe, overlarge eggplant at the little glass box and laser.

            I could go on… but I’m getting lost in thought and I need to stay focused… so when I scanned my five pack of cotton and the cost of thirty eight dollars popped up on screen I immediately pushed the call button for a manage. Why? Because I don’t spend that much money on underwear, neither do you. Hell, I can’t imagine anyone who would.

            When the manager arrived, I expressed my concern about the cost of the item, he shook his head and said something must be wrong. So he paused the computer and asked me to follow him to where the underwear were located. When we arrived at our destination he pointed out a sign that clearly stated that the computer had the correct price. I told him he was nuts and that I would not be paying for the briefs. He offered me a fifteen percent off coupon. I refused, went to the pharmacy, picked up my meds and left.

            That was weeks ago.

            Yesterday I went to a new store, actually an old store to get some groceries and I happened to walk through the men’s section and I stopped at the underwear aisle. I found the same brand with the same amount of product inside it and it was less than half the price of Kroger’s. I shook my head and looked for my size which is when I found a bag that offered seven pair for the price of five. I quickly did the math, two bucks a pair instead of almost five bucks a pair across the street. Yes, the two stores are literally across the street from each other.

            Kroger… thirty eight bucks for five pair of Hanes underwear.

            Wal-Mart… fourteen bucks for seven pair of Hanes underwear.

            What the hell is wrong with this scene? This world? These capitalists and consumers?

            I can’t even remember the last time I walked into a Wal-Mart but I know when the last time I was at Kroger. Not five minutes after I left Wal-Mart. I did this just to make sure I wasn’t losing my mind.

            I wasn’t. Kroger still had the same price on the underwear. Also, I don’t think they had sold any to any customers in weeks. Maybe it’s the price, maybe customers just don’t need them or maybe no one really knows they are there. But I do and I make sure that others know as well. Why? Because no one needs to be gouged just for comfort and I can wait until they get their Hanes on me. (I know… bad pun)

Have a great week.

Grace

I have very little idea in how to describe what has happened in my world this week. I suppose I could start from Sunday night.

            I received a death threat. In person. On my porch and from a person I did not at first recognize. Eventually, I did recognize him. Plus the fact he left his business card for me to identify and turn over to the cops helped. Yes, I called the cops, filed a report and was given an emergency protection order. I also called a well armed friend, my wife, boss and several others in my life I know and trust to help calm me down and protect me.

            Because of this, I haven’t slept much all week. Also, I like to sleep in dark places, which I have not really been in. Lights across my house have been left on. Inside and out. Not to mention the mandatory purchasing of “No Trespassing” signage, the paranoid traveling to and from work using various non direct routes as well as doubling back on my routes to ensure some crazy fool in a modified Toyota truck isn’t following me has left me all but exhausted.

            Then, of course there has been my work load at both jobs. The never ending deluge of household chores and of course doctor’s visits, offspring needs and life in general has made me one grumpy person. Yet, here I am, still breathing, still working, still living and still staying the course.

            To answer your unasked question. Yes, I have been living in fear all week long. Fear of harm befalling me, my family, my coworkers and my property. A fear I’ve never felt before. After all, how many times have you been face to face with a person who when you look into their eyes you see nothing but hatred, anger, hate and pain. To tell the truth, I feel bad for this man and I hope he gets help. I hope he finds a calm and peaceful place in his life where he can figure out his own world and life.

            I know that sounds strange. Giving well wishes to a person who has threatened you. Hoping that a person who seems to have nothing but evil thoughts can find peace. Wishing a person who has threatened to destroy your family and life a long life, an understanding family and love.

            I suppose… and I don’t want to come off as preachy here, cause I’m not a preacher, but I have to be able to afford grace to this person. I have to be able to let his discretions slough away in the tide of life. Just like Jesus taught the masses. I can’t really remember the exact words, I think it was in Luke where he said “Take heart, your sins are forgiven.” (I know, I know, I could look it up but I’m a little lazy and I don’t have internet on my porch right now. Also, I know when I go to post this, I’ll most likely have forgotten about this line.)

            Now, whether you are a believer or not, those are powerful words. “Take heart, your sins are forgiven.” To me, that is grace. He didn’t say he was going to forget your sins, he said they were forgiven. Which is pretty cool. To me at least it is. So, this is what I’m doing. I’m going to forgive, not forget. Also, I am going to hope and pray he has had time to come to his senses, realize his errors, maybe find some help in alleviating his pain he is going through and live a better life.

            In the bible, I believe, if my memory is correct, Jesus said this to a guy who was paralyzed. The words healed the paralyzed man. Which seems really cool. Just don’t ask Mr. Jefferson, this story is removed from his bible, which is another story altogether.

            I wish I could say that to the man who threatened my life. I wish I could go back in time and say something as cool as that and see if the words could cure the paralyzing anger, hatred, and angst that seems to have paralyzed him. I’m not saying he needs to find God, or Jesus or even religion. What I am saying is he needs to find a way to be healed. Whether it is through modern pharmaceuticals, religion, friends or family, I hope he finds his path.

            Because he was and most likely is still lost, and being lost in this world, mentally, physically, emotionally and mentally can’t be a good time for anyone. I’m not saying he is lost in all those areas, I am saying he acted out irrationally, and in my experience, most irrational acts are performed by people who have become trapped in a wilderness either of their own making or someone elses making. Once in that wilderness, everything becomes a maze and you quickly lose your way. I know this because I’ve lived it. I’ve suffered it and I’ve overcome it.

            This doesn’t mean I am still out of the woods so to speak. I don’t think I will ever be completely un-lost. But I know that harboring ill will towards another person is not a way to live your life.

            Lastly, and this is one of the only thoughts that has allowed me to sleep at night, if anything does now happen to me, my family or property or friends, the first place the law enforcement community will go to is this persons house. Which is sad in a way, yet I can’t help but feel a small sense of security because of it.

            In conclusion; be good to each other, help each other and grant grace even when it is not warranted. Life’s too short to harbor evil feelings whose only purpose is to help you self destruct.

            Have a great week.

Metaphysical Seasoning

The crepe myrtle trees, once with boughs of lush, Kelley green leaves and pink boughs as inviting as carnival cotton candy are starting to change. The leaves, now yellowing, withering and drying in the sun go almost unnoticed with each passing day. The blossoms, once vibrant, soft and a joy for observing and smelling, are now nothing but fodder for the wind. They coat the grass and street with their fading glory, only to trampled underfoot or wheel. If you are fortunate enough to be a passing pedestrian and the wind is just right, your exposed skin and clothes will become coated with the small fragile petals of summer. Their soft caress on your skin will go almost unnoticed, that is until a kind stranger or friend gently plucks the dying bloom from your body.

            Yes, summer is over. Across the continent kids are headed back to school, families are planning Sunday football gatherings, invites for Halloween parties are going out in the mail and email across the nation. The weather is cool and crisp in the morning, our vehicles are covered with dew and few people leave their homes without light weight jackets.

            The days are temperate and many people can be found sitting outside on their lunch break trying to absorb the last vestiges of the nutrients of the sun before the bleakness of winter grips us in her icy clutches. Which brings a whole set of other problems. Yet, for now at least, life is pleasant. Relaxing and enjoyable.

            The onslaught of endless hours of work in closed offices while the bitter northern winds chase away the temperate warmth are weeks away. Yes, it is coming up on my favorite time of the year. Fall.

            No more yard work, no humidity that is so thick it makes breathing a chore, furnace like temperatures are no longer the norm and in general, people seem much nicer, at least to me that is. Sure, I’ll miss being able to sit on my porch some nights, or even being able to ride my motorcycle without heavy gear, but it is a nice change from what we’ve been living under.

            All of this leads me up to this; change. Like the seasons, we too change. We may not know it, but we do. I know I have. Seems to be a theme this past three weeks with me. I’m trying to change. I believe it is working. I feel better about everything in my life right now. And, if I’m truthful with myself, not just you, my dear reader, I would have to say I can’t even remember feeling as good as I have in over five years. Which I can only attribute to a series of small yet key changes. All of which add up to some pretty major changes for someone like me.

            Kind of like the way our seasons work. It is the small, almost imperceptible changes that no on notices until there are no more leaves on the trees, or snow is falling all around them and they are having to grab shovels and brooms to clean off their steps and drive ways. This is what is happening with me. With most people I would think.

            Every day, we make decisions either for the better or worse for our lives and eventually we will find ourselves in a better or worse world of our own making. Some decisions will lead us to a life of comfort, living in a nice home, surrounded by people who care about us, and in some cases, we find ourselves in our own prisons. Be they actual or mental, we find ourselves there.

            That thought brought me to this one, how do we make sure we are making the right decision, following the right path, and choosing what is best for our future?

            We can’t. I mean sure, some things are a no-brainer… should I rob a bank for money or try to get a second or third job? Sure the former is sounds like a quick score, but you will wind up in prison or dead. While the latter will leave you exhausted and distant from the ones you are trying to take care of. However; one can be temporary and lead to a permanent fix for your situation and the other one will leave you sitting in a cramped four by six foot cell eating bologna and cheese sandwiches for the next twenty years.

            So, yeah, some choices are easier than others. But what happens when the lines of right and wrong are blurred, when the subtleties of the situation are so convoluted and you have less than a minute to make a decision? Well, I only have one solution for that… Which is this; if you have a history of making good decisions then you will be almost assuredly correct in your initial reaction. However; if your life is filled with making poor decisions and getting into trouble for those choices, stop, reassess the situation and change your mind. Hopefully that will work.

            I wish it were simpler than that. Also, I wish no one would be faced with tough decisions. Life would be so much easier if we didn’t have to. Much more boring too. I know I don’t like boring, nor do most of the people I know. For the most part, we as humans are flawed individuals. Always making mistakes, falling on our faces, making fools of ourselves and then picking ourselves up, laughing at our own hubris and moving on. Hopefully a bit wiser and definitely a bit more dinged up physically, emotionally and mentally.

            There are no better lessons in life than the ones we teach ourselves at the cost of our own pride, dignity and sanity. The course of our lives are like the seasons, we spend time full of wide eyed wonder, followed by youthful arrogance, then quite suffering for our offspring and finally, hopefully in quiet comfort and nostalgic thought as we observe the new generations enjoying their own seasons.

            Seasons they don’t even realize they are so carelessly meandering through, but seasons we see with our 20/20 hindsight of a lifetime filled with experience. We are only wise because of the lessons we learned from the mistakes we’ve made in our lives and the changes those lessons have wrought onto us.

            So a toast, so to speak, of the new and upcoming season of earth and our lives.

            Have a great week.

Band Aid Relief

An odd thing has been happening to me lately. Okay, not to me, around me. I’ve been noticing certain things. These things are called band aids. They are everywhere.

            On my walk from the parking garage to my work, I see unopened band aids sitting on the sidewalk. I see used ones stuck on parking meters, trees and the street. Heck, I even saw one dangling off an empty coffee cup laying forgotten and crumbled next to a trash can outside a convenience store.

            It’s strange. All week long I’ve seen this elastic and cotton bits of mass manufactured bits of temporary relief that allows our body to heal itself. It’s like the world, the universe, the supreme power is trying to tell me something.

            Is the message “the human body needs help healing”? or “sometimes, small things matter”? or even “people are just disgusting because the discard biological hazardous waste so carelessly”? I don’t know.

What I do know is that I’ve been trying to get my own body healed. For the past twelve days, as of this writing, I’ve given up taking an extreme regimen of pills my doctor has had me on for the past five years. The pain killers, gone, the muscle relaxers, gone, the anti-inflamitories, gone. Basically, a total detox. No mood changers or physical relief unless it’s an over the counter crème or powder.

I stopped taking them cold turkey. I’m doing this in an attempt to force my body into working for itself. To reboot its system and start working for itself again and not rely upon manufactured man-made artificial drugs to cure the faults in my system.

It wasn’t easy.

            As expected, my body revolted. Not from my brain screaming out for the drugs, but from my joints, my bones and my muscles. This manifested itself as excruciating pain. Not the worst pain I’ve ever experienced, but pretty damn bad.

            Those first few days, I was hobbled over, limping, and shuffling like a man not days away from his death bed. I the proverbial troll under the bridge in that old Aesop fable. My family expressed concern and tried to nurse me as best as they could. Yet, even through all that pain, my will and determination were singular. Work through it. Make, no force my body to take care of itself.

            I knew mentally, when I started this, I’d need at least one person to be held accountable to for my actions. So I reached out to not just one, or two but three people. People I know who would answer a text message or phone call from me. They were very supportive and informed me that I should also speak with my doctor. Which I did and is a conversation for later.

            These three people I chose, did not let me down. They were and still are there for me to talk to about my situation. I cherish them for this.

            I also knew I couldn’t keep this quiet and personal. So I told everyone I pretty much came into contact with on a daily basis. A form of accountability. So they would know right after they asked me why I was hobbled over and had a look of pain and suffering stamped across my face. Some thought I was crazy, some thought it was honorable and some didn’t think at all. Yet all, have asked me within the last twelve days how my sobriety was going.

            My answer “Good. I’m doing well.”

            Which is true. This past Monday I actually woke up without any pain whatsoever. No aches in any of my joints. My muscles were relaxed, and pain that scoured my body, gone. I don’t know if this is a permanent condition or even if I will be able to survive the rest of my life without the damnable pills invading my system again.

            Now, I hope you’re not thinking “Oh, hell, Skip has gone off the deep end and he’s going to start preaching and hugging trees and worshipping a tree.”

            No, quite the opposite. This was a personal choice. A choice to try and make my life more manageable and better. Better for myself and my family.

            I made a similar decision years ago when some shrink prescribed mood pills for some emotional shit I was going through. Those pills within a month had basically turned me into a zombie. I had no opinion, I had joy and I took no pleasure in anything. I stopped them and dealt with the issues I was going through myself. I can’t say I healed myself but I did get better and I was forced to put myself in a frame of mind so that I could deal with any future crap that might come down the pike of my life.

            I did what I thought best for myself. Which is what we all should do. What you should do. You have to make choices for yourself and your life and your family for the betterment of your travels on this spaceship we call earth.

            I know I’m in a better place right now. I hope in the future I will continue to get healthy and sounder in mind, body and spirit. I have these same hopes for you, my dear reader. That you will find your own peace through whatever means in your life. Be it through your body performing miracles by healing itself, your mind dealing with unknown trauma or even a small band aid on your finger tip stopping the flow of life force rushing out of your body.

            Have a great week.