Story of My Feelings

On with the countdown and we're onto "A wizard, a true star" or as it is
warmly known among his fans as AWATS. So, right before my senior year in
high school, my best friend's Dad was reassigned and my best buddy moved
away.

A couple years after graduation, another buddy and I went to visit our
lost friend in Wisconsin. It was just after Christmas, so we were going
to bring in the new year there because the drinking age was 18. Well
after drinking all night and trying to hit on this chick (all night) we
ended up crashing at someone's apartment. We ring in the new year and it
gets late. We crash on the floor and the couches.

After a couple of hours I woke up with my buddies bare ass right in my
face. The story went that after we all crashed my buddy kept up the
pressure on my date's friend, and then one thing led to another. I could
never get over the balls they both had to screw in a roomful of
"sleeping" people. I can't imagine the charisma my buddy had to have to
talk this girl into getting nasty in a room full of people. Well I
wasn't about to throw cold water on their party, so I pretended not to
notice. They finally finished and crashed too, but is was certainly
strange catching them getting their freak on.

I'd have to confess that New Years Eve has never been one of my favorite
celebrations. There are only a few that stick in my mind as memorable.
To remember probably my favorite New Years Eve, I've started listening
to my Todd Rundgren collection. I'm going to see how far through his
formidable repertoire I can get before the new year comes. So far, I've
listened to Todd and Something & Anything. I'll recount some of my best
New Years Eve memories as I continue my journey through Toddlandia.

How can it be? That we celebrate around the world, some the same, some
altogether different. And yet, while I'm here amongst a celebration, my
heart lies a thousand miles away? What tricks are these that cause us
sadness, when we are surrounded by joy?

Now that I've thought about it some more
a nice little Sportster 883
or convertible Nissan 370Z Roadster
might be just as nice

If I could be granted just one wish
During this Holiday season
It would be for everyone
around the world
to look within themselves
and love their soul,
truly love themselves

Last night I tried to remember the last Christmas I spent with my
brothers, but I couldn't. I remember the last Thanksgiving. It was right
after my first daughter was born in 1994. And now for nearly 20 years
we've been separated, all because of who I chose to marry.

For some people life is a game
A competitive sport
where when someone wins
it means that someone loses
And the only way
to determine the winner
is by keeping score

For me life is more of an adventure
full of experiences
Some more pleasant
some less pleasant
Sometimes you take the right road
and other days you choose unwisely
You get lost, lose a bunch of your time
and never end up where you meant to.

In the end, however,
neither paradigm really matters
if you forget that nearly everyone
is trying  to do the best they can in life
To impose a judgment
on any circumstance
always misses the point
For there is always something
that eludes our understanding
It is impossible to know everything
about anything or anyone
So why try?

The other day my oldest daughter
went through her whole bedroom
in a wild cleaning spree

When she's done this before
I usually go through
what she throws out
Because there's always something
that seems to me, too sentimental
to part with
So I grab it and put it aside
To her credit, it's easy for her
to let go of the past

Today I went with my youngest
to the neighborhood park
Soon a day will come
when she won't want to play
with me anymore
And I'm not sure who
will look back on these days
with melancholy, her or me.
I'm guessing that it will be me.

It's madness. That's what it is.
A complete culture trapped.
By voluntarily isolating itself.
It is safe to remain stuck,
within the grandest delusion.
Never having to face up to it's self
for there is no one to hold them accountable.
The people are lulled into acceptance
by artificial opulence and alcohol.
It's "leaders" drunk upon the
illusion of power and  importance.
Like rats trapped in a maze
we repeat the same mistakes
over and over again.
We see misery and suffering
and isolate it to the lower caste,
separating ourselves from them
within glass houses of  morality.
And yet, at some level, we know.
We can occasionally see
around the rose-colored glasses,
we recognize the rampant hypocrisy
but blink it away,
as if it were a speck of dust.
When even the self righteous believe
they behave selflessly,
do so only to impress others.
And far be it, for anyone to dissent,
for they will be ostracized as a whiner,
or worse yet, to offend
when they were merely trying to defend
what they desire.

We put on our armor of jingoistic pride
even when we are not under attack,
no, now we pull it on so that we may cower within it
and hide from anything which could bring us
into direct confrontation with the reality.
With our armor fully in place we can easily
protect ourselves from the slings and arrows
of cold and harsh truth; we easily dodge facts,
allowing them to bounce off of our armor
and protect us from having to see the brokenness
which surrounds us, but with the face plate
of our helmets down we also prevent
ourselves from seeing our own brokenness.
Instead, when we look into a mirror
we imagine ourself in fine linens and trimmings,
and we are satisfied with our perfect lives,
even if they only exist within our imagination.

Ever have that feeling like you were supposed to be doing something, but for the life of you, you just can't remember what it was? It's like walking around on an endless balance beam teetering from side to side, expecting to fall off at any time, when you remember what you were supposed to be doing, except, you never remember, so you walk around for hours off balance, just about to fall.

As with all changes, sometimes it takes a while before we truly understand what things mean. Some call it hindsight, but we all usually arrive at a moment after we've made a change, when the true impact of the change becomes clear.

When change is thrust upon our lives, then we must follow the Kübler-Ross model until we reach the stage of acceptance, do we achieve peace and understanding. Now the five stages of grief are usually reserved for dealing with death or tragedy, if we are listening to our soul, as Thomas Moore suggests, the definitions of what is tragic broaden.

As anyone who has passed from full employment to disability knows, there is no other way to describe the change than tragic. So, at least for me, getting to the point where I accept disability is ongoing. What I think is more elusive is getting your loved ones to see disability as a tragic change and undergo their own process of grief.

It is an often encountered theory that we will either become one our parents or we will marry someone "just like them," i.e., marrying your father or mother. I have had the unique opportunity to see this evolve in front of me. I've observed for many years the similarities between my wife and her mother, so much so, that the imprint of mother upon the daughter is undeniable. Now I've begun to see another undeniable trend, the imprint of my wife upon her daughters. I try to remain impartial to this observation, but it is complex. Unfortunately I find myself responding negatively to some of my daughters behavior because of the issues I have with their mother about similar behavior.

Unfortunately, I got some first hand research on the comic book. I went
through a small purge tonight. Man, you can't imagine the pain.
Hopefully it'll stay fresh in my mind so I can finish the comic book
script.

Have you ever done something special for someone
without them knowing that you had anything to do with it?
There are some things that are just too precious to ruin,
by trying to steal some of the credit for yourself.

I bet she doesn't even know how lethal her barbs can be.
The razor precision of a few choice words
can turn my self-loathing inward
faster than an arrow leaving a compound bow.
Even when delivered with loving care
they pierce my essence and leave
me crippled to mount any defense.
The only response I'm left is to surrender.

How many people around this great big world are as alone as I am?
How many sit, as I am, at home, whether by choice or by infirmity?
How many suffer tonight in hungry solitude, while others squander their excess?
I remember how my Mother ended up a willing prisoner with her own home
as she slowly lost the ability to breath, struggling to keep oxygen flowing into her body.
For the most part, the television was her sole companion; I have my computer
and while it links me to millions, I often feel as alone as she did.
How many others are out there, lost within their own self-built dungeons?
I'll occasionally catch my reflection in the monitor, and wonder if there is any thing
left to me other than these pathetic attempts to reach out to .... no one.

Less than a mile away from our house
A man was chased down in the street
And then murdered with over 40 shots from an AK-47
Yes life goes on, yeah traffic was a mess
but nothing else registers
One person's normal is another person's nightmare.

If we could only realize, the small difference between hope and the dullness of an ordinary day.
If we could only remember, that nothing has importance except what we give it.
If we could only combine these two actions, we could build a life of joy, happiness, and peace.
If only, if only indeed.

Just one, that's all we get.
Just one life, it's impossible to be in two places at once.
Just one set of choices, for better or worse, never to be repeated.
Just one path, always sequential, there are no do overs, one thing after another.
Just one body, while it can sometimes be repaired, when it fails, that's it, game over.

Things are what we make them, or so people say. We filter life through
lenses crafted from experience and pain. We warp our perceptions to
match our preconceived judgments, then wonder why we are unhappy. After
a life-time of conditioning, how can we suddenly accept things at
face-value?

Last night a small opening appeared. With trepidation, I quickly decided to step through it. While I knew that it might lead me down a dark alley, I had to take the chance. Sure enough, once through, it was very dark indeed. I was compelled to confess things that we very painful. While making my confession, I became embarrassed; I was embarrassed for sharing my story with my therapist, with friends, and with you.

Continuing through the opening, I found myself in familiar territory. I found the same patterns which had blocked me before. However, surprisingly I found something new. I found new courage to share my feelings, and to my astonishment, I found new realizations. While rummaging through familiar patterns I found the roots of some of my feelings. For the first time, I had dug deep enough to find the source of my depression.

Although, I'm on very uncertain ground, I mustn't deny the danger that surrounds me. My digging has exposed a giant gaping wound, that must be treated with delicate and loving care. But somehow, I feel more at ease. The load which I had been carrying, now seems much lighter. Unfortunately, while looking around, I notice that the weight is still here, I've just passed it over to someone else. I can see it clearly now. Will my love be strong enough to help them carry the load until we can find some place to rid ourselves from it forever?

I'm not looking forward to another Christmas and New Year's in Purto Rico. It's almost like I can press rewind and live out any of the last 17 and it would pretty much the exact same thing. So I'm pounding down any negative responses and hoping that I can spend my way into a festive mood. Now that certainly sounds like the true spirit of Christmas, right? Ahh, bah humbug.

If we must carefully choose how we interpret things, does that leave any
room for spontaneous acts of love? Should we repeatedly offer an olive
branch, even if it is frequently mistaken for a thrown stick? Who can
find new ways to build a relationship, when bad habits have formed more
ways to destroy closeness? What are the magic words I need to use to
break this spell?