Thread Bare - Awake and Miserable

It is a little after two in the morning and I find myself awake, anxious and randomly tripping over my thoughts. I have no words or cogitations in order and am really wishing I knew who I have among those I know to talk to at this time of day.

The periods of this cycle of running out of inspiration and hope are becoming closer in frequency and that is not a good prognosis for future success. I have various thoughts that I do not express for the expectation I would be put on a vigil for those with suicidal tendencies. I actually am not at all that way inclined but my thoughts would belie any tendered argument. I am not afraid of death and bored with life. I truly lack inspiration for nearly anything anymore.

Despite the arrogance of the statement, I shall express it, anyway. I have had the best I am going to receive from this world and in this life and I am certain I have no real chance of falling in among a true group of peers. I am not like anyone else I have encountered although the multifaceted aspects of my personality have many people identifying with elements of me and laying claim that, "You are just like me." It would be obvious and even welcome if I truly were like others. I have mentioned in this blog, before, I struggle to conform while others struggle to uniquely set themselves apart. Now, I simply struggle.

Also weighing upon my mind is concern for a very loved friend that lives very far from me. I have not heard from her or anything about her well-being in several months. I can find no word on her and it is troubling. She and I are very different but I feel she knows me best. A fascinating thing for me to admit but also why I miss her so. Because I cannot make contact with her I have grave worries about her and I feel I am failing her.

I have already lost one friend similar to her in importance to me. There was a wonderful woman that I would have died for, but instead, passed away after years in a coma when I could not even find her or be allowed to visit her. I fear. I fear that something similar is happening now. How I hope that I am wrong.

So I carry this burden for my lost friend and I cling to the hope that my ultimate fears are not realized both for her and myself. I have long anticipated a day when it would be realized I am not in my right mind. That, I will simply "snap" and all will instantly realize I will need to be institutionalized. I believe I am well on the path that could trigger just such an event. I am nearly destitute and soon could live out my nightmare of being found homeless and possibly even incarcerated and having then gone all the way to rock bottom. I feel impressed with a certainty that I have yet to fully experience the humiliating shame and public ridicule that seems to be my destiny. Yes. There is vanity in dreading being further mortified and allowing my detractors a festival celebrating my ultimate comeuppance. But, I am seriously haunted and taunted by such thoughts. I am not winning. I am barely holding on and even as I do so with all of my fervor - I am losing ground daily.

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In Defense of the Cold-Hearted Bastard, Part 1

I’m on a bit of a theme, once again. The thoughts I let tumble around in my head are something like the way an American football quarterback leads the receiver with the thrown pass. As I have an idea, and as it becomes a little more clear, someone comes into view that catches the gist of it or is living out my observations in their actual life.

As a preface, there are obviously times to execute discretion and hold one’s tongue but, you know what? That option is relied upon far too many times by most people. I must include myself in that, as well. Now, those who know me will find that laughable as I never seem to be very aware or mindful of tempering my reactions. I am not known for withholding my swift wrath in a verbal lashing. Anyone may inadvertently step on the numerous tripwires in my psyche for intolerance toward opposing views or what I find foolish. So, whenever I mention that something hurt my feelings or that I was exercising caution the usual response is, “Oh, you‘re so sarcastic.” A recent but not infrequent example is when I was told how someone endured unbelievably clueless instructions or admonitions from an employer and simply allowed it to happen without addressing the issue. I replied, “You know I would never let something like that go . . .” to which my friend responded, “But, that is why I still have my job.” Now, although that may have the ring of truth it really does not take all factors into account. How fortunate for us all that I am going to belabor my point.

This same friend, as well as another from among the sea of humanity whom I shall use for examples, live their lives in subjection to the whim and will of others. They do this at work, at home and in all social situations. They do this, I would argue, to their own harm while thinking they are protecting themselves and the feelings and well-being of others. This notion, while appealing, is utter nonsense. The primary thing to understand is that a great number of people are manipulative and self-serving. Shocking – I know. Understanding this about people does not automatically imply any personal sentiments of mistrust or harbored bitterness or animosity. It simply means that you allow a person only enough leeway to make their intentions obvious. If their motives are genuine, there is more allowance made and so forth. However, if their intent proves to be some form of gain at another’s expense it is time to clamp down and interpose in order to prevent such abuse. Secondly, most people are not as alert or incisive as we are want to give them credit for being. It is not an exaggeration that ALL people are stupid. Each and everyone are missing vital pieces of information or have allowed perception to replace reality when making decisions and then acting upon those volitional choices. The normal individual’s behavior when first confronted with evidence they are not infallible is to - as in most human responses – take an extreme polarized position ever afterward. A few resort to denial that they have or will ever make a mistake. The majority retreat into themselves and warily hope others with the proper training, experience and authority will step in and address whatever has suddenly taken focus. The insecure human being has an unfathomable depth of thirst to emphasize their inadequacies rather than to reinforce and strengthen their image of self. Most people surrender arguments and even their worth as a person in exchange for having no one call attention to their deficiencies. Conflict stirs the pot too much and causes too much introspection and acknowledgment of people’s short-comings and weaknesses. The desire to avoid conflict is the foundation upon which tyrants build their power.

The greatest wrong fomented by the desire to hold one’s tongue and allow something patently “wrong” to go unchecked is that it validates negative influence. The unintentional approval of a false premise or skewed conclusion by the imposition of another’s will creates a chain of events. Those events encourage the wrong thinking to be practiced with greater confidence. The lack of opposition causes the deficient in self-esteem to accept the premise of the allowed thing as being significant and awarded undue importance. This leads to a wrong idea becoming the cornerstone for entire edifices and institutions forming around a false principle. The person that has allowed themselves to be silenced also consigns themselves to a subordinate role from then on. Without checks and testing of people’s actions, especially those in managerial functions, operations and policies are incorporated that simply never should have been. Unfortunately, a silent voice is a vote of approval and encourages more and more action without measure or proof of concept. Ultimately, the snowball effect escalates into an avalanche. The passive person needs to be certain they are not so out of a poor self-image, fear, or cowardice but because they are in agreement with the choices being made.

Also, the need to resort to seeking an expert or insisting that a highly specialized education or experience is a guarantee of good judgment negates the inherent fly in the ointment. It counts for something but only because if you insist that your only source of wisdom and knowledge is humanity then it is pretty much the only thing you’ve got to cling to for hope. Whenever a person believes their own press reports and resume fluff it is time to distance them from any active choice making exercises, and to remove those that embrace them without blushing, as well. In a disheartening way, it is amusing to consider the smug, know-it-all behavior of a teenager with a wry smile but be intimidated by the same behavior in an esteemed adult figure. Have you ever gotten a satisfactory answer from a doctor, for example, who insincerely listened to your description of what ailed you or your own hypothesis? Likely, you have not; as that mere human being already concluded what course of action they would take when you entered the examination room. There are two types of practicing physicians, essentially. There is the sincere practitioner that has an inquisitive mind and real desire to assess your individual needs. This sort is still aware that they must always be studying, observing and learning. They are the kind of doctor that makes medical research successful. They are rarely found, however, interacting with people. The price of such service to humanity comes at a high cost. The other and more common type of physician is the textbook scholar that has done their time and is paying their dues and their tuition loans and practices medicine from memory, patterns of symptoms in their experience and, too often, whatever promises the drug manufacturer representative claims in his sample packets. That doctor has subscribed to the dogma that it is best to rely on the expertise of others. The downside is a lack of direct understanding and any real applicable action for specific instances. The textbook scholar has believed and subscribed to the knowledge imparted from a handful of authors and lecturers. If a three-dimensional map of their collective comprehension were modeled it would resemble Swiss cheese. Why? It is because they do not have full understanding of their subject, individually or collectively. Subsequently they will each concentrate too much on some things, not at all on others, and perhaps arbitrarily dismiss some information and stubbornly cling to other refuted ideological inconsistencies. Here is a bankable truth borne out by historical record. When it comes to human enterprise and endeavor, success is most often accidental and unintentional. If considered in another vein, success often proves to have been the failure to fail as most efforts involving people are unsupportable in their theory and practice.

What people lack in competence is compensated for with bravado and style. Being attractive or presumed powerful is yet another device to manipulate the intimidated. Once a person believes that they are less than other people in value it is over. They relinquish the fight or the desire to challenge the curious and suspicious ideas others are hell bent to act upon. The imbalance in self-worth also causes the quest for safety in numbers and the seeking out of democratic means to determine and/or assess worth and validity. Such subjective foolishness is no way to establish functional standards of behavior. This is why opinion polls are an outright crime against humanity. Seeking the collective mindlessness of the masses also removes the authority of the individual and forces one into the morass of a legislated morality and socially acceptable behavior that is as predictable and secure as a tornado. The result requires having to accept, with a religious faith, the belief that many wrongs make a right. It is wrong to speak up. It is wrong to disagree. It is wrong to question the thought process behind an edict. It is dangerous to become recognizable as a solitary figure . . . and so on. This order of “reasoning” has distorted what is actual selfish behavior and what is selfless action. The most important aspect overlooked in all of this is that inaction has just as severe a series of consequences as arrogant behavior. There is also need to consider that passive folk are not actually entirely passive. They exert indirect influence by subversive, covert, and other negative means in response to their frustration with themselves. They are also prone to irrational outbursts and lashing out at even more passive people to vent their exasperation for failing to express opposition when it was appropriate.

In the case of my friend and the silent resignation to the criticisms of an uninformed assessment, their choice to not correct the misconceptions and supply supporting detail has resulted in at least the following:
• Established the notion in the superior’s mind that their work performance is sub-standard
• Lost credibility for future interactions
• Allowed for an unfair neglect to consider a proven record of exceeding performance expectations
• Rewarded co-workers for their mediocrity
• Caused personal stress and inner conflict that has lingered while all other parties have entirely forgotten the whole affair
• Reinforced a negative system of behavior both personally and professionally
• Cheated the company out of the valuable insights my friend has to offer that would benefit not only a department but an organization
• Held up inefficiency and vain effort as the new standard
. . . and I am sure there is more but you get the basic house of cards relationship.

Now, not to single out my friend but they allow this same sort of situation in all of the institutional environments in which they are participating. All of those scenarios result in a passive-aggressive mess. My friend is trapped and stressed and a good deal of it is self-inflicted. None of that builds confidence, self-esteem, or independent thought and action. I do not subscribe that there is any deliberate conspiracy behind all of this other than the peer pressure to not be a “trouble maker” by voicing opposition to folly. But, I must insist that the truly vested and interested party in any endeavor is the one that takes the painful steps to act on their beliefs with the full support of cause and reason to evaluate what to accept and what to question. Blind rejection is ignorant and arrogant. Blind acceptance is a paralyzing toxin.

My second exhibit is the hyperbolic reflection of the first. I have a friend that is now involved in the scattered business obligations of aging parents. The burden to rectify the justifications for why certain things were done the way they were is a Rubicon to navigate.

As in so much of human forecasting, the value in the endeavor was long ago absorbed in the undertaking. My friend will not gain in any way other than to try to unknot a tangled and confusing series of decisions so that everything may finally and completely unravel. The profit was lost in the translation and only the consequences and ramifications of finding liability and financial accountability remain. It is assumed by onlookers that my friend stands to inherit a small fortune of properties when the father passes. There is really no fortune, or properties. All of that has already been dispersed and the short-sighted but well-intentioned decisions that have been made have all but nullified any assets. My friend is simply a responsible and loving child doing the best they possibly can to accommodate parental wishes and ease the painful results of bad choices. The fascinating thing for me to observe, when I detach my personal feelings for all of the participants, is how at the same time that my friend recognizes the stupefying consequences of good intentions mucking up the ebb and flow of life, their own actions are being hamstrung by the same sorts of considerations. At the bottom of all of this fiasco is that for a decade, a tenant has unsuccessfully applied for disability insurance and has yet to obtain it. In that period of time, they have managed to live fairly well and even maintain a newer automobile. My friend only discovered, last week, this was able to be achieved by paying no rent. That means that the owner has taken on the burden of all expenses for the property, including maintenance and taxes without receiving any income to do so. My friend was introduced to this situation with the simple admission that so much is now owed that the home is probably going to need to be sold. No one had the heart to go to the renter and ask for the agreed and contracted rent., nor to expel them and select a paying tenant.

The reason why nice guys finish last is because they are left holding the bag full of burdens for obligations and responsibilities shirked by others. The nice people, the good neighbor, and the law-abiding citizen are like sheep to the slaughter. What is required is the recognition that one may still demonstrate compassion, concern and understanding for others but take on the dispassionate, thieving and conniving at the same time. How is this possible? One must be able to assess themselves and others, honestly. They must not be distracted by wit and sparkle. They must not be offended by the hideous diseases that infest the human soul. They must be immune to pain when it is the only means to end suffering. They must be unconcerned for being branded as cold-hearted bastards.

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Look Away, I'm Hideous!

I have admitted something to myself more important than convincing everyone how truly terrible a person I am. By the way, some have absolutely no trouble subscribing to my awfulness while others spend too much time refuting my arguments. My friend, Evan, simply interjects, between my very protracted pauses for breaths, things to the effect of I can’t fool him or that my claims are unsubstantiated. It is important to highlight that he does add the qualifier that I am not as bad as I would like to present myself. So, he has left the door open to attribute some degree of rottenness, through his deliberate phrasing. Meanwhile, another friend has me branded as someone that entered an arena and was embraced and loved and respected so readily that I have gone out of my way to destroy my own popularity and reputation. It is true. I have done so deliberately. She rightly observes I am more comfortable as an undesirable scoundrel or untouchable. I know it is because otherwise I doubt I will be touched as much as I require.

Being discovered to actually be nice and to demonstrate regard for others is so contrary to my desire to be a threatening figure of a man that it really derails my ambition to alienate myself from the human race. I may be brutally blunt and obnoxiously direct but I care. I care to tell the truth. I care to not allow myself or others to hide. I care to listen and be involved. Caring sucks. When one cares, the want to help and to fix things is constantly thwarted either when someone elects to forsake the offered assistance or because no amount of help is sufficient. I hurt for others far more than for myself and I do not spare myself the luxury of wallowing; so, I carry this burden like a thorny crown. Fortunately for us all, the One that actually wore that crown has the power to overcome. I simply am asked to live rather than die. As has been said, “Dying is easy – Living is hard.” - In as far as this world dishes out misery, I have a good life. But, I live to help. I can’t resist the pull of jumping into the fray; even if I exacerbate the fraying as the result of my rough edges. I do not know how to remain neutral. I can not mind my own business or keep my mouth shut. For someone that cares so much I certainly don’t have much sensitivity when it comes to people’s personal space and preferences. I do not respect boundaries and I do not honor limits.

All of that was simply introduction to the utter dichotomy of my nature. I have a general contrariness and intolerance that borders on dictatorial. I am an advocate of executing martial law – MY edicts, of course. Yet, beneath the gruff and growl and the scowl and snarl has been a very tedious desire to embrace, accept, and conform to the prevailing view surrounding me. This has been an arduous and often insufferable vexing of soul and anguish of spirit for me. Simply put: I want to ”behave” and be a non-descript goo that is not in any way discernible from the masses. I have striven for that but it is the most monotonous of vane pursuits. I yearn to be invisible and homogeneous and . . . I must surely fail. The admission I am only making at now nearly forty-seven years of age is that I am not a conformist. I will always be distinguishable no matter where or with whom I am found.

The truth finally has to be faced that I am seeking to do precisely the opposite of most other people. Where others are looking to elevate themselves, I am attempting to disappear. As many wish to be found unique, I am struggling to compress myself into the cast. The similarity and the paradox lies in the fact I am engaged in the normal human wrangling to find comfort in my own skin except in reverse. I am trying to become a part of what most are trying to escape. I have a peculiarly inverted relationship to other human beings. Evan also insists that everyone claims to adore and wishes to emulate the Maverick and the independent thinker until they actually encounter such a one, personally. It is never a meeting of recognition and mutual admiration but of resentment and conflict and a feeling of threat and suspicion toward the unique, the individual, the “different.” Only historical figures are lauded and exalted while contemporary figures are ridiculed and despised. I must admit he is extremely observant. The thing that I have had to face has not been the shunning by others or even open hostility. That which has afflicted me has been self-contempt for being self-aware.

One finds escape from most of the unwanted identification as an individual as long as they may be conveniently packaged and branded. The largest umbrella to attempt to overshadow the fact that some project rather than reflect is found when labeled as an “artist.” As long as any term inviting explanations that can be encompassed by not quite all of the five senses of sight, taste, touch, hearing and smell may be applied (more out of convenience than supportable evidence) the lone figure may be contained, defined and deemphasized. There is a sort of normal desire to mar the clearly distinctive characteristics of others so that they become a blur in a faceless human smudge. A “visionary” is not as distasteful as the notion of a stubborn, insistent and willfully selfish magnate. One “listening to the beat of a different drummer” is far cuddlier and much warmer a character than when considered marching in a never wavering straight line to their objective. A “philosopher” is a much softer figure than the leader that shuns decision based on consensus or conventional “wisdom” who shuns the attempt of others to color his thoughts. In all of these, and especially in recent societal “developments” and “cultural influences,” feeling has supplanted thinking.

Currently, to stand out from the crowd really does not require that one necessarily exhibit any extraordinary abilities. All that is needed is to claim any abilities at all. It is expected that one must accept and make subjective value judgments based on the collective impression of feelings rather than on reason and carefully measured and repeatable standards. There is a strange duplicity of demanding accountability for others while apportioning deniability to one’s self. This is the grounds for intolerance of an individual because their very singular behavior threatens to reveal the whole machine a fraud by not subscribing or needing to find association with others. It is quite educational to demonstrate that ignorance is encouraged due to the subjective, collective pooling of tactile inputs as acceptable; but, the objective outputs of the individual mind are discounted as arrogance for daring to claim understanding. There is an actual preference to shun the notion there can be absolutes. There is nearly a religious fervor to imagine a world in which nothing may be stated with any certainty. This has been the futile struggle in which I have engaged for most of my life. I dare to claim insight and am punished for doing so. I have innocently identified common behavior and have been found guilty of crimes for failing to omit or overlook the folly of my fellow man. Many wish to identify with the child that told the truth about the absence of the Emperor’s new clothes, yet spend the majority of their efforts making whole cloth out of fabrications and falsehoods.

I must acknowledge that my desire to conform has only succeeded in creating a conflict between reason and action and Pavlovian response and reaction. Feeling is not thinking. Transient impressions are not keen observations. When one is mindless there is little to identify consequence for being thoughtless. I am at odds with a culture that seeks to remove any discernible and permanent markers and that refuses to recognize a fixed graduation or scale against which to examine the world outside or inside them. I can not, and in fact, will not waste my energy applying cosmetics to fit into some mask of reality. I am through with finding diversions and distractions in order to hide from others the unattractive things I see. If the need to allow the light to shine on human stupidity makes me an ugly person then I am finally able to articulate without apology, “Look away, I’m hideous.”

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A New Wrinkle - Facing the Unexpected and Unrelenting.

I am writing this as I await the end of the rinse cycle on all of my earthly vestiges. I have an appointment, tomorrow afternoon, that I would love to miss; but, such a choice would result in an even more unwelcome visit by a Sheriff or other state law enforcement official.

A Sheriff awoke me, approximately two weeks ago, and greeted me with a summons. That was awful but these now less than twenty-four hours until I stand before a judge are incalculably worse. Hence this post. I have stopped trying to measure "Worse." I have ceased to weigh the heft of "Bad." I no longer imagine lifting the burden of "Set backs," or try to wrap my arms fully around "Dismay." I am beyond grasping the immense magnitude of my circumstances. I am not at all inclined to bother trying any longer. I have run on well past the twist in the road whereby I lost my bearings and now I am exhausted and do not much care about finishing the course, much less claiming any victory - even a personal one.

I have an image of myself as down on one knee and still being beaten across the back of my shoulders. Everything inside me should seek relief from resisting . . . yet, I insist on trying to stand up. It might be argued that, more than figuratively, I have nothing else to lose and all to gain. People mean well when they express optimism that my lot in life will improve. I have more than reasonable doubt to the contrary. I do have something incredibly valuable left to lose - my freedom. Tomorrow, if things go extremely unfavorably, I could lose that.

My freedom has been slowly and methodically stripped away from me over several years and whoever might be my phantom foe, one thing is sure: their zeal to incarcerate me is now accelerating as the stakes become precious. First, I lost the freedom to be found acceptable to several employers. Then, I found myself deemed unacceptable as a spouse. I then found myself bound to accept conditions that have never eased and are the cause of my court appearance, tomorrow. I have lost my fiscal freedom, my occupational freedom, and, my freedom to participate and associate with my children. (My children and former spouse left the country, too bad for me and my visitation "rights") I have lost the freedom to function as a "normal," and "productive" member of my society. I am excluded from job interviews because I am discriminated against by the only remaining filter not prevented by law - credit history. I am discriminated against by the failure for anyone to prove I have a detectable medical condition, as well - yet, I am not cleared and approved to return to work in one of the few occupations that makes a living wage without scrutiny of my financial blemishes. Not having any fathoming of how or why this has transpired I also have no idea how to fight back. And, this is obviously when one must fight to procure and protect the liberties supposedly provided under the law of the land of which I was born and am a citizen.

There is a serious issue, however. I am not of the special groups for which special care, special provision, or special interest is in vogue. I am (was, for some aspects) a white, middle class, male. My function in my nation is to be the source of revenue and sustenance for all other component elements of that people that comprises these United States of America. That is not a thing I have ever resented or felt put upon in being expected to provide, by the way. Paradoxically, now that I find myself in the position of no longer paying for the multitudes from my wages I face the odd quirk that I am disqualified or ineligible for all assistance programs to which twenty-five years of my employment have contributed. I find myself with no help but the struggling efforts of my friends and family to try to sustain me. And, for what I must ask?

Indeed. Tomorrow I will be asked why I have failed to meet my child support obligations. I am hoping that the explanation that I have been unemployed for nine months, scratched out piece work and small bid projects, and barely subsist on the charity of family and friends will have a favorable weight rather than just an additional millstone about my neck. One can not be certain if the judge may still feel compelled to "make an example of me." And. Yes. I am very much afraid. I have so far been denied unemployment benefits, denied welfare, denied any hope of a job earning a sufficient wage to meet such obligations as my child support and tomorrow I may be denied my liberty. I dare not ask what may yet be extracted from me but the idea of any mercy or favor was spent long ago. The one rest from all of this - to not awake is the only offer in compromise I am not being offered.

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Out, Out Damn Spot - Plodding Along

I am totally devoid of describing how I feel, right now. I am at a loss for words. This is seldom the case for me so I am forcing myself to write something – anything. I really just have too much empty space: in my day, in my life, in my heart, in my head. I am purposeless and pointless. It is a painful place to find one self. Yesterday, I was enjoying conversation and expectations. I was involved and engaged in trying to live. I had some lively interaction, but most importantly, I felt alive because I had a person that encouraged me to live again. In less than a day that person has experienced too much and has retreated. I can not criticize their decision. It is the right one from a practical standpoint. I am weary of practicality. I am so weary.

Nothing terrible occurred and no bridges were burned. Simply, feelings ran high and hearts sank low with the acknowledged fact our worlds must not get intermingled. Those bridges spanned the chasm of isolation and despair for me. Now, that road will not be on my possible paths of future hope. I was packing for a journey which I will never get to take. Those bags seem so heavy, now, while my anticipation feels so meaningless. Every other thought causes actual pain. My heart slows and I wish it would cease to beat altogether. I have had enough of being. I no longer care to exist. I have no way out. I have no way forward. I have no way through. I have no way at all.

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Hampered - Is It Time To Trash This Blog?

This is going to ramble and wander all over the place. I watched some television last night. It’s not that I am above sitting in front of the tube it’s only that I get seven channels (three stations clearly enough through the static) as I’m not in a financial position to afford cable and when I get cleared to return to work I won’t be here to enjoy it so why pay for it. Anyway, I watched David Letterman (variety talk show for parts of the world where that name means nothing) and I watched an episode of Frasier.

There are very few celebrities that make me notice. I was never a guy that had posters of the super models or TV stars on the wall. It’s just not something that draws me. But, every once in a while I do take note of a personality and I hope that I can distinguish the difference between the real person, and a character portrayal that I fell in love with, if that person were ever in my world. It is interesting that I’m about to mention two names where their acting is quite good but I have never been attracted to them for that reason. I am pleasantly engaged by their real-life personalities. Back to Letterman. The first of those two women for me is Julia Roberts. I find her real and incredibly quick on the draw and last night she was both of those things and I was so wistfully wondering why I never had anyone like that in my life. I immediately thought of the other woman that I have incredible respect for – especially because she has had her fair share of adversity and has not been beaten down by it. That would be Nicole Kidman. Both redheads (although only Nicole is a real redhead) and I hope happily and permanently married with wonderful children. That’s all I ask for in this world are women with spirit, character, poise, brains and grace exhibited under pressure. Those two “do it” for me. I left the end of that broadcast . . . happy.

Then, I left the television on while I thought about composing a blog post and Frasier came on. There is history with that show and maybe that was where the first clouds started forming. My wife and I watched that show, and laughed, together. It was one of the few sweet memories I have left. I am so uncomfortable with Frasier, now, for the loss of that bond and especially for the fact I too easily identify with his pompous character, pretentious nature and total self-deceit as well as conceit. While others may enjoy the show and wonder what it would be like to know such a person I watch and wonder what it would be like to not be such a person. The episode I viewed last night hit me hard. Frasier had just broken up with an ideal woman and was on a binge of trapping his family and friends in a room where they couldn’t escape and pontificating about his woes. His father made the poignant observation that Frasier would always fail to keep a good woman. That sent him on a road trip to a secluded camp site where he intended to clear his head. Along for the ride, however, came the emotional and mental baggage of his first and second wives, a lover who had jilted him for another, and, his dead mother. The first discovery for him was that all had left him. All had abandoned him. I don’t have the mother complex. I never saw my mother as anything but my mother. She was never the model for all other women and she has never been my ideal. She was the first of a string of enablers but all that shows is I’m manipulative – nothing about anyone else. But what I couldn’t run away from and couldn’t turn off the TV to escape were the rest of his conclusions. He was so determined not to have women reject him and to be left alone that he made certain women rejected him and left him alone. Ouch. The second conclusion was that he never actually left any of those women. They were with him all of the time and influenced every past, present and future decision and especially his relationships with any new woman. No woman was ever allowed to stand or fall on her own merits in his life. Triple ouch.

I was absolutely devastated by that program. I didn’t actually get to sleep until around four, this morning, because of the demons that dialog awoke.

I am in a very inflexible and confining time of life. I have all of the guilt, debt, and responsibilities of all of my life from before to the present without any of the good things to make it bearable. I am afraid to meet people I know. I have not contacted my children in months because I fully expect to blurt out something like, “Your father is a failure and a fraud and it would be so much netter for you to treat me as if I were dead.” The love and trust of my children and their total belief in me is too painful. I can’t align it to fit into any part of the reality I am enduring. I have gone since February without a paycheck while waiting to be cleared, medically, to return to work. I have applied to and been rejected by menial jobs from gas station clerk to fast food restaurant help. How is this possible? As a consequence I have lived off the charity of family and friends. I can’t wait to get back to work to take that additional burden of daring to love me off of them. It is something I consider all of the time that I should finally surrender; just give up any last vestiges of hope and drop out to join the homeless and hopeless and forgotten. I'm not far from that at all. I am terrified of the fact that I fit the profile. I could be living in a box and engage the hapless passerby in a knowledgeable discussion of world events or Quantum Mechanics. I simply doubt I am able to continue to function on the level necessary to remain even on the fringes of society. I am isolated and alone and I am now chasing away and discouraging the few who have stuck by me. I am so ashamed and really scared all at the same time.

I lost my previous comforts and crutches and I haven’t recovered. I found a job that pays well but offers no other reward. I took that job for the money and it had just started to give me the means to settle old obligations and even to contribute in meaningful ways to my children whom I have not seen in three years. This month, June, was going to provide me a vacation where I expected to visit them and at least demonstrate I was functioning. My nine year old son actually worries that I have no place to live and no food. How can I live with the knowledge a child is deeply worried his dad is suffering? I hope he doesn’t comprehend where my real suffering is occurring. But, my health crisis in February has taken all of that away. I’ll have no vacation until another year passes, at least. It will then be a minimum of four years since I have hugged my children or heard their voice while looking at their faces. My daughter is thirteen. My sons are nine and seven. I don’t even have a recent picture of them to know what they look like and how they’ve grown. My children were literally wrenched from my arms at an airport five years ago. I have those memories of a three, five and nine year old being dragged away crying and screaming to stay with their father in front of me everyday. All they have known since is disappointment and broken assurances and promises.

So, if the tests which I am taking next week are good I will finally be going back to work. I will be driving a tractor-trailer across the country. That is the last thing I ever anticipated doing occupationally. As I said, it pays the bills and does so better than most other available legal means. That I will get caught up on my bills and obligations will be a relief but the life will be worse. Right now, I sit in an unfurnished apartment. I take advantage of an unsecured wireless router to have the internet connection that I use to post these blogs. But I hear the children play outside and the noise of people going about their day and I am still somehow connected. You – whoever you are that read these things – are my only contact with the outside world. There have been two women that have regularly commented on my posts and I have had some wonderful email traffic back and forth with them, as well. They are young, rightfully enthusiastic, energetic and busy. One shares my passion for writing but she is doing something about it and things are starting to happen for her. And, they should. She is a dynamo. The other is a scientist and appeals to all of the technical and professional things which satisfied me as a younger and ambitious man. They have both tried to prop me up. That has to stop. I can not let my manipulative ways use these two women as additional enablers in my Frasier psychosis. They also are experiencing and sharing things I can relate to in their posts. They are seeing things from the start when such things are new. I am seeing them when they seem as if they’ll never end and all things are old. One has longings and desires for both her art and her family and I believe with my whole heart she will find fulfillment in both. The other is studying her own behavior as well as that of the world around her and although she has struggled with bouts of isolation and frustration, hers have known beginning and end dates and she may look forward to known relationships in professional and private life that are secure and stable. I have none of that. I have been waging this war for decades. They have not. I wish them better success than I have had but I haven’t much fight left. They are also women. Not as fragile on the inside as I am.

I have friends and family that claim to be impressed by how I bear up under my current struggles. There is nothing there for me to take credit. I simply continue to breathe under the crush of consciousness. There isn’t any fight left – only a superstructure that has yet to yield and buckle. I am on one knee trying to catch my breath and as I continue to get beaten down I am asking why do I keep trying to stand up? My adherence to my spiritual and moral and ethical beliefs will not right the wrongs of this world. I am not some heroic figure that has the hopes of mankind in his care. When I ultimately collapse and finally fail for the last time I will go out with probably not even a whimper. Beethoven, was in a coma for the last ten days of his life. He awoke from that condition during an intense thunder storm, said, “This comedy is over,” and died. I will have no one recording anything I say now or at the end. I have not brought beauty or light. I am slipping into the ugly dark.

When I am in that truck I will be in a mobile prison. Truck driving is like solitary confinement. You are alone and alone with your own thoughts. I will be given a few minutes a day “in the yard” to get out and exercise my legs and visit with some of the other inmates and try to avoid some others. One of the first misconceptions I had to alter when I began driving was that truck drivers were the loner types who like the independence and freedom from family and normal job responsibilities. No. That’s not really true. That’s the exception and not the norm. A great many of the men I’ve met have stories similar to mine. They had families and other careers. Divorce, financial troubles and other hardships and heartaches brought those men into trucking just as it did me. I have heard stories to make my misery seem trite. But, because there is no release or escape from yourself as a driver the few moments of contact with other human beings are strained affairs. Too much or too little is said. Crazy thoughts and ideas get argued while you eat and plan your next stop. Between the racist garbage and conspiracy theories are the bragging rights and political arguments and the resolution of all the world’s problems over a glass of iced tea. The waitresses are often worn and more tired than just from a long shift. It is sadder for me to see women in the company of men like us and know they’re having it hard, too. Then there are all of the half-hearted attempts at flirting and choked cries for affection and attention from the men at the counter. And when you’ve had your fill of that there is the hollow sound of your boots to keep you company on the way back to your truck. If you aren’t wired with a TV and a laptop and a wireless broadband connection you are in for more solitude – just enough to chase you to seek refuge in sleep. The next time you awake the cycle starts all over again. There’s always that knock on the glass of your door by the pretty little drug addicts selling themselves to the drivers with money and nothing else. Depressed, yet?

Well, here’s where all of this is going. Soon. Hopefully, very soon I will be at least earning a paycheck and trying to remove some of the debt hanging like a vulture over my carcass. I do not have a television or a laptop or a broadband connection in my truck and I will be on the road away from “home” (my little apartment with the stolen wi-fi connection) for typically three weeks at a time. Despite all of that there is limited internet access while on the road but it is only sufficient to check my empty email inbox. I will not be able to post other than the two to five days I will be home per month. I am seriously thinking to let the bills continue to wait and use my first influx of cash to purchase my new lover – a laptop. Even so, I am looking at the world through an even narrower lense, at the moment, and wondering about the fate of my blog. This blog is my digital head. I am carrying all of the baggage of my unresolved and disappointing issues around and putting it on display as an attention seeking device. If I pull the plug I am in essence removing my own life support. I’m just wondering if that isn’t what needs to happen. I have an audience that has far more voyeurs than those volunteering to contribute their thoughts. What do I need that for? It is now the time to reflect on just what I am trying to do and say in the blogosphere and why I should continue, what I should continue, or if I should continue at all. I thought I was releasing things – letting go and moving on. I’m not so sure anymore. I’m tired of being kept company by only my own thoughts and the minuscule contributions by others are insufficient to make a life-altering impact. Where is the stimulating conversation I anticipated? Where are the me-changing discoveries? When will this comedy be over?

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