To Whom It May Concern.

I still suck.

Read more! Don't question me [click here] - DO IT!!

Laundry Day, No. 3, Lost in the Wash.

I'm taking inventory and taking my lumps, today. It seems I got the answer to one of the little mysteries in my life and it wasn't at all what I expected. Not too many things catch me ill-prepared, anymore. A friend has informed me we are very different people. That was the extent of the message and I presume I am to conclude that is all the message they feel compelled to offer. It is likely the last I will hear from them, as well. Very sad. [Update: All is not lost but this person isn't in the mood to hand-hold Mr. Needy, right now]

I could ramble on about that but it changes nothing. I am just surprised that every point at which I can not imagine there being a lower depth to discover or a more hollow core to my being something like this reveals the bottom has yet to be found.

There was a time that I was more acceptable in writing than in person. That is either in the process of being reversed or now I am unacceptable in any form of expression. Again, not something I'd care to explore. I am utterly alone. I have new regard and empathy and compassion for shut-ins, homeless, and, imprisoned folk. Perhaps that is partially why I am experiencing all that has befallen me? I remain open to the possibility.

I doubt I was found righteous, as Job, and am therefore being tested to prove my virtue. Whatever the cause, I do hope the lesson is being brought to a conclusion, soon. I will not curse God and die. He always gets the blame for our actions while we take His praise when things go well. I am awaiting the conversation He intends to have with me when I am suitably pliable and softened enough to listen. One thing I am convinced I have brought away from all of this is to indeed "Be anxious for nothing." I whine and complain a lot in these posts but time and again I am simply proving what the Bible already made clear: do not put your trust in men or this world or the things of this life. They are all wood, hay, and stubble. They are vapors, today here and tomorrow not even a memory. None of that is intended to be gloomy or depressing. But the ease with which people dismiss and disregard one another is bitter.

Prior to all of my trials was a scripture verse that was brought to my attention too many times to be a coincidence. I have a high IQ - I am not stupid and I am not a fool. I do stupid and foolish things but I am not delusional. I know God is, and that He speaks to anyone willing to listen. He speaks to me - not in any way contradictory to how He speaks to others. He refers to scriptures and I don't merely grab a verse and run with it. That's how cults and psychopaths function but I do not take the reference out of context. The verse He gave me over and over was Psalms 7:9, "Oh let the wickedness of the wicked come to an end; but establish the just: for the righteous God trieth the hearts and reins." (KJV) I believe I was given a "heads up," a warning before everything came crashing down. Since that chapter was emphatically underlined for this time in my life here is what has transpired:

1. My career tanked
2. I was confirmed ADHD (with a cherry on top) which explained some things but that was used so that:
   
3. My wife divorced me
4. All of my friends, except for three, turned on me and only a handful have returned
5. I have not seen my children in over three years
6. My church assisted in the destruction of my family and reputation and after the smoke cleared asked me if I thought THEIR reputation had been sullied
7. I have been audited by the Internal Revenue Service and still owe thousands of dollars
   
8. I filed bankruptcy and then was left holding the bag after the divorce
9. I, consequently, suffered a foreclosure and loss of all property and credit
10. My failed credit filtered me out of my chosen profession and any well-paying other types of employment
11. I lost my temper at the only job at which I could maintain a reasonable standard of living and was fired
12. I became homeless
13. Had two cars literally self-destruct - leaving me without transportation
14. Became a truck driver and was removed from all familiar social contact
    
15. Have been on a leave without pay for five months with an unexplained, one-time health event, feeling useless and purposeless ( to join clueless)
    
16. Have been run around for that same period by doctors who have found nothing wrong but won't clear me to return to work
17. Have been turned down for all employment I have tried to secure in order to supplement myself until I may return to work
18. Have never been more alone or isolated in my entire life

It is remarkable, even to itemize on paper. As I said, I do not claim to be the character of a Job but it appears that is not my decision to make. By the grace of God he allowed my family to be taken away but not killed as happened to Job. This has been going on for over five years and there are no mile markers to help determine where I am in the journey. I could still be near the beginning for all I know. So that's the "hearts" part of the verse. What is that word, "reins?"

As it so happens, the word used in the King James version - "reins" is translated "kidneys." Guess what? I have several issues with my kidneys, as well. Of course I do, because God doesn't stutter and He doesn't skip the details. The cool thing (I imagine) about being God is that you don't have to embellish your words. I am a major stone former. I had had my first bout with kidney stones back at ages 19 to 21. I formed multiple stones - six in each kidney at any instance. These were not tiny things. No grains of sand for ADDhole. The average length of one of my stones is, 10mm, and the girth, 6.5mm (25/64ths of an inch x 1/4 of an inch) and to have a dozen of those at any given time makes for some developed endurance for pain. The peculiar thing about the male nervous system is its specific ability to target and identify pain. I can measure, by pain alone, the size and position of a stone from the time it forms in my kidney all the way through the urinary tract. I had made some dietary and stress-related changes and had not really suffered much in the way of a recurrence until - TADA! - all of these other events transpired. I also developed hypertension and it is always fun to answer the questions asked by doctors as to whether I have experienced anything recently that has added stress to my life. So now I am being monitored for an observed but not identified cause for the increase in my creatinine levels - a measure of damage to the kidneys. It's nominal but going in the bad direction. Ain't life grand???

I'm recording all of this because I need to recall and remember and reassess. I have been hit hard, with precision. There is nothing accidental about this. I am miserable but I am not suffering beyond my endurance or limits. I am not being asked to bear too much. That is important to recognize. I have also had the benefit of friends NOT like Job's. At least not to my face - no one has accused me of anything. I don't like what is going on but I can't cry foul, either. I do not believe that as bad as all of this has been and still is that it is going to be used to destroy me. It hurts - but who is spared pain? Besides, pain tells the immune system where the problem is that needs attention. I have to believe the same thing happens in the spiritual. I also can not overlook the word in that verse, "tries." That is a reference to the refining of metals. A clump of material is tried in the fire until the impurities are burned away and the metal becomes fluid. For precious metals the refiner knows when the metal is pure and free of crud (dross) when he looks into the molten mass and sees his own face reflected. If that is what's happening to me then how can I give up when all I want to do is shine? I have to consider that the things I hold to so tightly may not be anything but dross. If I am being tried for my integrity then nothing other than what He has designed me to be must be allowed to remain. By being torn apart and turned inside out I am actually being made whole.

Read more! Don't question me [click here] - DO IT!!

(I Think) He's GAY?!?!

Once upon a time there was a man - we'll call him, uh . . . ADDhole. ADDhole found the woman he desired above all others. She hated ADDhole. ADDhole was relentless and after six months of tormenting the pinnacle of mortal beings, she weakend, courted, and married ADDhole. ADDhole succeeded in achieving none of the goals he and the feminine ideal purposed together except for the arrival of their children. Storms brewed, winds howled, money flew out the window and the perfect woman returned to her senses (although in a heightened state of duress) and once again hated ADDhole. Well, despised him, actually. They sought counseling. She tried to persuade mental health professionals that ADDhole was entirely unstable and to blame. Counselors and doctors were completely comfortable with agreeing with the faultless one until closer inspection revealed all sorts of flaws in her wonderfulness. It was noted that ADDhole - though not exactly anyone's candidate for Man of the Year - was nonetheless very much in touch with the realities of all circumstances and actually demonstrated a more , uh . . . rational comprehension and understanding of the dynamics at work. Her Grace was inconsolable at such foolishness and divorced ADDhole. Consequences of this action culminated in her leaving the country with the children while IRS cronies and mortgage companies picked clean the carcass of their former life.

ADDhole had presumptuously jumped through many hoops in the final months of the marriage to appease the well-hidden gentle spirit of his wife. When he arrived home to an empty house and an envelope which valued the sale of all of his earthly possessions at approximately $160.00, ADDhole needed to find a place to live and a rock to crawl under. Balling up in a fetal position would have to be delayed, indefinitely.

Unfortunately, but extremely providentially, a fellow traveler and reliable friend had experienced his own wedded dismiss roughly six months prior to mine, er . . . ADDhole's. He allowed ADDhole to move in on a temporary basis and it proved to be a cathartic sort of recovery program. I am happy to report that friend retained most of his sanity, all of his property, his career and at least regular visitation with his children. I will not say he suffered any less than ADDhole. It was evident he went through a tremendously dark season. He will soon be married and I will cheer when it happens. He is a lot more cheery because ADDhole recently moved out of this "temporary" situation. (It might have been awkward after the wedding - you know - just the three of us.) But all of that was just introduction into the gist of this posting.

While living at my friend's house we were on very different schedules through all of the various fluctuating goings-on. We did see a couple games on TV and went to get a meal or see a movie but pretty much one would be leaving and the other arriving. The awkwardness was the awareness - like the feeling you are being watched - that just what our relationship might be was under public scrutiny. A restaurant or movie theater are expressly understood to be the domain of families or . . . [gulp] couples. So, it's one thing if a couple high school age dorks or college frat boys hang out but when you're a forty-something geek - well . . .

Here's the scenario:

• Two adult men share a house and mutually look after the pets. [Yikes!?]

• These guys are seldom seen together but when they are both at home - they never come out and no one but other men go in. [Double Yikes]

• The only neighbors who have any regular contact are an older woman; on the one side of their home, and another adult, single male on the other side.

• The only more suspicious and highly interesting house in the neighborhood belongs to what appears to be multiple families, of Middle Eastern descent - who also are never seen in public and have four or five satellite dishes on their roof!
  

As a point of clarity, in deference to my friend's reputation, his (as I often like to remind him) is a full life. He was always involved in something sociable and there were real, live women at those functions. He played several league, team sports at his place of employment and began dating.

On the other hand, I had resigned myself to celibacy and a self-imposed exile from the company of women. I am certain people looked at me as if there were a sign around my neck declaring, "Freight Elevator - lots of baggage; going DOWN." This wouldn't stop the passerby from wondering if at least something about us didn't "look gay." I don't fit the standards or the dress code for the gay qualification and my friend certainly doesn't, either. But, when has that stopped anyone? It hung in the air like a . . uh, . . . like a rainbow (?!)

So, where is this all going? Well, I'm not feeling in someway threatened by the perception I might be gay. The difficulty is this is one of those arenas where if you try to correct a rumor you confirm a lie. Meanwhile, ignoring being categorized in any way only leaves you wide open to further speculation, hearsay, and prejudices whereby people judge you and relegate you to a convenient (for them) cubbyhole. I have enough difficulty finding anyone willing to evaluate me individually and honestly as it is. There is a uniform and job description for every "type" of person on earth. No one is so easily defined. But that's a rant on my soapbox for another time. My current rant is that Women like very much to gather all of their evidence and observations and define who everyone is - or should be. No topic is off limits among the sisterhood. Then, despite the affected aire that they are inclusive and hold an open invitation for you to "be yourself . . ." Oh, Please.

The fun in all of this is the non-verbal assault always being waged to measure up as a man. (I hear the chortles from the inadvertent double-entendre - but that is a part of where I'm going with this.) As the sentry, of all things holy and decent and honorable in this world, men live by a predominantly unspoken code of behavior. (Any woman reading this should resist your genetic urge to roll your eyes.) There are deliberate, tribally recognized methodologies for EVERYTHING. There are certain ways to stand, sit, lean, sleep, eat, drink and so on.

Scratching oneself in public is not a sanctioned practice - it just can't be entirely avoided.

There are no acceptable circumstances for a whole host of activities in which women enjoy trying to engage men. Any admission to participating in a whole other series of "questionable" activities is also forbidden. And, how CAN a man be expected to carry a purse - even like a football?!? Come On! Certain verbiage has no natural translation in the male brain. Men want to be the masters of efficiency and economy. Any additional language, suggestions, or attention seeking devices complicate what is supposed to be the model of simplicity. You've heard the expression,"Bang for the buck?" That's not a suggestion. So, what need is there for words like "chartreuse," "burnt umber," and other hormonal expositions such as "vermilion,' or "August sunset?" The notion of a "palette" only makes sense if it's slapped together out of wood to support the weight of stacked objects. We don't want to index the incalculable "warmth" of a color.

I would be exaggerating if it weren't for the tangible perception the above conversation mirrors -" But, GAY men are supposed to know all of those things." Really?

So where does that put someone like me who is most definitely a knuckle-dragging male but who also has a highly developed aesthetic eye? I have unusually developed language skills ("for a guy"). I can dress, not only myself, but have a portfolio of successfully dressing women AND not only can I build a house but I can decorate it. I will tell you where it puts me - nowhere. Because women say one thing and do everything contrary to whatever comes out of their mouth. They don't want a man that is a complimentary component replacement for their girlfriend. And even more revealing is that women want equality as long as it is a one-way proposition. They want to gain whatever it is that they believe they are being denied but deny and refuse to relinquish anything they imagine makes them "feminine."

A perfect example of this is wedding preparation. I love to watch the frenzy of activities where the man is handed a list of assigned tasks and must report back regularly on his progress despite never going without be monitored by the bridal posse. Because I have an artistic eye I very much wanted a say in every aspect of the plans and preparation for my own wedding. My fiance' really did her best to include me but it was noticeable that my involvement wrinkled her already worried brow. Other women were far less than subtle about their disapproval at my presence. Their was a palpable sense of hatred towards me at one of the florist shops. The words, "What's he doing here?" were actually mumbled under the clerk's breath; through grit teeth.

My mother observed that I had violated the domain of women - the planning and preparation of a wedding. She informed me that I needed to understand a groom is the Ken doll - not an action figure, like G.I. Joe. I was literally in No-Mans Land.

And, so it would seem, I still am. The danger in listening to women and actually trying to comply with the desires they voice is that the nearer you approach achieving your goal the further it repels you from them. I lost a marriage that way. I've lost a lot that way. The real truth to take away from this is that although men naturally fall into the trap to model themselves on external influences they need to build from within. No other man has the answers for him. Why, then, we implicitly trust women to know more is ridiculous. I'm not offended that a woman doesn't ask me how to be a better woman. I generally like women pretty much how they come before all the game playing and scheming starts. I'm looking for the same chance.

So, maybe I'm doomed and my reputation that I might be gay will stick whether I protest or not.

I do like the theater. I have cried for things other than acceptable male practices such as at sporting events or the death of a dog - so who knows?

I've even tapped my feet while listening to Dead or Alive tunes . . . just never while in the stalls of a public Men's room . . .

Read more! Don't question me [click here] - DO IT!!