Rags to Riches . . . or Ruins?

I am back after a long hiatus. I had (re)cycled through my musings and grown bored with myself. As a public service, I discontinued blogging. Instead I followed the advice of a friend suggesting a departure from my routine. That resulted in pursuit of a degree which I am only 15 credit hours shy of completing. So some progress has been made. I have done quite well in my course work but nothing in my economic status has changed other than accruing more debt from student loans. I may continue with yet another degree on the heels of completing this one. That is a pending decision.
So, a quick status update is on order:
• I gained weight/lost a good amount/gained most back . . am now losing, again.
• Not yet returned to a full-time job.
• Not able to secure a part-time job.
• Almost out of the woods on my credit smudges that preclude consideration for hire.
• I gained several new friends that are dispersed around the globe but are closer than my immediate community and previous acquaintances.
• I retained all of my true friends and am glad that poor judgment only applied to other areas of my life.
• I continue to be supported and kept fed and sheltered by these friends.
• I have some contact with my children but have still not been in the same space with them for over six years.
• I am closer to my own parents and wish I was taking care of them rather than them me.
• I had a friends with benefits relationship that was her idea - not mine. I will say that it put a lingering smile on my face and brought temporary clarity akin to the fitting of a new eye glass prescription. It did not last and opened an area I had successfully suppressed. Bothersome.
• I remain gravely single and this is not from emotional scarring, mistrust of women, or other such non-sense. It is purely from a lack of means - both financial and transportation-related. I am simply not free to come and go as I need to much less as I would please. This, and this only, prevents me screwing myself up further by returning to dating and mingling.
I suppose I consider my circumstances to be a cocoon from which I will eventually feel inspired to struggle free and not realize how I have changed from when I entered it. Age is advancing, though, and time is another thing that I do not have in surplus. However, most days my circumstances are more like living in a box, sealed on all sides. With no light from outside, I can only be certain of "up," and "down" but nothing that confirms whether I am moving left, right, forward, or backward. All persons and conditions outside of my confined space are hidden from me. Sounds are muted, dangers and rewards are unknown. I have to trust in the muffled encouragement and directions of those outside the box and also determine which voices are reliable from those merely amused, blindly optimistic, or malicious. I have yet to tumble any further down but neither have I advanced. So many have insisted I have been just a little while away from "things" turning around" for the past five years but I also am near persuaded things are changing. There is just no measure to determine whether the changes will bring riches or ruin.

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

Laundry Day - Loose Ends and Frayed Seams

Today was not all that bad. There were several moments of measurable, if not significant, progress and I was productive overall. There were some events that had been anticipated but were not as disappointing or dismal when they did occur. I am in good spirits.

The least satisfying was finding that my business partner and I did not win a very worthwhile bid on a contracted job. As the outcome was decided on whim more than on the original criteria under which we bid, I find I have some expectations that we may actually have been favored by not winning the contract. We might, in fact, have dodged a painful and likely expensive bullet of working against a shifting standard and expectations. The downside is we both so NEEDED that bid to be ours. We are both in a hard-pressed and pretty dire set of circumstances that only money remedies.

We are both scrambling to make our bills for the end of this month/beginning of next. It will be harrowing to say the least. But, this might afford me other opportunities. I certainly remain optimistic but I would rather have the "problems"associated with too much success rather than hardly any at all as is presently the case.

Several irons are now in the fire and two have been in just long enough to be warming to a cheery glow. Both were initiated by others to include me. I am a willing partner rather than instigator (in some online projects) with one friend and composing and playing music with another. The creative juices are making a tenuous attempt at returning and I am still more of a spectator than participator in their struggles to stand under their own power. I am enjoying this but so longing to be earning a living wage. All ideas to this point have flickered but not caught fire, sadly.

So, this was a deliberate effort to not sound like I am waiting only to die and cursing each breath. I am regrouping and gaining strength to REALLY complain another day! still no real companions and only obligations but I press on.

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

Am I Squinting For or Wincing From the Light?

Years ago I moved far away from my family, friends, and the familiar environment that had incubated my social development, career, and contentment. At the time of that departure I ventured out on a path described by circumstances and the intent of pleasing someone other than myself. I had a new wife and an opportunity to sacrifice my comfort and convenience for the love of seeking to fulfill her ambitions, hopes, and desires. There was no coercion or pressure from her at all. I acted independently, swiftly, and without regret. I also acted carelessly, too dependently, and without realistic consideration. The latter three became the hallmarks of my marriage and all other conduct as the man defined by those actions. I still have no regrets for the decision I made. I have no regrets for the leaving of all I knew behind. I especially have no regrets for having been married to the person with whom I then lived in a world completely removed from my preferences and own dreams and ambitions because I loved her – will always love her – and had counted the cost of discontinuing investment in myself to be a price worth paying to have her in my life.

My failure to invest myself and in myself has left me in a deficit from which I may very sincerely never manage to recover. I am so keenly interested in time, now. I am not interested in the time I have remaining as a positive influence but as the unwelcome reminder of a debt still owed and in collections. Time is not a healer but a compounding of that negative interest and the yield is exponentially wearying. I do not look forward, but, only backward in order to recall happier times. The exercise is not bitter or sweet. It is the checking of figures in a ledger and simply acknowledging that the accounting is accurate. There is nothing on reserve or left to be deposited that will enhance the balance. There is no funding underway for any hopeful or ambitious endeavors. I am made ever sadder by every moment I live. It raises the bar just that much higher beyond my grasp. I am alone to face a future that is certain in its urgency, sparse accommodations, and empty solitude. I am without currency and it is pay-as-you-go.

I am expressing this as a sort of pressure relieving valve and as a cautionary tale. Perhaps someone may feel resonant vibrations. If so, you are urged to tune to another frequency and lower or heighten the pitch of your life to something richer and resplendent with harmonious complements of something fundamentally fulfilling. I have always enjoyed the Blues but never was inclined to pay any sort of metaphoric dues to sing them from my soul. That said, I am on some sort of installment plan, apparently. The words sound familiar but the tune is something I am finding that I groan more than hum. I do not wish you to follow the trail of wasted years I am recollecting. When that journey away from all I knew and had never expected to be removed from came to be it was launched with a going away party. I never anticipated that all of me was to go away. I only expected there to be distance and difficulty but never permanent loss. I have come to experience more loss than any gain in my life here to fore. The first indication of that loss was at the party, in fact. My dearest and closest friends parted with good wishes and warm handshakes and hugs. I have all of them in my life, still. I did not lose them. Had I lost them I would not be here to write this. But the curious thing I took away was what caused tears when it was left behind. That which I cried over and those that cried over me in those goodbye moments were made of incomplete and unresolved stuff. The remorse was in the regret of opportunities not taken, friendships not deepened, and lives not interwoven. I am trying to remember that sting so that I do not live in this coma where all that remains to me are the tears of loss and no hope of gain.

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

The STATUTE of Liberty

When Frédéric Auguste Bartholdi sculpted “La liberté éclairant le monde” (Liberty Enlightening the World) or what is commonly referred to as, the “Statue of Liberty,” it was as a commemoration of the centennial celebration of the Declaration of Independence. It was also a remarkable ideological as well as technological achievement. The copper skin of the figure was wholly supported by an internal structure of iron, designed by Alexandre Gustave Eiffel. Yes, the engineer responsible for the Eiffel Tower. But, what I believe is all the more remarkable is how the history of the statue has been more telling than the symbols in its composition. I now look upon the monument as a sort of national “picture of Dorian Gray.” There are many parallels in the maturation of the young nation of the United States of America to the central figure in Oscar Wilde’s novel.

The concept that drove the forging of the statue was the idea of Liberty as a progression away from slavery, oppression, and tyranny. The grandest hopes of a free society were entrusted to what the founding fathers referred to as the grand experiment. The United States was to be a republic of independently governed states where democratic principles would guide and sustain it. So, within the elements of the statue are such things as the left foot trampling broken shackles while the right foot steps beyond them. There are seven spikes upon the crown to represent both the seven seas as well as seven continents demonstrating that the principles of Liberty should encompass the whole earth. The raised torch is to show enlightenment while the tablet clutched in her arm represents knowledge. To be sure, all of these things are indeed noble. They are also lofty and ambitious objectives so one does not consider that such accomplishments would be easy. However, it would not appear that any of those things indicated by the statue are either regarded or are possibly any longer noticed much less remembered.

I am a staunch supporter of capitalism. Yet, I do not subscribe to the notion that it is a fundamental tenet of the Constitution. The Preamble to the Constitution refers to Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness. It guarantees none of those and it is very appropriately phrased that happiness is a pursuit and not a right to be expected, much less, demanded. What causes me to take issue with the current public mindset is that I sense that “we the people” have upset the balance of reason in favor of selfish pursuit. It is why I believe that when a nation loses its fundamental grasp of the principles, beliefs and convictions intended by its founders and subsequent generations that there becomes a “Statute of Liberty” and that statute has limitations.

And from this point forward in this essay is my concern as best as I have presently developed the analogy. When first delivered to the shores of America, the statue was in crates and needed to be assembled. There were mistakes made in the assembly that were not detected for nearly one hundred years. There were no mistakes in the design or the pieces as forged but in the understanding of the complexity of the instructions and the foreign language used to explain the process. The torch arm was actually attached improperly. Nevertheless, because the design work was so well thought out and so painstakingly constructed - even the foibles of the common man could not disrupt the integrity of the whole. When new, the figure was a shiny copper without any of the green patina that is now far more familiar in the minds of the world looking on her form. The flame of the torch was a solid and complete representation covered in gold leaf. It reflected the sun and shone brilliantly. For many years Liberty towered above other manmade achievements.

Over the course of time the statue became an iconic figure and many added their own symbolic elements to its meaning and purpose . . . even losing sight of its initial intent.
In the 1930’s it was decided that rather than reflect light, externally, the flame of enlightenment needed to be amended and cut full of holes to allow more light, internally. This was one of the first efforts that weakened the underpinnings and allowed the storms of the descending decades to penetrate the edifice and rot the framework. At this same time it was also decided that artificial light was needed to enhance the appearance of the visage of the statue. More holes were cut beneath the arm supporting the torch to place lamps to shine upon the face, and this further weakened the structure. More decades transpired and because the outward appearance of the statue seemed “fine” no one concerned themselves with any examination of the supporting internal works until it was noticed a few years after the bicentennial that Lady Liberty appeared to be “stumbling” and her torch arm was drooping.

It took a charismatic campaign to raise enough financial support to repair Liberty and make her whole, once more. There was not sufficient public interest in preservation of our heritage without the use of commercial ventures and entertainment value to garner the required effort. The benefit to the many was struggled and fought for by a dedicated few. Indifference and apathy replaced patriotism and the appreciation of preserving a national institution. The nation was enjoying a prosperity boom but had no interest in investing in its own relevant past so that future generations would benefit. The picture of Dorian Liberty was showing its age.

Upon close inspection it was discovered that the whole structure was on the verge of collapse – rotting from within. The generations had taken their toll, consuming without putting anything back or exercising any maintenance. The structure had been forged of iron by hammer, hand, and sweat at its core, with a copper skin, and the whole edifice was “safely” surrounded by a saltwater basin. When the notion to alter the natural cycles of day and night with electric light was applied to Liberty Island, the current was carried beneath the water and into the statue. Galvanic corrosion resulted, where the figure became a giant battery, with the saltwater acting as an electrolyte. While everything on the surface appeared unchanged, hidden forces surged from underground channels and dissolved the entire framework that upheld the lovely skin deep illusion of a colossus. The cosmetic portion of the figure was all that remained to carry the weight of the image and it was failing under its own grandeur.

I hope the symbolism is not lost on you. There is a familiarity with the corrosion of the once new and shiny plan and purpose of my nation. On the Statue of Liberty we call it “patina” for it is more attractive a word than ”rust.” We embrace the crusty film over our emblem as it would be far too overwhelming to return a shine, again. The task seems daunting. Likewise, we neglect our infrastructure because, cosmetically, all seems good. And we argue that the crusty film we have developed on the skin of our nation helps to protect us and adds to the distinctive character we project. That is both lazy and troubling. We used to be a bright beacon of hope for other peoples of other nations. But our flame is not so bright any longer and the fire has too many holes as we look for inner light and grow dim and flicker with doubt. We have also grown tired of holding that torch high and in a forward cast. We are directionless and purposeless, I fear. Perhaps if the torch were replaced with our current desire it would be a fist full of dollars or a new cell phone? All I know is that the current light in which we are illuminated isn’t natural. The only accurate element remaining for the modern Land of Liberty is the tablet of knowledge. We exhaust ourselves pontificating, exploring, and babbling incessantly about our superior knowledge. Sadly, wisdom has been forfeit in order to make more room for ambitious learning, apparently.

And the seeking of pleasure and happiness is the new slavery and tyranny that we elect to step into with eagerness. It was somewhere, approximately fifty to sixty years ago, that “thinking” was replaced by “feeling.” No wonder we are adrift as a culture. All of the principles, convictions, and beliefs used to construct this nation are now out of sight and out of mind. We attempt assembly of a complex structure in a language foreign to us. The subjective has been substituted for the substantive. Only because the original design was so diligently calculated and devised are we still standing, today. The core is rotting; hidden beneath a familiar façade assumed to be permanent despite neglect and a failure to maintain it. But there is a statute of limitations on the liberty of ignorance and arrogance.

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

Out, Out Damn Spot - Frankenstein's Ball

In the several weeks which have passed between posts I have been pleasantly surprised that concerned lurkers of my blog have written to me to inquire as to my well being. It now occurs to me that perhaps they sense danger or other need for caution which I have not picked up on while completely absorbed in a forum I practically have built my life around.

The fascination has been easily attributed to the excitement of some real social interaction despite no face-to-face or even voice-to-voice conversation. That was of little practical concern because the stimulating part has been the real-time give and take of the dialog. And . . . the random number of simultaneous conversations and posts makes for a very engaging atmosphere. Each participant is there to escape. For most the escape is from the monotony or avoidance of work. For others it is to reach out beyond loneliness, frustration, or isolation. Some simply enjoy being entertained. All are fine reasons and it really has become an addictive behavior for so many of the members. Unfortunately for me it has been an escape from reality.

If you are familiar with the concept of finger cuffs you will follow my analogy easily. My life has been continuing to become ever more constricted and the more I struggle and fight to free myself from the restraints the tighter and more desperate I have become. On the few occasions where from exhaustion or simply pausing to reevaluate and assess my lot I have simply yielded or stopped struggling all together the “hold” on my ambitions has relaxed. Likewise, the more I try to distance myself from my constraints the tighter they have become; while, if I face and draw nearer to the center of my entanglements the strictures slacken. I have realized this in every aspect of my life save one. The only area where I am still too wounded or conflicted and just have no resolution for the “what and the why” is the notion of dating, again. That’s where my escape through the forum I’m obsessed with has finally become apparent.

I have made the acquaintance of several women through this blog and an argument over a television show and through participation in the forum to which I will only elude. The first of these women reads my mind through the vaguest of comments, decrypts my veiled and cloaked thoughts, and puts them on display to me in her very next response. I am no longer going to bother “hiding” anything from her as it is simply impossible. She is also very much like me in her values and judgments and gives me no quarter for denial but somehow allows me more freedom than I permit myself. She has been encouraging me to find a real, in the flesh, tangible woman somewhere in close proximity to my own back yard. Another is always wondering why I am so willing to tell her nearly anything which comes into my mind and is always poorly arguing that I have misjudged her and given her more heart and soul than she possesses. She is wrong about this – and probably the only thing that she has ever actually been wrong about. Intellectually, she not only challenges me but would likely crush me. A third reminds me of when I felt alive and her vibrancy is refreshing. She has a host of interests and ventures underway that are the stuff I have always dreamed I would find in a woman to share my days with. I am not one to look for things I have in common and with her I do not have to as it seems to be an endless list already exists. She fills my longing to be with Audrey Hepburn. I’d always imagined sitting across a small breakfast table with a woman just like this for as long as I can remember. Then there are a host of vulnerable and sensitive and innocent ones that worry about my health and happiness and fawn all over me. It has been far too long since I have experienced any of that. And, there is even a contingent that is concerned about my body and more importantly its relation to their own. One, in particular has given her unconditional affirmation, affection and acceptance to me. That it has been in intent and not actually is of no consequence. In point of fact, it has made it all the more wonderful.

So what is the problem and where is the escape? I have reversed the story of Frankenstein and made a bride from the composite elements of about a dozen women. Assembled from the minds, and hearts, and souls, and appearance of all of these women is my collective virtual dream girl. They reach out to me and tease, and flirt, and nurture, and scold, and do all the attention feeding things I am so hungry to experience without any of the pain of day to day conflicts, misunderstandings, or responsibilities, or obligations. They are “on demand.” At the click of a button I have them to cherish and when I shift focus or interest I can click another button and they’re gone. This is not healthy.

Now, I am by no means insincere or disingenuous with any of them. I love these women (platonically) and cherish each and every one of them individually. But, my God I am such an attention whore that I need all of them and more. It is really a tiring addiction.
The things which I speak to them about and the flattery and encouragement I try to give them is without any ulterior motives and I am concerned for and about them all. I really try to give them honest praise and bolster their confidence and self-esteem. We are all involved in a dance of wanting to trust and be appreciated by the opposite sex. The problem for me is I am not prepared for when the music stops. I am not going to make the transition smoothly from virtual to real. So, when the band takes a break or everyone else goes home then you may be sure I will be found here more regularly - and although I would hope to be wrong about this – worse off than I was before.

Am I a misunderstood monster of misfit pieces and better off having been left dead rather than revived? My remains are yet to be seen.

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!!

A New Wrinkle - Oh Where, Oh Where Are My South African Friends?

The crease that won't cease

Oh Where, Oh Where Can They Be . . ?

At the risk of slighting all of you that voyeuristically peak at my posts and never comment I am going to pay special attention to the South African contingent, yet again.

But, first - someone that gets all of my abuse, ridicule, and scorn on a regular basis needs to be mentioned. Evi (Not her real name - suspicious? I know I am?) And today, I add her blog as the first official external link that will be permanently affixed to my own. She is a terrific friend and all because she invited me to visit her site, Obsessed with Bones. She's just a very sweet person and her site is the best of its type. That's not hyperbole. Yes. I have mentioned her, before. I am overdue in giving her the first real estate just below my archive list in the right sidebar. So, sorry Evi, that it took too long to rectify that situation.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Now then. Back to those Johannesburg, Gauteng, South African characters. Helen, was the second person ever to feel compelled to comment on my posts. She was then followed by her friend, Luke. These "irritatingly" nice people took one look at my whiny, mopey, woe is me rants and decided to intervene. They may have no idea how much I like them because I never give them a break and love to make snide remarks and generally be a royal pain. They have continued to come back, regardless. That is to say, I think they are still coming back. I heard from Luke, recently, but Helen has cut me off. I think my purely all in good fun post recommending the best hat for her work estranged us? I'm not certain. There are so many possible places I could have offended her or given her creepy vibes - the opportunities to fail are nearly boundless. There is the possibility that she's not as nice as I thought - or, she and Luke are one-in-the-same person.

The latter is a distinct possibility. That brings me to, Candice. I have never really engaged her in direct conversation. There have been random passings at the comment watering holes of other people's posts. Luke claims, that in actual fact, Candice and I are one-in-the-same person. You can see Candice's picture, above, on the side of the milk carton. You may also have noted there is no picture of me to be found. I would argue that as proof but then the exact same situation applies to Helen and Luke. Helen has no picture - I wouldn't know her if I fell over her - and Luke is grinning away, just like Candice. This means that it is more likely that Helen, and I are the same person and the ramifications of that are quite disturbing because that means I have stopped speaking to myself!

What does it all mean? I'll tell you. I want to find that magic post - the skeleton key - to unlock all of the conversations I'm so hungry to enjoy. I have had the door crack open and then slam shut. What will it take to make that door swing wide open and stay that way? I have become fond of the thoughts, opinions, and attitudes of every person that has ever commented on this blog. But, I want more. I want people to let their hair down and use this blog as an open forum. I am an open book. Maybe not the best read but if you don't see it all you have to do is ask with me and I'll tell you nearly anything. I don't expect those commenting to be so candid but I do like comments.

I don't want to have to resort to shock tactics to draw comments out of people. I just want conversation. How come nobody wants to be my friend? [stage directions: dark stage except for solitary spotlight; ADDhole sits in despair, pouting and sulking; a single tear streaks down his grimy cheek . . . ] Cue the sad music! Where are my warm, fuzzy South African do-gooders when I need them? Where are the dark, sinister South African sadists when I need them? (I'm talking to you - Candice) My favorite reaction to storming into the comments of another person's post was here. When he read my comment, his reply was, "Thanks. Who are you?" Yet, he like most everyone else, isn't bothering to find out.

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

Out, Out Damn Spot - Hello Kitty Wanted For Questioning

Kimono-clad Hello Kitty holds her certificate received from Japan's Land, Infrastructure, Transport and Tourism Minister Tetsuzo Fuyushiba, left, at his office in Tokyo, Monday, May 19, 2008. Fuyushiba appointed the popular cartoon character as ambassador to welcome tourists from China and Hong Kong. Photo Credit: Koji Sasahara / AP

On the heels of yesterday’s announcement that Hello Kitty had been named Japan’s tourism ambassador to Hong Kong and China, allegations of involvement in an ongoing police investigation surfaced, but were quickly retracted. A source from Japan’s office of Land, Infrastructure, Transport and Tourism agreed to speak on condition of anonymity.

The source alleged that a crackdown on illegal labor practices involving sweatshops manufacturing the many products of the Hello Kitty empire had raised suspicions that, “Ms. Kitty was in this thing up to her whiskers.” However, further investigation put such speculation into doubt. After demonstrating remarkable poise in the face of such allegations, Hello Kitty, remained characteristically silent while freely cooperating with authorities and providing corroborating evidence for her attorney’s claims that she was not involved in such atrocities.

An attempt to verify the source’s information with police was rebuffed as the police will not comment on current investigations. A subsequent purse of incriminating documents was covertly left at this reporter’s desk, and although not as yet authenticated, further implicates Hello Kitty on corruption and racketeering charges. “That’s one felonious feline,” purred a high ranking official in the court, “but if you’re waiting for her to blink it’s never going to happen.”




[L-R] Hello Kitty's gal pal, Fifi;
purported missing friends, Cathy & Tiny Chum.

Rumor and conjecture are a seemingly daily bone of contention for international celebrities of Kitty’s and jet setting gal pal Fifi’s caliber. But the fur may start flying if any evidence links her to the mysterious disappearance of her close friends, Tiny Chum and Cathy. Although the close confidants and constant public companions of Hello Kitty have not been seen in nearly a week, authorities are reluctant to declare them officially missing persons. Grumblings among Kitty’s closest companions are the most provocative accusations being cast in her direction.

Surprisingly the most vocal has been Tippy, long-time hanger-on with a well publicized romantic interest in Ms. Hello. His own history of stalker-like behavior and substance abuse issues (two DUI in the past six months) has all but discredited his alarm but it is the shy avoidance of Hello’s other friends to come to her defense which has allowed the accusations to have some merit. Our anonymous source also indicated that the time of the sudden disappearances coincided too conveniently with the government’s decision to close the books on the working condition scandal and select Hello Kitty – a major financial contributor to the election coffers of many officials – to her role as ambassador to the very country in which the alleged misdeeds occurred.

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!!