Why Tom sucks #1 (KONSFW)*

*Kind of not suitable for work

Own it. Put it out there. If I share with you why I think I am awful, then maybe it will help me stop being a bitch and become more sociable...not that I want to be, but, well...

1. Tom sucks because he takes two hour shits.  This is somewhat of a confession and it might severely cut back on the time in the 'office', but I camp out in the bathroom. I'm doing it right now. Sometimes I do it to avoid people, but mostly, I do my business and get caught up in what I am working on and then I can't feel my body below my waist.


May your day suck as much as mine.




For those of you who don't know me, I like to laugh at myself. I just never put it out there like this. Like most of my conversations, most of it is truthful, some is embellished and very little is made up. What it's meant to do is make you laugh. I was going to call it, 'why no one likes me', but I started to cry. You can't get more pathetic than crying while on the toilet. Basically, take what you see with a couple grains of salt.

Stubborn

I took a sip of water straight from the tap. It was so cool, but I drank until I was full. I stood ups and wiped the water from mouth. I heard the door open. Slowly at first, then it stopped. I waited. 

I jumped as the door slammed open, and slammed into the wall. 

I knew it was her. 

The smell, which wafted in with the opening of the door, was horrid. Rotten, like a cheerleader in pajamas who hasn’t showered for days.

She was dead. 

The mud smeared across his clothes, in his hair and under his fingernails told him so. 

The smell was stronger now, as he heard her shamble to the entrance to the kitchen. 

“You always were stubborn. I should have dug a deeper hole. 

Wasted

Jealousy

feasts 

Never

satiated 

It eats you 

Alive

Breeds hate

murders love

Wasted life

Dead Wood

of the several stacked by the wall

different people were uncomfortable

lying on the dead

Stolen Sacrifice

and the drum beat

incessantly

Driving the thought

Deeper 

His brain aches with

guilt

His heart full of 

sorrow

Borrowed from the 

overseers

District chose him to 

die

Overseers unable to 

look

Unable to watch unearned

death

Sacrifice innocent men to 

die

Saves rest to betray 

later. 

Blood and Lace

Doing things, minute and

Deep

Start the process, begins

the pain

It spills over onto the white

Lace

Stillborn

Head 

And legs

Stillborn clot

Roots still in 

roots still digging at

my soul

Proclaiming your atheism: an opportunity for empathy/sympathy

This video came out about a year ago, but it still is a good example what religion can do to people. Not all people. There are people who believe and are not overtly passionate about it. They believe and that’s it. The average religious person most likely grew into the religion, Catholic or Muslim or take your pick. When you are born into a religion or way of life, you are more likely to base everything you know about morality and God on that. If you grow up in a home or culture that does not encourage free thought, then you see no problem with judging others who either have no faith or question theirs. It contradicts your way of life an may be convinced that is the only proper way to live. 

The mother in the audio was downright hysterical. She not only wanted her son disfellowshipped, she wanted to degrade him by yelling at, slapping and mimicking him. Disfellowshipping, simply put, is when you shun someone. After going through a process to make sure they are truly unrepentant, a disfellowshipped person must remove themselves from the religion. JW.org says that the disfellowshipped person is not separated from their friends and family, but I have met people who have been disfellowshipped for marrying outside the faith and for being promiscuous, and they say that this simply is not true. They saw that it was happened more often than not that their most their family and friends broke contact. There are people who go the rest of their lives without seeing or even talking to their loved ones. 

So when you look at it in that perspective, you can see why the mother might have went ballistic. To her, her son was knowingly ending his life. Not only that, but by questioning it, he was insulting her faith.  Believe me when I say that I am not judging this mother. Although I do not believe in god almost as adamantly as she does, I do have empathy for her. 

I was faced with that dilemma after this year’s election.  What I saw as the president-elect rose in his campaign made me more and more disgusted. After the election, I realized that there were people around me who had voted for him. A couple even expressed concern or worry over their vote or even tried to justify it. I decided that I would make an effort to keep those people out of my life if they chose to talk about it. 

One could relate it to shunning. In my mind, it is the right thing to do because I am keeping mean and hateful people (or at least people who condone the mean and hateful) away from my children. The only difference is that her anger and sorrow comes from religion and mine doesn’t. I applaud the young man for standing up for what he believes and my heart goes out to the mother that she may open hers.

If you want to read the article, here's the link: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/progressivesecularhumanist/2015/12/listen-mom-abuses-teen-for-coming-out-as-atheist/ \ 

Eni[me] (or, self-sarcasm)

For the first time in awhile, I actively distracted myself from writing. Normally, I don't write for lack of time, or I simply can't get up. I still want to write in those instances, I just don't. What I don't do is essentially say, 'you need to write," and then immediately say I don't want to, either by actually saying it or doing something els ine.

Today, I chose not to write. Granted, I needed to do what I did instead, but I chose to do it instead of writing. 

I'm not particularly worried about it. Hell, I shod be happy I didn't harrumph through my day; I mad a decision. 

YAY, me.

What do you call sarcasm against yourself?

Numb

Smash the nail
Pull, tear from the skin

Self-inflicted punch to the eye

Rats-nest my hair
Pull, rip bloody follicles

Barefoot-kick the wall,
walk on gnarled toes

Cause/Effect

Forgot to pay a bill
Homeless in ten years

Kids don't clean their rooms
Worthless hoarders dying in their filth

Muscle pain in the morning
Cancer by dinner

Get out of bed
Earth consumed by catastrophic
cataclysmic, doomsday
explosive fireball of an apocalypse

Full service Plague

Plague in  my head
Lays waste to cells
Dulls emotions.
Buries me when it’s done

Big Ball of Dad

There are times when I don't have my shit together. I mean, much of my day, I couldn't hold myself together with super glue, duct tape, or staples  combined. I'm not talking about those times. The times I am talking about are the times when I am playing normal, everyday citizen and I am not ready. 

For instance, the other day, I wanted to get out. I didn't care where, I just wanted out of the house. My wife was leaving and I put stuff on and followed her out the door. Better way to say it is my body did its best impression  of a.blind, three-legged bull in an overstocked china shop.

I had the basics down, barely. One foot Frankenstein's-monster clumped into the table, bounced off the wall, the door jamb and out the door. I'm not sure I even closed the door. It's coincidental that I likened myself to a lumbering monster, because that's what I felt like.

I was confused to be outdoors. I didn't understand what the fast and loud things on the road were, and I was angered at and tried to wave  away the bright ball in the sky. When I got I to the van, I grunted that I was ready to go.

By and far, I prefer when I am level headed and/or coherent enough to behave myself and not push anyone's buttons, including my own. Instead of getting mad or frustrated, I am calm with an open ear.These are the times I consider myself 'Dad'. Most other times, I am a self-doubting, paranoid, sarcastic ball of shit. That's how I see myself anyway. I have yet to live with my anxiety. I still let it rule many of my days, but I have also learned to make the most of the days when I am just Dad.

Motivational (at least for me, anyway)

I wish I could capture my sense of humor. The problem is, I have a problem remembering rants and quirky connections later, mainly because they are never logical.

"Why not channel it? Free up you mind and go there?"

I'll tell you why: I squander. Most of the time it is not a conscious choice. I squander my time. I don't set limits on myself because when I set limits on myself, I never recognize the limits. "You're not the boss of me!" I yell at myself and I end up on the computer or my phone until I end up late for something or too tired to get up and go to bed.

When I want to read, I don't . When I want to write, I don't. Like I said, that's not all the time, but it happens enough that I wonder why, if I want to do something, why can't I follow Mr. Labouff's advice and

Sorry, but...he's so enthusiastic! It makes me want to strive to not be like him. Creatively, I have to say, I do envy him.  He puts the crazy out there.

Anyway, I guess you call it self-defeatism, engineering pity...I think I wrote about it before. I do something to sabotage myself so when I fail, I can have the caveat of trying. If I succeed by accident, whoops....yay!

Good ole' Catholic Guilt

"He knows when you've been bad or good, so be good for goodness sakes." It's never been easy to make sure kids are doing the right thing. What better way to enlist an omniscient being who watches over everyone to make sure they are good? I guess the same can be said for people in general. We have laws that are supposed to keep people safe and deter others from committing crimes. Then there's religion.

God is looking out for us, so we better honor him and love him. He did forgive you for your original sin...that he gave you, so you better do right by him.

Pic:Unit 70 Studios

I was not so much raised Catholic as I was raised in a home of people who were Catholic. We went to church on Sunday, knelt, stood and crossed ourselves. It was something to do on Sundays. But, I was never struck with awe by the wonder of god. I did learn things, though. I learned guilt and accountability. More specifically, religion introduced me to the concept of guilt, which I would later realize is a feeling everyone has to a certain extent, but is used by some to manipulate people into doing what they want.

Guilt is a tool I believe religion uses to keep believers humble. Followers were born into original sin, feel the guilt and give themselves to god.  Guilt is a negative feeling that is caused when you do something that is perceived to be bad. It all depends on what you define as 'bad.' If I know something is wrong, I will not do it, not out of fear of getting caught or angering god, but out of respect for myself and others.

I hold myself accountable. Any negative thing I put out into the world, it's mine. I own the consequences. I have no one to fall back on but myself.

Carcass

 

Can't think
Swollen head
No room for thought

Emotion to expression
Broken

Words chop
Splatter
Then trickle

Run down and
Dry on my
Chin like

So much
Blood from my
Brain, the
Dying, useless

carcass

Nix

god
demon
risen from hell

Banished, too
evil
sadistic

Fatuous in
Hell
lowly demon

children starve
sick
die

innocents
sodomy,
raped

butcher-kill
corpses

hellbound nothing
earthly cockatrice

blight of humans
or

Fairy tale....

much better story as 
nix-fiction

On the side

Toxic
wanton
forlorn

Infectious
avoiding
cynical

Running in place
I walk with them

Day dims
Deprogram
Deflate

I lurk with
The
     Black
     injurious
     infected
     unwanted
side

My side
secure in the crawling skin, mind

Sleep for shit, numb
for the day to come







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Just an observation (Brain Droppings)

There are days when I don't get shit done, and I feel like a failure. I can account for everything in my life, every happening, and mistake, as leading up to me not doing anything about anything. Of course, because--well, at least I am consistent, I think.

Then there are days I have so much stuff on my plate and  I am really clicking and can't miss a step.

But then, the me on the first mentioned days says, 'well, you still didn't get shit done. You're still in the same spot you were yesterday. Bravo, dickhole!'

Whether it is stubbornness, trying to show the first me up, the second me always gets up and goes and goes...

One day, I will get there.

Critical Thought: My Origin Story?

Along with what our purpose is and where we came from, I wonder, Why am I like this? Why do I wonder and think and hash things out before they happen? Why do I need proof for everything? As a teenager, I would constantly wonder and sometimes ask the significant other if they felt the same way as I did.

I guess it is related to the contradiction I saw growing up. I was raised to believe. God was our savior and the light and he would be with us. His love was unconditional. But, even as a kid, I thought, 'so why do people feel alone? If God loves everyone, why is there suffering? Why is their loneliness? Then I learned that you have to let him in. 'But if he loves you,' I wondered  'why is that necessary?' That's when I learned that love can be conditional. I saw that there was still pain in the world and that those people who felt pain and suffering had, at the very least not let god into their hearts. They had done something that god did not like, so were not worthy of their love.

I think that is when I started to see that thought, rational thought, trusting in your own process of thinking, allowed me to reach conclusions. They were not always right, but they helped me live a halfway sane life. Even though the resulting atheism came later, for me, that is where the groundwork for critical thought began. That is where my doubt started. I began to question things.

As much as people trust in god, I trust in thought. As much as others pray for guidance, I turn to my thoughts, or those of others, and derive my own conclusion.

Fleeting focus

Focus
Out like a light

Thoughts
scatter drunkenly

I stumble to pick them up

I fall on them

I slap myself for pausing
forcing the thoughts to come

Incoherently jumbled,
they trickle through
my head and out into the world

I grab them before they dissolve,
float away.

Bloody Treat

The skin comes off, first in small pieces, then in whole sections. Using a finger from only one hand he picks at the wet skin and has problems grabbing it. He finally manages to pinch the flesh, but puts ever more gingerly. Slow and steady he pulls from the wrist to the crook of the elbow. This piece is wider, so he grabs the steak knife and says gently. He rolls the skin off the arm and throws it over his shoulder. The skin hasn’t been hitting the ground. His dog is very happy. 

George makes a note of this. He still doesn’t have full control over him yet, but at least he is feeding him. He’d rather have bigger pieces, like the ones the man served himself at dinner. But He thinks it might take great effort, a puppet or not, to cut your own skin off. 

The skin slips out from under George’s paw and it slaps into his muzzle. He shakes his head and the meat drops to the floor. He quickly snatches it up and chews and swallows. 

George licks his paws and the sides of his snout for the remaining morsels and realizes that the man is not cutting anymore. The sounds he hears coming from the man are no longer from the cutting. These sounds were different.  From the back of the couch, he sees the man shaking, then the sounds became louder, not unlike his howls when he gets hurt by the man or when the man leaves him outside to long in the snow. 

George’s tail wags, barks and trots to the front of the couch. He barked and growled at the man. He picked up the knife in his mouth and put it on the man’s lap. He barked his deep bark and bared his teeth. The man's eyes met George's and the crying immediately ceased. He nodded, fighting back tears.

The man whimpered. He picked up the knife and went to work on the underside of his arm. 

Intelligent Design: 'Look at me! I'm Science!'

In response to Mike Pence Wants Creationism Taught in Public Schools,

I wrote "[H]omeschool. My kids would be pulled out of school so fast if they started teaching this." I stand by this, even though my wife gave me her, Okay-honey eye roll. bracing herself for another discussion on religion.

I spared her the discussion because Intelligent Design is not religion and teaching it in schools is not teaching religion-- it is even worse: it is science tainted by religion.  The religious who push this want you to be confused. They want you to say, 'oh, that doesn't sound too bad,' and next thing you know, you're watching reruns of The Flinstones as documentaries.

I fully support the teaching of religious history, even religious theory (for lack of a better term, and on the condition that non-belief is presented as an option as well),  but Intelligent Design is built on the assumption that the bible is a historical account. A record of history. Time and time again it has been proven that the Bible is filled with discrepancies. Science depends upon the observation and interpretation of our surroundings, to constantly build new theories on how our world works. Intelligent Design piggy backs on science's credibility by calling itself a science, all the while denouncing it by its very premise: God exists.

Trying to put intelligent design on the same level as science is not bringing forth an alternative to or a new branch of science. It is a covert way to push religion onto the unsuspecting.

Black Slug

Sluggish
Drive myself
into the pain with
screeching past

smooth over my edges
wish to be forgotten
wish to be a void
                                                      look unto me and see

nothing.

Discussed Anger (Brain Droppings)

I realized something today.  I mentioned in a previous post that as a child and adolescent, my family never discussed politics and that I must have fallen far from the tree. I think about politics and the state of the world a lot. The internet and social media have made it possible fo me to deliver my opinion to others. I have been called passionate and have entered into my fair share of flame wars.

I know now that this desire to tell people what I think, to debate when it is better left alone, when most people would move along, is related to my upbringing.

Last night, I had dinner with my father. On the tip of my brain was the election, but given past habits, I did not bring it up. Before last night, I had decided to not let who they voted for affect how I feel about my family. But, it still pisses me off. It disgusts me when I see decisions certain politicians have made or plan to make that will have detrimental effects on my family and I think, 'How could they.' For example, I thought that today after my wife talked about unions and the effects current negotiations could have on our family. I thought, 'Why dad?'

I think the reason I am passionate about politics and eagerly enter into the fray is not so much an effect of our family not talking about it--not directly, way--as it is that I know I can't talk about it out of respect, but it still pisses me off, and this anger is injected into my discussions with other people.

Disillusioned (Brain Droppings)

So, I found out my parents voted for Trump.

On Saturday family day trip, we took a detour on the way home and went to my parents' house for a visit.  We were there long enough that I laid down and took a nap. I overheard my wife and mom talking about the election and ho they voted for.

How could they? Did I fall far from the tree? They have a son whose family, mainly his autistic son, who depends on some of the programs that are likely to be cut by the President-elect. Who depends on a certain amount of benefits that could possibly get cut. So, did they just not pay attention to the issues?

Here's the thing. You never would guess it, but I was raised not to talk about politics. It was never spoken or discussed in our house. Neither was religion...and we were Catholic. So if we had opinions on such matters, we held it in. There was no abuse or fear, we just didn't talk about it. It was a sign of respect NOT to talk about it. I am not surprised that it was my mother who talked to my wife, after I was asleep.

I believe it was this attitude that inspired me to ask questions. I had always been the kid to ask, 'why?' Even though I continued to never take things at face value, I learned that it was better to pick my battles. That slowly became an attitude of mind your own business. Today, I continue to have these conflicting values: Always ask questions vs. Leave well enough alone.

I hope that someday we can talk about it, but I honestly do not think that any good would come of it.

Similar Articles

You can't work with abhorrent inexperience
Disappointment is not hatred
Misogyny, Racism and Ableism are not okay now
Even Hitler had his Good Days

Gum

Causes are effects
Emotions, rootless

consequences precursors
to more failure

Life stumbles forward
carrying us on the

bottom of its shoe.

---

More by me: 

Zombie Bait:Pieces of my brain for you to digest-A book of poems

Zombie Bait 2: More Bits (more poems)

Smoldering Phoenix

The strings leave
too much slack

Their balls to small

to fill their sacks

They crumble and fall
Eager for the pain to end

The puppeteer stalks,
Checks the strings

Attached, he kicks them
They lie still

They gather their string and

Wait for their time.

Costumed nihilist

Rise up
As I walk

My fingers claw
at the inside of my shins
hands grab an pull

the rest of me
buoyed by half-assed
optimism


I stand within myself
push my feet into my skin
like climbing into favorite jeans

Slip my arms into worn skin
like an old coat, over my shoulders
I shake and thrust out my arms

Reposition my sockets to see through the
holes, I blink. Work my jaw and open my maw
widen it into a grotesque smile

I squeeze air through my lungs
because that's what people do when
they don't want to die.


----





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Grave efforts

Struggling to reach normal
                      be the perfect father
                                 compassionate husband


with no definition.
Climbing with no direction
I grip for the level above,
when all I do is dig deeper

Up is down.
Life the grave.




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Bound away.

The thoughts leave,
they escape.

Gone until I see them
later

Faded and worn, vague
representations

I call to them, coo words
similar


But they cock their heads and
bound away.



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To be heard.

Hands slap my face
Futile revival of a
Sluggish mind

Catching up to a
Speeding cart
Carrying life away

Blind, fingerless
slapping, poking
the keyboard words


once they leave my
mind, they dissipate
into the air, gone

Ideas held back, run
and batter into my
skull, and scream

To be heard

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Journal: Writer, Where Art Thou?

I've lost all desire to write. I write this, but outside the quick spurts, I don't feel compelled to write. Three months ago, I was collaborating with my friend on a book; I barely give a shit when I lost the drive the book was on.

I found the will after a long dry spell before. It will happen again.

Boiled down loathing

I will never tell off the people I perceive dislike you because you smell, are hateful, paranoid.

Because I agree with them.

I am

I am:
resentful
Sad
apathetic
aloof
cowardly
deviant
unfaithful
perverted


....and that's in my own head.

Burn Bridges

Burn bridges to get
Get away.
Build walls against the
Past.
Run away from possible
Pain.



Look across, They're
Gone.
Wall becomes brittle
Old.
Everything feels so
Dead.

Life Excision

Exhausted
Each morning.

Nausea,
Stomach nervous.

Hate
Eluding logic.

Morals
Kill rationality.

Head,
Swooning balance.

Heart
Racing away

Anger
Barely tethered.

Writhing Contradiction

I have become my own worst enemy. I contradict myself at every turn, deciding and acting one day and questioning and chastising myself the next.

I have values, but when I assert them, become aggressive, I find the contradiction. The two, aggressive and passive, constantly push against each other. Never touching bet always fending each other off.

I know I am passionate, but I hate interacting with people, which is also at odds with how I want friends. I know there are people who are repulsed by how I voice my opinion, even my 'friends.' It saddens me, but I have tried playing the game and being positive, and it doesn't work.

So, I have two choices: Driving people away and being sad every once in awhile not having any friends or not being myself and having friends, all the while crawling in my skin.

Even Hitler had his good days

Forgive me if this post seems redundant of a previous FB post, but I feel it's worth more thought. So, I've seen this video floating around supporting the thought that Trump is not a despicable person.  Not misogynistic. Not ableist. Ignorant to what his supporters have been doing in his name during the campaign and after the election.

Oh, that's it, we have all just misunderstood him. Granted, some of the things that are cited as racist statements can be argued otherwise, or as being ambiguous at best.  Those alone, I MIGHT have been able to give them the benefit of the doubt. But coupled with his condoning of the acts on is behalf, is almost as bad as the acts themselves.

Hitler had his good days. Charles Manson had his good days. Show those times, and maybe you'll be convinced they were royal douchebags.

Here are 13 Examples of Trump Being a Racist

We Shouldn't Forget Trump's Bigotry and Hate Just Because He Won the Election 

These 49 quotes are all things Trump actually said

Protesting: It's your right

I realized I don't have to address every slight or enter every argument.

I found myself arguing with someone about something government related. While I was ticked off, I did not rush back to my feed to see what he said next or try to bash or insult him. The point of all this is not to argue and insult the other side. The point of this is not to run away from arguments. The point of this is not to run to arguments either. 'Start the dialogue' doesn't mean trying  to do so to show them how it's done.

If you are upset over the election results, if you are scared or pissed or sad, you have to realize that what happened was not unforeseen. It was preventable, though. Everyone except his supporters underestimated him. He was an entertaining soundbite, fodder for jokes. He was not seen for the threat that he actually was.

You'll be called names. You might even be threatened, but if you persist in realizing that people lash out when threatened. Many see a discussion as a threat. Eventually, I think you will be able to stand being called names. And remember, every battle is fought differently. Some aren't worth your time.

You are not whiners. You are not babies. You are not sore losers. Whether people agree with you or not as to why you are protesting, it is your right. One of the first things they will tell you is that what you are doing is a waste of tie. They are merely pissed because the people who were screwed over actually have a voice, or they are jealous that you have the courage to make your voice heard.

New Kind of Anger

So I was an unprecedentedly calm and cool the night of the election. A lot of it was that it was over. The kind of calm I used to feel after the conclusion of a big exam for which I prepared little or not at all. Don't get me wrong. I was not happy. But I went to bed thinking we move on. It might suck. It might be okay.

Then I woke up. The next morning I was surly. After dropping the kids off at school, I started feeling a little bit sad. I was looking at Facebook and saw all the 'Day after' photos (people were calling them 'day one' photos, but technically, that day is not yet here), of racist epithets and acts of hate against people of different races. Still on Facebook, I scrolled to find that an old acquaintance of mine had called people who were upset about the election "butthurt whiners."

Click.

I didn't get angry, all hot in the head. I realized that there is no reason I have to respond to anything. No rule says I have to read and respond. What is also true is that I also don't have to take shit from people. Just because someone types in all caps does not mean I need to take them seriously or be scared of them. Most of the time, name callers just want to break you down; all they want is an argument. I used to get all nervous about starting arguments, avoiding confrontation. If you want to open dialogue, don't be scared of bloviating assholes, calm them down and talk to them.

The whole point of getting involved is to converse.

Racism, Misogyny, Ableism is not okay now

The day before the election, my seven year old talked to us about voting. His class had a mock election and he told us that he was voting for Trump because that is who was going to win; that's what people said. we explained to him that he should inform himself and vote the way he felt was right, not the way other people told him to.

This morning, I told my kids that Trump won. I told them that because this is the man the country has elected, we we need to respect that. But, they are not blind or deaf. Over the course of the election, they saw and heard all the deplorable things come from this man.  I told them that just because he won, does not make what he said and did okay. I know this will be the case, because it happened on a smaller scale here in Riverside. Candidates slammed, slandered and intimidated candidates and voters, and validated their actions, dismissing them, actually, because they won. Well, people did not shut up. I have seen my friends, Christine Kirkwood and Kevin Kiene, keep up their cause, their belief in a Riverside that does not need to falling to line with other small towns that accept the corn stalk hierarchy, and blindly support or overlook the actions of someone just because they are of certain families.

These are the people I want to use as an example going forward, not just for myself, but for my children. You can't change things overnight, and you can't change things if you sit on your ass.

You can be respectful and still stick it to them.

Disappointment is not Hatred

But isn't that hate? I ask myself, Aren't you doing exactly what you say is bad: hating people because they are different?

I don't hate them. I don't. But I know that my thoughts and my actions can come across as being hateful. I unfriended people I knew or had good cause to believe were supporting Trump. I have been very vocal in my secluded little world about my disdain for him; then again, at no time did anyone want to talk about it. No one. Which absolutely does not surprise me.

As is the case with Trump supporters, I distance myself from them because I know that their support for the man has something to do with hate (for the system, for women, for minorities, Hillary, Obama, themselves, what have you).

Part of it is that I don't want to be around people, so I don't put myself in situations that cause me to experience that. I do judge people. I think you need to judge people to protect you and yours. If you don't, then you are not going to be able to discern between good people and bad people. Where we run into a problem is when people have a skewed or warped sense of good and bad and how to identify it, when they have a fucked up metric or labels, 'telling' them who is good and who is bad.

You can't work with abhorrent inexperience

Strip away everything else about Trump, a man with no political experience has been elected president. If Trump wins, for the people who didn’t for Trump,  this won’t be the normal conceding to someone you disagree with on economic or educational issues. Fighting against the establishment, this ‘movement’ he started, is nothing more than a validation of the county’s abhorrent racism, sexism, and intolerance.

I understand when people write that no matter the outcome, we are still together as a country. Let me tell you something. This country has never been more vulnerable. Insurance will be lost; people who enjoyed insurance for the first times in their lives will lose it. Vital services. Gone. Life saving procedures. Gone. 

And what will happen to all those “handouts” conservatives are complaining about…more than a few people depend on those handouts to live. We’re on the street, or the disrupt the stable environment we have established for Keegan, because…I know I’ll sound lazy…either I will or my wife will have to work more. 

So keep talking about pulling together and being one nation and working together when this man, essentially puts you neighbors, you children or friends out on the street. Keep talking when people, citizens, are deported for being in a different religion. 

And for fuck’s sake, he will have the nuclear codes. 

internal

At odds, at odds, odds
I make myself pay every day

No good, no good, good
Deplorable, I become loving

So shallow, so shallow. Shallow.
I dig to the surface, breathe

I dig, I dig, dig
Daily, I dig out of the hole

I fight, I fight. Fight.
Pity vs. Confidence, no winner.

Shameless self-promotion...just add the shame

I was cleaning out my file cabinet and came across a stack of paper and partially filled notebooks. Filling the papers were a crap ton of poems. A handful were from when I was still in high school, but a good portion was from college and post-college. I struggled to interpret a lot of it. There were quite a few that dug into my heart and threatened to push it out through my chest. Love lost(sometimes on purpose or through my own stupidity).  Many of the mistakes I made are there, most of their lessons not learned until much later.

I want to share this with others. Two links. Two books. There is a fiction series by the same name. Mine's the poetry.

Enjoy.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01MSGZHZW/ref=sr_1_22?ie=UTF8&qid=1478228719&sr=8-22&keywords=zombie+bait 

https://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B01M3YZAXO/ref=mp_s_a_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1478469790&sr=8-1&pi=SY200_QL40&keywords=zombie+bait+2&dpPl=1&dpID=51grjB6eIiL&ref=plSrch

Protection from Life

Stone wall
Headlong
Numbs more than
Replenishes

Time spent building not
Futile
Protection, safety never a
Waste

Running into it loosened
A brick
I see other lives
Lived by masked
Simulations

Yet I'm still jealous
Time spent building is not Futile
Protection, never a waste
But

Time spent building is not without its
Consequences

If this is the simulation, then what's the real world like?

I had a great idea for a story, until I watched the next in the series in the show Black Window,  San Junipero. The series depicts individuals in abnormal and sometimes surreal situations that usually result in tragedy and/or horror. This particular episode was a story about two women who regularly visit what you first believe is the past or the future. It turns out they regularly go into a simulated reality that provides refuge and/or stimulation to old and/or terminally ill people. 

http://www.themarysue.com/san-junipero-playlist/

I'm planning on revisiting the idea. It could still work, because I have a different twist. It became weird when I grouped it with a couple other occurrences. The other day, I was leafing through a book and talking to my wife and I referred to apples, and the next page I turned to, Eve was picking an apple. Then, yesterday, I asked my son where the phone was, and it rang.

Coincidences like this make me question reality.

Light Reading: My Existence

I've been reading The God Delusion and I recently picked up the books Philosophy in Minutes (2014) by Marcus Weeks, Existentialism: All that Matters (2015) by David Cerbone and Trivium: The Classical Liberal Arts of Grammar, Logic, & Rhetoric (2016) John Martineau, editor. I was drawn to existentialism in college. I was taking a rhetoric or logic class and either overhead Sartre's name or tumbled on it in a bookstore, not sure. But, it was one of the few papers I wrote in college that I actually worked on. No last minute bullshit for this one. I pored myself into it. I could not wait to get to work and was disappointed when the work was done. Little did I know that I would revisit it again and again throughout my life. So, here I am today.

The focus on the individual, the subjective human experience appeals to me today more than ever. I have always been somewhat self-centered anyway because I have such a problem interacting with others, unless it is through sarcasm or humor. It applies to me to day as well because of my relatively recent realization of my atheism. I hadn't thought about it then, but I certainly had the same feelings of disillusionment and 'that's a load of shit' then that I do now. I have just been acknowledging it now, over the recent years.

The subjective human experience, existential angst, and our relationship to the world applies to thoughts of god and whether or not he exists. We have our life, and that's it rather than God pulling our strings or setting the script.

Under my skin: A short summary of an anomaly.

I am not the social butterfly I envisioned I would be in a town this size. I tell myself that I don't want to be around people. For the most part, that is true, but there is the conflicting feeling of jealousy over what other people have, or what I perceive them to have. I picture people calling each other on the phone or hopping over or dropping in, to talk about something weird that happened, to remind them of a meeting at the school, or to invite them to the party they're throwing together that day.

When you get right down to it, I could care less what people think. Sure there's that initial sting and occasional bad taste, but for the most part, I am able to cut people off with such precision. If I am done with someone, I barely recognize them if I see them in public. Being so good at that has not only caused many burnt bridges, but it has also left a persistent lack of trust in others, an assumption that others fail me.

I have had social misstep after social misstep. I have been this way my whole life. When communication breaks down, embarrassment leads to avoidance. I always seem to say the wrong thing at the wrong time. I am all too accustomed with the taste of my foot.

That's why I write.


We have a dirty and smelly house. Busy? Sure. High ratio of people to space? Definitely. Too much shit? Yup. Self-esteem, anxiety, depression and medication issues? Yes, uh-huh, affirmative, and that's a big 10-4.

I don't drink,  I don't like sports, and I don't like dropping in to people's places. I wrote a blog that covered the bullshit in my local government, which, I believe, paints me as a negative person and has ostracized me from many. That blog is the one thing that has changed me in both good and bad ways.

The good: I have met some great people (to whom this post is dedicated). I write more.  Who am I kidding...I actually write. Before the blog, I wrote the occasional human interest or city council piece, but I never wrote for myself. Now, I write and work for me. I have this blog, I write short stories and I also volunteer at the library by writing their quarterly newspaper. I have recently completed a research project for a neighboring town.

The bad: But the blog soured me toward people. I poured my heart and soul into that thing (Riverside's government, specifically) and I wrongly expected my readers to do the same. I received hateful messages and snideful comments, and been removed from a city Board. I drew the ire of 'important' people in this town and I don't have a lot to show for it. All that has left me bitter.

I've been cut off from my immediate world for awhile, from people I care about. Been sorting through my life, getting my shit together, etc.

I'm here. I'm fine.

Excuses, excuses (Brain Droppings)

I stopped writing because I lost my thumbdrive AND my computer took a shit. I thin I might have unconsciously taken it as an omen. I have been coming up with excuses on why I shouldn't write, stories that is, but I force myself to post to this blog.

I love it when my personalities squabble.

Silhouette in the dark (Brain Droppings)

The kind of feeling of sorrow on which you can build.

It is how you feel when you feel sad or nostalgic, but then you realize 'I'm still here. I got this far. Fuck the world. The things this world puts in your way are but things. Words are but words. Nothing can get in your way

There is no impending doom of the future, or the futility of it all.

It is the closest to happiness, real happiness with myself.

Bah-Bah-Bless you: Living in the Believers' World

I had a friend recently ask me if I would be offended if someone told me 'May God bless you," as a farewell. He asked this on his Facebook wall, and to his chagrin, none of the people who responded had a problem with it. Upon reading the discussion, everyone who responded was religious to some extent. No one had an issue, and neither do I, to tell the truth. Here's what I posted as a comment:

I don't have a problem if it is said to me, and I am a proud Atheist. But I can see how someone might have a problem with how ingrained religion is in our society. As an atheist, I could get all PC and say how dare you infringe on my rights, but who am I to get pissed at someone saying something they have probably saying their whole life? I see 'God Bless you' and 'Hail Satan' on the same level, personally. I know they have totally different connotations, but if you look at both in their own context, they are the same thing. imagine how you would feel if you said God Bless you and I said Hail Satan back? I know this is not necessarily how bad xxxxxx feels, but it might get you close sympathizing.

I am not normally the type of atheist who starts discussions with believers, but I will state my opinion if it is warranted. I know I am not going to change anyone's mind and I have made issues worse a couple of times by pursuing discussions. I have friends who are believers and I respect that and they respect my lack of belief and it is usually left at that. I don't usually get uppity or confrontational when people get holy on me. That is not to say that I do not have a distinct opinion on believers.

I believe that there is a certain amount of weakness that is required to have a belief in any go. To say that people have been believing in God or gods for centuries  is not really a valid reason. That is akin to saying, 'well, Billy jumped off the bridge, so I did too." I know that many believers (if not the majority) have been indoctrinated at birth. I myself was baptized christian. So I cannot necessarily hold it against them if they had no say in the matter. That is why, as I said earlier, I have little problem with them saying blessings or whatever. That's all they know.

There's a reason Jesus likens his followers to sheep.