Obviously, there's a systemic flaw that leads to abuses

Hello, it's been a while...

I think my soul threw up just now.

Just so much anger. At the injustice. At the colossal pride.

I'm walking in to the lion's den on Wednesday. If you're among the praying send one up for me. That the lion's mouth may be shut and that I may deliver the message that must be said.

I wish I could be more articulate about this but I have no words just anger at this point.

But let me show you this list:
why rob one show to feed another?
why demand my life for your silly nonsense?
why tell me you have a crisis when your own bad planing got you there and then expect me to save you?
why threaten me when I point out the obvious?
why tell me I'm ignorant when I know I'm not?
why ignore me when I ask for real help?
why assume you know my thoughts?
why assume you know what I've decided before I have a chance to talk to you?
why set me up to fail?
why pressure me into unhealthy situations?
why attack people who aren't present and therefore can't defend themselves?
why think that you have power over me just because you let me do a job for you?
why stone wall every suggestion for improvement?
why don't you listen?
why don't you tell me anything worth knowing?
why do I have to cultivate alternative networks to get operational information from you?
why don't you have a structure in place here?
why am I putting up with this?
what's the point?

The above list is the beginning of warping my head around the issue I will never understand. Obviously, there's a systemic flaw that leads to abuses. I'm not afraid, though I don't like being unemployed it won't kill me either.

Adventures in Medical Mystery

I visited a doctor, other than my mother, today. I know why they tell me my hip is fine. But of course they didn’t feel what’s been happening from my perspective. I grant the joint didn’t go totally out of socket but I’m pretty sure it went a little out. You just don’t get such a fundamental thunk otherwise. What I mean is when I “reset” it the severity of the pop was so deep and internal that I felt sick, and it shook the floor. My nerves were jacked up for weeks after the event. I couldn’t scamper about like I usually do. I’d get three steps into a run and just stop because there was pain.

The whole visit from appointment with the doc through x-ray took an hour. Which is pretty good, I guess, though I spent over half of that waiting. That means there wasn’t any time for the story to get properly told. So my few words could not convey the full sense of the feeling and so forth. When someone really listens to me I know they care. This is a problem I have with this country’s heath care system. It’s got the care squeezed out of it.

I expect the x-ray to be clean. So, I booked a message because, damn it, what else could I do?

first picture

Here's the deal, I'm the opposite of tiered today. This is strange. Two years of exhausted Sundays is a relief to lose. But the people, oh man, the people!

You've heard of missionaries, but do you know the half-missionaries?

I don't know what I'm talking about.

I think this is the first picture I've posted on this blog.

exotic travel, whatever

I think I'm falling apart. Maybe feeling my age.

Some times I wonder why a lot of people seem to have developed their careers to a more advanced place by this age than I have. Then I remember that they have the maturity of a spoiled sixteen year-old and I feel less sorry for myself. Because really being able to calmly navigate tantrums is more valuable to me than money.

Not saying that the more advanced career thing wouldn't be nice. Lord knows, I'd like financial stability just as much as the next person. I'd like to be able to afford all those services that are supposed to make me a healthy well adjusted person. You know, spa packages, therapy sessions, exotic travel, whatever... now I'm making myself laugh.

Those are nice things but you know what? They are empty without friends, without family. I crave partnerships. What I need more than all the fancy recreational activities is a friend or two to lift the burden off me.

I suck at letting go. The older I get the harder it is to recover the less time I allow myself to rest. This is dangerous.

That Cluster of Storms

Well Shipmates, we came through that cluster of storms better than you expected.

I'm kind of pissed that I was the only person with the presence of mind to warn Viking that his assignment changed. That's not my job! This incident has reinforced his anxieties about this company I really don't blame him.

FaGuyver is at the helm and weirdness always happens when he is. These are the days that live long in the legend of this ship.

Jello would like to punch O'Doodle, for that matter so would Arsenal, though I don't think it's wise I totally understand where that's coming from. The guy is arrogant. Thankfully he's temporary so if they can exercise their self-control a little longer there will be no blood.

I suppose the really big news is my pending departure. I will soon be aboard a different ship. She's a smaller vessel, owned by a different company, and promises to be a simpler operation. I need this break in so many ways.

Back to You

I feel deflated. It's sort of like feeling defeated but not as painful.

Let me tell you I don't appreciate directors who aren't strategic. I'll give you an example of what I mean. Say you get a phone call saying, "We need some one with your aptitude. You were recommended to us will you take this job?" You tell them, yes you do want the job. But they come back with, "Well, maybe we want something different...we'll get back to you." It kind of hurts to be offered a job and then get it yanked like that. I know they didn't say what their decision is yet so you could still have the job but it went from new exciting prospect to source of rage in a very short amount of time.

Not that I'm talking from personal experience or anything. But this jerking around does suggest some things about this company and yet it suggest a lot about this industry too. I hear that it's common practice to go for inconvenient solutions to simple problems.

Oh for crying out loud! Just give me a chance here. I won't break your product.

I feel really old. Like 1200 years or something.

Journey

Just got off the road these are some observations, since I'm so good at those.

The return journey was more eventful than the out journey. Why? because it involved speeding, a slipped serpentine belt, driving through storms, bad food, and a really cheap motel.

Only practice a craft in public if you don't mind strangers giving you things. Um, well, don't crochet or knit anyway or you'll get yarn dumped on you. Not that I think that's a terrible thing I was going to get yarn anyway but my dad did freak out a little because I had just gotten rid of yarn and here some lady gives me a suit case full of it. Yep, a whole suit case.

Technology is awesome. However, you have no business checking facebook in the mountains. If you're in the mountains just hide the phone. Unless it's your camera but really you should have your good camera anyway. I say that because your phone camera will not do justice to the amazing things you'll see.

Bears are messy. Do I need to say more?

There are no hipster Asians in northern New Mexico. I didn't realize how culturally "impoverished" this particular region was until I got to the Dairy Queen in Ludlow, CA and encountered hipster Asians for the first time in two weeks, wait now that I think about it they could've been bros. Anyway, it was kind of weird.

California smells different from other states.

Thunder storms are a lot of fun. Especially the monsoony ones out in the desert. I mean, yeah, they're small but they have lightning and they make the temperature bearable for a few hours.

That'll do it for now.

To Whomever

Dear cheap-ass-contractor-who-decided-swaping-out-parts-would-be-a-good-idea-so-you-could-save-$20-on-curtain-rods-of-all-things,

You suck. I hope a beam hits you on the head, your wife leaves you for a mail man, and your kid puts you in a cheap-ass retirement corral where you can appreciate the handy work of people who are just as selfish as you.

Thank you,

In This Box We Called a Room

In this box we called a room sat the greatest mind to be contained. This was the one thing we were to bear in mind as we left. I flit through once but the box was containing and I was a vapor then. Here’s the thing, we were expecting each other to be the answer to the other’s loneliness. But that failed.

I’m not an astronaut any more. I never wanted the stars.

Look, I’ll tell you this only once, never say anything serious in a bar. It’s just inappropriate. Make more mistakes. I should make more mistakes what’s there to lose anyway? I don’t plan on taking over anyone so don’t assume that I want you.

It was the rapidness of the disjointed thoughts that made it hard to sleep. She was exhausted in her soul. The tents were going up in three weeks and she didn’t want it anymore. It was an unacknowledged failing. Oh the misery!

She remembered his face all flushed with the whiskey, the whiskey that never lied. He was a silly person. He was not her answer. There was no answer in a man.

Don’t take her as bitter just a bit depressed. And though she would marry him she saw now the truth. He would remain a mixed blessing a constant exercise in patients, a discipline unto himself.

There is no rest in this life.

She got up from the bed and went to the kitchen for water because she could think of nothing else to do. While there she looked out to the street. It was quiet. It was calm. She could go but then what?

The coyote loped into view. He was beautiful as God intended. He was graceful as no other creature that night. He knew the answer but wasn’t going to tell her. As he crossed to the canyon behind the apartments she followed with her eyes. In her heart she knew victory for them was not winning but surviving. What do they endure?

She found herself putting on her running shoes. She only paused at the door a moment to consider the risk of wandering at night. Wasn’t it a greater risk to remain locked in? For her mind it was. The air was cool and invigorating off the desert the breeze was gentle caressing her face. She would walk with God and if he chose to protect her she was grateful and if he chose to test her she would accept that as well.

***

Jason’s brother was beside himself. Jason had never seen Mat so confused. “What happened?"

“I don’t know! Jay, she just left me a voice mail. Here, what do you think?”

“Mat, I’m following the coyote. I don’t know. It’s, I’m not sure anymore. Don’t panic I’ll be fine.”

“That’s it? You tried calling her?”

“Non-stop, she’s not answering.”

“Did you go to her apartment?”

“Not yet. Come with me. I don’t know what to expect.”

Jason thought of himself as a busy man.

“Hang on, right now?”

“I have to know. If we wait we might be too late. I mean what if she’s in trouble?”

“Fine, but you owe me.”

“Will you drive? I don’t trust myself.”

Oh, grow up! thought Jason. He had little sympathy for lovers having never experienced that class of connection himself. What, thankfully, came out of his mouth was, “Ok, but I want to get something to eat.”

***

It was decided that the night would be her teacher and that she would no longer fight for the attentions of the day. It was weighed out against the fear she always carried, the one that drove her out to begin with.

***

Jason was peeved so he took his ridiculous time getting to the car and driving to some fast food place and ordering food and getting on with things. Mat was anxious. He kept urging Jason to hurry up.

When they got to the apartment they knocked first but when no one answered Mat got the key he had and opened it. It was eerie. It was quiet and stale as if no one had been there for three days. In the living room everything was normal looking but the spirit had left. They went to the bedroom. There was a large nest on the floor, a nest? Anyway, she wasn’t there and there was no note. Her car was there in its place.

“Do I call the police?”

“Man, I don’t know.” The brothers looked at each other a long moment. It had been a long time since Jason had really looked at Mat. What struck him was how hurt he seemed and how young. Mat slumped down just outside the door and put his head in his hands and groaned. Still Jason was afraid to really get involved.

***

When she came to herself she was dirty and not really sure where she was or if time had passed. The smell of the chaparral reminded her of the sea. The sea reminded her of the end of the world.

***

There wasn’t much to go on. The detectives asked a bunch of questions but didn’t seem all that hopeful. They said it could take a day or two before anything turned up. Naturally Mat was in shock. He loved her deeply. The thing that worried him now was the wedding. It needed to be postponed. His grandmother had looked so forward to it. He would be the first to marry in her line. Except now that wasn’t true anymore.

Jason complained to his crazy friend Will that his brother was delusional. But the fact remained, Will reminded him, that she was gone and that, under any circumstance, was not good. Especially if it turned out she was dead because, if she was, murder was not fare from people’s minds. Had there been a fight?

Jason had no idea.

A week later Jason was walking to his car after a night out, a little fuzzy to this world, he saw her. Or he thought it might be her. What he saw was a wild woman dirty flashing eyes flit away behind a building. He was too afraid to follow. He called Mat.

“I saw her! I think.”

“What? Where?”

“On my way to my car.”

“Really? Wait, where are you?”

“I just left the Tower.”

“You were drinking.”

“Mat, this is not drunk talking. I swear I saw her.”

“What did she look like?”

“Oh. I’m not sure.”

“Don’t mess with me! You’re drunk.”

But now Jason had a point to prove he was positive he had seen her.

“Ok man, don’t believe me. But I know I saw her.”

The call ended. Now he had to try talking to her. She looked kind of dangerous. Except now he didn’t know where she had gone. Around the building he crashed but there was no one.

***

The night had shown her many things. But the night did not show her love.

***

Ok, man, think. Thought Jason, where did she go?

The security guard was surprised to find him staring at the mess of grasses in the ditch. There was a river down there.

“Excuse me sir, can I help you?”

“Did you see a woman go this way? I’m looking for my sister.”

“No sir.” The guard was pretty sure he was drunk.

“I thought I saw her.”

“Ok sir. Listen, there are a lot of homeless people by the river. Maybe you saw one of them.”

Jason sighed, “you’re probably right.”

***

Mat found Jason laying on the hood of his car his pants were muddy. He was passed out. No, he was crying. He hadn’t slept he said. The homeless guys by the river didn’t know what he was talking about. For that matter neither did Mat.

Mat hadn’t reported to work. He was going to lose his job. Jason was between jobs already and this was not helping either of them. Then someone’s phone went off.

“Hello, this is Detective Gonzalez with the [blank] Police Department. We picked up a woman today who we’d like you to identify.”

“Is she alive!?” yelled Mat.

“Just come down to the station.”

They didn’t know how to take that. So they went.

***

She’d been trapped now. She wanted to get back to the pack. They were calling for her. She thrashed at the bonds but they only held tight. The bonds were a metaphor. We trade so much to be bound. It all came down to belief. She no longer believed in them.

Then came the fire. It started in her arm it traveled to her head it felt like dying. She could not scream. All was purple then black.

***

Jason waited for Mat in the lobby of the hospital. He flipped through a magazine but it did not hold his attention. He started to play with his phone. He wished he was inundated with work. But there was nothing. He got up and went to the drinking fountain because he could think of nothing else to do.

There was a poster on the wall depicting some medical thing. It was a brain.

His brain was exhausted.

The thought invaded then that Mat, for all his outward concern, lacked a deep something. That perhaps he had killed her in his mind and she was dead to him and there would be no wedding for them ever. This disturbed Jason.

***

When she next knew light she was in a hospital room on a bed. The first person she recognized was Jason.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” he said back.

Then Mat entered and like a bad actor delivered his concern. They all knew he was faking it even the nurse and the random guy walking down the hall knew. She turned away in disgust. It was poignant and tragic, but no, Jason was still not in love.

It happened that they moved her to a residential place. The medications that were to connect her to reality weren’t working out too well. One issue was that no one could really tell what was real any more. Mat faded away, found another girl. Jason would visit once a week because he felt or thought that someone should. Her family were all somewhere no one was sure where. Jason was concerned that the family she had nearly joined was abandoning her it didn’t look good.

She told them it wouldn’t be long now. That the bread was developing in her lungs and she would die soon. No one seemed worried. Yet she did start having difficulty breathing. When Jason saw her that last time she was bluish and he told the nurse to do something. But the nurse was more interested in watching that infomercial about sharpening knives. He didn’t even look up to see who was talking to him.

Jason called a lawyer.

She died.

The autopsy revealed a fungal infection in her lungs. It had developed so far that it really did look like bread in her lungs. No one could explain how she knew. All the other patients were tested but only one other had anything like it.

Jason had a choice. Either he could fight for her memory, a woman he barely knew, or he could let this go and move on with his life. His friends were equally divided. Most didn’t want to say anything.

***

The coyote was chuckling at him on the stoop of his house. The house he bought because that’s what you do at thirty-five, right? He’d been thinking about her. How her death had changed his life.

“Mat, I’m following the coyote. I don’t know. It’s, I’m not sure anymore. Don’t panic I’ll be fine.”

He went to the door the see if the coyote would run.

She backed off the stoop and waited for him.

“No,” he whispered. “I can’t do this.”

She walked away in disgust. Mat was hyperventilating he had a distinct urge to slit his throat. He ran. But she was gone, so gone.

“Jason, help me!” was the last thing he remembered screaming.

It Involves Stairs

It’s been a long week.

Sometimes when I’m below deck I think, how did I get here? This isn’t real life. This is fake. When will I wake up and discover that really I’m a princess? Then they whine at me. I’m only a servant after all. Yeah, I guess not everyone can be a princess.

You said I looked stressed. Um, yes nothing like that gets by you. I said something about my hip, though that was only the catalyst to my troubles not the cause. The frustrating thing about my hip issue is that now I can’t run. For me this is a devastation. It limits me.

At what point do I make a big deal out of this?

The dryer is unlikely to be replaced anytime soon. No one explains anything to anyone though we all know they will find out eventually because you can’t hide the fact that the dryer doesn’t work. I get so frustrated with all this opaque communication. It’s pointless. Look, the dryer won’t work because there’s a leak in the gas line and if we get that fixed the city will inspect the dock and tell us it’s not to code and that we have to leave until it can be brought to code. All of this costs money no one, not even the dock’s owner, wants to spend. That is why there is no hot water and will never be hot water. Not for a very long time. They aren’t running out and getting an electric dryer because it’s more important to launch the other ship. I hope they’re right about that. Honestly I’m not excited about the future of drying on the Plotless Monster, it involves stairs.

Seriously, I need to find a new situation soon...

Oh and we got virus.

Being Alone is Really Freaky

it's a cloud
no a mist
fabric?
this veil that separates me from the color of life
I nearly touched it once

how many times have I sorta died?
again to self I must be nothing

Um, the crazy thing about getting older is how conventional I'm becoming. I thought I could just be independent of all the cliches but I find myself "wanting" exactly what I've been told I should want. It all goes back to the fear we are born with. The one that doesn't want to be alone. The one that wants things a certain way because it's comfortable. So people ahead of us in life tell us that X is the answer. They are sort of right and sort of wrong.

Well, those who never struggle never grow. Isn't growth better than retardation?

(Woah! don't get prickly I'm NOT talking about special people I'm talking about spoiled brats, who are "special" not special. Gosh!)

The conventional things Americans are supposed to want that I happen to kind of want:
an awesome career
a house
a lot of really cool friends
power, duh
a spouse

This last one just got added to the list this year. I realized that it's the only way to have a permanent companion in life. I mean going into a convent isn't practical anymore, sorry nuns, and the thought of being alone is really freaky.

Change, What!? Here? *NO! *

Oh Mocking Bird! How strange the circles come round.

Sojourner finally left. Though considering the fact that he had been fired, begged back, etc... it took quite some time to finalize.

I have no idea what this means for the next couple of tours.

I remember well how cruses got canceled when Mocking Bird didn't have a cover. We shouldn't get our hopes up though. The solution will be unexpected. Perhaps, finally, THEY will open that track up. I mean it doesn't make sense to lock it up when THEY know the talent pool is shallow. But that's just me being all analytical.

And on an unrelated note: I kind of like Vanity though I don't trust her sense. She always means well and I can appreciate that.

I Don’t Crash Parties

An example of comedy masking pain:

If you don’t look me in the eyes and tell me to be at your party I’m not going to show up. I don’t crash parties, even if my only alternative is stabbing myself repeatedly in the base of my skull with a loaded paintbrush, because my insecurity is this question, am I worth the bother? If I don’t think you want me around all that badly I’m not wasting my time.

If you do decide to invite me don’t be surprised if I don’t seem as excited as you want. Really I’m probably a little confused, I hardly get invited to important events and it’s scary to be wanted sometimes; especially if I don’t trust your motives but that’s another issue.

Make of this what you will. Still, have the time of your life without me. What does it matter if I get depressed? You’ll be distracted enough with those who do crash parties. I’ll just wilt in this corner behind this mask of indifference. I know this corner a little too well but it's comforting.

040612

Nails across the chalkboard of my soul?
The great wet blanket descending form on high
stress worms churning in the gut for two hours
of my too short life
thanks to all who chose to go home
the awkward meeting was put on hold
I doubt I will survive another such pass
I’m saving up some money
making a plan
to escape this cage.

Back and forth, back and forth,
this ship rock me back and forth

When we are wrapped in cold wet cloth
nothing is good
it clings strangely
it smells weird
it is unwelcome

Back and forth, back and forth,
this ship rock me back and forth

It is a manipulative wet blanket
and it cost me three month of sleep
raised my shoulders to my ears
called me names behind my back
told me many lies
made me run
made me run
made me run

Oh yeah that happened.

I’m Wrong!

Of course I’m wrong! Let me be the first to tell you I’m wrong. I’m not magical. I make huge mistakes all the time I’m sure. One of my biggest failures is uninformed anxiety, fear. I want to see people thriving but I’m too afraid to get involve. I know I’m not the solution to their problem but that shouldn’t stop me from opening difficult conversations or at least asking follow up questions. Really I shouldn’t be so public with my messy thought process. But there it is.

They say I’m being broken. That’s right, arrogance, be pulverized dust in me. Too easily swayed too easily convince that my opinions are important or significant, I’m sorry, I’m wrong. Now don’t think I’m going to get all down and jump off a tall object over this. Through all my identity issues the one thing that I’ve known without any doubt is that I will never take my own life. Actually there are two things that keep me from ultimate despair, that knowledge and my complete faith in God. Yeah, I’m a Christian. My fear gets in the way of that too.

Most of us mean well but are incredibly ignorant about other people. So from my perspective something could look like a really big deal when it isn’t, or just the opposite it could seem to me to be insignificant when it isn’t. It’s so hard!

Back in 2006, right before I was laid off the first time, something happened that I should’ve asked more questions about at the time but really I was in a fog about it all. Man, you haven’t experienced the power of imagination until you get a phone call, seemingly out of the blue, from your supervisor asking if you’re going to kill yourself and should they fire you now or could you make it through the end of the run which is only in three days? Of course that upset me. Where had they gotten that idea? And yes, it’s the same them that I work for now. This is my third go with them. This time I won’t be fired.

I learned that it was a perception thing. They were seeing things that weren’t true. I had never learned what people should act like. I’m not an actor. I’m a very honest person and I don’t believe in hiding behind a mask of forced “happiness” just so people leave me alone or support some fiction that I’ve got everything under control. But I do understand now that most people can’t handle this well. They want to believe that I’ve got it all together and that my life is full of that quality they wish they had. Maybe my life is, I don’t know. What do people want anyway? I’ve never figured it out, not even for myself.

All that to say, I understand that I’m wrong, I knew from the beginning that I was more likely to be wrong than right. It was better to express what I saw and be corrected than to go on imagining something false.

Bueno suerte y bendiciones, mi amigo. May our lives be living art.

The Uneventful Week

Ok two UftPMs in one week? Seriously people, this was supposed to be the uneventful week.

Who said this would be a normal week? What did I tell both of you? There is no normal on the Plotless Monster.
___

Is self destruction really worth the attention it gets you?

Not cool. Not professional. Not even safe! Did you make it home?

If you think drinking yourself to death has any benefits you’re wrong. If you think it’s impressive you’re even more wrong. It’s disgusting it’s the reason I don’t hang out with you. What would impress me more is if you played your show sober and never drank.

But I know why you do it. You do this because you need attention. You think your situation is terrible and that you’re being screwed. If you chose to see it that way no one can change your mind. I know people think I’m being screwed too. But I don’t chose to dwell there I don’t chose to see it that way. This is temporary I’m not stuck here till my dying day and I expect to use this as a bridge to more promising opportunities.

Everyone likes to complain here. I don’t think that’s the best atmosphere to live in but it’s what it is. You explode over some of the silliest shit. The notes they give you aren’t a personal attack. They are designed to keep their product consistent, quality control, and by taking it on like an attack you make it difficult for them to keep you. You aren’t worthless but you do need to look outside of yourself every once and awhile.

I bothered to say all this because I care. I realize you may be beyond reach that you may choose to see this as another thing attacking you. In the end I’d rather know I tried than not.

So why say this in a public way? Safety? I know eventually you will read this and when you do you will have time to think about it. I don't think it would be wise for me to "rescue" you. I don't have that power. But I do think it's important for you and other people to know what I think about this.

Women Don’t Have Magical Powers of Mind Control

Rant In: The skirt last night… OK honestly, I believe Vanity when she says she can’t fell that her skirt has ridden up. There’s a lot going on, she is wearing two pairs of tights, and since a skirt check wasn’t programed into her show some times it does whatever. Not saying she gets a free pass for not having a skirt check in there. I mean if I’m wearing a short tight skirt I check it constantly. My head and body are aware of each other. But give the woman a break! I’m sure, now that y’all’ve toughly embarrassed her, the skirt check is in now. You could have been a little more tactful about it.

As to modesty at large, because thinking of short skirts reminds me of all the Galmasaours Rexes at the clubs, it’s pathetic to be skanky but it’s repressive to be overly modest. Don’t think you can avoid sleazy men by hiding. They love to find you. In fact they take it as a sign that you’re insecure and therefore ruled by a victim mentality. That’s why “nice” girls get raped.

Dudes have a responsibility to control their thoughts and actions too. Don’t blame women for your failure. Because when it comes to sexual excesses it doesn’t matter to you what the vessel looks like as long as you get what you want. All I’m saying is don’t blame the vessel for your decision to abuse it. The abuse is your fault she didn’t make you do anything. Surprise! Women don’t have magical powers of mind control, you control your thoughts. Rant out!

On Breake Downs

So Lord, did you give me a bipolar brother so I would know not to fear them?

Yeah, manic episodes are very intense. I’ve seen two personally. However both people are very responsible well-meaning individuals who would rather help you than harm you. In my brother’s case he said he’d rather take his meds and deal with the side effects than scare or hurt people. Look, none of us are strong enough to get through life without some sort of brake down. Most of us are lucky to have ours in privet. So my sympathies are with Jason Russell and his family, especially his family.

Those of you who have never lived through something like this have a lot to learn. If you are spreading hate over this embarrassment you should examine yourself wouldn’t you want some sympathy in a similar situation? If you disagree with his project fine criticize that but don’t discount him as a human. From what I know about psychotic breaks they happen in times of acute stress and as long as the individual is properly diagnosed and cared for nothing like it will happen again. I see this as a call to care for each other. Because if you really think about it all of us are a little bipolar it’s just the extremes we can’t handle.

___

Here's some resources:

medical definition of a psychotic break:
http://medical-dictionary.thefreedictionary.com/A+psychotic+break

Warning signs of a disorder:

Change in sleeping habits (too much or too little sleep)
Withdrawal from family and friends
Disorganized, hard-to-understand speech, or diminished verbal interaction with others
Lack of emotional response
Decreased motivation; inability to concentrate or focus
Exhibiting unusual behavior, hoarding objects, or wearing strange clothing
Suspiciousness or hostility
Having strange or unbelievable ideas, such as "My parents are poisoning my food."
Hallucination

http://www.unccmh.org/clients-and-families/learn-about-mental-illness/a-family-guide/iii-what-are-psychotic-disorders/

March march March (otra ves)

Um, so maybe I've said some things last time that were a bit miss leading...the count down thing for instance. I am looking at my exit options you should always be doing that in this industry. I will be leaving at some point but can't tell you when that will be because the move depends on some other things getting worked out.

On the surface THEY weren't fair but I knew I was getting a bad deal from the beginning so really I have no right to complain. It would be my own fault if I don't communicate with THEM my wants.

On the whole, I think this is actually a good thing. After all I know I could use a brake to go do some other thing for a time. Here you guys get to take a brake then come back if you want. That's really cool. Now I'm kind of jealous.

It's all temporary.

March march March

Hey Wheezy El Boracho! You made it into the UftPM. I guess this means you can die happy.

THEY've broken up the band. I'm already upset. Now there will be complaining and whining and a free ranging angst below deck.

Thank God I'm adaptable or I'd be agnsty whinny too. I will do my best to support the grieving but you know I'm not the most comforting person I know.

I'm not surprised about the decision THEY made. However the very human logical part of me thinks it was badly handled from the beginning. Actually, to be honest, THEY haven't been fair with me either. This is why I know my next project will be very different. I can bide my time a little longer but the halfway point is well crossed. So, you could think of me in count down mode.

Que sera, sera or something.

Walking to my truck I was mistaken for a European again. Not sure why you needed to know that.

030912

I love cereal! oh man, it's like the best thing that's happened to me tonight. I was all bummed out and hungry. Then I got bowl of cereal...ah.

I'm kind of paranoid too. A couple of people were tailgating me on the way home and I got mad because I thought they were following me. This is not a good sign.

The deaf man has an amazing joyful laugh.

powerless in the face

Downtown is getting sketchy now that it's Spring. It's not the permanent bums that worry me it's the drifters, the ones that hold no place sacred. The ones who offer you pesos when you tell them you have no cash (because maybe you go to Mexico?). The ones who ask you to hang out with them before work or something. Dude, I'm not desperate. I'm not stupid.

The weather has been shifting round to the cold nights. I'm told I should have compassion for those who sleep in the cold. I mourn the circumstance but have no power.

Bearing in mind my powerlessness, I walk confident in the care of my God given friends and a protection that runs deeper than any other I know. I have been blessed to see clearly enough.

There are two deaths, two grieving families, tonight. One fare away one near. I am powerless in the face of the grieving. I who have known only temporary loss. What could I possibly do?

I think about purpose. I'd like to not think about it.

storms

It was a gusty south-western that blew through the harbor and all the old sailors were sitting on the wharf waiting for it to pass when Bartholomew took the pipe out of his mouth and said, "I remember the storm of '84. It was a purple storm."

One of the younger sailors asked, "What made it purple?"

"I was the first time I experienced purple rain."

Old Lealand jerked up his head, "What blend are you smoking?"

I need a cat

I keep saying I should ask for help and then don’t because when I get attention that was 80% of the problem and the excuse to ask for attention seems so silly when I start to explain it. Seriously? I just discovered my deepest problem? I’m a repressed attention whore!

Implication: to seek attention from only one source is foolish because we have limited capacity to attend. But asking for it costs us. But we need it. Ahhh! So there needs to be a reliable source of attention. Family ought to do it. It doesn’t always, so religion, or clubs, or careers, or gangs take over the natural bands.

God, I need a cat!

How does this relate? We adopt animals because they are simple. We attend to them by feeding and they attend to us by asking for food. Not complicated. Why is it complicated for us? I mean we cut deals. You know, give me what I want and I'll give you what you want, maybe. I'll always want more than you can give. I will demand more than you're willing to part with. Since we are both extremely selfish you will do the same to me. Then we will get pissy at each other.

At least that's how it is with women. Mercifully for men they seem to have some magical stress valve that blows steam for less than a second then they're fine. So many times I wish I had that. Maybe that's a myth. Maybe men don't have said valve. How could I know?

Chill

I was wondering at God, on my way home from the ship tonight, why do people use righteousness as a cloak to mask evil? It does us no good.

I'm full of gratitude. It's been rare for people to praise me. I distrust it anyway. Don't get me wrong it's good to hear because some times I did wonder if I was noticed. I've lived on the edge of notice for a long time. I suppose it was to keep me humble.

As to remaining calm in the storm? How do you think I do that? I'm curious to know.

And the conversation coming to Mother Bear's attention: Well, sometimes you gotta let the little kid touch the fire. I'm mainly concerned for institutional reasons, not personal ones. So the upshot is that I didn't fundamentally change my opinion of the matter but have reassessed my tactics. The nuance is always lost! Oh the pain of art! And the misfortune of humanity that people tend to see attacks where there are none. "The wounds of a friend" as proverbs records, "are better than the kisses of an enemy". So what appears to be an attack is in fact preservation. But we get all self absorbed and are quick to take offense it's the stress level. We just need to chill.

And on that note I'm going to forget about all of this for a few blissful hours.

Influence

Shall I boast of my backward ways?
I walked away from sex and romance
sought a calling instead of a living
left wealth to walk simply in the richness of want
but Lord, you know it’s a hollow boast that wants to claim payment for suffering
forgive my deep arrogance the one that judges on false knowledge
the one that feels owed.

Influence. Secretly we all want power. I know this desire in me shows up as a series of metaphors. I think I am a ninja-pirate-warrior princess-rock star-mystic from some desert. In writing this I laugh at myself.

Yet I recognize that all of this is possible even though I’m not from a literal desert and I will never rob on the high seas. It’s attitude. It’s asking myself what kinds of choices would this character make. It’s acting informed by this knowledge.

I would love to know what other peoples’ metaphors are. It’s the mystic, the wild haired poet prophet in me, that wants to relate on a metaphoric plain.

Oh man! now I want to find some sweet robes and a hood.

Starling

I was digging furiously at the mound that blocked the road in front of me. This was complicated by the fact that I remained fully armed and my sword kept getting in the way. After a bit I'd look to see if there was a way around that I'd missed before but I was always meet with the same rock wall and the abyss.

A bit about this road: it's on a mountain, it's narrow by your standards, subject to landslide(obviously). I'd been stuck here for some time and knew attack was eminent. Hence the sword.

The block itself was an attack but my enemy is also known for harrying and so as I cleared the block bit by bit my ears strained to hear the on coming attack. I sincerely hoped to either find a way around or be met half way by someone clearing out from the other side. I had no idea of the extent of damage on the road.

I'm not alone thought it seems so. My comrades are near enough to hear me if I call and it they listen. Help only comes in the nick of time not before. I have endured may things on this road in the silent hope of help.

The Return

In time everything that is hidden will be revealed.
(Paraphrase, Mat. 4:22 or Luke 8:17)

So, I don’t think you noticed but I’ve gotta tell you that, for the past three weeks or so I’ve been kind of deranged. It’s bad. I’m still deranged but I’m now publicly acknowledging my condition which is the first step to recovery.

What I mean to say is that, the pressures of living in a construction site, running a show, dealing with leaking fluids from my truck, and realizing that I need to get my glasses updated, oh right, and thinking I might need to take classes or something because really I should get a day job; it’s all adding up. Honestly, I’m not handling it the way I “should” partly because I’m disillusioned with the concept of should, or at least I’m more disillusioned than not.

The thing that disturbs me is the anger. The anger is there and I don’t know why anymore.

If I dig down to the root of this disturbance I think I see the old identity crisis that began when I was five and had to define myself to other people for the first time. Things would be so much better if I didn’t have to explain myself and I could do whatever just because it’s the kind of thing I do. Well, at least that’s part A of the crisis.

The other part is my own inexperience. Yeah, I’m kinda socially dumb. So that leads to painful situations for me and other people. I avoided conflict at all cost when I was a kid because it was too much for me to handle. I didn’t have a vocabulary for it. Though I avoided it, the conflicts still happened. People were the primary source of conflict so I stayed away from them. Um, that wasn’t the best solution but what did I know? I couldn’t think of anything better.

Spending a lot of time alone isn’t bad, I guess, but to the extent that I did it wasn’t terribly healthy. The battle in my mind was fierce. Really the thought battles are the most damaging. I thought that if I stayed away from people I would never feel pain not realizing that if I stayed away from people I wouldn’t be comforted either and that is a sort of dull pain. There’s a saying, I think it’s Russian or something, “I hurt, I must be alive.” It tells the truth. When I stop listening to the lie that life should be free of pain and take an, “oh well” attitude toward it I can be very entertaining and that is positive. That lessens the burden of living in this world.

However, being entertaining to mask pain, though a classic coping strategy, doesn’t work forever at some point it becomes annoying. I think that’s why it’s harder to succeed in comedy. The line between hilarious and annoying is extremely thin.

Anyway, I didn’t expect to say so much in this sitting and I sort of forgot the point. So, yeah.

Spirit Sundays!

I was going through some old files and came across this message I wrote on 9/7/11. I don't really know why I didn't post it then. Any way if you like the idea presented in the last paragraph let me know and I whack together a little something for our entertainment.

"This is the most important up-date you will read. It's soo important I'm alerting you on faceBook.

"Shipmates,
How could I have an up-date now you might ask...

"Well, I actually got this information confirmed about nine months ago. I waited to see if you really needed to know this and now I think you do.

"A lot of you have marked my utter lack of surprise at any announcement made by the owners of the ship, especially the ones relating to mission extensions. I'm not surprised because I know this mission will last at least three full years. That's a prophesy from God. I'm telling you this so you can adjust your expectations. Some of you may need to bail soon. Some of you really need to stop thinking and enjoy the ride.

"Note: if They put us back on double missions then they have to feed us. "Free" food = party. It's all in our attitude. I, for one, advocate silliness and am looking forward to it.

"On a related note: Spirit Sunday schedule will be available on Google calendars if you want in let me know. We'll be starting early with a high-five competition."

Fool’s Report 2012

A twelfth night tradition

2011 was an average year for me. The economy did me no favors. I was underemployed the whole year (which is better than being broke) and I was busy with side projects that paid nothing.

Main project of 2011: a punch list

•        Produced, Humor Me—an independent film
•        Produced, the La Mesa Spring Art Festival
•       First draft plays 
•   Wooden Cloak
• A Christmas thing.
•         One house remodel (still in progress)

I’m continuing my main identity crisis. I spent a ridiculous amount of time deciding I didn’t know what I want to do with my life. I don’t like aspects of my current job but I can’t tell if they are deal breakers yet.

Quite frankly I’m not pulling in enough income and the hours have always bothered me. I also don’t like the inherent instability in this industry. But then I realize that everything is temporary and nothing is stable so I should grow up and get over myself.

My brother thinks I should consider ministry (it’s the family “business”). The thought has crossed my mind but something in me is very reluctant to go that way.

Anyway, I expect this year to go pretty much like the one I just had with slight variations and I will write a similar report next year.

All is well, and so forth.