Failure

I haven't written in some time now, haven't had much to say really. I guess I have something to say now. 

I am having a really hard time controlling my depression. I feel like a total failure. I feel old, like my time is up. I feel I have wasted my life. I feel I have let everyone around me down. I hide in my shell trying to avoid the problems I should be facing, avoiding life. I'm paralyzed with fear, fear of upsetting people, fear of emotions, fear of everything it would seem. I have let life pass me by.

I should have been so much more by now. More of a man. More of a father. More of a husband. More of a friend. More of a human.

It takes all of what little motivation I have left just to get out of bed in the morning. I have no interest in life, every day is just a drudgery, just performing the minimum motions required to get through the day. I don't have the energy left to keep this up. And why should I even want to continue if this is all there will be? 

What if this is as good as it gets? That every day from here out will be worse than today.

That is all.

I need someone talk to. I feel there are very few people that understand me. Very few that know how I tick. I know it is all in my head, but I still can't help it.

Sadness

I seem to be emotional today I'm wishing I could take away all the pain, stress, and worry of those I love. Sometimes I wish I could build a big compound to take in everyone that I love and care for them. This modern society we live in seems so imperpsonal to me, we rely on others to do what we as friends and family should be doing, taking care of each other. Taxes and government programs do not equal caring, it equals sluffing off our personal responsibilities to others. Spending the money of others is easy, showing real compassion is harder.

I guess I am just sad about a lot of things;

If feel the end of an era is coming at work. I have worked in that shop for 24 years now, I helped build it, it is partly my baby. Even with all the problems we are having, I still feel sad to see it going downhill like it is, but we all have to move on when the time comes.

A lot of my friends are having a lot of problems lately, both emotionally, and financially. Could it be that I make friends with people that have a lot of problems? Is it just part of my nature, as a friend says "to take in three legged dogs"? Maybe, but I wouldn't change that. I have a great need to try and take things better for those around me, at my own expense much of the time.

My kids are growing up fast and I will have an empty nest soon. My daughter has already moved out and I miss her. My Son is 17 and talking about the military. All I can do is hope I raised them okay so they can manage in life. I know I could have done more.

I have been thinking about my grandparents and my childhood in Arkansas a lot lately, I really miss that. The sense of family I had there is nothing like I have since experienced. I miss the people I grew up around.

Or maybe my sadness is just due to the music I happen to be listening to at the moment.

The results of my brain sex test

I took a brain sex survey here;  http://www.bbc.co.uk/science/humanbody/sex/ It was pretty interesting so I thought I would post the results here.

*If you plan on taking this test you will need a ruler with millimeters on it.*

Your personal brain score:

	Part 1

	Angles
	This task tested your ability to identify the angle of a line by matching it with its twin. This is a spatial task, which looks at how you picture space. Your score: 15 out of 20 Average score for men: 15.1 out of 20 Average score for women: 13.3 out of 20 What does your result suggest? If you scored 0 - 12: You have more of a female brain. Scientists believe that people with a female brain find it more difficult to judge the slope of a line because they're not wired for spatial tasks. In past studies, 65 per cent of people who scored in this range were women. If you scored 13 - 17: You found this test neither hard nor easy. This suggests your brain has male and female traits when it comes to spatial ability. If you scored 18 - 20: You have more of a male brain. On average, men outperform women in this task and those with more mathematical knowledge tend to score quite high as well. In past studies, 60 per cent of the people in this range were men. Interestingly, men's testosterone levels fluctuate through the seasons and studies have shown that men's scores are lower in the spring, when their testosterone levels are at their lowest.
	Spot the difference
	This task tested your ability to identify which objects changed position. You lost points, if you incorrectly identified objects. Your score: 0% Average score for men: 39% Average score for women: 46% What does your score suggest? If you scored between 0 - 33%: You may have more of a male brain. Scientists say men tend to under perform in this task. The corpus callosum, the part of the brain that links the right and left hemispheres, is a fifth larger in women. This means women can process visual and other signals at the same time more easily than men. There is also a theory that oestrogen levels in women give them an added advantage in spatial memory. If you scored between 34 - 66%: You may have a balanced female-male brain. If you scored between 67 - 100%: Those with a female-type brain generally score in this range. Your ability to remember where objects are may serve as an advantage to you when you're trying to find your way around places. You're more capable of recalling landmarks to get from one place to another.

	Part 2

Hands

You said your right thumb was on top when you clasped your hands together. Right thumb on top: This suggests the left half of your brain is dominant. Many studies have tried to establish whether there is a relationship between handedness and brain dominance. Some scientists believe that if you are left brain dominant, you would be more verbal and analytical. Left thumb on top: This suggests the right half of your brain is dominant. Some studies theorise that as a right brain dominant person, you may excel in visual, spatial and intuitive processes. However, these theories are debatable and leave much to be said about the small percentage of people who are ambidextrous.

	Part 3

Emotions and Systems

This task looked at whether you prefer to empathise or systemise. Empathising Your empathy score is: 10 out of 20 Average score for men: 7.9 out of 20 Average score for women: 10.6 out of 20 What does your result suggest? Empathisers are better at accurately judging other people's emotions and responding appropriately. If you scored 15 and above, you are very empathic and would be an ideal person to comfort people in a time of crisis. Women in general are better at empathising. Systemising Your systemising score is: 5 out of 20 Average score for men: 12.5 out of 20 Average score for women: 8.0 out of 20 What does your result suggest? Systemisers prefer to investigate how systems work. A system can be a road map, flat pack furniture, or a mathematical equation – anything that follows a set of rules. A score of 15 and above suggests you're good at analysing or building systems. Men in general are better at systemising. Scientists are keen to learn more about people who score high or low on both tests. They want to find out whether or not empathising and systemising are linked. Is a possible to make yourself more empathic? Some scientists claim that our empathy and systemising abilities can be traced all the way back to prehistoric times.

Eyes

This task tested your ability to judge people's emotions. Your score: 9 out of 10 Average score for men: 6.6 out of 10 Average score for women: 6.6 out of 10 What does your result suggest? If you scored 0 - 3: Do you think you're good at judging how another person is feeling? Your score suggests this doesn't come to you quite so naturally. If you scored 4 - 6: Your result suggests you have a balanced female-male brain and find it neither easy nor difficult to judge people's emotions. If you scored 7 - 10: Your result suggests you are a good empathiser, sensitive to other people's emotions. Women generally fall into this category. Professor Baron-Cohen at the University of Cambridge says that people usually perform better than they expect to on this test. Men often think a person's eyes are sending signals of desire when that's not the case at all

	Part 4

Fingers

We asked you to measure your ring and index fingers. Your ratios came to: Right Hand: 0.96 Left Hand: 0.98 Average ratio for men: 0.982 Average ratio for women: 0.991It's thought that your ratio is governed by the amount of testosterone you were exposed to in your mother's womb. The ratio of the length of your index finger to the length of your ring finger is set for life by as early as three months after conception. Even during puberty, when we experience intensive hormonal changes, the ratio stays the same. Men generally have a ring finger that is longer than their index finger, which gives them a lower ratio than women, whose ring and index fingers are usually of equal length. Studies have found that men and women with lots of brothers generally have more masculine finger ratios

	Part 5

Faces

This task looked at how you rate the attractiveness of a series of faces. The images you looked at were digitally altered to create slight differences in masculinity. Your choices suggest you prefer more feminine faces. Highly masculinised male faces possess more extreme testosterone markers such as a long, broad and lower jaw, as well as more pronounced brow ridges and cheekbones. Interestingly, women's preferences are said to vary across the menstrual phase. A more masculine face is preferred during the 9 days prior to ovulation, when conception is most likely. A typical 'attractive' female face possesses features such as a shorter, narrower, lower jaw, fuller lips and larger eyes than an average face.

	Part 6

3D shapes

This task tested your ability to mentally rotate 3D shapes. Your score: 11 out of 12 Average score for men: 8.2 out of 12 Average score for women: 7.1 out of 12 What does your result suggest? If you scored 0 - 6: Do you find yourself having to physically rotate a map to point in the direction in which you're travelling? This might explain why you scored in the lower range in the 3D shapes test. Twice as many women as men score in this category. Previous studies suggest that those with a female-type brain or with an arts background fall into this range. If you scored 7 - 9: In past studies, 50 per cent of the people who scored in this range were women and 50 per cent were men. If you scored 10 - 12: Are you an engineer or do you have a science background? People with these skills tend to score in this range. Past studies have concluded that people in this range have a more male brain. Nearly a third of men who took this test got full marks, whereas less than 10 per cent of women managed the same.

Words

This task looked at your verbal fluency. Your score: you associated 5 word(s) with grey and you named 8 word(s) that mean happy. We are assuming that all the words you entered are correct. Average score for men: 11.4 words total Average score for women: 12.4 words total What does your result suggest? If you produced 1 - 5 words: You are more of the strong, silent type with a male brain. You probably find it easier to express yourself in non-verbal ways, preferring action rather than words. If you produced 6 - 10 words: Most people in this range have a female-type brain. Women are said to use both sides of the brain when doing verbal tasks while men mainly use their left side. Studies have shown that girls develop vocabulary faster than boys. This difference in brain power is caused by levels of pre-natal testosterone.

Ultimatum

This task asked you how you would divide money. If you had to split £50 with someone, you said you would demand £20 So far on the Sex ID test, men have demanded 51.6% (£25.80) of the pot and women have demanded 51.0% (£25.50), on average. What does your response suggest? Sex differences are small in this task. Demanding less than 60% of the pot (ie £30) is more typically female. Demanding more than 65% of the pot (ie £32.50) is more typically male. Scientists believe that people with lower testosterone levels tend to take fewer risks so they are probably more willing to keep less for themselves. Those with higher testosterone levels tend to drive a harder bargain and are less compromising. Men's testosterone levels fluctuate over the seasons and are at their lowest levels during the springtime. This is said to influence their bargaining power.

How Much More?

I've been feeling pretty crappy again, I'm so tired and lethargic. I was feeling okay for a week or so after the doc put me on some new meds. I seemed to be sleeping much better, I was actually waking up feeling rested. But now it's back to normal, waking up feeling like I was hit by a truck.  I guess the effects of the meds has worn off. I wish I could find out what's wrong with me.

I don't know how much more of this I can take. I'm not living, I'm just existing, nothing more. I plod through each day as if I'm walking uphill against a strong wind. I have no motivation or drive to do anything. Christmas is coming up and I have no energy to do anything, nor do I seem to have any feelings towards the holiday. I just want it to be over.

I haven't written anything lately, I guess because I haven't been this depressed for a while.

Searching for Belief

What if everything I believe is wrong?

This year has been a series of ups and downs for me, depression, politics, religion, and numerous other things. I have done a lot of 'soul searching' (for lack of a better word, as I do not believe in the soul, but you know what I mean). I now wonder if everything I believe is all a bunch of crap, just baggage that I have piled on myself over the course of a lifetime.

I continue to search,  search for what? I don't know. Or maybe I do, but refuse to accept it. There are times where I would love nothing more than to head for the hills and live in some isolated cabin in the mountains where I can be alone. To be free of a society that is all about rules, rules that say I have to do what everyone else feels is right, rules that say I should think and act in certain ways, rules that say I should be something I am not. Why should I be part of a society that says I have to live for the benefit of others? If we do not live for ourselves, what then is the purpose of life? As long as I am not harming others what does it matter what I think or do?

I really wish I was more articulate so I could better write my thoughts down. I have difficulty transferring my ideas from my head to 'paper'. I have so much that I need to get out, to express, the need to shout from the rooftop so to speak. But I never seem to have the ability to explain myself in a way that others understand. Am I just full of shit? Maybe others do get what I am saying, but they see that I am just stupid? Do they see something that I don't? That what I believe is just plain wrong, and that I'm just to dense to see it.

What if everything we believe is just the processes of an evolved brain? Processes where everything boils down to chemicals and firing neurons in the brain. Processes that determine what we believe, without us really having control. Nothing more that processes that were, or are, necessary to pass on our genes to the next generation.

I sometimes envy those who seem to have the ability to not question everything, people that can just say "we are what we are", and go on with life, people who can live in happiness knowing or at least accepting who they are. The people that can think about the things and people in their lives, not why they think about things and the people in our lives.

What if all those imposed things I reject such as, social rules, morality, ways of thinking, living for others, are actually right? That through natural selection people that passed on those genes were the ones that survived? What if my way of thinking is just a biological 'dead end'? What if everything I believe is just plain wrong? Should I just abandon everything and go along with the herd because it is, in a biological sense, natural for our species?

Nothing really, Just Checking In.

I haven't posted in awhile. It's not because I don't have anything to say, it's just that I haven't had that feeling, that need, to write things down. But I'm still not sure what to write about, I feel as though I have went back to sleep. Returned to being satisfied with trudging through life. No goals.

I'm still in therapy and for a while it seemed to be a stalemate, with the therapist telling me to take baby steps, and me feeling like I don't know how to walk. But maybe now I am making some progress, but I'm still not sure how to walk. At least some problems are being identified, like my issues of feeling that I have no control over my life. That a lot of my issues with government stem from those control issues. But what to do about it? I really don't know. Identifying a problem and fixing it are two different things.

Meds

I've been off the Lexapro for a few days now. I was supposed to start the Cymbalta but I haven't got the prescription filled yet. My head is messed up, I not sure what was the meds and what is my head. I have been withdrawn, forgetful, and a bit confused. I have been obsessed with mastering Corel Photo paint, I've been spending hours on the program. I think it might be because I don't feel much like interacting with people right now. It's like I'm drunk trying to talk to sober people, that self-conscious feeling you get when you know your brain is not quite right. The fear you might say things that are inappropriate.

I've also had trouble sleeping, I have constant vivid dreams, and toss and turn. I'm tired.

Down

I'm feeling really depressed today, I'm so tired of this. Why? I feel the need to write but nothing is coming to me. I usually feel somewhat better after putting things down on 'paper'.

If I can't write, I think I will sit here and listen to Stevie Ray Vaughan's slow songs, that always help me work out my emotions. His sound of his guitar syncs perfectly with the emptiness I feel, like the sound of a distant train whistle in the night.

I have so many things to do right now, but I have no motivation whatsoever to do any of them, I just want to sleep.

Emptyness

I don't know how else to explain it except to say I have been feeling empty these last couple of days. Like a shell, just going through the motions. I can't, or just don't want to think.

I really wish I could figure this out, I am getting so tired of it all. I just want to sleep. I did take a nice two hour nap today. It was the highlight of my day. It is taking all my energy just to get any work done, On the bright side, I have been able to get a few drawings done.

I was feeling alive again for awhile, i thought I was getting better, but that is gone now, just a temporary feeling.

Nothing

I haven't had anything I want to write about lately. Not sure why, maybe I do thing's in phases. I could write more about my life, but as usual I have lost my motivation, and don't feel like writing about my experiences. I think I have also covered my views about what goes on inside my head, I can't think of anything to add to that subject, and besides I usually need to be pretty depressed to express my feelings.

What do I write about? I need to think about something that motivates me again.

Stranglehold

Okay, So Dani's friend, Denice, was over one night, I think it was in the fall of 1989. We had been drinking a bit, and I think some pot might have been involved as well. We decided it would be fun to make a video. I hooked up a black and white video camera and the stereo to the VCR.  I made a guitar out of cardboard and an old straight edge. Denice made a drum set from a spot light and wooden spoons. Dani would sing, dance, and play the bong.

We popped in a little Ted Nugent and this is the result, Ted Nugent's Stranglehold.

We would go on to make a few other videos that night, but I liked this one the best. If I get the time I will dig those other ones up.

Who Am I?

I have been told that I need to find myself again. That I have to remember who I am. That I have been dropping pieces of myself, pieces that are killing me. I have been told I must take a look under the mask.

But just who am I? And how do I find myself? Do I even want to find myself? I am afraid to take a good look at myself and try and figure just who I actually am. I'm not sure I even understand these questions.

Where do I start? I'm really not sure.

I have written a lot about my life and how I feel about things. Written about my issues with motivation, empathy, acceptance, feelings of abandonment, and the need to be liked. Have I already answered these questions, but I just can't see the answers? Or am I just too afraid to look at the answers that are already there?

I don't know what to say that I haven't already said. This is really bugging me now, and I'm sitting here drawing a blank, trying to find words. I have been able to get things out in my other posts, the words just seemed to flow, but not now.

Who am I?

Am I buried too deep in this maze I have constructed of cages, masks, beasts, and buried feelings? Will I be able to dig my way out? Do I even care? Or is this again just something that is expected of me? What if this is the real me? The feelings of no self esteem, of not being adequate, the need to me liked, of not being motivated. I am so confused. I don't know who I am.

What am I?

I am just a man that always tries to please the people around me. A man with an overpowering need to be accepted and liked by others. A man that has lost himself trying to be what others think I should be. A man that tries to distance himself from others so as not to feel the emotions of pain and hurt. I am told this is what causes my depression. I this really true? Or is the depression caused by me feeling bad about the way that I already am? Maybe this is what I am, and I just need to accept it.

"The emphasis shouldn't be on discovering who you are (what is buried beneath) but on facilitating the emergence of what you'd like to experience."  -  Who Am I, Psychology Today

Is this a better question than 'Who am I'? That the important thing is asking myself what I would like to experience, not who I am? This sounds like something easier to answer.

So, what do I want to experience? I want to experience a life without the need to please everyone. A life without feeling I am being judged for everything I say or do. A life of feeling adequate, of feeling that I am on equal footing with everyone around me. A life without fear of doing what I want regardless of what others might think of me. I want to experience a life of acceptance for being myself, not what I feel others think I should be.

I want a life where I can be assertive enough, to tell people exactly what I think and what I want to do. I want a life without fear.

How do I get there from here?  I don't have the slightest clue. I'm still looking for that road map.

So, who am I? I guess I'm still just a scared little boy who is afraid to experience life. One still afraid of the boogie man that might be hiding under my bed.

My Navy Days - Boot Camp

I joined the Navy before my senior year of high school on the delayed entry program. By signing up early I was  guaranteed the training I wanted, aircraft electronics. On July 8th, 1980, three weeks after graduation, I said goodbye to my family and friends, and hopped on a bus to the processing center in downtown Los Angeles. I was ready to start a new adventure. 

The first thing I remember after getting to the center was them herding us into a room where we were told by a so called doctor to strip naked, face the wall, bend over, and spread our cheeks. He then proceeded to walk around the room inspecting us for any signs of hemorrhoids. I remember this because of the comments he made; "Ooh, nice". "Oh yes, I like that one". "Mmmm, no tan lines, you dirty boy".  "Uhuh, I could sure do that". He might have been messing with us, but I think he was a bit light in the loafers. Even if I did have hemorrhoids, I was so puckered up after hearing those comments you wouldn't have been able to see them.

After we were processed it was back on another bus heading to the Naval Training Center in San Diego. Where the fun would begin. The bus stopped half way between Los Angeles and San Diego so we could have our last civilian meal before before getting to the training center. It was a Bob's Big Boy we stopped at. I had the best burger I had ever eaten.

My first day in boot camp was a long one. We got new clothes, that weren't anywhere close to fitting. We got all our hair cut off by the fine barbers at the training center. We had to run a gauntlet of corpsmen giving us shots with airguns. What the shots were I have no idea, I just remember them making us do push-ups afterward with sore arms.

The barracks

The second day we were divided into companies, mine was Company 161. We marched to our barracks where we were taught how to make our beds and fold our clothes the Navy way. We then marched off to chow for some of that great Navy food. When we returned to the barracks, our company commanders had totally destroyed the barracks, clothes and bunk parts everywhere. We had to do push-ups in the scattered piles of crap. It was fun trying to do push-ups with one hand on a mattress, and the other on a pile of underwear.

Most of our time in boot camp was spent in classrooms learning all about the Navy. Except for marching everywhere, we didn't have to do a lot of physical exercise. I can't remember much of what our classes were about, I was usually just trying to stay awake. We had one instructor that carried a mallet. If he caught you sleeping he would slam that mallet down on your desk, usually breaking the desk. The mallet didn't break the desk, it was you jumping out of your seat that did the trick.

One of the things I remember was a device called the buttercup. It was basically a water tank that looked like a room on a ship. It had a bunk and a few other things in it. They would start filling the tank with water through holes in the wall. You had to stop the leaks using whatever was in the room. Luckily I would never have to put that training to use. I think they would have been better off teaching us how to drink alcohol without puking.

What a punk I was.

Most of our time not spent in a classroom was spent marching and drilling on the parade ground. We learned how to march in columns, how to march in lines, how to wheel, how to do turn, we learned how to do all kinds of marching. By the end of boot camp we would be a real drilling machine. After book camp I would rarely march in formation again, it was time well spent. Again I wished they had taught us how to drink without puking.

In order to graduate from basic training we had to do a two and one half mile run. Since we didn't do much exercising I took it upon myself to make sure I would pass. I would go out every night after we were done with the days activities and run. I would go on to pass the test. I weighed 203 pounds when I joined the  Navy, I was 175 pounds by the time I was done with boot camp.

One of our little pranks - pushing the racks together.

We did our share of pranks when we had the time. The usual stuff, shaving cream in or on the shoes, short sheeting the beds. One of our favorites was to wrap dental floss around a guys rack while he slept, basically we would tie him to his bed. It was always fun to watch him try to get out of his rack in the morning.

About half way through basic training we had to do our service week. That was were you spent the week doing various duties around the base. I was assigned to the scullery, that was where all the chow hall dishes were washed. It was so hot and steamy in there that I broke out in a whole body rash. I spent the rest of the week in our barracks painting our company's "go to hell" flag. A pretty fair trade I would have to say.

Our "Go To Hell" flag.

I remember the letters I got from my family and friends. I still have those letters in a bag at home. One of the people that wrote me was a girl named Kris, I really liked her, and got a lot of letters from her. One of the people I went into then Navy with didn't make it through boot camp because he ended up with flat feet. He would go home and end up marrying Kris.

When it came time for graduation we would march out to the parade ground in our dress uniforms,  stepping in perfect unison, to be hailed by our families. Or that was the plan anyway. We had marched for two months using the cadence of our company commanders, when we marched to the parade ground, it was to a band playing Anchors Aweigh, the cadence was different. We ended up looking like a long centipede with everyone out of step. so much for our perfection. We were standing there so long at attention that a  couple of the guys ended up passed out. It was nothing like we planned.

Goofing off in our spare time.

All and all, my time in boot camp was pretty good, after growing up with a former Marine for a dad , and the discipline that went with it, boot camp was like a vacation. And I was free.

I feel good

I feel pretty good today.

I got the results of my MRI yesterday and everything was clean, but that's not why I feel good. What made me feel good was Dani's reaction to the news. I could tell that she was really relieved, that she cared. I had no idea just how stressed she was. The hug she gave me was wonderful. She reminded me that I do matter to other people, that I am loved and appreciated. I have been carrying around these feelings of worthlessness for so I long that I just assumed that was how others saw me. I thought I would be able to fade away without anyone noticing. I was wrong.

Where to go from here?

I have identified that I have a lot of unresolved issues. Acceptance, abandonment, appreciation, self assertion, self esteem, just to name a few. I have built walls to keep people out so I wouldn't have to feel emotions, so I wouldn't have to feel pain. 

Recognizing problems and doing something about them are two different things. Just because I acknowledge that I have issues doesn't mean I know how to resolve them. I'm not sure where to go from here. But I know I have to stop analyzing and start doing something. It is easier said than done when it comes to tearing down these walls I have spent years building. I guess I just have to start chipping away, brick by brick.

I'm afraid that I have held my feelings inside for so long that I won't know how to release them, or even how to control them if I do let them out. I realize I will have to make myself vulnerable, expose what I think are my weaknesses. That is going to be hard for me. I have always been taught to be strong for those around me. To never show weakness.

I sometimes wonder why I have let this go on for so long, why I have always felt the need to hide myself away, to keep hidden what is the real me. Do I fear what I might find? Could it be that bad? I guess the first step would be to make a positive comment instead of the negative ones I always seem to end up with. That what I might find a good person, not something to fear. I just assume I won't like what I find because that is the way I see myself now. If I could see myself as I know others see me, maybe I wouldn't be so afraid.

 I'm not even sure how to switch a negative brain into a positive one. How to change all my negative views of myself into positive ones. Am I my worst enemy? How does one build themselves up when there is nothing to work on?

I'm driving cross country in a broken down car, and no road map. I'm still lost. I know it's an unmanly thing to ask, but I could use some help with directions.

A Drive in the snow

A short drive in the snow around the Antelope valley. 1/2/2011

Top ten H.L Menckin Quotes

H.L. Menckin

Henry Louis "H. L." Mencken (September 12, 1880 – January 29, 1956), was an American journalist, essayist, magazine editor, satirist, acerbic critic of American life and culture, and a student of American English. Mencken, known as the "Sage of Baltimore", is regarded as one of the most influential American writers and prose stylists of the first half of the 20th century. Many of his books are still in print.

 10. Before a man speaks it is always safe to assume that he is a fool. After he speaks, it is seldom necessary to assume it.

9. A man may be a fool and not know it, but not if he is married.

8. An idealist is one who, on noticing that roses smell better than a cabbage, concludes that it will also make better soup.

7. Democracy is a pathetic belief in the collective wisdom of individual ignorance.

6. For every complex problem there is an answer that is clear, simple, and wrong.

5. I believe in only one thing: liberty; but I do not believe in liberty enough to want to force it upon anyone.

4. I hate all sports as rabidly as a person who likes sports hates common sense.

3. Say what you will about the ten commandments, you must always come back to the pleasant fact that there are only ten of them.

2. If women believed in their husbands they would be a good deal happier and also a good deal more foolish.

1. We must respect the other fellow’s religion, but only in the sense and to the extent that we respect his theory that his wife is beautiful and his children smart.

Lighten Up.

I thought I would liven it up a bit by posting some pics I think are pretty funny.

 Anytime I start thinking I have a bad job, I remember it could always be worse.

 

 Mmmm...Nothing like a beef sundae for desert.

 I told you women have too many moving parts.

I have no idea what they were thinking when they made this.

I wonder who designed this one?

 What is there to say about this except that I want one.

Appreciation

What do I say about this? We all want to feel appreciated, to know that we make a difference on other peoples lives. We want to feel we have a purpose.

I have the problem of not feeling like I really matter to anyone, like I would never be missed if I was gone. I feel like the invisible man. I realize this is in my head, and not the truth, but still I can't help feeling this way. Maybe it ties in with the abandonment issue, that I feel people can just walk away from me without giving it a second thought, with me soon forgotten. That I was just some amusement for people to pass away the time when they were bored, or waiting for something better to come along.

Why do I think like this? That I don't matter to anyone? I wish I knew. Maybe it's just my way of distancing myself from others to save my own emotions. Maybe I feel like I am saving the emotions of others by not getting too close. Either way I don't feel appreciated, or that I matter much to others.

I have never been able to take praise very well, I always feel like it's just others trying to humor me, or saying what is expected of them. I'm sure there has been times when people have had genuine praise for me, that they have appreciated something I have done. I just tend not to believe it. I usually feel the same when people express concern for me or my well being, I tend not to believe them. I feel they are just doing what they have been taught to, what is socially required. That, or they are just trying to make themselves feel better.

I remember once not to long after I had moved to California from Arkansas, I believe I was still nine. I had this book of riddles that I liked to read. My mom and dad would have me read the riddles to guests. Everyone would have a big laugh. I thought I was doing pretty good telling those riddles, until I heard my dad say that the riddles were stupid and everyone one was laughing at me, and that silly Hillbilly accent of mine. I still feel like that boy, never getting why people are really laughing, and at what.

Deep down I know the reason I don't feel appreciated is nothing more than me not appreciating myself.

Abandonment

I think I have had abandonment issues for a long time, I have just buried the fact.

My dad, who I never met, chose money over my mom. I never gave it much thought, but deep down I think it has always bothered me. Have I not accepted the fact that I was abandoned by him? I have an entire family out there that I have never met, and with the exception of my dad, I have no idea if any of them even know I exist.

My grandparents who raised me until I was nine then handed me over to my mom. I have so much love for my grandparents, and still miss them terribly. But do I still have unresolved issues with them? They didn't fight when my mom wanted to take me to live with her. They would later tell me it was to keep peace in the family. Have I mistaken what they did for abandonment?

I felt this way when Rick, the last friend I really bonded with, got married. I felt like I had lost him. I felt I was being abandoned again. I remember going into the bathroom after his wedding ceremony and just crying. I was happy for him, yet so sad at the same time.

And now this.

I thought I had built an impenetrable wall that no one could breach. But I was wrong. I left a door open in that wall and didn't realize it until someone had already walked through and got inside. And now I don't know how to get them out. All I know is that I am in pain, a pain I haven't felt for a very long time. I thought I had found a friend, someone who understood me, but I don't know now. They are gone, I feel abandoned again. How do I deal with this so I can get on with life?

Is the fear of abandonment the real reason I have never been good at bonding with people? Do I fear the pain so much that I don't let myself get close to people? I think what I feel right now is just a remember of why I put up the wall in the first place.

I just want it all to go away so I can recede behind my wall again, and bolt the door shut. At this point I would rather feel nothing, numbness, than the pain I am feeling.

My Childhood, Part 2, California

My first memory of California was the drive from the airport after flying in from Arkansas. I wouldn't call it a drive home, because I had never been to that house before. I had always wanted a Big Mac from McDonald's. I had never had one, we didn't have any McDonald's where I lived in Arkansas, but I had seen the commercials on TV, and they made it look so good. So we stopped at a McDonald's between the airport and the house. I got the Big Mac of my dreams.

I think to say that moving from Arkansas to Southern California was a culture shock would be an understatement. It was like moving to a different planet. I had moved from a place where outhouses, and lack of running water were still common place, to one of the worlds largest metropolitan areas.

1972

It was difficult settling in to my new environment. My mom had just married, they had just bought a house in the San Fernando valley. The person I would now call Dad was a twenty-four year old man that had been with the Los Angeles Police Department for two years, after serving in Vietnam in the marine Corps. My mom had a job at Peterson Publishing company as a secretary to the artists that drew for Cartoons magazine. They were busy with their careers, their new relationship, the house. I just tried to stay out of the way. My dad did end up adopting me. He had been in foster care for a good part of his childhood, and didn't want to be just a step-dad.

My first friends were a couple of kids that lived on the block, Jeff and Steve. Jeff was the leader of our little pack. Steve and I were more laid back. I also befriended a kid who's parents would drive him from the 'bad' part of town so he could go to a decent school. His name was Pete. He would come over before school, after his parents had dropped him off at school, and my parents had left for work. We would look at my dads 1971 Playboy Playmate calendar, and watch Dennis the Menace.

I don't really remember how I took being separated from my grandparents. I do remember crying a lot when I was in bed at night, writing them letters, and the occasional phone call. I wish I could see those letters again, just to see what I was writing, because I don't remember. I think I have blocked a lot of it out.

I never really bonded with my mom or dad, oh sure I loved them, but it wasn't the same as with my grandparents. Maybe I was afraid to get too close to them, I'm not sure. And besides they were busy.

My dad tried getting me into sports. I started playing Pop Warner football when I was nine. I wasn't very good, not aggressive enough, I didn't like hurting people. I played for four years. He got me a set of golf clubs, I wasn't very good at that either. He even had me try track and field. That one went over really well.

Jeff, Steve and I were a pretty tight bunch, a mini gang almost. We called our selves the Three Stooges.  Jeff was Moe, Steve was Larry, and I was Curly. We would do most everything together, it usually involved making some kind of trouble in the neighborhood, skateboards, bikes, BB guns, movies, and pranks were the order of the day, along with a few broken windows from dirt clods (purely accidental I assure you)

1976, when I was fourteen, would turn out to be a very good year. It was the first time I tried pot. Steve's older sister Jamie gave us some left over seeds and stems from her stash. We put it all in a pipe and smoked it. I don't think we actually got stoned. We just thought we did.

It was also the first year I tried smoking. We didn't really inhale, just acted like it. My dad caught me taking a pack of cigarettes. He sat me down with a pack of Camel non-filters and made me chain smoke until I vomited. I wouldn't smoke again until after I went in the Navy.

That was also the year my mom, Jeff, and I took a trip to Arkansas. We drove the 2000 miles in an 1972 Ford station wagon. My mom smoked the whole way there with the windows rolled up because the air conditioning was on. It's a wonder i didn't get lung cancer from that drive. The popular songs at the time were Afternoon Delight, Teddy Bear, and Don't Go Breaking My Heart. It was fun to go back to Arkansas to see my grandparents, family, and friends I had left. I was excited to see them all. 

While on that Arkansas trip I was introduced to the wonderful world of masturbation. I was visiting my friend Allen, he casually asked me if I had ever masturbated. I told him that I hadn't. He said that I didn't know what I was missing, and how great it was. After we got home from the trip, I was curious to see what all the fuss was about. So one day I locked myself in the bathroom, and tried to figure out this whole masturbation thing. It took some trial and error, persistence, and a bit of hand soap, but I was finally successful. My world would never be the same.

Patti McGuire

Steve's dad got him a subscription to Playboy magazine that same year. Needless to say we spent a lot of nights at his house analyzing those playboys, page by page. Playmate Patti McGuire would become my dream girl. She would later break my heart by marrying the pro tennis player Jimmy Connors. Steve also liked to put a mirror under the bathroom door so we could spy on his sister. He was fun.

In 1977 when I was 15 we moved from the San Fernando valley to a small town on the edge of the Antelope valley named Acton. Again, I had to leave the friends I had made. Jeff's sister and one of her friends had come up to help my mom with the new house. The first night there the three of us decided to play a friendly game of strip poker. My mom came in in the middle of the game with a bowl of popcorn. Either she didn't notice us all in our underwear, or she just didn't say anything. We continued to play until we all had lost.

I was 16 the first time I got drunk. My parents had gone out for the night. My friend Scott and myself decided to raid the liquor cabinet. We started with beer, went to wine, and ended up drinking Southern Comfort. After I was done puking I was able to make it to my bedroom and pass out. Scott peed on the floor. When my parents came home and found the puke and realized that Scott had peed on the floor, they went ballistic, I was sure I was a dead man. When I woke up the next morning, yes I had survived the night, I had a horrendous hang over. My dad made me rake all the manure out of the horse stalls. I think that was the longest day of my life. He also grounded me for a month.

1979

I had my first girlfriend when I was 17, a girl named Carol. We met while working at a summer job in Mammoth CA. ran by the Forestry Service. She had had a rough childhood. She still carried the scars from when her dad would put out his cigarettes on her. I was amazed at how well she turned out after such abuse, but she was lucky enough to have been adopted my a couple of wonderful people after being removed from her abusive situation. Her adoptive dad even drove down from Fresno just to check me out, and kick my ass if necessary. She wanted to remain a virgin until she was married. I respected that.  But she was the one to give me my first hand job. When I tried to return the favor it didn't so so well. After me fumbling around for a while she finally told me she could do it better herself. Women have so many moving parts, I would need more training, but that is the subject of another story. After the summer job was over we split up and both returned to our homes, some 200 hundred miles apart.

In 1980, three weeks after I turned 18, I was on a bus heading to San Diego for Naval boot camp. My childhood was over.

A short Note.

I wanted to take a break from my normal writing to scribble down a note before I forget about it.

I thought of something while I was writing about my childhood yesterday. People have always told me that I have had issues because I was taken from my grandparents. I always thought I was able to deal with the situation. But I now think that maybe I haven't.

While writing about my experiences in Arkansas I remember my times there with love and understanding. I was accepted, I didn't feel I had to please anyone for them to love me. The love was unconditional. Then I started writing about my experiences after coming to California to live with my mom and her new husband. It was different, it seemed what I started writing about was my attempt to be accepted, to be loved. I was trying to make my new parents happy, I say new parents because I didn't really know either of them. My mom was usually torn between my needs and trying to keep her new husband happy, I feel I got lost in the mix sometimes. I remember sitting in my bedroom listening to them argue about me, about my flaws. 

I never felt unloved when I was with my grandparents, ever. I did with my parents, I felt their love was conditional.

I don't think my dad ever told me he was proud of me until I was 24. When he was diagnosed with cancer and I quit my job at Rockwell to return home to help the family and run his business.

My Childhood, Part 1, Arkansas

I was born a poor black child. Well almost.

I was born on June 26, 1962. Somewhere outside of Detroit Michigan, To an unwed teen mom. My dad was from a wealthy eastern family, and in the Air Force at the time. My mom was a poor farmers daughters who had been living in Battle Creek Michigan. The story according to my mom was that they wanted to get married, but my dads family said they would disown him if he married my mom. He took the money.

After I was born I was given to my grandparents to raise me. We lived on a farm in a small Arkansas town. My mom continued to work in Battle Creek, and would eventually move to St. Louis, then to California.

My earliest memories were of us moving to a new house. I remember Grandad complaining about the new house having a phone, and how useless they were (sounds like me complaining now about smart phones). Mamaw (that's what I called my grandma) won, the phone stayed. I loved growing up on the farm, I had lots of relatives close by, lots of friends and cousins my age. I had free rein of the place. We didn't have much, but what we didn't have in material possessions was made up with love and caring. I have never since felt the love they gave me, the unconditional love of a parent, the safety and security they provided. My most cherished memory is of me laying on Grandad's belly at night while we watched TV. I can still recall the smell of sweat, diesel, and the fields on him.

Me and Mamaw

Me and Grandad

I remember so much from that time. Almost all good memories.

I had a tendency to get car sick so the school bus driver would drop me off at his house in the mornings. I don't remember his real name but everyone called him 'Pinky'. I was one of the first stops on his morning rout, and his house was right down the road. He would drop me off when he went by and his wife would watch me while he finished picking up the other kids. I would watch Zorro and drink hot cocoa while I waited for him to return at the end of his rout to pick me back up and take me to school.

The School bus

That same bus is where I learned the meaning of the word 'Fuck'. It had been scratched on the back of a seat and some older kids told us what it meant. Then myself and my friend Allen convinced another kid to say it to his parents when he got home. We told him it meant 'hello'. That is one time I wished Grandad had won the phone controversy when the kids mom called to tell my grandparents what we had done.

I remember being struck by lightning, well almost. I was playing on a swing set in our front yard during a thunderstorm. Lightning struck a power pole, arced to the swing set I was on, and ended up catching the house on fire. It scarred me more than anything, at least that's all I think happened to me.

I loved to play in the yard, my favorite toys were John Deere tractors and the equipment that went with them. We would build fields and do all kinds of farming. I even had a little John Deere riding tractor that I loved to ride around on.

The chicken yard was another of my favorite play areas. I would dig old things up, rusty bolts, broken glass, things like that. I dug up a small dog figurine once, I gave it to Mamaw, she kept that thing for years on her what-not shelf. One time while playing in the chicken yard I took it upon myself to tease one of the roosters. He spurred me in the eye. We had fried rooster for supper that night.

I remember my first dog, a big white dog named Snowball. He was hit by the mailman and killed. I remember it was around mothers day because the mailman had just delivered a big fancy mothers day card for Mamaw. They gave me a baby duck once, I kept it in a box by my bed. It hung itself on one of the box flaps trying to get out. I buried it out back, but dug it up a few days later. I usually had a red eared slider in a little plastic turtle container that had a neat little island with a palm tree on it. The turtles usually didn't last too long either as I liked to take them out and play with them, and would usually end up losing the darn things.

I made my first kill at seven. I had just gotten a new bb gun for my birthday. I took it out back and found a sparrow in a tree. I took a shot and killed the bird. I remember feeling so bad about it. I realized then that I didn't like to kill things. But I did like to go squirrel hunting with Grandad. He would have me go around a tree to flush out the squirrels so he could shoot them. Somewhere I still have a picture of me skinning a squirrel.

I remember my great grandparents, they lived in a small house in town. My great granddad would tell me gory stories of WWI, and how the KKK would ride through his town with torches when he was a kid. He was also an old moonshiner from the Ozark mountains. We would go for walks and he would throw a quarter on the ground in front of us without me knowing, then he would pick it up saying that he had just found it. He would always get a laugh watching me run around the yard ooking for quarters . He liked to watch wrestling on TV, he would sit backwards in an old wicker chair and wrestle with the guys on the TV

Four Generations

My mom would come down to pick me up once in a while on the weekends to take me to St. Louis.  She had to take me kicking and screaming, I would grab on to whatever I could find because I didn't want to go with her. They had to pry me from the car port post once. I think it took all three of them to do it. I remember once she took me to a drive in restaurant on the way out of town, the ones where they put the trays on your door, called Dog n' Suds. Our server was black. I got a baseball card with my meal, the player on the card was also black. When the server handed me the card I looked at my mom, pointed to the card and said "look mom it's a nigger". I didn't know any better it was the way I was raised. I remember this event because I don't ever think I have seen my mom so embarrassed. I did like the convertible she drove. She used to wear sun glasses and a head scarf when she drove with the top down.

My First Model

I had my first erection, first one I remember anyway, when I was about eight years old, I woke up with it and thought something was wrong, so I ran yelling to Mamaw to show her my sudden affliction. She told me I had nothing to worry about. This was also about the time I remember my first sexual stirrings, thanks to a picture of Vampirella on the box cover of a model. I talked my grandparents into buying me the model. I don't remember if I actually built it. I also discovered playboy when I was able to sneak a peek at one while we were at a laundromat. I went next door to a liquor store to buy a soda, and noticed the Playboy on the magazine rack. I had to pick it up and take a look to see what was inside.  As I looked at the magazine, I remember having a tingling  feeling , that feeling scared me, I dropped the Playboy and ran out of the store. I don't know if I ever did get that soda.

Me with my cousins Jamie (right) and  Sarah (left)

I had two cousins named Jamie and  Sarah, they were sisters, and about the same age as me. I remember we would spend a lot of time together, playing. I had a habit of pulling my pants down in front of them. They lived in a house with no running water, no indoor plumbing, and they had an old pot bellied stove for heat. Our favorite thing to play was caveman. Their mom, my aunt, would make pitchers of iced tea with about two or three cups of sugar in it, you could almost stand a spoon up in the stuff. Their older brother liked to catch bullfrogs to eat. I loved frog legs when they were good breaded and fried up. Jamie and Sarah and i would poke around the frog guts after they had been cleaned, just to see what we could find, what we found was usually just crawdads in the intestines.

My best friend was Allen, he had a little sister named Patty that had a crush on me for some reason. She would follow me everywhere and always wanted to play Tarzan and Jane. I never pulled my pants down in front of her. Allen's family didn't have plumbing either, but they did have running water. Allen and his sister would take their baths in the kitchen sink.

My mom would eventually move to California, I don't remember how old I was when she moved, I didn't really know her so I didn't miss her. I do remember flying out by myself to see her in 1970 when I was eight. We went to Disneyland and I got to meet her new boyfriend, the man that would later become my adoptive dad. When I returned from the trip I remember Grandad crying when they picked me up. I asked why he was crying and Mamaw said it was because he was happy to see me. I think it was because he knew what was about to happen.

This was about the time I felt my first signs of what would later become depression. I remember sitting on a bench in the school gym watching the other kids run around playing. I felt I was somehow different, I felt sad and didn't know why. All the other kids seemed so happy. What I can't remember if I felt this way before or after I learned I would be moving to California, and leaving the only parents I had ever known.

My last memory of living with my grandparents was the day I finally left for California to live with my mom and her new husband. I was sitting in the bath crying, begging Mamaw not to make me go. Telling her how much I would miss everyone. She told me I had to go.