REJECTION LETTERS

            NO.

            NO.

            NO.

            NO.

You still here? Still sane? Can you handle it? If you’re reading this, chances you are an adult. Chronologically speaking, at least. Mentally, who knows? But, if you are a chronological adult, chances are you’ve heard this two-letter word quite a few times.

            NO.

            NO.

            NO.

            NO.

The better question is, how many times have you used it? How many times in a day? A week? A month?

    YOUR LIFE?

    Some people have to deal with it more often than others. We hear it from our parents, siblings, teachers, employers… everyone. Do we have the right answer? Do we have the right qualifications? Do you have this brand of toilet paper?

Actors hear it from directors. Writers hear it from publishers. Doctoral candidates hear it from their departments.

            NO.

            NO.

            NO.

            NO.

Males hear it from females.

            YES.

  Am I being misogynist? In reality, yes, women ask out men, but how often does that scenario happen? Ladies, when is the last time you asked a guy out on a date? There is pressure and stigma that goes with guys who are unable to get a date.

    Yes, I know women have to deal with rejection, and that’s a different story. Rejection for females is different than it is for men, and since I am not a woman, I cannot attest to that feeling or the thought process that goes with it. I’m going to talk about being rejected as a man.

    When I was in sixth grade, I developed a severe crush on a girl in my class. I thought she was absolutely beautiful, and her personality was amazing. I was smitten. I invited her to my bar mitzvah simply so I could have the pleasure of holding her in my arms and dancing with her. I did my best to charm her, get on her good side, imbed myself in her heart and mind.

    Seventh grade. We took a bus once a week to Central Grammar School in the middle of town for Industrial Arts. I had been building up the courage all week and had the support of the other guys in my class. This was it. I knew if I could get her to go out with me, I’d finally, at long last, be accepted as one of the Cool Kids. After all, you couldn’t be a nerdy outcast with a girlfriend, right?

    “Hey, Do you want to go out with me?”

    The cheers from my classmates drowned out her response. I was positive the response was positive.

    “No, no thanks.”

    Everything stopped. My happiness was gone in a heartbeat. My focus was off the rest of the day.

    It was the first of many. I asked other girls, both in my school as well as a couple others. My main focus remained this one girl. She was everything I wanted, and I felt that if I was persistent, I’d win her over. I made her tapes, wrote her poems and letters. I composed one letter with the help of my mother, who saw and was aware of my affections for this girl. She edited my work and even mailed the letter for me. Two days later, a police officer showed up at my parents’ house with an admonishment from the girl’s parents warning me not to bother her any more. My folks were flabbergasted and asked why, and the officer told us her parents had intercepted the letter and found it disturbing. My mom had the cop read the letter, who shared our confusion once he finished. He even asked me to write a similar letter for him to his wife. Either way, I got the hint.

    No more letters.

    I was depressed. Writing was my strong point. Words on paper were much more elegant than my speaking voice. My parents assured me there was someone out there for me, I simply had to keep looking and keep trying.

    I did so. All through the remainder of grade school I tried, and one by one the girls in my class, both at my school and others, turned me down. I attended all the cheesy 8^th-grade make-out parties only to leave quietly after everyone had paired off. I watched enviously as my friends held and kissed all the pretty girls, girls who had once and again rejected my affections. The trend continued in high school as I got to know a wider range of people and tried my hardest to win some hearts, all to no avail. Those two letters, over and over again. NO. NO. NO.

    I finally got a yes near the end of sophomore year. She was a friend, we had many friends in common, she was smart and pretty… we lasted two weeks. She said I was smothering.

    I had a date during the summer. I gave her my football jacket. Mom made me take it back, and that was that. There were more shoot downs, including a small handful at summer camp. A memorable one was a belated rejection. The camp I went to was in the Berkshire mountains, a sleep-away camp for Jewish kids. I had gone in 1992 and returned in 1993. Camp consisted of two four-week sessions. At the end of each session was Banquet, a semi-formal dinner, song session and cultural dancing to celebrate the last night of the session. Traditionally, you could ask someone to be your date. It was a fairly big deal, like asking someone to prom.

    In 1993 I asked a girl in my unit to go with me. Again, she was nice, very pretty, and I figured what the hell. And she said yes. I was thrilled. I had gotten a pretty girl to say yes to a date with me. I wrote home to my parents, who were equally excited. They wanted pictures. I told them I’d get some. The day of the banquet, maybe two hours before the event (I had showered and shaved, so it had to be soon before), one of the girl’s friends came across Olim Hill and informed me the girl would not be attending Banquet with me. You see, there as a guy she liked, and I had beaten him to the punch in asking her to go. She didn’t want me to feel bad, so she had said yes. But now she was afraid of how HE would feel, so she was leaving me alone so she could go with him. I was stunned. Shocked. I was humiliated. I politely asked the friend to relay the question “How does leaving me abandoned an hour before Banquet not make me feel bad?” and went to my bunk. The girl came by herself to apologize and explain, and I didn’t want to hear it. My unit heads came by and asked me to come to the dining hall. I refused, explaining: “It’s humiliating, to have someone say yes and then to shoot you down after everyone in the world knows you’d be going with someone. Why face those looks by showing up alone?” They told me the girl felt “really bad” about it, and I didn’t care. “I don’t imagine it’s any worse than what I feel, and she shouldn’t have said yes in the first place. This is worse.” I’m friends with this girl on Facebook now. I wonder if she even remembers this event. I sure do.

    The next yes was at my first job. I was working at Miami Subs Grill in the parking lot of the Post Mall. I was a line cook, she was a cashier. We flirted, she gave me her number, we went out, I was elated. We lasted a year and a half, during which time she gradually patronized and degraded me. In our last three months we broke up three times. First me, then her, and finally me again. My first real girlfriend, and I broke up with HER. The feeling of rejection was still there, though. Somewhere along the line she had stopped returning my affections, and to me, that was unacceptable.

    Rejection had become a part of my life. I barely even bothered because I felt it was futile. I stopped asking girls out because I knew, knew, knew they would turn me down, so why bother? I don’t remember them all. Not every one of them. There are too many. Some, for some reason, are forever etched in my memory. I don’t know why. I don’t know why that incident at camp sticks the way it does. I don’t know why the girl I dated for three months college is so vivid. Maybe it’s because she says she dated me to make a friend of mine jealous. There’s the girl who broke up with me over IM after I had moved back to Connecticut. There’s the abusive relationship I was in for two years and managed to escape.

    All these experiences are a part of me. It has been a long time since any of it has happened. I’ve moved past them, but I never forget them. They’re always there. As a young man, as a boy, you’re expected to do and be certain things. We’re led to believe that by doing certain things, performing certain acts, we will assert our masculinity and win over the female.

    Is that misogynist? Is that thought, “winning the female,” misogynist? Is it an outdated concept? From children, it’s what we’re taught to do, that primal aspect of masculinity: flowers, candy, poems, cards, sweetness, love, and affection, all these things will show the female that we deserve and are worthy of their attention. See that word?

WORTHY.

A lot of people forget that part. WORTHY. Most people focus on the DESERVE and forget the WORTHY. We are taught from very early on that we are to earn the affection and attention of the fairer sex, that is it up to them choose us based on these feats. We are told that showing how affectionate and attentive we are to them is how we get them into our lives.

    So, are we innately misogynist? What are the little girls taught when they’re at the same age? Are they told to win us over with gifts and tokens and shows of affection? Or to simply “let the boys fawn over you and take your pick?” Because I’ll be honest with you, that’s what it feels like most of the time. It is ingrained in us from a very early age, mostly by our peers, that if we cannot win the princess, we are failures as men. We are raised to believe that if we cannot provide for and care for “our women” that we are failures as men. We are raised to believe that we are to be the breadwinners, the providers, the hunters AND the gatherers. Are women considered chattel? We are raised from very early to believe that love and affection are prizes to be won by the best and strongest. Not only does the media perpetuate this, but yes, THE WOMEN perpetuate this.

    Again, how often do you ask US out? Let the pressure be put on YOU. Here’s an example: BIG BANG THEORY. Penny and Leonard are not longer dating, but they decide to hang out: go the movies, hit a bar. She still expects him to buy the tickets and the popcorn, she still expects him to spring for snacks and drinks at the bar. How often are the tables turned? It happens, I know it does, but let’s be honest: when you go on a date with a guy, who asks who? Who opens the door and pulls out the chair? Who pays for the meal, the event? Who picks up who in whose car? Let us consider these facts. Is it misogynist, and if so, whose fault is it? Our parents? Their parents before then? Or is it our own fault for continuing it?

DADDY'S BOY

            Let me tell you about my father.

            He’s more than a father. He’s a Dad. And more than that, he’s a Daddy. I am the oldest of three, and he has never let me forget that I was here first. My memory is long, and while not all of the ones I hold are pleasant, I now know and understand why I had to have them.

    My father worked multiple jobs when I was younger in order to sustain us. I have vague memories of him coming home, showering, eating, napping for 15-30 minutes, and heading right back out the door. I have memories of him riding a bike down Pond Point Ave in a suit because he had lost his license for too many speeding tickets. I remember my father waking up at two and three in the morning for service calls, and working weekends for the bus company. I remember some of the sacrifices he made, but not all of them.

    I remember good times. I remember how involved he was, how present. ALWAYS PRESENT. I know some of my friends didn’t have that. And I felt fortunate to have my dad involved in so much. Cub Scouts, Boy Scouts, Talented And Gifted, class trips, projects… so many activities in and out of school. Soccer, football, drama, writing, any interest I had. Movies, TV, music, anything.

    My dad took me to sports events. Yankees/Tigers at Yankee Stadium in 1981. Yale/Harvard. Harlem Globetrotters. Lakers/Celtics at the Civic Center. Nighthawks in New Haven.

    My dad took me to see E.T. at the Capitol Theater in the center of town was when I was 7. That experience changed my life. It gave me guidance to what I wanted to do. MOVIES. To this day, if that movie is on, I am compelled to watch it, and I always cry. ALWAYS. I even tear up when I hear John Williams’ score.

    My dad would listen to me read. I learned early and fast. He always encouraged my education. If I didn’t know a word, I was told to look it up. If I was asked a question and didn’t know the answer, he would tell me to read about it. When I spent time with him, regardless of what we were doing, he was always teaching. If he was working on one of the cars, he would hold up a part and ask if I knew what it was and what it did. If I didn’t, he would explain it.

    My dad taught me what it means to be a man, and how to do it properly. He taught me about priorities and obligation and responsibility. He told me what it means to take care of your family and those nearest and most important to you. He also taught me that not all family is blood, and that family is always the most important thing in your life.

    Our parents take care of us when we are young. They teach us and guide us. What we don’t realize when we’re that small is that we’re also teaching THEM. I didn’t understand that back then. As I watch my brother with his kids, and watch my sister prepare for hers, I also watch my parents. They look over their children with the same look of pride as a teacher watching their students as they graduate.

    My father cried at my bar mitzvah. He cried as they dropped me in North Philadelphia in late August of 1995. Each time, he embraced me tightly, held me, and looked at me as he let me go: “My baby. You’ll always be my first.”

    I’m looking forward to our time tomorrow. We don’t get much of it. When the opportunity arises, I try to take advantage of it. I wanted to take him to Alumni Day at CitiField when the Phillies played the Mets, but the schedule didn’t work out. A new opportunity has arisen, and I’m taking full advantage. Just me and my dad. 

IT'S A FIVE O'CLOCK WORLD...

            I’ve been getting up early the past few weeks because of work. I don’t want to. I enjoy waking up to daylight. It feels more natural than waking up in darkness. Let me explain “early:” my alarm goes off at 4am. Otis usually wakes me around 3:30. Your brain isn’t quite functioning, the synapses are flickering like shorted light bulbs, your eyes are twitching because they don’t want to be open yet, all your joints are creaking…

    And nothing is happening.

    Nothing. No traffic. No cars passing. No kids playing. No people walking their dog. Just dark silence. During the week, you can almost feel the anticipation as The Day prepared to pop and wind out, that silent drumroll before everything gets moving. Wake up at 4am on a Saturday to go to work and feel the difference.

    There’s nothing open by the time you get on the road. No Dunkin Donuts. No McDonald’s. No Quick Stop. Even a couple of the stores at the rest stop on 95 South are dead: Sbarro’s and Panda Express and Moe’s are shut down and dark, but who would want a burrito or chow mein at 4am anyhow? The Dunkin being closed surprised me. Where would you get your coffee? Granted, most of the gas stations are 24-hours now, at least the ones around here. The Forbes Station by my house sells Green Mountain, which is pretty damn good. I’ll make a cup once I get to work, otherwise the stuff they have at Pilot is OK, and in a crunch there’s always the Newman’s Own at Mickey’s.

    But what if you’re hungry? Food choices are extremely limited. The time between 3am and 5am is a limbo period for most 24-hour eateries. I have stopped at the mcDonald’s on Route 80 on several occasions on the way home from when I worked nights, only to find they had very little or no food for me to bring home for myself and my wife. “Whaddaya mean you’re out of burgers? How can you have no nuggets? YOU’RE NOT MAKING BREAKFAST YET?!?” A lot of places are like that. I’m supposed to be at work for 5am until further notice. Occasionally, I will stop at the Wendy’s inside the Pilot truck Stop for breakfast. Wendy’s has some awesome breakfast choices… if you get there after 5am. No breakfast or burgers until after 5am, so anything you get either has to be chicken or meat-free. Spicy Chicken Sandwich for breakfast. Yum.

    You can’t even stop by 7-11 and grab a buttered bagel. Before 5am, the guy is still making them. I’ve asked him to put a couple aside and been told he can’t do that, he has to finish them all before he can earmark them for sale. That’s one of the most ridiculous things I’ve heard. Through the Saran Wrap around the bagel and take my $1.15. Are you kidding?

    So, here we find ourselves at 4:35am inside the Pilot Truck Stop, Spicy Chicken Sandwich in one hand and trying to decide on a 20oz coffee refill or a 64oz soda refill, mentally debating whether or not to grab one of the overcooked quickly-hardening Bacon-egg-cheese croissants in the little heater cabinet by the hot dogs. You try and ignore the guy conked out in one of the booths inside the Wendy’s but his snoring is distracting. You try not to notice the State Trooper conked out in his car in the corner of the parking lot or the hookers grabbing a smoke outside the hotel next door. Traffic lights are still flashing in rhythm, no cars on the road and the only vehicles on the highway are construction vehicles and tractor-trailers. You can hear the highway from my backyard ay 4am, you know. Kinda weird and eerie.

        There’s not even anybody really broadcasting at 4am. Throw on the news and you get the weird, awkward Early Morning shows like America This Morning with the gawky preppy guy and the hot racktacular Latina making jokes about movies and trying to be serious while discussing whatever disaster has recently occurred. Howard Stern doesn’t even come on the radio until 6am, and that’s only three days a week these days. The terrestrial stations play the same dozen songs over and over until the regular DJ comes on between 5-6. Hell, even the Army doesn’t get up until 0530.

    Sometimes, the quiet is appreciable. No stress, to anxiety, no panic, nothing but the wind and the dark and you. If you’re well-rested and wake up on the right side of the bed, it can be a good thing. Solitude isn’t always bad. The good things about getting up early and going into the world before everyone else: you have the time to stop, stretch, take a deep breath, and appreciate the cool calm before the chaos sets in at 5am.

WILL YOU BE MY FRIEND?

            In this advent of social media, it’s interesting to observe how social interaction has changed. So much has been removed from actually being social in the past few years and the funny thing is that the younger generation does not and will not even know it.

    Remember the days when you picked up a rotary phone to make plans with your friends, or when you had to go up to the door of a house and ask someone’s mom if they could come outside? The days when you the streetlights were your playtime timer and you could camp outside without fear of someone coming to steal you or your friends or your kids?

    We go on dates and have dinner without talking now. We don’t get those little paper invites with a phone number to RSVP any more, except for weddings. There’s no face-to-face communication anymore. Even with work, you’re asked to email or text everything, no more verbal communication, it all has to be electronic. The one thing that has changed the most, the one thing that is actually sort of frightening, is the concept of friendship.

    In the olden days we made friends the hard way: by meeting people. Sometimes you got along, sometimes you didn’t, sometimes it was forced on you, other times it just sorta happened. We grew up with people, we became close, we became family. You met people through other people, a constant domino-effect of social interaction. I was always fascinated by the way a society builds itself, the way circles and spheres of influence are born and spread, widening and shrinking, ebbing and flowing like a tide. Sometimes, friendships would end, usually over a lack of communication, miscommunication, or even too much communication. Relationships died over infidelity exposed by perfume or cologne on clothing, mysterious stains, letters hidden in dresser drawers. Friendships ended over petty things and complex things alike.

    Not any more.

    Now, friendships are made by who knows who on Facebook. Oh, you have sixty-seven friends in common with someone else? Well then, WE must be friends too! It doesn’t matter if we’ve met or not, if we’ve hung out or not, if we even have any common interests or humors, we know four dozen of the same people so we have to be friends! Oh, but wait, you have a different political view? You don’t like TWILIGHT? Well then, we CAN’T be friends. You’re UNFRIENDED. Relationships are killed by emails and text messages and Tweets and Status Updates and who responded to whose Event Invitations. You have to worry about who is looking at what pictures on whose profile and what you say about what you’re doing because God Forbid some ex you still talk to see that you have a life.

    We put our entire existence online for the whole world to see, and there’s no way to get rid of it. You can’t burn the letters, you can’t bleach the laundry, it’s out there FOREVER. This is an innate thing for the younger generation, but for people my age and older, maybe even a little bit younger, it’s difficult to grasp some of these changes. Well, for some. As with all generations, there are always those for whom adaptation and evolution comes easily. My grandfather was one of those, a WWII vet who easily accepted and learned new technology as it came. I think he was even becoming familiar with HTML in his final days. Pop taught other seniors how to use basic computer applications and the Internet. Compare that with my father, who has difficulty even sending a text message or taking a picture with his phone. Doesn’t stop him from picking up his land-line and calling someone.

    I find it somewhat amusing to look at my Friends List on my Facebook profile and think about how many people with whom I actually interact on a regular basis. Surprisingly few. Out of more than 2000 “friends,” I can count fewer than 100 that I speak to, hang with, interact with on a daily or even weekly basis, and sadly that includes family, immediate or otherwise. They call it a Friends List, but I look at it as more of an Accumulation, a digital Rolodex (there’s an oldie for you) of people whom you’ve met, associated with, learned with, played with, slept with, drank with, cried with… I have people on mine I haven’t seen in years, even decades. I have teachers I haven’t seen since I left their classrooms. I have bunkmates from summer camp I haven’t seen since my parents picked me up. I have friends from college I haven’t seen since that party that one time at that place… you get the point. How many of us are like that? How many of us have hundreds, even thousands of “friends” that we never see? Isn’t that the whole definition of “friends?”  I have a small handful of people I have regular activities with. I have a slightly wider circle of people I consider close friends or chosen family. The circle again widens with people who comment or talk to me fairly often on facebook and with whom I return the favor. Other than that…

    It’s also amusing the way relationships die because of social media. If you text the wrong person the wrong things, if you email the wrong person the wrong things… these are the digital equivalent of lipstick on the collar. What’s interesting is how much smaller things, much more petty things, contribute to the death of a friendship. All it takes is the click of a button, and not only are you eliminated from a digital registry of acquaintances, this person will never again speak to you face to face, in Real reality. Maybe you differ on your opinion of the President. Maybe you stand on different sides of Gun Control. Or Gay Marriage. Or Syria. Or Israel. Maybe you’re just tired of someone’s constant Tweets or Status Posts or Game Requests. POOF. No more friend. I remember when you had to steal someone’s favorite Star Wars figure or make a nasty comment about their mom to lose a friend, now all you have to do is ignore the invitation to a cookout or birthday party. Blow somebody off that’s invited you to play Candy Crush and suddenly BOOM, they see you on the street and completely ignore you as if you had something to do with killing their dog.

    Of course, that’s if they recognize you on the street anyhow. Ever notice that, how we can be friends with someone on Facebook, be sitting right next to them at a bar, and have to look four times because we KNOW we recognize them from someplace? That’s why I’m very careful about who I “Friend” on Facebook (and who ever thought that Friend would ever be a verb?). I don’t send someone a request unless we’ve either bonded very quickly or have spent actual time together. If I meet you once, I’m not gonna send you a request and I find it disturbing if I get one from you. We need to hang out, get to know each other, find out if we actually ARE friends before I make that call. I’m not one of these people who accepts just anyone. If I were famous and thousands knew who I was and liked my work, yes, that’s different. But I’m just a guy. I’m just a regular everyday schlub who works for a living and relishes my down time. So, if a friend introduces us at a party, just in passing, no I’m not gonna Facebook you. I believe in actually being FRIENDS with my Friends, and that’s one of the good things about BEING FRIENDS: even if years have gone by, even if you haven’t spoken live or seen each other in person for years on end, if you SMILE when you finally DO see that person IN PERSON:

                                                                                YOU’RE FRIENDS. 

The Oldest Profession, The Newest Media

    Because men are men, there will always be demand for flesh- and sex-related entertainment and jobs: exotic dancers, peep shows, dominatrices, pornography... and hookers.
    Doesn't matter what you call it. Hookers. Prostitutes. Call girls. Escorts. Whatever. It amounts to the same thing: "dates" for money. These dates don't ALWAYS involve sex... but usually they do. It's funny how often you hear a woman say "not if you paid me" when referring to various men, suitors, what have you. And then you hear a commercial on the radio or see it on TV: bidding for dates.
    I laughed the first time I heard it. The first one I heard was whatsyourprice.com. It advertised that ANY guy could guarantee a date with a "hot woman" simply by "bidding" for her affections. The site was advertised as "a site for generous men to find and date attractive women, guaranteed." It doesn't get any more blatant than that, and they were advertising on satellite radio.
    There were a couple more I have heard over the past few months, which means that the success rate of one must have been high, and the demand had increased enough to warrant the creation of multiple site by enterprising young folk.
    I find this amusing. Not only are guys hiring hookers online, they're VYING for them. Competing. WOW.
Are guys really that desperate? Have we become so far removed from interacting with each other that this has become the way to go for so many people? Kinda sad, but kinda funny all at the same time.

The Suck

            I lost another friend today. Not in the traditional we-don't-speak-anymore kind of way, but actually GONE. As in dead.
    Alex has been sick for quite some time. Almost since I've known him, actually. It didn't start out that bad. Not really. You remain optimistic about things, regardless of what you hear, at least I do. You want to believe the world is an inherently good place regardless of what you see and hear. The thing to remember is that we're all somebody else to Somebody Else.
    I met Alex in the summer of 2009 when I started working at Abatement Industries Group, running the warehouse in West Haven. Alex was one of two guys who were supposed to work for me. He had pretty much been running things as far as supply line and obtaining material and equipment, so he was a tad salty when I took over the position. Over a few weeks, though, he softened up a bit and gave the me the help I needed to get the hang of things. Once he realized the kind of person I was and the kind of supervisor I was attempting to be, things got much easier, and when I chose him to be my #2, everything was sealed.
    In late fall 2009, Alex was concerned about a bump at the base of his skull, so he went to the walk-in to have it checked. The doctor wanted to do a full body scan, and found a tumor on one of his kidneys. They made arrangements for the surgery, and Alex was down. I went to visit him a couple times, and when Lucia first was admitted into the hospital, I would go see him while I visited her. Once he was able to move around, he would come see her, as well. She was appreciative, having met him when he was first diagnosed. We had gone out to dinner at Chili's and invited Alex and his girlfriend, Cindy, out with us.
    When Alex came back to work, he covered for me when I would go to the hospital to see Lucia. He made sure the right people knew what was going on and where I was. He always had my back and defended me to the people who had issue with how much time I was spending away from the warehouse.
    Alex didn't like where he was living in West Haven. Someone had died in the house and it was full of mold and other problems, and he was looking for a way out of there. A friend who had been living at our house had moved out, and I asked Lucia if we could help out Alex. She said yes, and Alex moved in. It was May 2010.
    As Lucia deteriorated, Alex always tried to talk me up and keep me strong and positive. When I had my weak and dark moments, he gave me comfort and told me to stay strong, for her if not for myself. When she passed, he was home waiting, and he went and bought a new suit to wear for her service.
    He helped me clean the house. He helped fix things. When the grief would hit hard, he'd lift me back up again. As with many other friends, he helped me work my way back to society and finding a way to continue with my life. When I met Erika, he encouraged me to pursue her, and he became very fond of her.
    In late 2010, Alex became positive that my job was in jeopardy and that cuts would come into effect, so he took a voluntary lay-off to save my job. He started working for a friend, doing handy-man work and office work. As time went on and his illness becmae more and more apparent, Alex had less energy to work and was spending more time in bed.
    He qualified for an experimental chmo study which lasted a little less than a year, and when they pulled him from the study he was brought back onto the older chemo. His strength began to deteriorate. He was weak and in pain, and was having a great deal of trouble breathing. In 2012, they put him on oxygen and he was declared Legally Completely Disabled. On a routine follow-up, the scans came back worse than expected. The doctors said it was "a matter of time."
    He fought for months. Each hospital stay was longer, until a month or so ago when I received a panicked phone call from Cindy informing me they had taken Alex to the hospital by ambulance. Neither of them were optimistic about him leaving, and when I went to visit him, he was in fairly good spirits. They moved him out of ICU a few days later, and Erika and I went to see him. A few days after that, he was back home.
    They gave him information about Hospice and sent a nurse over to get his info and explain things to him. He was home for a little less than a week as he grew weaker. Wednesday morning, he asked me to help him call Hospice to come and pick him up. He had to know his time was short. Over the weekend, they stopped his chemo treatments. They upped the dosage on his pain meds. This morning, Cindy called me and said he was on the way out. I left work, hopped in my car and headed up there, but by the time I arrived, it was too late.
    He was gone.
    He was pale. It looked as if he were sleeping. I held his hand. It was still warm. I spoke to him. I closed my eyes and thought to him. I thanked him.
    I've been in this place before. It was different that time. I feel for Cindy, who has to go through now what I went through 3 years ago. The slow realization of what has occurred, trying to wrap your head around the reality. It's difficult, even years later. You can accept something and still not believe it. You can believe and not accept. That's where I am, again. It doesn't seem real. Another empty room, another person my boys will never see again. I feel for them. I feel for Bailey, who has already lost his sister recently and now must cope with this. Mostly I feel for Cindy. The newt few months will be very difficult for her, but she won't be dealing alone. This has affected more people than even I can know or account for. sadly, death has a way of bringing people together...and splitting them apart. You never know how people will react to a death, or what the coming days, weeks, months, and years may hold. All I do know is that everyone affected needs to be strong and look to each other for that strength and support. Even me.

One More Time...

        I know I've said this before. I KNOW I have. I hate being grouped in with people. Singers. Actors. Jews. Fat people. Democrats. Liberals.
    One of the issues that really got under my skin while Lucia was sick was the way the "care" staff treated her. It was like they had a rigid set of guidelines that was universal to all patients regardless of their life, lifestyle, or situation, and it bugged the living hell out of me when they tried to treat her like a cookie-cutter case.
    EVERYONE is different. The ways may be subtle, but we all have our nuances. So, when people make comments about a specific group, it bothers me. Last year's election split the country in a way not seen since the Civil War. We're in another right now, although it's a Cold War. Since the shooting in Newtown in December, the issue of gun control has once again polarized the country. The decisions of the administration have polarized the country. Everything that is said or done splits us right down the middle, and people have a tendency to group everything in black and white. That's it. Black and white. Right and left. Right and wrong. WHAT. THE. FUCK.
    I'm a liberal. I believe women have the right to control their own bodies. I believe a person in love should be able to spend their life with the object of their affection, regardless of race, religion, or sexual orientation. I believe in legalizing marijuana. I believe ANYONE should be allowed to serve their country, regardless of race, gender, religion, or sexual orientation.
    HOWEVER.
    There are foggier issues. I don't have an answer to them, but I don't think that either liberal OR conservative sides are giving good responses, either.

GUN CONTROL: there is something wrong. I don't believe we should ban all weapons, as the conservatives believe the liberals are trying to do. The problem is not the guns that are available, although that's part of it. The issue is the guns that are already OUT there, the ones the bad guys already have and CAN get. The conservatives are right, regulating legally obtained weapons is not the issue, it's defending against the ILLEGALLY obtained ones. But how? Neither side has given an answer that to me is satisfactory.

OIL: Again, something is wrong. yes, we need to protect the environment, but we need to make it so we can afford to get to work, as well. $5 a gallon for gas is rigoddamndiculous. There's no reason for it. If we have it in this country, we need to be able to obtain it. Make it safe, make it friendly, and get it. You want to protect the people of this country? Prevent Big Oil from putting us into another Great Depression. ExxonMobil can buy Europe and North America four times over, but Joe Paycheck needs to sell a kidney to put 15 gallons in his tank. NOT. FUCKING. RIGHT.

TAXES: It's never gonna be right. Somewhere along the line between Washington and... I don't even know when, something got fucked up. Don't blame Obama, don't blame Bush, this shit was fuzzuckled before either of them. We're spending too much, but there are things we need to spend on: providing for our children AND our elderly, providing for our sick and disabled, education, defense... do I think everything should be free? of course not. I believe in working for a living and earning your keep. However, for those who are UNABLE to provide for themselves, or for those who NEED HELP, help must be provided. The elderly, children, veterans, those who have been injured or disabled in an accident, THESE ARE THE PEOPLE WHO DESERVE HELP. Addicts, lazes, people who keep pumping out kids because they're too stupid to do otherwise, THESE PEOPLE DO NOT DESERVE HELP, those who take advantage of the system. However, NOT EVERYONE WHO APPLIES FOR ASSISTANCE IS A SLACK-OFF DEADBEAT SCUMBAG. A lot of truly needy people apply for help every year, and because of a slimy minority number of bad apples, everyone suffers. THIS IS WRONG. Focus the money where it needs to go, not where the special interests, corporations, an those wealthy enough to fund an election campaign want it to go.

    This is what I feel. This is what I believe. I don't have answers. I don't pretend to. I don't like some of the answers I'm hearing. Everything sounds too extreme, there's too much far left and far right. there need to be decisions made in the middle, but nobody is willing to talk, or more importantly, LISTEN. People need to stop saying NO to an idea simply because the other side said it. "Wow, the Red Sox played a good game tonight." "I don't care, THEY FUCKING SUCK." "Yeah, but they fought hard, their offense was flawless, and their defense was stalwart." "I don't care how many home runs they hit and how many batter sthey struck out, THEY FUCKING SUCK." Welcome to today's politics.
    People need to learn to listen. listen to BOTH SIDES. Don't like what you hear? Tell me what works better. Explain it clearly and logically. When I ask why you disagree with something, give me facts and a logical reason why you disagree, not an answer like "because he's an asshole" or "he's an idiot." Explain to me why you disagree with it, and then give me a logical, thought out alternative. Be informed. Don't give me "They're trying to make it so nobody can legally buy a gun and then only the criminals will be armed and we'll have to rely on slow-responding police for defense" and when I ask what you would do tell me "put militias outside our schools, arm all the teachers, and allow citizens to carry M-60's in their SUVs." Know the proposed legislation and give me an alternative if you don't agree. Same with your opinions of other issues. Against same-sex marriage? Why? How does it directly affect you? Don't like the proposed budget cuts and spending measures? What would you do in the situation if it were your call?
    Think. Listen. But know that not everyone is going to be the same on all the issues. Just because someone is liberal doesn't mean they agree blindly with everything being posed by one side. Just because someone is a conservative doesn't mean they're going to be all militant and hard-nosed.
    LISTEN.
    KNOW.
    Generalizing is BAD. Grouping is BAD. We're different. All of us. MELTING POT. Remember that.

Of Cabbages And Kings

            I'm a cynic. This shouldn't be news to anyone. I know the way the world works, I know we're all different and that a great many of us will connive and plot and lie and steal and cheat to get what they want. I also know that some things are inevitable, like love, hate, birth...death.
    With these inevitable things comes what I like to call the Oh Shit Moment. See, sometimes we forget that we're all Somebody Else to somebody else. Some things, regardless of how commonplace and universal they are, seem so distant and impossible to us. Before certain events in our lives, we have that moment where our brains go Oh Shit, This Is Actually Going To Happen. It's that shocked, almost incredulous realization that regardless of how much an individual we are, we're just like everyone else in some aspects.
    I've had several of these. Not as many as I expected, but a decent-sized handful. When I lost my virginity, I had one of those, looking at her body and feeling the excitement and feeling my heart race as she gave herself willingly to me. When I graduated high school, and later college, that feeling of accomplishment and pride as received that parchment. When I looked at my very-soon-to-be-bride at the start of our wedding, looking at the smile on her face and seeing the happiness in her eyes as we stood before family and friends. When that same woman was lying on her deathbed, as I watched the light in her dim and watched the clock tick down the final seconds. When my father walked into my job today and said he had forty-four more days until retirement.
    That's a reality there. A nudge to the reality that time moves on, that people age. There's a reality that my father is NOT a young man anymore. In a way, he is, I'll give him that. He's in his late 60s, hair and beard full gray, the flesh below the fuzz lined and yes, weary. It's a reality that both he and my mother will someday be gone, leaving me the patriarch. I hope that day is decades away, I really do, because it's not a responsibility I want. I don't want to know that one day, my siblings and I will be the elders. I don't want it.
    Reality sucks. It really does. But, it's reality. So what are we going to do about it? What can we do about it? Nothing. Can't change the channel. We just have to deal with it, because it's what we've got.

The Right To Arm Bears

        You can have my guns when you pry it from my cold, dead fingers.

    Ironically, that's the way it usually ends.
        Don't get me wrong. I am NOT anti-gun. I'm also not PRO-gun. As with many subjects, I am pro-choice. I believe you should have the choice to live as you wish, which is one of the greatest things about this country. Religion: you're supposed to be able to worship as you like. Opinion: you should be allowed to think and speak as you like. Abortion: you should be able to choose as you like. Marriage: you should be able to marry the person you love.
    The operate words here are SHOULD and SUPPOSED TO. These are very slippery slopes, as are all things associated with free will. The most frustrating and aggravating thing about free will is also the greatest: EVERYONE IS DIFFERENT.
    2012 was a very polarizing year, all the way to the bitter, heartbreaking end. A rash of shootings through the year brought the issue of gun control, security, personal safety, and school safety into question and into the forefront of national debate and discussion. Shortly after the movie theater shooting in Colorado, a New Haven lawyer was arrested for having a gun in a movie theater. He didn't brandish it, another patron saw it and panicked, calling the police. The lawyer had a permit, the gun was registered, he did nothing wrong. He was merely caught in the panic casued by a random act of violence on the other end of the country.
    Fast forward a few months. Adam Lanza storms Sandy Hook Elementary and takes out a classroom full of first-graders and a handful of teachers and administrators. Again, the weapons used were legal and registered, and Lanza was educated in their use by his mother, who was also one of his victims.
    So how do we stop this? There's a Consitutional amendment more than 230 years old that says we're allowed to own these weapons. One of the hottest debate points is the current validity of this amendment. It's a sign of the times, they say. However, specific amendments had to be made over the years to permit African-Americans to live in equality with caucasians, to allow women the right to vote and own property, to allow us to purchase and consume alcohol... the question that arises (and this is not the first time) is where do we begin and where do we stop? Do we really need to have EVERYTHING in writing? Do we need to have a black and white answer for EVERY possible issue that may arise?If there is a Constitutional issue, does every possible scenario need to be outlined and covered? Do you honestly think Jefferson and Franklin foresaw a young man barging into a school to wipe out a bunch of small children? Did anyone?
    There has been past legislation concerning firearms. This is not a new issue. Every time a shooting makes the news, the debate is renewed. Here's the problem: most current control and legislation only goes back 30 years or so, back to the Brady Bill. There was a time you could walk into a store and buy not just one, but a carload of firearms at the same time. You could bring a gun on a bus, on a plane, anywhere, and not be hassled about it. It wasn't until terrorists started hijacking planes in the 70's that it became a clear issue. After the Reagan shooting, people went nuts saying it was too easy to get guns, that sometrhing needed to be done. It happened again in the late 80's/early 90's when a combination of "gangsta rap" and workplace shootings brought assault weapons into the public eye: you could just walk into the bait and game shop and buy an M-16 or AK-47 the same way you'd pick up a Winchester or a revolver. Questions began to rise, what could you possibly use a military-grade assault rifle for?
    The gun lobby claimed sport and hunting. The liberals literally laughed at that, conjuring images of deer wearing bullet-proof vests and carrying high-powered rifles, cartoons of "Bambo" being published in newspapers. Ever since the inception of the Brady Bill, the gun lobby has tried to convince the public that "the government wants to take away your guns." As I said, it's a slippery slope. Are they trying to take your proprty from you? What is it the government is trying to accomplish?
    What I want to believe is that they're trying to keep harmful things out of the wrong hands. The bigger question is, what constitutes the wrong hands and who decides it? There's new talk about arming teachers and arming pilots and having guards at schools. The first thing that popped into MY head was What's keeping the teachers or pilots or guards from snapping and doing the same thing these other gunmen are doing? Soldiers, marines, sailors, all trained and educated in how to properly use their weapons. Anybody besides me remember shootings on military bases?
    It's a complicated thing. Legally, because of the constitution, you can't take the guns from those who legally obtained and maintain them. The problem is, you cannot foresee who will use a weapon for what. What about the guy who uses his for hunting? Or competition? Or just popping bottles in the backyard? What about the guy who has a collection he has never even fired? How can you differentiate between one of them, and the guy with a collection in his apartment planning on wiping out everyone at the local mall? What if that person, over time, obtained all their weapons LEGALLY, registered every single one of them, maintains permits for every single one of them... and then has a bad day and takes out everyone on the subway? This isn't a guy who went and bought his weapons in a back alley. I'm talking a legal gun owner, the same as Adam Lanza's mother.
    Legislation may make it more difficult to get firearms NOW. What about the ones already out there, the legal and illegal ones? I'll give you an example of something. When I started working nights, my brother-in-law was uncomfortable with the idea of my wife being home alone in our house. He wanted to give her a gun to protect herself, just in case. It would be his, legally obtained, legally registered, legally owned. In HIS name. She refused, simply because she was uncomfortable with a gun in the house, and for good reason. Studies, stats, and records show that a gun is more likely to be used on its owner than on an intruder. Not to say it doesn't happen, but most often a gun owner will accidentally shoot themselves while performing routine cleaning rather than shooting an intruder or an intruder shooting them.
    So what do we do? I don't believe legislation will solve the problem. I don't know what will. The problem is not the guns, the problem is US. It doesn't matter if a gun is "legal" or not. If someone's going to shoot another person, it doesn't matter if the gun is legal or not. It's human nature to destroy each other. Horrible, sad, frightening, but true. Cain killed Abel before there were laws regarding homicide. People have been killing each other since there were people, and I challenge anyone to find me the Sword And Spear Control Laws from medeival Britain. To quote Eddie Izzard, "Guns don't kill people, people do, but I think the gun helps. You're not gonna kill too many people just standing there going BANG!"

Dammit, I Thought I Was Done...

I AM DONE.
    There, I said it.
    Years ago, I joined an online community for People Of Size. I like my women a certain way, and I myself am a bigger guy. Always have been, never found myself attractive... then I found this group.
    It was fun. There were people like me who liked people like me. It was strictly online (far as I knew) so I never actually got to MEET any of the people I spoke to. Well, once or twice, but nothing but friendship came out of those. By the time I finally attended a social function, I was already in a relationship and the non-social aspect of it never came into play.
    Fast forward to 2010.
    Everything changed. I was widowed, I was no longer in a relationship, but I wasn't looking to be in another one. I wanted to spend time with the friends I had made over the past few years and remember the woman I had lost. I didn't notice the people looking at me.
    I went to every dance and function over the next 6 months. After the third one, I started noticing. I could feel the eyes on me, crawling over me like warm spiders. I could hear the murmurs and mumbles. In my younger days, I had fantasized about being the one sought after, of being the one that they fought over and that everyone wanted. When I felt it, it made my spine prickle. It felt predatory, it felt unwanted, and it felt like I was a slab of beef about to be thrown into the wolves' den.
    In short, I knew how women felt at clubs.
    It was around this time that I realized something had changed. Something was different. I'm not sure if it was because I was a single guy for the first time and was seeing it in a new light, or because I was there by myself, or if something really had changed. It was different than I remembered it. It didn't seem fun, it didn't seem right...
    I don't really drink anymore. In college, hells yeah and I could put it away, too, but these days, hardly. I don't pick up women on the random. Never have, mostly because I never could, but honestly my brain isn't wired that way. I have no game, honestly, and though I exude confidence in certain aspects of my life, I could never successfully seduce a woman to bed with me for the night. I'm always in relationship mode, and if I'm not, I'm in friend mode. There is no in-between, it's always one or the other.
    These days, nobody seems to understand that. You see the constant question, "Can A Man And A Woman Be Just Friends?" The answer of course is FUCKING YES!!! I don't see how it cannot. I have many many female friends I do not see in a sexual light. Do I think they are attractive? Yes. I tihnk my mom and my sister are beautiful, too, but we're not gonna go there. It's technically the same thing anyhow. I will admit that i DO have female friends I once tried unsuccessfully to date, which is why they are friends, but I also have female friends of whom I have NEVER had a sexual thought. It is possible for a guy and a girl to be JUST FRIENDS.
    So, because so many new people and young people and just people in geneal seem to have forogtten that it all started out as a SOCIAL site. Just because you are involved does not mean you are looking for a date or a hookup or a booty call or a relationship. It started as a place where like-minded and like-bodied people could congregate and hang out. But it seems even "hang out" has developed a different meaning. I wish I could go and have fun. I wish I could bring my girlfriend along and we could have a great time, but the truth is that it isn't what is used to be. People can't just go and have fun without someone trying to cause trouble or some kind of drama being spread. It's not like a regular club, it's more like a soap opera or reality show. It's annoying, it's aggravating, and honestly, it's just not worth the time, so I have left. Once, everyone knew who I was. Now, I don't even know who still attends. I'm fine. I don't need to tell you when I'm gone, because obviously, you haven't noticed or cared, so neither do I. It was fun while it lasted, but I have a new life now, and you are not part of it. Seeya.

The Bug-It List

    Everyone has their pet peeves. Everyone has stuff that bugs them. After reading stuff online and seeing what people post on Facebook and Twitter sometimes, I decided to vent out some of my angries.

1. Bigots. Speaking mostly about racists, homophobes, and anti-Semites. Few things mystify me, but these kinds of prejudices have never made sense. I don't get it. Thinking someone is inferior to you simply because of the color of their skin or the country from which they came? It's absurd. Ludicrous. Asinine. I also don't understand being "afraid" or "intolerant" of people with a different sexual prefernce. Does it affect you? Does in intrude on your personal space? NO. So who gives a flying fuck? People will love who they love and you can't stop it, you can't prevent it, so be happy that they've found someone to whom they give their heart. It's hard enough without some ignorant bastage shouting profanity at them and calling them names. As for the last one, though it is most often related to Jewish people, Semitic is ANY Middle Eastern-based faith, so that means being against Muslims, too. Not all Muslims are terrorists, people. We NEEDNEEDNEED to remember that. Oh, and by the way idiots, you know there's a different between Middle Eastern faiths and Indian faiths, right? How the hell do you mix up Muslims, Hindus, and Sikhs? A turban does not a Muslim make. Seriously, stupidity is just...stupid.

2. Dead-beat dads. This one really boils me. My father worked his ass off to provide for my family, and I remember what things were like when he was working two jobs, nights and days, and slept all day on weekends when he could. I remember him riding his bike to the train station because he had his license suspended for speeding. I remember him not being around, but that was because he was doing his fatherly duty. One of the things he taught me when I was very young and asked why he was working so much was this: "A man will do anything he must to support his family. A man who does not support his family is not a man." I believe that, I truly do. If you're going to go out and have unprotected sex with someone, that alone shows a lack of responsibility. However, should that result in a pregnancy, take responsibility and be a fucking adult about it. Kids run away from their mistakes and fears. Adults face them and tackle them head on. Ignoring it won't make it go away, and this is a HUMAN BEING we're talking about. YOU made this. YOU created this. It takes two people to create a baby, it takes two people to raise one. BE A MAN. RAISE YOUR KIDS. Make sure they don't make the same stupid mistakes you did. THAT'S being a man. I may not have kids of my own, but I will make DAMN sure that the ones related to me are raised properly.

3. Ignorant, uninformed, judgemental blockheads. If I say something and it turns out I am misinformed or uneducated about the subject, I will admit it. If I am wrong about sometihng, I will admit it. I cannot abide by those who MUST BE RIGHT, people who THEIR WAY is the ONLY WAY. I cannot abide by people who make a judgement or a personality call about another person without knowing the person, meeting the person, or spending time with the person and simply going by what one person says about them. Like my mother used to say, "How can you know you don't like something if you've never tried it?" I've had people say things about me without ever having met me, and I didn't understand it. I've had people say things about my family, friends, or girlfriend without having spent time or met them, and it bothers me. If you've experience someone or something, you have the right to say you don't like them, but don't go sight-unseen or unheard and say you don't like someone. Never jump to conclusions, you could end up gong off a cliff.

4. Die-hard rabid supporters. This sorta goes along with the MY WAY OR DIE WAY people. I can't stand people who are contrary simply for the sake of being contrary. This is mostly in politics, but also happens with sports fans. I knew a guy in college who was such a die-hard local sports fan that he believed the only way you were allowed to be a fan of a team is if you were born and lived where the team was. For example, if you lived in, say, Connecticut, you had to HADTOHADTOHADTO be a fan of the Patriots, Red Sox, Bruins, and Celtics, and NO OTHER TEAM. It didn't matter if you were born in CT and moved to Chicago, you couldn't like the Bears according to his logic. Ever seen the picture back in the 90s of the Flyers fans beating up the Devils fan? Like that. Hooligan-style fans. Yes, I am a fan of several teams, but I'm not going to stab someone because they're wearing colors that I associate with a rival team. That's gang mentality, attacking someone because their fashion sense is different from yours. The same thing goes for politics. It's one of the reasons I don't get into politics, because it's built on a belief system. A belief system is very hard to break or bend, and people defend their beliefs with an almost religious fervor. The issue is when people go the opoosite way against a rival party simply because they're part of the rival party. I'm not a fan of hypocrisy, so attacking a member of the opposing party for something when members of yours do the same thing aggravates me. It bothers me when members of one party say they are not going to help a member of the opposing party not because they don't agree with the policy but because the idea is coming from the opposite party. Partisan politics are aggravating and annoying and accomplish nothing but build contempt for the entire system. Whichever party does it may do it with the intent of making their opponents look bad, but they only succeed in making themselves look like idiots and unfortunately, neither side has figured this out yet. That, to me, is the most annoying part. Einstein described insanity as doing the same thing multiple times while expecting different results. That's where we're at, and people go out of their minds with anger defending these people Look at this year's presidential election. It was like a reenactment of the Civbil War, but with suits and ties. It was horrible. Yes, I have beliefs and standards, but if I believe someone has a good idea that seems feasible, I will admit that. People do not like to admit they are wrong or that someone else might have a better idea, and that, the inability to compromise or admit someone may have a better idea, staggers me.

     Those are my top four. There's more, but I'm not gonna nitpick, not on the last few hours of the year. These are mine. I know you have yours, and you know what? Keep em. Share em. Doesn't mean I'm gonna agree with you.

Century 21 Take 13

    "It's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine..." -R.E.M.

    Well, it was supposed to be. Makes me wonder if, 5,000 years from now when people find the films of Michael Bay and Roland Emmerich, they'll think we caused our own extinction. Makes wonder if they'll be right. But I'm not going to talk about the end right now. I'm going to talk about the beginning. And Continuing.
    This time of the year is interesting, because it marks not only the end, but the beginning as well as... somewhere in between. A continuation of things currently happening. It's like a CD on loop that starts and ends with the same song, but the songs between change every time it plays. I think that's an apt analogy. or, better yet, the songs at the start and finish are the same, but performed in different ways by different artists. Yeah, I think that fits better. The last 6 weeks of each year are given to retrospect, introspect, reflect, compare, contrast, all those things. We reminisce, we plan, we move many directions at once. We look at what we accomplished, what goals we missed, mistakes we made, hopes and dreams both realized and dropped. We think of what we've gained and what we've lost.
    I don't make resolutions. I personally think it's a way of deluding oneself. I'm gonna lose weight, I'm gonna spend and save wiser, I'm gonna help others, I'm gonna be less selfish. I don't think that works. As it's said, promises are made to be broken, and resolutions are simply promises we make to ourself. I like to be more pragmatic, and say things like "I'm going to try and spend more time with those who matter most to me," "I'm going to try and learn from the mistakes I made," "I'm going to try and learn more about myself and how to deal with that."
    But, that's just me.
    As each year goes by, I try to relearn more about myself. I try to discover who I am, who and what I've become in the past couple years. It's getting there. It's a constant work in progress. I always try and look at what I've gained and what I've learned instead of what went wrong and what I've lost. Sometimes that's harder than it sounds. On November 13, I lost a compainion and friend I'd had for a decade, a sweet little girl I watched grow up and developed her own personality before my eyes, who was taken suddenly and without explanation from one who loved her more than anything. My Lil Swee, my precious Ninja, my Baby Kitty. It's been the hardest loss since Lucia died for me, someone who had been a constant part of my life since the Bad Times. She came into my life because the girl I was living with at the time wanted a kitten, and she was so smart and energetic even as a baby. As she grew, she didn't really grow, but rather increased in intelligence and personality. She was always small, always light, and always there. The suddenly, without warning, she was gone. She was hurt or sick Monday night, and I sat with her on the couch and stroked her, kept her warm. When I woke the next morning, she was gone. I buried her in her favorite spot in the yard, between the two trees where she would lay in the grass during the summer and sleep. It's been hard, so hard. She would greet me when I came home, every day since she was a baby. When we bought the house, she would walk with me when I walked the dogs. She was around when things were bad, when things were good. And, as before, the challenge comes to carry on without.
    "Just a cat." Not to me. She was the first pet I had, the first companion I had to take care of solely on my own. No matter what happened, for ten years she was always there for me. My pretty kitty. The neighbors always got a kick about how she shadowed me on my walks. The first time one of them asked where she was... it was like deja vu. I've been here before, and explaining a loss can be so hard.
    I try to keep positive. I think about the fun and the love and all the good times. I think about her as a kitten and how we learned each other's habits and quirks. After Lucia died, she was affectionate and caring, giving me more love than she had in years as I felt me way through the pain and the adjustment, and I gave her the attention she asked for because she missed her mommy. And when Erika came around, she was as happy as I was and went back to her normal, fairly indifferent self. I remember her little quirks, the way she would side-step walk as if she were going to rub up against you but never really touched you. The way she would roll on the ground to show she was happy. The way she would sort of mumble and go "purrrp" and "rik" when she was content. She'd come when called (sometimes) and would always find a way to escape. That's why she was the Ninja. There will never be another kitty like my Swee. I wouldn't want one.
    SHe was one of the big Personal Headlines this year. Go back to the start and there's so much more. My car being stolen in Philadelphia in March, being found a week later, and taking more than a month to repair. The impromptu day trip to Philly to retrieve the car, lunch at Tony Luke's, the drive back, all with Erika at my side. Three performances with Phoenix Theater, the DVD release of the movie in which I had my first credited role, an unexpected windfall from my mortgage company which allowed me to give Erika a birthday to remember. Then, at the end of October, losing my job and a couple weeks later, my kitty. Then December came with a new job and new struggles, but also with good and hopeful news.
    I'm staying positive as this year comes to a close. I'm hoping that the next year yields sweet fruit, that things imrpove. I've always been a fan of education, and I look forward to what I need to learn this next year. A teacher once told me we never stop learning, it goes as we grow. I believe that. When we stop learning, we stop growing, and when we stop growing, we die. I'm not one to simply give up. I'll fight until I can't, and I won't stop until I either win or break. That's who I am. So, let's do this again. Who knows what lies around the corner. Let's check it out.

Of Give And Take

"Every town...has its ups and downs...sometimes ups...outnumber the downs..." - Disney's ROBIN HOOD

            It seems the past couple years have really tested our resolve not only as a society, but as individuals. At least it seems that way to me.
    So much has happened to test us, to stress us, and to make us wonder and doubt.Sometimes it feels like a snowball effect, just building up and building up to overwhelm us.Sometimes it does. And sometimes it melts right before it hits us. Then again, sometimes it melts AFTER it hits us.
    Either way, the point is that that snowball doesn't stick around forever.
    I'm an eternal optimist. I've been told it's a personality flaw. But, seeing as I'm an optimist, I don't look at it that way. See, I tend to believe The Miracle until the very last second. Time and time again, I've waited as the clock ticked down, expecting that last minute miracle.
    Most times, the miracles comes AFTER the last minute. Or, it could be a continuous thing that just takes so much time to complete a cycle we don't even notice it.There has been significant loss for so many people over the past couple years, and it certainly seems as if we're in a downswing. However, the good thing about a downswing is it eventually has to come back up.
    So here we find us once again. It's fitting, I think, that this holiday comes when it does. I don't know if those who started it planned it that way or if it just happened, but either way... The year is coming to an end, things are getting ready to start over, and it's a good time to look back and reflect on what has happened during the past several months. Storms, vacations, births, deaths, illnesses, recoveries, just everything that has happened to us and those around us. Thanksgiving is just a few short days away, and that's what we do: we give thanks to whomever and whatever we feel deserves it. What are we thankful for? What do we have, what have we achieved, what have we accomplished, what did we manage this year? For those of us facing strife and difficulty, it's a chance to reassess our lives and take notice of the things we kept instead of the things we lost, the things we have instead of what we do not. This is when we turn to our family, and when they're not around, our friends.
    That's where I find myself this year. It's different, I'll admit that. Because of miscommunication between my family members, I found myself without a place to go for Thanksgiving for the first time since... well, EVER. I had always come home for Thanksgiving, even when I was in college. It was always amongst family, and my family even invited some of our friends to join us if need be. This year, that didn't happen. I found myself thinking and wondering about other options. That's when Erika suggested we do something at MY house. Hm. Never done that before. OK, let's plan for that. Wait, a couple people we want to bring are highly allergic to my zoo. That's when another friend offered HER place. Hey, that works! Let's get a bunch of Misfit Toys together and have our own Thanksgiving. Kinda fitting, when you think about it. That's what it's all about, opening your doors to those in need and giving. The original concept of Thanksgiving was just that, a communal meal. Everyone put in, everyone was able to partake. This year, I will sit at a table with a small circle of my closest friends and laugh and have fun with them.
    I'm not going to dwell about how I lost my job. Instead, I'm going to enjoy that my blood pressure has dropped and my foot and leg pain have decreased exponentially. I'm not going to dwell on how I lost my kitty. Instead, I'm going to be happy that she chose to come to me for warmth and comfort in her final hours. I'm not going to stress about fighting for my home. I'm going to be thankful that I have one. I'm going to love and snuggle my puppies, I'm going to love and cuddle my kitties (except for Millie because I'll lose a limb, but I'll pet her and let her cuddle ME.) I'm going to enjoy the company of my friends and those around me, and I'm going to be thankful for what I have. I do this not because I have to, not because I'm supposed to, but because I AM. I'm thankful for my home when so many have lost theirs. I'm thankful for the warmth in my life when so many are out in the cold. I'm thankful for ALL my family and ALL my friends when so many are alone during this season. I am thankful for all I have, for all I have done, for all I have achieved and accomplished, and I am HOPEFUL for all that is to come and all that I plan to do.
    This is when we give. This is what we give. So give it. Happy Thanksgiving.

LET'S GET POLITICAL

OK, I know I haven't written as much as I had planned. Things never go the way way you think and/or hope they will.
    That's actually kinda what i want to talk about. We just had an election, what, a week ago, and seriously, PEOPLE NEED TO CHILL. THE FUCK. OUT.
    This was a hotly contested election. I know, it always is, but NO. This time was absolutely horrendous. Entire families were polarized by this election, both on a national and local level. You had people DEMANDING that Obama fall in flames and Romney take over because he would be SO MUCH BETTER at the job. We've had enough of the blue-collar black guy, put a rich white guy back in there. Sadly, in some of the Southern states (and some of the Northern red states, as well), that's almost exactly what they were hollering at rallies. It was happening here at home, too. The split between Linda McMahon and Chris Murphy was astounding, and the debates... you kept waiting for them to start throwing things at each other and calling each other "poopie head" to "doo doo brain."
    In the end, it was a Blue Day. President B-Rock went back to his place on PA Ave for another four years and Murphy took 95 to the Beltway again. And people were MAD.
    A lot of them still are. Everyone saying "Just you wait, You'll realize what has happened soon enough." All the RedHeads so mad and so upset, and there are some people petitioning to LEAVE THE FUCKING UNION. Over an election.
    In the middle of the 19th Century, a bunch of states tried this before. Anyone remember that little spat? Lasted until the end of the 1860s, killed more men than any other war we've fought, and blew away one of the greatest leaders this country has ever seen? No? Nobody? Well seeing as how nobody seems to remember the past these days, it doesn't surprise me. And that's sad.
    It may be just a statement. It may be simply symbolic. But I would like to point out a few things.
1. The same thing happened back when GW Bush was elected to a second term. About half the country said "Are you people RETARDED?" and "The world is laughing at us right now." Kinda funny these are the same things I'm hearing from Conservatives and Republicans over the past week.
2. With this new Petraeus scandal, people are up in arms. And they should be, but they're blaming Obama for it. maybe he knew, maybe he didn't, but I'd like to bring up something people may have forgotten about: remember the CIA scandals while Bush II was in office? No? Look it up. It's public info. I'd also like to say three words people may have forgotten: REAGAN, OLLIE NORTH. Yeah. Let's think about those, huh?
3. No matter who won, a huge chunk of people were gonna be pissed off. "Obama lied." "Romney lied." THEY ALL FUDGED. It's sad that they do. I don't know where it started. Did it go all the way back to that summer day in Philadelphia 236 years ago? Were Tommy, George, and Benny a bunch of bullshit artists? Possibly. Somewhere along the line, Politicians got lost and we stopped being a Government Of The People, For The People, By The People.
    The only way to get past that is TO COME TOGETHER. That's harder than it sounds, seeing as how split right down the middle we are right now. We need change. We HAVE NEEDED change. A great many people don't believe Obama has lived to that promise FOR change, and here's the issue with that:
    IT TAKES TIME.
    We have become a society so bent on instant gratification that unless there are immediate, visible, tangible results in something, we think it's not working. We say we've been lied to. Trickle-down Economics doesn't work. Voodoo Economics doesn't work. So, what does work? I think it's been so long since we've seen something that works, we can't even identify if something IS working or not.
    FDR pulled the world out of the Depression with his New Deal. It took a while, but by the mid-fifties, we were fairly economically sound. So what happened?
    There's the key. We need to backtrack and find out where we went wrong and figure out how to repair it. We're not gonna do it alone or one person at a time. We need to quit fucking squabbling about who's the best leader and who lied more and TAKE ACTION. Don't like the candidates? You have the ability and the power to RUN YOURSELF. Go for it. Don't like the way it's going? Bring up your own ideas. Make the process work. There has to be a way, because it seemed to work for quite some time before we fucked it up.
    We can pull through whatever issues we have. We can work through all adversity if we work as a team and do this together. One problem with that is people need to learn to be accepting of other people. You heard that, right?
    ACCEPT THE OTHER OTHER FUCKING PEOPLE AROUND YOU. We need to accept that fact that we're all different. ALL OF US. Nobody is exactly alike. NOBODY. Even twins have fundamental differences that distinguish them from each other. ACCEPT THE FACT THAT PEOPLE ARE DIFFERENT. It's one of those things that makes this country great, is we're supposed to be ALLOWED to be different. Religion, tattoos, sexual orientation, income levels, education levels, ideas, thoughts, jobs... accept the fact the people other than YOU live here and people other than YOU have the right to live their lives. That seems to be a major issue we've been having, is so many people are absolutely ASTOUNDED that some people are not like them. Skin color, background, who they love, what they like to do... WE'RE IN THE TWENTY-FIRST FUCKING CENTURY AND STILL ARGUE OVER WHO CAN DATE WHO. Holy fucking CHRIST IN A BUCKET. REALLY? We have phones so small that can do amazing, incredible things. We have "communication" out the wazoo, and we still treat people differently because the level of melanin in their skin is higher than others. We have massive technological advances but we can't get over that Bob loves Kevin and Christina loves Gina and they want to be with each other the same way that Scott and Amanda do. Why is that so hard to fathom? Why is that so hard to accept?
    THESE are the reasons our country is divided, not just which politician lied more about whatever. WE NEED TO GET OVER OUR PETTY DIFFERENCES, and yes, they are FUCKING PETTY. It's sad that this is who we are as a species, unable to accept the differences that are inherent among us. There will be no balance and no peace as long as that occurs, but we all know how damn-near impossible it is to assuage somebody's BELIEFS.
    This talk of division needs to end. This talk of secession needs to end. The only way things are going to get satisfactorily better is if we work together. Honestly, I don't think enough of us want that. There's too many of us that are Veruca Salt, wanting it THEIR WAY and RIGHT BLOODY FUCKING NOW. There's too many of us unwilling to compromise and try something new, it's their way or no way and they will do whatever they can to keep any way other than their way from succeeding or even seeing the light of day. That's where our problem is. That's what we need to change.

BETWEEN HERE AND THERE

A lot has happened. A lot. You think time moves so slowly and gradually, but when you look at the scale of things and the line from Point A to Point B... it's like looking at a puddle and then looking at the ocean.
    First was the job. I try hard at everything I do, I give my all, I dedicate myself to a cause and to doing it right. Never quit, keep trying and working until you get is flawless and correct. Didn't work. No matter what i tried, no matter what I did, it wasn't good enough, it wasn't right, and that was it. It just makes me wonder two things: 1. If ANYONE would be able to do it right according to the standards set forth, and 2. If he himself could live up to his own standards in similar conditions. Yes, I'm upset, but it just makes you think. When I was a boss, running things and setting things as I saw fit and I felt most efficient, I told everyone who worked with me and for me that I would never ask someone to do something I myself would not do. It's a different situation when someone who has been entrenched at a job for almost four decades and who has almost no communication skills expects you to do something without a given reason and without explanation. I was told to emulate and imitate him, but without know the WHY behind the WHAT, it's difficult to do.So, here I find myself for the second time in two years, once again on the hunt in a forest where game is scarce.
    Next came the storm. Years ago, the Gulf region was devastated by Katrina. To this day, there is still strewn wreckage, missing people, and broken dreams still being repaired. Our home felt this impact this past week. The greatest city in the world was battered and beaten, a waterlogged wreck. The news pictures looked like something out of a Michael Bay movie, and for many of us it was hard to believe it was real. Further south, New Jersey was slammed like a rape victim and left in ruin. Like Katrina in the Gulf, Sandy will leave a permanent scar on New England and the mid-Atlantic states. People returning home to find it is gone. Landmarks and memories swept away or broken to splinters. Yes, we can rebuild, but some things can never be replaced, or even substituted.
    Driving from East Haven to Milford you can see a handful of the effects. Piles of sand pushed against beach guardrails as a precaution did little, as the beach extends for a quarter mile uphill into the residential area. Telephone poles broken in half resting on their dead wires, trees torn by the very roots like giant weeds. On the West Haven/Milford line, you could see the waterlines on the front of homes and the deep gouges that were once driveways. Trees resting against roofs, home accessories that hadn't been tied down or brought in strewn around like children's toys. Down into Woodmont, were seawater still sat across the road several feet deep. Fences twisted and flattened, roofs lifted, sheds battered. One thing to remember: we're all "someone else" to someone else.
    I lost a few things these past couple weeks, but not as much as others around the region did. Some neighbors are still without power, without water, without fuel. Sometimes, it's easy to forget or take for granted what we have. I've said it before, but it's sad that sometimes it takes something horrible to make us realize what we DO have and how fortunate we truly are. Until you experience disaster and loss yourself, you never truly understand. It's the nature of things. I wish it weren't so, but it is. Thanksgiving is coming, you know. This year, i think it bears some real consideration and real thought as to what it means.

A BIT OF THE RANDOM

            Ever look at the stuff scattered on the side of the highway? Some of the things you see, it just makes you wonder:
    * baseball caps. You don't think they noticed? Especially some of the high-end ones, the $35 ones. They just say "Damn!" and let it go? I'd pull over to the shoulder and run back to get it, personally.
    * The Single Shoe. THAT you'd think they'd notice. Really. And it's on the DRIVER'S side. What, is dude driving down the highway with his foot out the window? How the hell does THAT one happen?
    *Furniture. FURNITURE. Do you get to your destination and realize "Hey, where'd the couch go?" or "I think we're missing an armoir." I dunno. I guess that shows you how unconcerned with our fellow man we are, when people behind you don't pull up next to you and say "DUDE, YOUR LIVING ROOM JUST FELL OFF YOUR TRUCK!"

    The other random stuff that kills me is the congolmeration or crap people get at a late night WalMart. I'm guilty, I'll admit. It's when you're half conscious and sleep deprived (and maybe hungry or stoned or both) that weird crap will occur to you to buy. I remember once on a 2am trip to buy something specific for Lucia I wound up leaving with push pins, twine, kiwi fruit, steak knives, a DVD, and a dog toy. The best is how magnanimous the clerks try and look. Try pulling that off at a Home Depot after you've grabbed a roll of duct tape, vinyl rope, a tarp, a shovel, and a bag of lime.

Aaaaaaan we're back.

VIRGIL BRIGMAN BACK ON THE AIR

I know it's been a while. For some reason, I haven't really had the motivation to flow. Lot going on, lot happened, etc etc. Gonna leave it at that for now. We'll touch on the rest eventually. Gradually. Whatever.

    I wanna talk about the heart for a bit, cuz I inadvertently gave mine an involuntary jolt last week.
    Erika and I have been together some time now, and it's because of her that I've been able to move forward the way I have. baby steps, but sometimes what you think is enough... isn't.
    I'm new at this. Seriously, I mean like a newborn. It's been a looooong time since I've been in a new or even new-ish relationship. I'm also not the same person i was the last time I was here, so it's completely different. Bottom line, I fucked up.
    I'm flirty. It's aprt of who I am. I guess I'm still learning where the lines and boundaries are, because I missed em. Crossed em. Same thing. Point is, I hurt Erika, something I promised I would never do. I've been feeling sick over it ever since, even though she says it's OK and we're moving forward. Still mad at myself for it.
    The main reason is pretty simple: I'm crazy about Erika. Seriously. I've been pushing, sometimes subtly and sometimes not so subtle, to move in with me. I think it would be great for both of us. She hates her job and loves me, so there's two big pluses right there. I love having her there and I love coming home to her, and I love the way i feel when she's around. This brings me to point number two: moving forward.
    It's been just over two years since Lucia's been gone. Anyone can tell you that it hit me hard. I've had a lot of difficulty dealing with the loss, and an even harder time letting go and moving on.
    A few things have happened to sort of force me to do things. When the car was stolen, a bunch of things in the car that belonged to Lucia were lost. Things around the house have either disappeared or broken. I drove around with hefty bags full of her clothes for months, and when little Allie finished her first week of kindergarten, I knew I HAD to finally stop at Goodwill and drop the bags off. After I did that, I pulled to the side of the parking lot and had a half-hour meltdown. There's also a couple items of clothing still in the closet simply because it makes me feel sick to get rid of them.
    I've been thinking about a lot of things recently, and changing/taking down some of the pictures in the house is part of it. I drove around with Lucia's picture in the car for months after she was gone, and when Erika and I started spending more time together, i replaced that with a picture of Otis and Mackie.
    Recently, Erika's smiling face took its place on my desk at work, and pictures of the two of us are now hanging in the kitchen and living room of the house. She has things in the shower.
    Some things are never going away: memories, the tattoo on my arm. However, she told me that, were anything to happen to her, I should find a way to be happy and live my life. I'm doing that, thanks to Erika, my family, and my friends. I'm also looking for support groups to help with the problems I'm still having. In the meantime, I'm thankful for everyone in my life for helping me move and do what I have to in order to live my life. I'm not a big Michael Bolton fan, but he did have it right: what heals a broken heart is time, love, and tenderness, and I'm getting all of that. thanks, guys, and I love you, Erika.