I think hard and then I laugh when you tell me how you see me. I laugh because of your inaccuracies and I think hard because I wonder about the way I see myself, which is different from the way you or other people see me.
I suppose this is the way life is. (. . . Isn’t it?)
We are three people. We are who we think we are, who say we are, and then we are who people see us as.
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A New Year’s Thought
It was a year later and The Old Man was gone. Mom decided to take us all on a trip to Beaver Creek, Colorado for ten days. This was before Dave and Lisa were married.
I was only home for a few months. I was back from the farm in late September and still re-acclimating to the regular world. There rules from the farm were a thing of the past. I was free to listen to music or go out or eat whenever I chose. I was free to do several things; however, I was still adjusting to the change in my surrounding.
Making A List
At the day job, I sometimes get projects that call for a parts list to be sure that I have what I need. And sometimes, I add extra parts, just in case I added short or I come across an unexpected turn.Either way, the idea of a parts list is to be sure that all items are covered.I collect what I need and compare this to my list and one by one, I check them off.
Continue readingThe Sense of Insanity
What people don’t seem to understand most is that compulsion defies logic. It defies sanity. Compulsion is what makes an otherwise unthinkable idea become thinkable. But there’s more to it than this.
It’s like this:
There is this little tiny voice, which speaks in the third person. It piques interest, like a diversion, and then exploits the ideas of a ongoing compulsion. Some have called this voice, “The monkey on my back,” and some have call compulsion “Diseased thinking,” and me, I say it’s the beast in me. And the beast in my knows me well. Continue reading
The Beach on Project Earth
Once the sun comes up, the world takes on a new appeal.
Everything is glistening now with a new sensation.
The sky is colorful and the beach at point Lookout takes on the orange haze that beams from the horizon.
I can feel myself Continue reading
Life Volume 1: Life As It Grows
I am sitting now, awaiting a meeting in loft-like surroundings, Downtown near Gramercy, with high, white walls and gray, hardwood flooring. I am waiting, nervous of course, and wondering what step will come next. I have a mind full of dreams and plans in the works but I am not altogether sure what the finished product will look like.
I want to see myself in the next step of this process with me, walking proudly down Irving Plaza with a bag over my shoulder and longtime dream achieved.
I want to step forward, as if to resurrect an old goal of mine and allow myself the moment to accomplish a plan that hatched when I was still young, bright-eyed, and dreamy.
Mountainside Lakes Ch 9
It was late and cold. I found myself walking with someone I had never met before. He was leading me toward a small brownstone that was burnt and abandoned. The doors and windows were boarded up. The concrete steps leading up to the front door was littered with trash, old paper bags, newspapers, beer cans, and broken bottles. I had never been here before, This was Brooklyn, I think. I was in East New York, if I’m not mistaken.
The man I was with was someone from the street. His eyes were wired like electric demons but his face was somehow distorted to me. His skin was dark as night. But his eyes; his eyes were haunting me. I remember him leading me towards the side of the building and in through a side door that was broken open. Continue reading
Mountainside Lakes Ch 7
My roommate John has been missing for two days now. His things are still in the room. His dresser is still left the way he usually leaves things. John is somewhat obsessive/compulsive with the way he organizes his arrangement of things on his dresser. There is an old black and white picture of a woman that I always assumed was John’s mother. There is a picture of St Dismas.
Dismas was the good thief that was crucified next to Jesus and asked to be remembered. There was a laminated mass card he kept placed at the top left corner and there are the white Rosary beads which John wore around his neck and underneath his shirt.
I can feel John’s presence in the room. It is almost like he’s here, but he’s not. I can’t say this any other way. His bed is made. His things are where he left them. Everything is in its usual place, except for John. Continue reading
Mountainside Lakes Ch 6
Just another day at the side of the mountain . . .
We all have to meet up in the big meeting room each morning to check in for attendance. One of staff will calls out the names and we all have to answer to show that we are still here. I have seen a few others answer for their roommates and their friends.
I have also heard people respond to roll call with the jail-minded responses. For example, today is my eighth day in. This means I have 20 days left so in this regard, my answer would to roll call as 19 and a wake up. Although Mountainside Lakes is not the prettiest of places, it is certainly not jail nor does it resemble anything like a jailhouse environment. Continue reading
Mountainside Lakes Ch 5
This is day 7 of 28
Word hit the rest of the fellowship at Mountainside about Brian yesterday. The news flooded our little community here like huge tub of red blood that spilled over on a white floor and spread outward across us all.
No one really spoke much to Brian. He was young and somewhat unlikable. Brian was socially awkward. He was just a kid trying to find himself and trying to find a way to feel comfortable in his own skin.
I suppose this took too much of him. My guess is the Brian’s world spun too fast —and I suspect that it’s not that Brian wanted to die so much. I think he just wanted to world to stop. But the world doesn’t stop. It never stops. It just keeps turning and for Brian, my guess is he just couldn’t take another trip around the sun. Continue reading
The Written Addiction 