Tag: stuff

Friendship in the age of social media

I first met you in the courtyard of our Apartment complex.

You were walking your Boxer. Your buzzcut, upright posture and tattoos immediately revealed that you were military. I welcomed you to the complex and happily found out that you lived above me. I told you we should hang out.

I learned your story. You were active duty Army, 3 tours in Iraq and Afghanistan as an MP. You were stateside and reassigned as a Recruiter. Your wife and 2 beautiful daughters were so happy to have you home. I immediately respected you.

You were half my age. You sought my friendship and advice over frequent drinks. As we became close you alternated between treating me as a friend and a father figure. I was happy to be both.

We worked out together. You hated the fact that I was twice your age but could outrun you. Eventually you asked me to help you get in better shape to pass your PT test. I threw pebbles at your balcony window to wake you at 6 am to go for a run. Most times you didn’t feel up to it. You were hung over.

You desired fitness, but you were a slave to Alcohol. You didn’t deny it. You couldn’t just have a drink, you could only get hammered. Jack Daniels was your best friend and your wife was getting jealous of your relationship.

I tried to get you to slow it down. I warned you of the damage you were doing to your family. I treaded lightly because I knew you had seen some shit overseas and needed your coping mechanisms. But I saw the writing on the wall.

Eventually, your wife, tired of you passing out on the sofa and your belligerent behavior when drinking grew tired of your antics and sought solace in the arms of another. A mutual friend had betrayed you, broke a cardinal law and coveted your wife. When you found out, you went on a binge.

I got your call at 11 PM on a Sunday night. You were very drunk and driving around. Your life, your marriage and your military service were on the line. I pleaded for you to park your car and let me come get you. You succumbed. I drove an hour to pick you up. I offered to take you home but you didn’t want to go. I took you to my home. We talked into the early hours of the morning. You were heartbroken. Angry. You wanted to lash out. The one person you refused to blame was your own self. I listened to you, talked when appropriate and tried to set you on the right course. You passed out on my bed. I slept on the floor that night. You were worth it, we were friends after all.

The next morning, while I was at work you called me and thanked me for my friendship. You promised that you were going to make it right with your wife.

You went home to find your bags packed. It was over. You moved back into your mother’s house the next day.

We promised to stay in touch. Due to the distance we were reduced to the phone and Facebook. I monitored your progress through Facebook until the day I noticed that I wasn’t seeing your feeds. You had “unfriended” me.

I called you and asked you why. Was it a mistake? It had to be, after all, we were such good friends weren’t we?

You told me that because I was FB friends with the guy that banged your wife you couldn’t be friends with me. I was flabbergasted. Could you really be that childish? As it turned out, you could indeed.

I pride myself in doing for the sake of doing, not for recognition but I lowered myself to asking you if my friendship and the associated deeds mattered to you. You said they did but you couldn’t be friends with me in real life if I was FB friends with the other guy.

I asked you if you had fully thought this through. You told me to “unfriend” him and it will all go away. I refused. While I wasn’t thrilled with what he did, it wasn’t my place to judge him and there was a principle involved. I told you so. You stood firm.

I made it easy for you and I told you that we were no longer friends.

I hope you do well in life, my friend. I regret the manner in which I lost touch with you. I enjoyed your friendship and I also valued it. More than the “Friends” list on a stupid Social Media outlet. But that’s the difference between you and I. That, and accountability. And honesty. And the appreciation of true friendship.

I hope you do well in your journeys. Should you ever grow up, you know where to find me.

The endless darkness

I have been challenged by the very talented Haunted Wordsmith to again take part in the Tell the Story Challenge. It’s quite simple, I was given an image and tasked with telling a story. I initially was going to decline but the picture was so challenging I forced myself to rise to the challenge. Before you read, check out the Wordsmith’s blog. You won’t be disappointed.

The Captain stood at the bow and stared at the gray horizon. In all directions, as far his eyes could strain it was storm clouds and turbulent seas. He steadied himself against the battering waves, the salt spray burned his tired eyes.

Captain Hillenbrand was alone on the deck. His weary crew was bedded down for the night. What was left of his crew, that is. Rocked by a mysterious disease, his men were dropping fast and those that remained were cowering in their quarters for fear of contracting it. It’s better, he thought, that they not see the worried, furrowed brow that had replaced his legendary, confident stare. They need to see a leader, not just another scared and vulnerable man.

A practical man, raised at sea by a legendary seaman of Her Majesties Royal Navy, he led with a superb blend of instinct and reliance upon the proven tools of the sailor. He always knew what to do.

Until now.

He was surrounded by the unknown. A week before, all of the ship’s navigational tools inexplicably stopped working. The dial of the compass spun like a child’s toy. The barometer failed to budge in any way. He strained for an explanation, but there wasn’t one. Stranger than the failure of the instruments was the lack of daylight. It had been dark for 7 days.

It had all occurred at the same time. Right after…he tried to chase it out of his mind. The recollection surged through him and he resigned himself to allow for the possibility that his deeds had finally come to haunt him. Right after they came upon the stranded ship flying the African flag, drifting helplessly.

The Exodus was a merchant vessel. Captain Nathan Hillenbrand had lost his commission after his father had retired in disgrace. The Royal Navy felt that the name Hillenbrand would carry a negative connotation and politely and expediently forced him out of the Navy. Unable to find other work, Nathan Hillenbrand had been forced to Captain the Exodus. It was fairly easy work, being free of the regimen of military service he was able to lead his crew as he saw fit. The challenge,of course, was that his crew was also not under the regimen of military service and he was tasked with leading a crew of characters, some unsavory, and that was a daily challenge.

The Exodus, weighed down with a cargo of dry goods was headed towards the Philippines on a routine trade mission. Six days into their journey they found that their food and water supply was contaminated. Rats had not been detected during loading and had sufficiently bitten into and defecated onto enough of their food supply to render it inedible. Rum was the only consumable product on the ship. Captain Hillenbrand had done his best to maintain order, he assured his crew that with smooth seas they would make their destination before starvation set in.

It was soon after that they encountered the stranded ship. Floating, it’s main mast broken, likely due to a storm, the craft was truly helpless. As the Exodus came into sight, the weary sailors waved frantically to them to assist. Captain Hillenbrand ordered a team to drop a rowboat and board the ship. He gave them specific instructions to assess how many were aboard. If it was a manageable amount, they were to signal him to send more boats to rescue them. It was also instructed of them to “appropriate” some supplies to get them through their current situation.

The crew boarded the ship and signaled, by way of hand signals that there were 35 men aboard. Too many to allow on the already overloaded Exodus. He signaled across the waves to them by drawing his hand under his throat and simulated slicing his own throat. This was the universal signal to abort.

What happened next would haunt the most hardened of sailors and men.

The crew leader, either misinterpreting, or more sinister, perverted the signal and began to attack the crew of the stricken craft. The others followed. The Captain stood helplessly as the men hacked the crew to death. Horrified, he watched the brutal display unfold before him. Blood mixed with the salt spray, bodies fell to the deck, those who were lucky lived long enough to bleat like sheep to the slaughter.

The screams, my god the screams.

When the crew completed their unsanctioned massacre, they grabbed a meager supply of food and loaded the dingy and paddled back to the Exodus. Hillenbrand, dazed and outraged, met the returning men with a team of sailors armed with bayonets. Unable to find any other suitable option, he had them
summarily executed, their treasonous corpses tossed overboard.

After, he ordered his remaining crew to make do with the tragically obtained supplies and went to his cabin.

It wasn’t long after that it became dark. The sea kicked up. The clouds rolled in. The Exodus began its now endless spell of being tossed around by the angry waves. Then the instruments stopped working. The next morning, when he surveyed what should have been a horizon with at least a glimpse of sun…he saw nothing but darkness. It wasn’t just strange, it was foreboding.

More sinister than the darkness was the floating specter that appeared before him. Dancing on the waves, not possibly human and of this world, the skeletal face stared at him, through him and into his very soul. It haunted him. He ordered his crew to change direction at full sail. Still, there was the specter dancing in the waves, taunting him. In another change of direction, he saw it again. No matter what he tried, there it was.

Any experienced sailor will tell you, the sea is a mysterious mistress and can play games with the weary mind. Hillenbrand was beyond weary, but he knew what he saw before him. All of his rational instincts raging through him, he knew that he was dealing with something beyond the realm of the rational. It was Karma, it was payback for what he had allowed on his watch. It was his reckoning. It was the call of retribution. It was Death.

Clearly, there was no escaping it.

He heard a commotion below deck. He need not look, another, or a few more men had died. The remaining men were scared. They wanted answers. He had none, a mutiny was certainly imminent. They would come for him. If it came to that, he would let them. The next man who assumed the helm would not escape the same fate. They would all die in darkness.

As he stared into the endless, bland night he heard the screams of the helpless, slaughtered victims. The ones who had died under his watch. They danced around in his head, demanded to be heard. He couldn’t fight it, the cacophony overpowered him.

He raised his pistol to his temple, took a deep breath and one last look at his own personal hell and pulled the trigger.

As his body slumped to the deck of the cursed ship, he faintly heard the sinister, menacing laugh of the specter in the crashing waves before him.

A belated Valentine’s love story

This may be a bit late to the party but I want to share my Valentine’s Day experience with you.

It was a busy evening at my favorite watering hole. Perhaps because it was Valentine’s Day, maybe because the skiing has been good with all of the recent snow. I couldn’t help but notice that I was one of the only ones rolling solo that evening. That may have bothered me at one time but I’ve gotten quite used to my own company. Nursing a drink and uninspiredly munching french fries isn’t so bad once you’re used to it.

I scanned the room, the people watcher in me cannot be denied. I do have to admit that seeing all of the happy couples canoodling as they celebrated a Hallmark Holiday got to me a bit. I never understood the need to go to extravagant lengths to show your love for someone, isn’t love something you should express every day? Why do you need dinner reservations, overpriced flowers and credit card debt to prove it. I then reminded myself that every guy in this room who adhered to this forced ritual is going to get laid tonight. I won’t have that luxury despite how much alcohol I pour on my hand to get my date drunk.

Still, I passively observed the ritual as it played out before me, fondly remembering the days when I was still in the game.
Then I saw her. She was alone at her table, listlessly staring at the table and stirring a drink. I could tell, despite the fact that she was seated that she was tall. A heavy sweater couldn’t disguise an athletic build. Most men would be afraid of that but I’m not one of them. Fit is sexy.

Occasionally, she would glance around the room. I was careful to avert my eyes. Was she waiting for someone? Enough time passed that a date in the Men’s room seemed unfeasible. How is this lovely specimen alone? She turned and met my gaze.

Unable to turn away without looking as if I was busted, I managed a weak smile and turned to study the ice cubes in my glass. Despite my interest in her I wasn’t prepared to meet anyone tonight. After many years of a loveless marriage distinctly lacking contact other than self-imposed my confidence level was non-existent.

“Mind if I sit down?”
Surprised, I turned and there she was.
“By all means” I managed to reply.

“You were staring at me.”

“Guilty as charged.” I said. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It happens when you’re alone in a place like this.”
“About that.” I asked. “Why are you alone on this hallowed Hallmark Holiday?”

She smiled mischievously. “I could ask you the same.”

I went for it. The humorous route. “I’m divorced, broke and living with my mother. Still want to sit here?”

She told me I was cute.

Small talk turned into conversation. She was indeed an ex-athlete. She had just gotten out of a long relationship but didn’t provide many details. I didn’t pry. I was just glad to have company. Several drinks were consumed and I began to relax a bit. She warmed up also and soon was stroking my wrist with her strong hands. Clearly, she was in the mood for some fun. I started to tense up, trying to remember the last time I had been with a woman and having a true crisis of confidence.

“Let’s get out of here. I live around the corner. The drinks are cheaper and we can just hang out.”

“Listen.” I said. “There’s no easy way to say this so I’ll just blurt it out.”

She patiently stared at me, waiting for me to get it out.
“I haven’t been with someone in almost 10 years. Sex for me is like a dog chasing a car. If I caught it I wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

She laughed. “Sweetie, you’ve already caught the car. No worries, I’ll be gentle.”

I paid the tab and we put on our coats and left. We got to the parking lot, she pointed out her car and told me to follow her.

She was right, she did live close. We went inside her neat apartment. She poured two scotches neat, turned and walked towards me as I was mentally choosing what seat to choose. Sofa for action, or single seat for plotting my next move. My palms were sweating. I didn’t need to decide, she decided for as she led me to the sofa. She gently pushed me into my seat and stood over me. She took off her sweater and revealed a sheer sleeveless top. Her shoulders were strong like I imagined. Things were getting hot.

“Scared?” She asked me.

“No.” I replied. “But I think my cock is scared stiff!”

She laughed haughtily. Then she proceeded to toss me around like a doll for what had to be an hour. She gladly called the shots and I gratefully let her. Fortunately I was able to think about baseball enough to make the encounter last.

After, we lay on the rug in front of the sofa. Our clothes were strewn about. I was panting, sweaty and satisfied beyond the measures attainable by modern technology. We didn’t speak. Conversation could have added nothing to the moment. We laid there for quite a while, her lying on her side with her head nestled under the crux of my arm. The only movement was her persistent caressing of my balls. It didn’t bother me, but it was unsettling how she was fixated.

Eventually I asked her why she was so intent on fondling my testes.

“Sorry,” she said as she exhaled whimsically.

“I miss mine.”

Did I get you? C’mon you can admit it!

For you, Steve. You told me to mix it up a bit.

A Daughter’s love

I received a text from my youngest daughter late last night. We text almost every day and I always light up when I see that it’s her.

She told me that she has an English assignment to write a 20 sentence essay about a powerful moment in her life, and would I mind if she wrote about my last hospitalization. I joked with her, which one? It was a caustic joke, making reference to the many crises I’ve been through in the last couple of years. It wasn’t funny of course, my battles have had a real impact on my kids, one that I wish they never had to deal with. The last one, I’ve heard, was particularly bad. I have to rely on what I’ve heard because I was unconscious for 2 days.

I told her I was fine with it and asked her to email it to me. Here is what I opened.

As I pulled up to the hospital, I did not know what to expect when I walked into his room. My mom and I made it into the hospital, to the elevator, and into the ICU. The nurse led us into the room and my heart dropped to my stomach as I saw my dad. I have never seen someone look so helpless, while he laid there with a tube down his throat and a machine breathing for him. The nurse was talking, but I couldn’t listen. All I could hear was my heart pounding, the machines beeping, and the sound of oxygen being shot into his lungs. The first time I saw his chest rise then fall, tears came to my eyes, but they did not stop. Tears kept pooling in my eyes and falling down my face. I could not breathe. I felt like I needed to have oxygen sent to my lungs, too, because I couldn’t seem to breathe on my own. They told me to talk to him, but what do I say? Would he be able to hear me? All I could do was hold his hand and hope he could hold mine back, but he didn’t. Even if he wanted to, he had gloves on preventing him from ripping the tubes from his mouth, which he had tried to do during the many attempts to wake him up. So I did the best I could and I held his hand and spoke soothing words to him. I told him I loved him. I told him he couldn’t leave me, and he didn’t. He stayed strong for me, for my family, and for himself, like the fighter I know and love. “He’ll be okay,” they told me. He’ll be okay.

She will be reading that in front of her class.

I was floored. I cried. I was so sad for her that she had to go through that, so proud of her ability to express herself so boldly and honestly, and so taken back by her account. Above all, I was blown away by the love this child has for me.

I told her how proud I was, how well-written it was and that I was moved by her words.
“Well, it’s all true”, she matter of factly replied.

I continue to struggle with that episode of my life. I’ve had a couple of medical close calls in my life and I sincerely remember traveling towards a tunnel of some sort before being revived. I know what I experienced and no skeptic will ever talk me out of it. But the last one was the worst. I was inches from the dirt farm, to the point where the Doctors were discussing my DNR.

Through Doctor and family accounts, I’ve been given details of the ordeal. The 2 ambulance rides, the first to a hospital that was ill-equipped to treat me. The 104.9 fever. The medically induced coma. The breathing tube and the bedside dialysis. I don’t remember any of it of course, and there lies the frustration.

The one thing I have never wrapped my head around is what my family went through during that time. The guy who always tried to act strong, through a carefully orchestrated design of denial and lying about my health was, in my daughter’s words, helpless. Helpless is not a word often associated with me.

My mother, my ex-wife (who was amazingly supportive and present throughout the ordeal), and my older children were all deeply concerned. But my youngest, she was beyond herself. We have a special bond.

As all of these thoughts ran through my sleepless mind last night, I texted her:
“That was a scary time.”

“I was more scared that I wouldn’t be able to say goodbye.”

Is there anything that would make a guy want to keep plugging on stronger than that? God, I love that kid.






Basic

Jeff is the rare “3 AM friend”, if I called him at 3 AM he would be there for me (he has). When he called me last week and invited me to play Poker I jumped at the chance. The prospect of playing cards with him was worth the 2-hour drive.

I met up with him at noon on Sunday and we headed out to get snacks and drinks for the game. We arrived at our friend Justen’s place on time. Jeff and Justen were the only ones I knew, but as a believer in “a stranger is a friend I haven’t yet met” I immediately became friendly with 3 of the 4 new guys. The fourth set off my “Spidey-Sense”, I didn’t like him at first impression.

My senses were accurate, not long into the tournament I concluded that he acted and played like a Dick. But I put up with it.

As the game wore on, players began to drop off. Our Texas Hold’em tournament was 1st and 2nd winners only, once you were out you were out. It had come down to me and the Dick. After a showdown in which I bet and he made a huge raise, I was forced to fold. As I threw down my cards he laughed and talked some trash. I ignored him.

In Poker, if your opponent folds you are not required to show your cards. It is an unspoken rule. When he threw his cards in, I scooped them up in preparation to shuffle and deal the next hand. In the process I accidentally flipped his cards up. He immediately reacted, accusing me of looking at his cards. I assured him that it was an accident.

It escalated. I stood up and told him that if he didn’t stop we were going to take it outside and handle it a different way.

That is when Jeff stepped in.

“Dude”, he said to the Dick. “Bill wouldn’t do that. If he says it was an accident it was, he is one of the finest people I know. Sit down before he kicks your ass.”

The Dick sat down. He and I finished the game. He won, I took second place, doubling my buy in. He took his money and left.

Soon after, Jeff and I left also.

“Thanks for getting my back, brother” I said to him.
“No worries, bud. I meant what I said.”
“Finest people I know?”I joked.
“Bill, you are an amazing human being. One in a million, maybe a billion.”

I was floored. I was unable to offer a response other than to thank him.

Soon, I was on my way back home with 2 hours of quality “me time” ahead of me. I love to drive, I do my best thinking behind the wheel. I can’t count how many blog posts came to me while driving.

This ride, I was thinking about what Jeff had said. What about me made him say that? I’m a pretty laid back guy, I try to be honest and kind-hearted, I’m not judgmental and try to be nice… But I’m nothing special. Then a word popped into my head.
Basic.
Basic is a urban slang word, like fleek, lit, woke, bae,. Etc. Words my kids use that drive me crazy. Basic is a derogatory word denoting one’s lack of spark, of being of no particular interest. Not a nice thing to be called. But it’s a great thing to be and people seem to admire it.

In the last two years I have embarked on a spiritual journey to find myself. By applying the harsh spotlight of self-evaluation, unwavering criticism and acceptance of unwanted but necessary truths I emerged as a person who, for the first time, could look into a mirror and like what he saw. I had stripped myself of pretense, hubris, ego, pride and the conventional measures of success. Isn’t all of that a fancy way of saying that I got down to the basics?

I’ve never been happier.

I am basic. Like a child. Remember when we were children?

We loved everyone because we did not know hate.We were friendly to all because we had not learned prejudice and bigotry.
We were honest because we had no reason to lie.
We were happy because we had not been taught cynicism.
We said the “darndest things” because we were too young to be censored.
We asked questions to learn, not to make judgments.

Then the world changed us.

Fortunately, I have restored myself back to “Factory Settings”. Not amazing, not particularly noteworthy. Pretty basic overall. Some people seem to like that so I think I will run with it.




Play along–7 and 3/4 Nutty questions

7 and three quarters Nutty Questions

I was inspired by a post by Sadje to answer the following questions. I found the questions and the concept interesting so I dove into it. Please pop over to her blog and show some love. It’s a great blog, you’ll like it!

7 and Three Quarters Nutty Questions

How Bizarre

Don’t just answer these questions with quick one word answers, but give them some body! Throw yourself into it.

What will your epitaph read like?

Here lies Bill, in the hole again!

If you could explore anything Indiana Jones/Lara Croft style, where would you go first?

I’d like to journey into my ex wife’s psyche and find something that makes her happy. All conventional methods have failed to this point

What has been your biggest mistake in the kitchen?

I am an experienced cook. I was also, for a very long time a experienced drunk. One night I came home from work 3 sheets to the wind and I started a pot of rice. I fell asleep with the burner on and set the smoke alarm off. I woke my family and my wife tore me a new one about ruining a pan that was a wedding gift (and for being a stupid drunk).

What was the craziest thing you did at school?

We were on an exchange trip to Ajax, Ontario and my friends and I wanted to drink. We stole a case of beer from one of our hosts and filled 2 suitcases with beer and ice. We planned on walking to a local school and drink there. We were walking down the street and the suitcases were leaking water from the melting ice. We were stopped by police, asked why we were carrying dripping suitcases and promptly arrested. THAT was a fun phone call home. oy.

When you dream do you dream in colour, black and white or technicolour?

Vivid technicolour. As are the memories of them

What quote or saying do people spout but is complete and utter rubbish?

“Everyone is entitled to their own opinion.” I agree to a point. But an opinion needs to be an informed one, based upon due research and a genuine understanding of the subject matter. A tomato may be technically a fruit, but it is my opinion that it would taste like shit in a fruit salad.


What’s the most interesting thing you’ve read or seen this week?

I don’t want to open a can of worms here, but the most interesting, in a disgusting way of being interesting, was New York City lighting the top of a building in celebration of a barbaric new Abortion law. I’ve never taken a political or religious stance on this issue, and I respect a woman’s right to choose, it’s interesting that people who cry about children being separated at our border are celebrating the ability to slaughter a baby up until the day before it is born. Sorry, it’s disgusting. And interesting…how much more barbaric are we able to be?

What’s the most useless talent you have?

I’m not blessed with many talents and I have none to spare, but I am very talented at trivia. I am a wealth of useless knowledge. It does come handy in bars, however.

Would you rather be alone for the rest of your life or always be surrounded by annoying people?

I used to love to be around a lot of people. Then I lost my ability to tolerate annoying people. My definition of annoying for the sake of this conversation is people who are fake, loud, backstabbing or untrustworthy. My life for the last 2 years has been fairly solitary and I found that I am ok with being alone because I finally like me.

Would you rather be locked in a room that is constantly dark for a week or a room that is constantly bright for a week?

I would prefer to be in a dark room for a week. Because I would be so happy when I was reintroduced to glorious sunlight, which I will never underestimate as one of the greatest joys of life.

Would you rather relive the same day for 365 days or lose a year of your life?

Groundhog Day! Great movie. We all have a moment, or era that we wish we could do over. Imagine having one year to completely change, by learning and practice, to do it over like a boss. Especially if it leads to a better outcome.

Would you rather find your true love or a suitcase with five million dollars inside?

5 Million dollars. I am no longer capable of romantic love, I’m damaged goods. Now I’m into charity. The good deeds that I could do with the 5 million would make me a happy man.

Answers please on the underside of the topside of the backside, that’s just plain square!

I don’t understand the question.

If you like these questions, hear over to The Guy or Bloke and generate your own post.

#Keepitalive

Just Jot it January day # 28–Testify

#JusJoJan 2019 Daily Prompt – Jan. 28th

Your prompt for JusJoJan 2019, January 28th is brought to you by Dan! Click here to find his last post and say hi while you’re there! Dan’s word for our prompt today is “testify.” Use it anywhere in your post or make it the theme of your post. Have fun!

tes·ti·fy
serve as evidence or proof of something’s existing or being the case.

It took mere seconds to say “I love you.”
It took me an hour to explain it
It takes a lifetime to prove it

We are no longer together
couldn’t withstand the weather
I did not abandon you
did what I said I would do
and kept promises made

I am aware of our status
I’m currently persona non gratis
although I don’t live near
I will always be here

My friends don’t get it
but I don’t regret it
This is how I testify to the oath I made
on our wedding day




SoCS & Just Jot it January day # 26

The Friday Reminder for #SoCS & #JusJoJan 2019 Daily Prompt – Jan. 26th

Your prompt for #JusJoJan and Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “ad/add/AD (Anno Domini).” Use one, use ’em all–bonus points if you fit them all into your post. Have fun!

I was having breakfast this morning and our server was a very lovely young lady who was, how should I say, as pretty walking towards me as she was walking away. As I watched her in mute admiration, I realized that she was young enough to be my daughter.

It logically followed that I would take stock of my situation and I concluded that women like her were not realistic but I should make an effort to meet someone.

I composed in my head the AD, in the yet to be determined outlet.

“recently divorced guy, balding, one testicle, on dialysis with no future prospects of success or moving out of my mother’s house seeks…well SHIT…anyone. Note, in exchange for physical intimacy I will be the most grateful motherfucker EVER.”

I’ve heard honesty is a turn-on.
We’ll see.

Just Jot it January #25–Balance

#JusJoJan 2019 Daily Prompt – Jan. 25th

Your prompt for JusJoJan 2019, January 25th is brought to you by JP! Click here to find her last post (honestly, I’m assuming JP’s a her–sorry, JP, if I’m wrong) and say hi while you’re there! JP’s word for our prompt today is “balance.” Use it anywhere in your post or make it the theme of your post. Have fun!

For years I spent every minute of my life worrying.
I worried about money.
I worried about my health.
I worried about being a good parent.
I worried about the consequences of failure.

The last 2 years have taken so much from me that I have learned a whole new way of life. Life was once analogous to walking a tight rope. One slip and I would lose everything. A fall would be into a pit of alligators and razor blades.

Now, looking from the base of the canyon up, I have such an appreciation for the joys of life that don’t revolve around money and success, that a fall from the tightrope may be a fall into a pit of rubber balls and puppies.

Walking that tightrope, I wouldn’t be so worried should I lose my balance.

#Just Jot it January # 22 Curiosity

#JusJoJan 2019 Daily Prompt – Jan. 22nd

Your prompt for JusJoJan 2019, January 22nd is brought to you by Pamela! Click here to find her last post and say hi while you’re there! Pamela’s word for our prompt today is “curiosity.” Use it anywhere in your post or make it the theme of your post. Have fun!

To all of those who took risks that led us to a greater understanding of our world, I applaud you. For if you hadn’t had the courage to convert your curiosity into action we would dwell in the uneventful, safe realm of the known, and not charging headlong into the unknown.