Experience the Weirdness

She woke up every morning and looked in the mirror.  And with that, every morning she'd see a new wrinkle making it's way to the surface; another blemish, another grey hair.  She'd put on her makeup reluctantly, knowing it was in vein, but she'd go through the process just the same.  She'd fix her hair and make her way downstairs. 

 The smile was becoming part of her morning routine.  She'd would remind herself that this is the way things had to be, so she'd plaster on that happy face and went througout the day.  She'd cook and clean, she'd go out and take care of everyday errands.  Each and every time she'd walk back through that door and entered her house of cards, that damned smile would force itself across her face. 

It's all going to be okay.  Live in the moment.  Show how happy you are.

 Practicing the smile was one of the toughest things she's ever had to do.  You see, she wasn't a girl that could fake a thing; wearing her heart on her sleeve and making no bones about it.  Until now.  Now was the show of her life and this caused her the most excruciating pain.  If you look closely at her eyes while she smiles, you'll see it.  The passion, the fear, the anger, the love.  She battled with herself to hold back the words or anytime her instinct said it was okay to touch. 

You can't do that.  Shut your mouth.  Don't feel with your heart... or your hands.

 The only time she would be able to let it all go was at night, alone in her room.  She'd lay down and cry, covering her head with pillows so the sounds of her frustrations were muffled into the thickness of her mattress.

 She knew her time was limited and when the clock strikes that certain hour, the roof will cave in; one card after another, falling on top of her.   This is the moment she'd have to turn her back again, except this time it would be different.  This time she'd have to shut down her heart on the greatest thing she's ever known.  She doesn't have a plan in place for when that time arrives, so  she tells herself to begin preparing for it now, that way the pain won't come all at once.  That's a bunch of bullshit.  There will be no lessening of pain this time.  She'd prefer to let life go right now, then have to trudge through the familiar torture that awaits her.

What decisions has she made in the past that have brought her here?  She scrambled for any pellet of gratitude she could find and wrote it down.  Despair wasn't an option today, but love is. 

Love is all she's got, and she doesn't know how else to be. 

She smiles.

I've been fighting with my head to write something post-worthy and it's been a battle for over a month.  Tonight, while sipping my tea, I went back into the archives and found this one from September 8, 2007.  I remember writing it in Atlantic City, NJ while staying at the Tropicana and contemplating my future.  While reading it over, I found this post to be somewhat ironic and a little sad.  However, I  still feel Tucker Carlson is a closet Republican. 

What I Want (and liberal use of the F word)

September 8, 2007

I stopped at Einstein Bagels today to grab some breakfast. 

The thing I've found about living on the west side of the country is I'm constantly searching for the perfect pizza, the perfect Chinese and of course the perfect bagel.  Go sixty miles outside of NYC and it's hard to find such things.  I've come close, but it never quite hits the mark.  I will say that the Thai food out here is pretty damn good, however.

I ordered my Asiago bagel toasted with a little bit of light cream cheese and a large orange juice.  As I turned to look for a place to sit, I noticed that the place was jam packed with all sorts of human-like creatures.  Young, yuppie, babies in strollers, tatooed people, pregnant women and punks.

The only seat available would be at the long table that sat about 10.  At one end was an older couple; my guess is they were in their mid to late 70's.  I sat with my bagel and juice at the other end of the table, but I couldn't help watching the body language going on between the two of them.

They talked about church, they talked about their great grand children and they talked about some upcoming slot tournament for locals that they would participate in.  I noticed at the end of each sentence, the woman would reach over to him and gently place her hand on his forearm and look directly into his eyes.  She was intense with him as he would smile back at her, allowing her to enter his personal space. 

Then he'd look over to me and give me a smile and nod of the head.

When the woman got up to go powder her nose, the man asked me if I was having a good day.

"Yes, fine and yourself?"

"This day couldn't be better!"

"Yeah, it's beautiful outside and looks like you've got a great woman there."

"Yup.  She loves me, that's for sure."

"How long have you been married?"

"We're not.  I'm playin' hard to get."

"That's funny.  Why are you doing that?"

"'Cause that's how ya keep a woman,  ya know.  I love the dickens outta her but I won't let on.  You better not let on none, either."

"I won't say a word.  When do you plan on letting her know?"

"When the time is right, I suppose...I guess that should be any day."

"Aren't you concerned about life being too short and all that stuff?"

"Sure.  We both are.  But I gotta make sure all the right things have all the right places, then I'll go in for the kill."

This guy was hysterical.  But then again, I can imagine the woman's frustration and that's precisely what he was going for. 

"So you WILL get with her, though?"

"Oh, yes...mark my words.  That's the best woman I've ever met in my life and I was in the Navy so I know women!  I ain't lettin' this one get away."

I smiled at him and nodded in approval.  Right then, the woman came back.

She put her hand on his arm again and asked if he was ready to leave.  They both got up very slowly from their seats and began to walk away.

The man stopped, turned and  pointed his old wrinkled finger at me.  He mouthed the word, "Patience".

If there is a God, he certainly does work in mysterious ways.

As I've mentioned in other blogs, friends come around once in a while that make a difference.  I consider Tommy Blaze to be one of those friends.  What he's given me will never be equaled and I owe him a lot.  Thank you, my friend.  Anyway, he wrote this great little blog entitled, "Which Loser Are You?" and it's here for all of you to enjoy.

I've seen a lot in my 20+ years on the road.  I meet and talk to more people in a year than most of you will meet in a lifetime.  Suffice to say, I know more than you do.  With that in mind, let's begin:

Never before has the world been filled with more folks unsuccessful in the pursuit of love than today.  Many of them can be found here on MySpace.  Most of them blog because they need some kind of outlet for their frustration and because misery loves company.  I've broken down three categories of these losers at love.  Who do you recognize and which one are you?

The Idiot:

Although stupidity knows no gender, I must confess this category is dominated by men.  You can spot his kind a mile away.  Typically he still dresses like a 9 year old boy - sneakers, jeans, his "lid" turned backwards like he just walked out of a Norman Rockwell painting.  You suspect there is a frog and a slingshot in his back pocket.  Like a child, he is selfish and absorbed in his own needs.  He has yet to learn a boy becomes a man when he gives up his focus on his own self gratification only to find it leads him to the deeper gratification he truly wants through serving those he loves.  The Idiot is stuck in "Take-Mode."  As such, his relationships with women are doomed to fail.  Although the Idiot is continually falling in and out love from an early age, each relationship ends terribly in a typically overly dramatic fashion.  This "crash and burn" scenario leaves the Idiot frustrated and confused and like any child, blames everybody but himself.  First it's the woman that hurt him, but eventually he grows to distrust and resent all women and his relationships become a series of one night stands, misogyny and degrading sex. 

The Idiot's Battle Cry:  "Women suck!  Let's go pee on shit!"

The Coward:

In today's world, the Coward is the most common and prevalent of love's losers.  Every move they make, or more characteristically, every move they don't make, is fear based.  Whether they come from a broken home or experienced heartache at a young age, the end result is the same, when it comes to love they are afraid of their own shadow.  These are the type who will date the same person for years, live together -- even buy a house together and have children but wont get married because -- you know -- they don't want to "ruin it."   Typically,  the relationship doesn't get that far, however.  The Coward's love life is characterized by short lived relationships that he/she intentionally sabotages in order to do unto them "before he gets the chance to do unto me."  The Coward will often resign himself to the sidelines, opting not to play the game at all.  Often he assumes the role of the broken hearted lover and waxes poetic about what he would do if only given the chance with the "right" woman.   Women will often wonder about the Coward and ask, "Why are you still single?"

The Coward's Battle Cry:  "I just haven't met the right one yet."

 If the Coward doesn't soon grow a set, he runs the risk of becoming the third and most devastating loser at love:

The Heartless:

Also fear based, the Heartless are those that protect themselves by removing all sentiment, romance and heartfelt passion by over thinking the situation.  This is a defense mechanism of course, because anything real would reveal the absence of their long gone heart.  They typically have a long, long laundry list of qualities they demand in a prospective mate.  They call it being "picky."  Of course no human can ever meet every requirement so the list acts as a shield protecting the Heartless from ever having to feel anything.  The Heartless tend to be serial daters having multiple dates in a single week.  Somehow, despite all of this exposure, no one seems to meet the qualifications of the job.  You will often hear them say things like, "I haven't found the right one yet, but I am sure getting a lesson in what I don't want."  Their hair is just so, their clothes trendy and well thought out.  Sex is choreographed resembling a scene from a movie more than anything approaching unbridled passion.  Even when the heartless woman wears lingerie, you get the feeling she's playing a role and something of substance (any real heat) is missing.  They tend to prefer chain restaurants over privately owned, top 40 bland music, one dimensional movies while eschewing art and poetry which requires them to be in touch with their missing heart. 

The Heartless' Battle Cry:  "I'd rather stay single than settle."

So which one of Love's Losers are you?


The Idiot?

The Coward?

The Heartless?

Or maybe, Best Beloved, you're not a Love Loser at all.   Maybe you've figured out that love is an adult game and in order to succeed at it a man has to  grow up, take some responsibilty and earn his woman's respect by serving her.  And maybe you've learned that, like in life, love offers no guarantees and there is a bit of risk attached to anything that delivers such great rewards.  Every now and then, you just have to close your eyes and take a leap of faith.  And perhaps you've seen that love is a compromise and even if there is "the perfect one" out there, you may very well spend and therefore waste your life looking for it in vain. 

Maybe your're living love right now and it feels like home, as it should.  "In the image of God he created them. He created them male and female."  When you find your love, that union completes the the image of God, both male and female and you're closer to Him, closer to home.  And as we all know...

There's no place like home.

This isn't going to be pretty.

 If I had a choice or if I believed in God (the punishing one), I'd ask that he wouldn't wake me after tonights rest.

I'm sick of the world and of myself and that may sound pathetic to most of you, but believe me it really isn't.  People suck, each and every one of them and most of the time I'm ashamed  to share this race with them.  I'm not a perfect person however, I do know right from wrong; I know how to love someone both in friendship and close, intimate relationships.

You tricky, manipulative, lying fucks.

I never asked for this life, so enough already.  I've worked very hard to better myself and to love others and the return on that is minimal.  I'm not asking FOR anything in return, but you'd think at some point a little of that energy would be brought back onto you.  It hasn't.

I'm disheartened with everyone in my life right now.  Where are the people who are willing to work at things to make your lives better?  No one is putting themselves out on a limb and taking that risk because they fear the future or their past.  That's up to them.  I'm just trudging along trying to make the best of this cesspool existence.

You all lie, you all cheat and you will fuck each other the second our backs are turned.  You stare right into my eyes and lie to me like it's nothing, blaming this or that or making your half-lame excuses.  Fuck you.

My god, I'm angry.  I wish there were an easy way or answer to all of this but there isn't. 

I'll just let you know that, the money is buried in the.....

I had to write this before I go to sleep.

I think I was waiting until after Cupid had left the building, so I can continue on another year without that naked little baby flying around with a sack full of arrows, looking all pink and happy and shit.

So, here's my problem.  Every year, drug stores, tv commercials, supermarkets and banks all have their Valentine's Day decorations, many of which read "Happy Valentine's Day".  There's no escaping it, everywhere you turn there's a banner or a big ole heart with the words blaring at you.  HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY.  Not hard at all, right?  You'd think not.

Tell me why...WHY do people insist on calling it Valentime's Day?  There were at least six people I know, all of whom I saw yesterday who wished me thusly. 

Thusly?  Probably not, but I just wanted to use the word. 

"Happy Valentime's, Nancy!".  What the f...?  Seriously now, how stupid can you possibly be?  Are you trying to be cute?  Is it an innocent mistake?  I know that these six people are relatively smart, so why in hell do they insist on using an M instead of an N?  It's driving me nutty.

The worst of it was a woman around 45 years of age with a full set of shiny, silver braces in her mouth.  She turned to me with full grill and arms open to hug me and squeeled, "HAPPY VALENTIME'S DAY!!!!!" 

I swear I wanted to hit her over the head with a cinder block.

But I didn't because I'm not that kind of a person today.  No, I'm not.  However, I must insist in some way (I haven't quite figured that out yet) to tell her to learn the proper spelling of Valentine by 2009 or she'll find herself not needing those braces anymore.

I'm not overboard on this.  It's a simple word.  Say it with me.  VAL EN TINE.  My goodness gracious, people.

I just realized why I haven't been feeling inspired to write anything lately.  It has nothing to do with lack of material or that my mind is in a different place or anything else.  It has everything to do with the fact that I wish the world would shut the hell up.  If only for a few minutes. 

Just...shut...up.

The information train is rolling along further and faster than it ever has and on it are a diverse group of passengers.  Obama and Hillary, McCain and Romney, Paris Hilton, Britney, Amy Winehouse, Heath Ledger.  The next car down is carrying cancer,  drugs, Christianity, war, famine, education. 

But way back in the final car, in the caboose,  is where Peace is found.

Unfortunately, if you want to meet up with Peace, you have to walk through all the other cars first and make your way from one to the next; gathering data and getting weary as you go.  You know that you'll get there, it's just a matter of time, but your patience is growing thin.  How much can a person take?  How much of this unimportant drivel do we have to absorb before we finally take a stand and yell, Enough!  I've had enough of all this unecessary crap. The tabloids, the rumors, the politics..all of it.

I say, take it all and shove it into a huge steamer chest, and follow it up with a unsentimental burial in some remote Indonesian jungle.

Very recently, I worked with a dude who asked me why I don't write about politics and the state of our government.  I'll give you the answer to that.  I'm not very good at articulating what I already know.  I can talk about it with a close friend or two, but not for too long.  I begin to trip over my own ideas and opinions and put very simply, it ain't too attractive.  

Our government and the situation of our entire planet is in peril, this is true.  But I'll leave the words to the more prolific writers.  After all, I'm just a female comic. 

I can't believe I just said that.

The bottom line of this whole jumbled blog is, shut up for a little while and get down to what's important.  Friendships, Love and Truth.  Make logical decisions in everything else.  Be good to your families and loved ones. 

Help people less fortunate than yourself.  Peace is waiting for you.

The End

PS:  There's a rickshaw in my living room.

I spent a lot of time wondering how to word this post. 

As most of my readers know, I'm not one to mince words.  Writing is one of the finest forms of expression we have available to us and I try to use it as a therapy tool most of the time.  I write about my issues a lot.  The fact that you people still read my shit amazes me.

So, the words aren't coming off my fingers right now, but it's all right here in my heart.  Sometimes I'm afraid that if I let the gates open, the floods will come and all hell will break loose.  I suppose it's in my best interest to keep some things to myself.

I will say this: 

There are certain people that come into my life that make a huge difference.  You have a lesson to learn from then and when it's done, it's done.  Then there are some people you just know are there for an eternity.  I feel blessed to have a couple of those friends and I cherish them.  But let's not forget the other people who enter our lives without welcome; who love to tear you down while all the while, being kind to your face.  I try to avoid those emotional vampires like I avoid a yeast infection.  However, it's impossible to steer out of their path all the time.  Screw 'em.

But the most exceptional people are the extremely rare sort.  You know, those once-in-a-lifetime type of people.  The ones that introduce themselves to your life and you know in your heart of hearts...with every fiber of your being that they are the most treasured person you'll ever encounter during your duration on planet earth.  You know that you feel at your best when they are right there communicating with you and even though you have a ton of things in common, it's actually the things you don't have in common that you love about them most. 

It's knowing that if you had a million years with that person, it would never be enough time to learn all the things there are to learn from one another.

I just wanted to say that.  Thanks for reading.

I did something tonight I won't regret.  Allow me to tell you a little story.

 After the show, I did the usual: Went back to my room, took off my makeup, changed clothes and went to hit the buffet at 10pm.  Yeah, we can't eat before that time and don't ask me why, but that's just how it is.  Since it's free, I'm not going to complain.

I met the other comedian at the restaurant and when we finished eating, walked over to the bar to catch up on things, smoke a few cigarettes and pass some time.  I've known this guy for about 15 years, give or take and there's always plenty of good stories to tell.

Just  a few seats down from us sat three Mexican dudes.  They were laughing, drinking and doing what three guys do which includes trying to make eye contact with whatever woman is sitting at the bar.  Lucky me.  I noticed one dude was in a wheel chair and for a brief moment, I wondered what horrible incident caused his circumstance.

About thirty minutes after we arrived, the guy in the wheel chair came over to us and asked me if I'd give him a cigarette.  I said "Of course" and then lit it for him.  He thanked me and wheeled back to his guys.

A little bit after that, I saw him wheel by me and I didn't think much of it.  I didn't see him come back since he was behind me, but as he went past, he reached up and grabbed my ass.  I was stunned and didn't say anything.  He wheeled his way back to us and he asked me for another cigarette.  I told him, "No, I'm sorry.  And please keep your hands to yourself.  That's really rude."  He said he was sorry and went away.

Another ten minutes went by when he wheeled past me again and came back only to grab my ass one more time.  I called him an asshole.  He rolled backward and asked me for another cigarette.  At this point, I'm fuming.  I don't give a rat's ass how crippled he is.  Touching another woman (a stranger at that) is unecessary as well as illegal. Instead, I gave him a little verbal assault.

"Back it up right now.  GO!  Back that thing up!  Who the fuck do you think you are touching me like that?  Do you really think it's okay and then come over here and ask for a cigarette for the fifth time?  Get the fuck away from me and back that fucking thing up.  BACK IT UP!!!!!"

He kept apologizing and I could see in his eyes that he was enjoying all of this.  I swear I almost kicked that chair over, all the while having visions of stepping on his fat, ugly skull.  He wheeled himself back a little, but not far enough from me, so I gave him one last, "BACK THAT THING UP NOW AND GET AWAY FROM ME!"

He finally got the idea and he rolled away slowly.

The other comedian looked at me and took a pull off his Fuente.

"You were mean to him.  I mean, what could he do to you in that chair?"

"Well, apparently he could grab my ass from that chair, so I think he deserved what he got."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right."

"Plus, how often can you say to a guy, Back that thing up!"

Anxiety, stress and the fear of flying has played a major part in my life the past six years.  The traveling, the hotels, the airports.  I've been feeling the need to plant some roots and sit still for a long while.  Although I've been doing that for a couple of years, it's hurt my pocketbook.

There are things I want to clear up and clear out in the next twelve months.  All the bills I've accumulated as well as saving up for the near future as I plan to "get out of Dodge", and I mean really get out.  The idea is to travel abroad, help others and grow; both spiritually and emotionally.

I need money for that.  So what is a girl to do?  I figured I have a few solid eggs left in my basket and I'm not talking theoretical eggs. I'm talking about my own biological eggs.  I heard you can get great money for a good egg, so why the hell not?  I'm not using 'em and someone might as well put them to use and I cash in.  Cha-ching!

So I went to an egg donor website.  I went to another and another.  I find, although the money is fantastic, that I'm too freaking old to give my eggs.  That's right.  My eggs apparently aren't good enough for harvesting.  I've past my prime, they are shriveling and decrepit, they are no use to anyone.  Now, they just drop slowly and every month even slower.  One by one.  Drop, drop, drop.  Ah, what could have been. 

Now I have to think of other ways to cash in.  Sure it would have been sweet to lay on a gurney and say "Take them all!  Five grand per egg?  Go, harvest away!".  Instead, I'll probably be delivering sandwiches for Jimmy John's during the weekdays for $10 an hour asking, "Did you order the cappicola with provolone on whole wheat?  Hey, thanks for the buck.  I'll put that to good use...".

I'm old.  You see, people don't want mature eggs.  They want young eggs that might turn out to look like models and be presidents.  My egg would turn out to be a stand-up comic with issues.  Shocker.

Every year at midnight on New Years Eve, I say to myself, "This is the year!".  I am not going to say it this year.  It never turns out to be anything and maybe because I'm never specific.  I mean, if you yell out, "This is the year!", then of course it will end up being "this year" but it isn't anything special or great.  It's just...a year.

I know what I want this upcoming year to be and I hope, more than anything that it all manifests.  Things are already changing for me and I hope it all continues for the better.  Keep it moving forward, keep it positive. 

I think I'm starting off on the right foot with a gig at Buffalo Bill's in Prim.  Ooof.  "Happy New Year, all you rednecks!".  Then I come home with a gunshot wound to the knee.

So remember, this is an important year for all of us.  Let's make it a great one.  Let's make it the year!  Shit.  I said it again.

 I'm posting the translation of lyrics to Auld Lang Syne for someone.  The worst New Year's song, ever.  But still better than Kool and the Gang's Celebrate...c'mon. 

I love Christmas.  You know why?  Because it's the time of year where people actually try to be at their best. 

It's also the time of year when jingle bell jinglers can get a gig. 

I was in Wal*Mart the other night doing some food shopping and before you can judge me for that, allow me to give reason.  It's the one shopping establishment in Las Vegas that doesn't have gambling.  Not one machine in the joint.  I've been feeling a little shaky lately and I wanted to cover my ass, so I shopped at Wal*Mart. 

 As I approached the store, a young dude around 25 or so actually held the door open for me.  I wasn't even that close to the door for him to even consider holding it.  He saw me coming, waited and even smiled as he he stood there.  There was a time where you would nod and say thank you but I wanted to hug this kid and say, "GOOD FOR YOU!!". 

It's things like this that happen and I stop and wonder if all is not lost.  Maybe parents are actually raising their children, and teaching their sons and daughters some manners that stick. 

The next night, while performing at the LA Comedy Club in Vegas, a young couple (also in their twenties) came in a few minutes late.  The guy was wearing a baseball hat and he did something you rarely see.  He took it off!  That may not seem like a big deal but etiquette and proper manners include taking off your hat when you enter indoors.  You hardly ever see this anymore.  After the show, I asked him if he took his hat off because he was warm.  He replied, "No, I grew up knowing when I go out somewhere that my hat should come off when I walk into a place.  You're gonna make fun of me now, aren't you?"  I said, "On the contrary.  I'd like to commend you on proper manners and consideration." 

I really wanted to write about Christmas and stuff like that, but I haven't been in the mood for writing lately.  I have nothing to say except enjoy every single second of the holiday season.  It goes by way too quickly for my liking.  Enjoy your loved ones and let the past fall away.  Bake some pies and give them away.  Invite people over.  Talk to people you've wanted to make amends to.  Just give love.

Merry Christmas, everyone.  I'd hold the door open for you if I could. 

She's been prone to depression for as long as she can remember.  Happiness comes only in spurts, a little here and a little there and when it does make an appearance, she grabs on as if her life depends on it. 

Even in kindergarten she knew she was different.  She didn't look like the other kids and because of her need for creativity, she certainly didn't act like the other kids.  She'd say odd things and dress in odd ways.  She had her own ideas when it came to playtime and had a lot of energy.  The other kids began to tease and ridicule her and it continued almost every day.  They called her the worst names you can think of because her skin was darker than the other children's skin.  She blamed herself and she couldn't understand what she had done wrong or how her friends could be so mean. 

The little girl smiled through it all and even with the threats of being beat up or being chased home after school, she took it like a champ.  She never said a word.

When she was in third grade she had a progressive teacher who thought it would be cool to teach history through play acting and was going to teach the students what life was like between plantation owners and their slaves.  She had the entire class act as if they were plantation owners and then was going to pick out ONE student to be the slave. 

She chose the little girl. 

"Go sit by the garbage can because that's where you belong!"  she yelled.  The little girl felt humiliated, but listened to her teacher and did as she was told.  The other 24 students pointed and laughed and were given permission to treat her like shit for the next two days.  This teacher was an idiot.  She knew the girl was having a difficult time getting along as it was, so why in hell would she subject her to more of this treatment by her peers?  Didn't she know that the kids would make her life even worse? 

The girl is grown up now and often wonders if that teacher ever thought back to what she did.  She doubts it, but secretly hopes she'll turn up at her work one day.  She's in a position now to give some of that back to her.  Then again, the girl has learned lessons in letting go and letting people be who they are without it having much affect on her own life.  It's a difficult lesson which often leaves her crying at night.

As the girl grew up through middle school, she found she had a pretty quick wit.  She could talk herself out of a paper bag if need be and she developed the skill and honed it until it shined.  She was attending an institution that was considered "a very rough school" by the state and the only thing she had to protect herself was her mouth.  When she wasn't protecting herself she was taking drugs, skipping classes, causing trouble and still didn't quite fit in with any particular group.  She had become a girl that people would simply stay away from. 

It was a confusing time for the girl, especially being involved with outside activities.  She was a competitive athlete who had obligations before and after school with her training; but once that school bell rang she was Satan's spawn, consistantly in detention or getting suspended for causing one problem after another.  Her future was looking pretty grim.

That type of behavior carried through her high school years as well.  Her parents took her out of school at the end of her Junior year so she could train all day for her sport, however that wouldn't totally be the case.  There was training indeed, but there was a lot more time to party.  By the time the girl turned 18, she had become a mess.  By the time she was 21, she was a full-blown burnout living a double life of an athlete.  She knew it couldn't go on like that any longer and she didn't want it to go on any longer.  The problem she had was getting out of that life...how would she do it and still keep her secrets?  How could she ever live with all the humiliation and pain she's endured without masking it with some kind of mind altering substance?  

She wanted out and the only way to do that was to overdose.  Cocaine, marijuana, pills and alcohol.  Numb the pain, end it now, there's no reason to live, so let's get it over with.  She tried and failed.  Then she tried and failed again.  There was a small part of her that was curious as to what might be next if she lived, so she decided to get help and give life a try. 

She's worked on life and her coping skills ever since.  It's been a long, hard road for her and every day she learns something new.  There have been obstacles and pain beyond the imaginable but somehow she's survived it all.  She keeps her chin up and looks for the optimistic path.  She tries to find beauty in the most ugly situations and sometimes falls short of locating it.  She knows it's there somewhere and every now and again a person will pass through her life that will remind her that life can be so wonderful.  The excitement comes back and the smile to her face as well, because there is hope. 

If you get to know her and I mean really know her, you'll talk to her about the things that are most important in her life.  Friendship, Trust and Love.  She'll talk to you about Respect and Honor.  She'll use words like "noble" and "compassion".  She's a woman that doesn't take much for granted and is grateful for the things in her life that have proven themselves over time.  She cherishes the people who have stuck by her and she hurts for the people who have wronged her. 

She's growing still and will continue on her path.  She loves you and will help you if she can.  She'll protect you with everything she's got. 

Will you protect her right back?

We are all energy.  Nothing more than balls of energy floating around this planet until one day, we are not energy anymore. 

The energy stops, therefore we stop but other energies continue on.  Moving, circling, creating.  Positive energy, bad energy, negative energy all in human form as we trudge through this thing we call life.  Waiting for it to start or end.  Sometimes just waiting for something to happen. 

Some energies feel it's important to spend their days watching the 2girls1cup video on their site.  How curious do you need to be?  I guess if scatplay is your thing... 

I'm not going there on this blog so here are some things on my mind with Christmas creeping up:

There are some energies we are related to by blood and those are the most difficult energies to figure out.  When you share the love of family it should come without condition, without backstabbing and without guilt.  Make time for each other, talk with each other and don't always assume what is not.  Know what I mean, girls?  How often are your hands really in the dishwater?  How often are you on the other line?  Aren't we all we have?  I guess moving a couple thousand miles away in this case is "out of sight, out of mind", but I love you both and will miss you this Christmas.  Let me know who sits in my place this year, although we may do the stocking thing by webcam.  Oh, and someone make Warren his fucking hot chocolate on Christmas Eve at 6pm.  Make sure he gets there!!

And if you are an ex-inlaw reading this (hi!), the energies you've created are not your fault.  I think of you fondly. Please say hi to everyone for me.

Now on to addiction:

Some energies drink their way through life.  Some abuse themselves in other ways such as sex, gambling, drugs even shopping.  Whatever it takes to escape and avoid dealing with reality.  The reality of happiness, sorrow, fortune or misfortune.  It doesn't matter what the case, with certain types of people the escape is necessary in order to cope with the day's events. 

Most of you know what I'm talking about.  It's the addictive personality or Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD).  Unfortunately, I've been afflicted with this for as long as I can remember.  Most of my adult life has been dedicated to making myself whole, learning how to deal with life on life's terms which proves to be a challenge most of the time.

I can't drink like a normal person.  I can't do recreational drugs or gamble like a normal person.  I've accepted that, yet still find myself struggling from time to time (especially with the gambling).  It's the need to step out of myself and disappear and feel good if just for a moment.  That need to feel good and get relief is immediate and often short lived.  Usually, the feeling doesn't last for more than five minutes, but it's the action of getting to that feel good moment.  It's placing a bet (not the win), the romance of pouring a drink (not the drunkeness) or lighting a cigarette and watching the embers burn (not the smoke), the persuit of sex (not the orgasm), the purchase of something new you'll never wear (not the need for clothing).

I wish there was a clear explanation for all of these behaviors.  In the ones I've listed, I've never fallen into the compulsive pattern with  shopping or sex.  For me, the gambling is the worst of them all.  It's a head trip, a thinking and living problem they say.  I agree.  There comes a point with every compulsive gambler where they are unable to live with themselves any longer, feeling that their behavior is so out of hand they can never get a grip on abstinence.  Nothing is further from the truth.  I've seen many people with great amounts of absitinence.  But after the "action" of the bet is stopped, we are left to deal with our minds.  That's not always a pretty place to be and it's a lot easier to hide behind a poker machine for hours on end than to handle what's rolling around in the attic.  But we learn slowly and it is possible to do with the help of others who are recovering as well.

It's hard being a grown-up and it's really hard to always do the right thing.  When I screw up, I realize it quickly now and I don't run from admitting I was wrong.  Insecurities stay with you for years and years, sometimes they get tucked away for a while but they come out at the oddest times, and attack you from the shadows. 

I'm still learning and I'll never stop asking for help. 

Help.

 Sackett's Harbor, New York

Winter 2005

"So, is anything open in this stupid town at this hour?"

"Just Applebee's.  It's about 20 minutes from here."

"Let's go, I'm starved."

"Ugh.  It's 10 below zero with a foot of snow and it's still coming down.  Let's just hit that convenience store."

"You just got the Jeep with 4 wheel drive.  Let's test it out!"

"Fine, let's go.  But you're paying."

We began to drive down a very dark and very snowy road.

"Holy crap, Todd.  There's a cop.  I'm gonna get pulled over.  Yep..there are the lights.  Shit."

"Be cool, no attitude please.  Just be nice to him, okay?"

Snow blows into the Jeep as I roll down the window.

"Hello, Ma'am.  Licence, registration and insurance card, please."

"Here you go, officer.  What did I do?"

"You were doing 35 in a 30.  Just sit tight and I'll be right back."

Both of us remain quiet as he walks back to his squad car.  Then I think about it...

"I was doing 35 in a 30 and he pulls me over for THAT?  These guys must be bored."

"Yeah, no shit.  Just be cool so we can get out of here."

The officer approached the Jeep slowly.

"Ma'am, will you step out of the vehicle, please?"

"Uh, why?  For five miles over?"

"Ma'am, you're under arrest.  Are you aware that your licence has been suspended in the state of New York since 1989?"

"Officer, that's 16 years ago.  I wasn't aware of..."

"Put your hands in front and I'll cuff them there but we won't frisk you.  Apparently, you got a ticket in Plattsburgh New York that went unpaid and they suspended your licence.  You never knew...."

"...No, I never knew.  Okay, where are you taking me?  Juggler Boy here has to drive my car and he's never driven in snow."

"Down to the library, Ma'am."

"The LIBRARY?"

"Yes, Ma'am.  That's where our court is.  And our jail."

"Ha..this is Mayberry, right?  I suppose you're gonna call the judge in at 1am right?  Can Aunt Bea bring down a pie, 'cause my buddy here is hungry somethin' awful, I'll tell ya."

"You comedians that come to town are funny.  I'm guessing you ARE the comedians."

"Damn, this IS a small town."

"Actually, the judge is already on her way down.  She's also the head librarian.  Just be careful getting in the patrol car, please."

"Fuck, Nance!!  Don't worry!! I'm right behind ya!!  You look good in silver jewlery, by the way.  Hahaha!"

"Shut up and drive the Jeep...and watch the snow!"

Todd and I sit in the library at 1:30 am and wait for the judge/librarian.  My hands which are still cuffed are turning purple from the cold of the metal.  In walks a frail old woman with a PBS hemp bag she probably received when she made her $20 donation during pledge week.

"I understand your licence is suspended here in New York.  I also understand that you two are the comedians in town this weekend.  Is that right?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Well, tell Michael over there I said hello!!  I love that place.  Go there all the time.  Maybe I'll come down tomorrow night and see you.  Now, down to business.  You'll have to stay here overnight or else it's a $1,000 bail."

"I'm sorry, did you say $1,000 bail???"

"Oh, damn my eyes.  It's $500 bail."

"Nancy, I'll go to the club and ask Mike for the money...I'll be right back.."

"Okay, hurry up before he leaves.  Your Honor, is there any way you can uncuff me?  I promise not to flee."

"Deputy, let's uncuff her, but don't go very far from her."

It's at this point I'm thinking I've seen this scene in some porn film.  Can I touch your nightstick, Officer?  Ever play good cop, bad cop?  Wanna know the five other things you can do with mace?  Ahem...okay.  Todd returns with a wad of cash.

"Got it!  Let's go!"

"Now, Ms. Ryan, you'll have to return here in two weeks for court.  But Mike's brother is a lawyer and can show up for you if you don't want to come back."

"I definitely don't want to come back.  Wait, Mikes brother is a bartender AND a lawyer?  You're the judge and librarian, so does that make your Mayor the busboy at Fudrucker's?"

Silence.

"Well, then let me sign these papers and off you go.  Your friend will have to do all the driving until you cross state lines.  Are there any other questions you might have?"

"Yes, Ma'am.  Can I take out a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo before we leave?"

The following are exerpts from conversations I've had in chatrooms the past couple of days with both Atheists and Christians.  The name "Benny" is part of my screename I chat under.

**********

"I know who the Creator is."

"How do you know, Benny?"

"I know everything."

"Then who is it?  WHO?  If there is a Creator, then WHO IS IT?"

"Ron Popeill, of course." 

***********

"Benny, If there is a GOD, then travesties such as 9/11 never would have occurred."

"Uh, if there is a God, the way the Christians see God, you'd know that God instills free will in us, leaving humans to make decisions for themselves.  It's not like he/she would be sitting on a big fluffy cloud wearing a referee uniform and calling off-sides whenever he sees a disaster about to happen."

***********

"Benny, Don't you believe in miracles?"

"I believe in the miracle of cheese."

"Serious, now.  Don't you believe in them?"

"No, but I can still hope."

*********

"Maybe God wanted 9/11 to happen, Ben.  Did you think of that?  Maybe this was his way of warning us to get ourselves together.  Amen!"

"Wouldn't you think God (if there was one) would have a more subtle approach?  Maybe some locusts or killing off first-borns...afterall, it worked in Exodus.  I'll bet you still have Y2K canned vegetables in your basement, don't you?  Maybe saving up a batch of lambs blood in the freezer?"

"Benny, the 10 plagues were very serious.  I find you vile to joke about such things!"

"The Old Testament is a joke.  Let's take a look at these plagues, okay?:

1.  rivers and other waters turned into blood. 

2. frogs 

3. lice

4. flies and beasts or something

5. diseased livestock

6. unhealable boils

7. hail stones (with fire)

8. locusts

9. darkness

10. death of the firstborn

You see?  Everything listed is nothing more than a really bad August afternoon in Detroit.

********

"George Bush will see us through this!  God speaks through him Benny, and for that we should be grateful!"

"Oh my fucking god, you've lost your mind."

"Benny, I weep for you.  You're going to hell.  Repent and be saved before it's too late.  Your sins can be washed away right now if you will just repent."

"Repent?  I didn't vote for the idiot.  These are your sins, so why don't you repent?  Get on your knees right now.  Ask forgiveness from your god that you may never vote that way again.  Ask forgiveness for what you single-handedly have done to our country.  It's all your fault, just yours alone.  Take responsibility and stand up for all Christards of your kind.   You're going to spend eternity in the lake of fire and you will burn, burn, burn (who am I, Johnny Cash?).  Wait...did I just hear a trumpet?  Oh, man.  Hurry up and get in the handbasket.  You're goin' down!  Oh, and while you're down there...."

"Benny, I pray you find Jesus.  I've done all I can.  I'm done with you."

"My mission is complete.  Glad my typing wasn't in vain." 

 "Always do right! This will gratify some people and astonish the rest."
-– Mark Twain

Happy Thanksgiving week to all of you turkey lovers out there.  Folks are foreseeing in the  future, a festive festival of festivities full of fun, fat fowl feasting and other fine fare while fulfilling family folklore.  See?  I can use a whole bunch of "F" words without any one of them being Fuck. 

I don't have much to say again and for that, I apologize.  I just wanted to wish everyone a very happy holiday.  Enjoy your families.  :)

Okay.  Maybe I have something to say. 

Get up and do something good this holiday season.  Make it count.  Volunteer at a soup kitchen or just drop a few bucks toward your favorite charity.  I recommend www.AnySoldier.com of course!  You can also go to: www.TWLOHA.com  or another good one is www.theshadetree.org , a women's shelter here in Las Vegas.  A few dollars goes a long way with these great organizations who are helping human beings every single day. 

And after you've done that, go home and tell the person that matters most in your life that you love them.  Screw fear, screw everything and just say it.  Life is too flippin' short. 

"Hi, Nancy!"

"Hey, Pajnab.  How's it going?"

"Good, good.  Good to see you."

"A pack of Winston Lights Box, please."

 "Sure ting.  Hee you go.  You have ID?"

"My ID?  I come in here everyday!"

"Yes, I know dis.  But I must see the ID now."

"Paj, I'm 43 years old, for Christ's sake."

"You are 44.  Your birthday was October."

"Then why in hell do you need my ID?"

"I lose job if you no show. "

"It's in the car.  Look, you know I'm 44, no one is around and if you lose your job you can always get a tech support gig with AOL."

"No, no.  You must show this ID.  I cannot begin to tell you trouble I will have if you don't."

The other clerk Mary steps around the corner.

"Hey, Mary.  Can Pajnab give me my cigarettes please, so I can get to work?"

"Yeah sure.  Paj, you can see she's old.  Just give them to her."

"What the fuck, Mary.  I didn't ask for that."

"You want courtesy or cigarettes?"

I can't shut my eyes anymore.  Things that I've suspected all along seem to have more truth to them than ever before and to ignore any of it would make me an ignorant citizen of this country.  There are things going on with our own government that need closer scrutiny, a healthy skepticism and open mind.  I'm not saying to become a raving paranoid lunatic.  All I'm saying is to keep asking questions.

It's probably not a good idea to go into them at this time because I haven't done sufficient research.  I feel I have enough knowledge for myself but in order to write about it, I'd need a lot more to send my thoughts home.  So on that, we will wait.  However, I can talk about some questions I have.

We've all wondered about the untimely deaths of great leaders, teachers and figures.  At least I've wondered.  Charismatic, brilliant human beings who graced our planet and brought us lessons of truth and love.  Messages of hope or warnings of our future.  It seems like the ones who got our attention were cut down in their prime.  Were these people were so beguiling that they were a threat to the powers that be?  Take a look at our country's history and ask yourself if it is possible.  The ones who tried to make a difference were clammed up by a controlling force, not unlike the bully in grade school who didn't like what you had to say during english class because it made him look stupid.  What did the bully do?  He'd beat you up at recess to make sure you'd never do that again.

Ask yourself what was behind the assassination of Abraham Lincoln, JFK, Martin Luther King, Robert Kennedy?  All trying to make a difference, all speaking without fear, all taking action while trusting that change would most certainly do our country good and good always prevails, right?

If Jesus existed, he is a perfect example of trying to make change and open the eyes of the masses.  Too much of a threat there, that's for sure. 

I was just turned on to  a film called Zeitgeist which you can find in nine parts on YouTube.  I ask that you take the time to watch it with an open mind and ask yourself all the important questions.  I'm not here to sway anyone into thinking in any direction.  I'm hoping that people will simply see a larger picture. 

In a few parts of Zeitgeist it depicts Peter Finch's award winning performance in the film Network.  Finch plays a despaired newsanchor who opens the eyes of millions of TV viewers to what is really going on in our country; how we are kept dumb and blind by the media feeding us spoonfuls of crap that we eat up like pistachio ice cream.  Besides his stellar performance, he sends a powerful message to anyone viewing the film and probably made a lot of film-goers think and possibly research <gasp>. 

Finch died suddenly of a heart attack during the promotion of Network before it came out in theaters. 

Bill Hicks, a great comedian and guru to some, had a voice that was just beginning to be heard by mainstream America.  It's not that he hadn't been on television before, because he had been many times, voicing his opinions through his satire.  He talked frankly about the decline of our government and the bullshit we are fed, how lazy we are as Americans and to stand up and make a difference.  He told us to open our eyes and think for ourselves.  People were starting to listen.

Bill was diagnosed and then died of pancreatic cancer.   He was only 32 years old.  Some have asked questions.  I never did.  Maybe I should.

Again, I'm not paranoid but I want to keep my eyes open.  I want to know what the truth is and who is lying to us.  I want to know why, when someone steps up to the plate to shine some light on truth, they are taken away from us.  It's easy to say, "It was their time to go" and sure that is the nice, neat little package we'd like to put it in.  I'm only saying...ASK. 

There's a thorn in my foot and it needs to be pulled out.  I haven't been this angry or disheartened in a long, long time.  I suppose you could say, "I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it any more!"

There are countless, horrific incidences occuring around the world as we speak.  We hear about starvation, abuse and neglect, we hear about crimes against humanity in small little countries we never learned about in school.  We watch it on television, read about it in newspapers, yet we all feel protected and safe because it's not happening to anyone we know or anyone that lives on our block.

Guess again.

I was absolutely infuriated to learn about the lengthly torture of a West Virginia woman who, showed up for a party (that didn't exist) at a mobile home and was then held for days against her will.  The 20 year old was raped, humiliated, and made to eat feces and drink urine of dogs, cats and humans.  Six morons held her captive as they ripped her hair out, continuously beat with switches, and stabbed her repeatedly.  All the while she was taunted by racial slurs. I would imagine all she could do was hang on to the hope of being found and then the nightmare would be over.

They had her holed up in a tiny little shed and once the racist fucks left her alone, she would scream for help.  Finally, someone heard her and called police.  Now, in her own words, she's hoping "they'll fry" for their crimes but I think it's a bit lenient.  There are so many charges that will be brought to these six people, that if convicted, I doubt they'll see the light of day for a long time.  Good.

This is The United States, people.  It's not a place halfway around the world.  It's where you live.  Things go on like this every single day.  The racism, child abuse, domestic violence; it's all in your back yard.  We have choices and that's a luxury a lot of countries do not have.  We can choose to make a difference, the question is how?  Start by researching and reading.

I know what I'm going to do.  What you decide to do is entirely up to you.

 This one is for M.B.  Hang in there, sweet.  You can change the ending, but I got a chuck-le out of it.

"C'mon, Boo! Get the stick, girl...fetch!"

 "Oh, boy! I love fetch!"

Chuck  pretends to throw the stick and just as Boo begins to chase after it, Chuck hides the stick behind his back. Boo screaches to a halt and with some confusion, turns and slowly walks back toward Chuck.

 "Um. There was no stick thrown, Chuck.  With that I ask you: What in THE fuck is up with that?"

"Ha-haaa, you silly girl. I've got the stick right here! C'mon, I'll throw it for real this time. You ready?"

 "Ready! I trust ya!"

But Chuck just does it again. Boo begins to run after the phantom stick, quickly realizing its another fake, and then trots back to him.  She sits and tilts her head.  She's got questions.

 "Chuck, I'm good to you, right? I show you unconditional love and support and I'm always happy to see ya. All I want is for you to throw the god damned stick if you say you're gonna throw the god damned stick. Is that so hard? Why do you have to confuse me? All I want is to be able to trust you."

 "Awww, Boo, ' he said while petting her head, 'I'm just havin' fun with ya! This is fun, isn't it? You know I love you."

 "I love you too, Chuck. Just a little follow through is all I want. Now, I implore you...THROW ME THE STICK."

Chuck pretends to throw the stick a third time and Boo is clearly pissed.

"Alright, listen. This indeed sucks. While I show you all this loyalty and kindess, you choose to tease me and treat me like a dog because, well, I am a dog, at least I am for this story, plus you know I'll always be here and I'll always come back to you. Isn't that the point of this little game, Chucky-boy? Hmmmm??? I can run away, ya know. There's a neighbor that actually likes me and tosses tennis balls for me to catch. I can easily go over there."

Disheartened after getting no reply, Boo turns and walks toward the fence and onto the sidewalk. Chuck calls out after her.  She stops and turns her head.

"Boo, where are you going? Come back here right now. I promise to never tease you again!"

"Get yourself a cat, fuckface."

I love this time of year in Pennsylvania Dutch Country.  I've been working the club here in Lancaster since I began comedy, usually twice a year for the past 15 years.  The town is very quiet and that's how I like it, although I could use a good cup of coffee.  There's nowhere in town to get one, unless you get to Starbucks by 7pm or unless you bring your own Jezveh and burner to make Turkish in your room, otherwise you're screwed.  There's in-room coffee but I would rather shoot heroin into my eyeball than drink that crap. 

This hotel is old , moldy and run down, always has been but at least I'm staying IN a room.  Years ago, they would put up the acts "in the back".  That meant an old shed that was renovated into rooms for the comedians.  I think it's a shed again and I'm grateful.  There's nothing like waking up at 6am with a mouse on your bed and then not being able to fall back to sleep because an Amish guy is plowing the field behind your room-shed and he's yelling  "hee-yawww" to his horses over and over and over again.

The club here has been running for 20 years and this weekend was the conclusion of it's run.  Yep, another great comedy room going to that great comedy club heaven in the sky.  What sucks is this is a great getaway place for a lot of comics and the club owner, Dave and his family are some of the nicest  people in the business.  They plan on reopening a club but this place...the hotel, restaurant and club are going to be demolished.  So many memories here.

I've been on closing night shows at a few clubs and I still wonder why the one at Rascal's shore wasn't emotional, having such a history there, but it just...wasn't.  I couldn't wait for them to take a wrecking ball to that place, actually.  But this club is a little different.  Maybe it was the hometown feel of it.  Maybe it's because no one here was sick of comedians or the shows and we were never treated like crap.  Maybe it was because every show here has always been so much fun for comics to work.  Just an awesome room.

So, I say good-bye to this place.  I'll be the last one staying in the hotel as I'm off to Pittsburgh from here on Thursday.  Gawd, I hope they don't demolish the place early, like on Wednesday morning while I'm sleeping.  I'd much rather hear the Amish guy in the corn field.

I'm putting up some pictures of the final night on my photos page. 

I realize I just posted yesterday, but I just had to say this and since it's 4:35am and no one I know is up right now that would listen to this rant, I thought I'd put it down here.

 I had some shopping to do tonight and as I was walking down an aisle, there was a bin of DVD's marked at $3.88.  There were a couple of really good films in there and then I eyeballed one that I've never seen before; one I was told that is "hysterical", so I picked up and then purchased Wild Hogs starring John Travolta, William H. Macy, Tim Allen, Martin Lawrence and Ray Liotta.

All I have to say is, what kind of fucking piece of shit did I just watch?  With all the screenplays floating around out there, someone decided to make this one??  Holy crap!!  And I mean CRAP!  How many dicks were sucked to get a cast like this together and then film one of the worst films ever??  Who wrote this script?  I couldn't even get through the end credits to look.  Oh my fucking god, I can't believe I just saw what I saw.  It's almost as if at some point during the filming, William H. Macy said, "I can afford to have a stink bomb at this time in my career.  It won't hurt anything.  Fargo, schmargo."  The only time I came close to laughing was during a Martin Lawrence scene.  I so wish Mystery Science Theater 3000 was still on, 'cause this would be a gem for them.

Oh my god, oh my god, ohmymotherfuckingod.

Alright..I'm gonna go watch Kinsey now.  I love that film.  Great screenplay and acting.  Plus there's nothing like a good sex-themed movie to get that abortion I just saw outta my head.  And when that's over, I'm going to hunt down my friend and open-hand slap her until she admits to having the worst taste in comedy films, ever.

Two thumbs and toes down!!

I've come to a point where I finally understand David Byrne and although I've always appreciated his approach to music and creativity as a whole, I'm glad to achieve a deeper level of knowing.  Okay, Psycho Killer is still a mystery but the song Once in a Lifetime is almost making sense to me.  Hm.  Stop Making Sense was an album of theirs, I think.

And you may ask yourself, well...how did I get here?

 This is going to be silly, obvious and ridiculously profound but the older you get, the more past you create.  Duh.  It's taken on a new meaning for me of late, and putting things in perspective in my life is helping me create a more hopeful and positive future. 

The ugliness of the past can actually be favorable and surprisingly, there isn't one hidden or facetious meaning in those words.  There are times in your life when there are moments of clarity and spiritual growth.  Take those moments and run with them, not away from them.  Use those moments and apply them toward what you're creating in your life and make them a part of who you are becoming.

Bunch of mumbo jumbo, eh?  No, not really.  I only know that the pain of my past IS the past and to leave it exactly there...in the past.  It's okay for me to talk about it with others, help them with what they might be experiencing but to live in that past is where trouble brews.  I see an awful lot of people stuck in their lives because they are allowing the previous experiences to rent space in their little heads.  Well, rent is expensive and who can afford that?  It's not a penthouse suite up there, ya know.  It's more like an efficiency apartment with a tiny kitchenette.  Crowded. 

Letting the days go by...let the water hold me down

When I struggle emotionally, it's due to what the past has created, but taking risks and allowing people to help has become a substantial ritual in my day-to-day living.  I refuse to become stagnant because of the things I have sustained; I'm moving forward and with minimal fear. 

I think what I'm trying to say is, I'm here, right now at this point in my life and it's for good reason.  I can remember my past with a clear and vibrant memory, and sometimes feeling the hurt or anger like it only happened yesterday;  sometimes reacting to current situations as if I were reliving the past.  The difference now is, I catch myself and stop when I'm reacting.  It won't dictate my present or future.  It's okay to be a grown-up and live a good life full of happiness and love.

The past is wayyyyy back there.  I'm learning to forgive and thank the people who helped me create my life up until now because without them, I wouldn't become who I am becoming for the future.

Same as it ever was...

I had a conversation with a girlfriend today and it got me completely frazzled, angry, frustrated and all other emotions that stem from frazzled, angry and frustrated.  I began to write about how I felt, but realized I've written about it before.  It's important to me and it's something I feel quite deeply about, so I decided to re-post it.   I wrote this last winter.

Mom and Dad  1953

My dad turned 83 years old this past Thursday but unlike most men his age, he's not sitting around the living room with his grandchildren or getting visits from aquaintances who want to wish him well. 

I could never see my Pops doing that.

Instead, dad spent his birthday in Portugal with a couple dozen soccer players that he coaches, kicking the ball around, brushing up on his Portuguese and eating a lot of great food, yet never gaining an ounce.  That's me dads, indeed.

Before I began writing this, I was on the phone with my mom who, with one arm, was busy making my father's favorite dinner while cleaning the dining room with the other arm and still found a moment to wonder if she'll have time to stop at the bakery before he got home from the airport.  They'll be married 54 years this May.

I hope I'm starting to paint a picture for you.  This is their marriage and it works.  It may not be the most intimate of marriages, but they understand each other, miss each other and love each other.  In the past decade or so, there's not a day that goes by where my dad doesn't say, "I love your mom.  I think I'll marry her someday".  Of course we have to pretend as if thats the first time he's ever said it and grant him a giggle.

"He's on the train home from JFK right now!", mom said.  And she said it with the happiest inflection.  I'm not unfamiliar with her sounding that way, but for some reason it just hit me today.  She doesn't like being without him and she still treats him with undying devotion and respect.  "How do you think you make a 54 year marriage survive, Nancy?  You always put it first".

Call me old fashioned, but I have to agree with her.  What do people think marriage is nowadays, anyhow?  Just a temporary way of saying, I'll be with you until this shit breaks down and then I'm out of here?  I realize some marriages are irretrievable, but if you're making a commitment and you are not being abused emotionally or physically or being cheated on incessantly, then work through your stuff with the same energy as when you were first together. 

I'm not perfect, not by a long shot but I've learned from my own mistakes.  Even when my last marriage was holding on by a thread, I wanted to do whatever I could to heal it.  But it takes two in order to mend whats broken.

A very good friend of mine in South Carolina sees it the same way.  She's a bright, beautiful, intelligent woman who homeschools her teenaged son, takes care of her mother who is very ill as well as running her household.  Her marriage is still at the forefront.  It's the little things, like hanging up the phone with a friend as he pulls in the driveway so she can greet him, making birthdays and other occassions special and always remembering to treat him like A MAN.  In return, her husband gives her the exact consideration he recieves.  I don't have any other female friend that knows how to be married the way she does.  I have great admiration for her.  For both of them.

I realize this post may piss off the feminists, but truly ladies: Fuck you.  Women can still maintain their individuality and career without losing respect for their marriage.  Somewhere along the line women adopted this inane notion that being married doesn't include having to care for or nuture a relationship.   I think the last thing a straight man wants is another man living with him.  So, doesn't it make perfect sense to be a woman for him?  Duh.   So put down the I deserve or If he can so can I  thinking.  What are you, 12?  Maturity mirrors maturity.  Responsibility reflects the same.

And the same goes for the men.  Treat her with respect and love.  If she wants to talk, do your best to just listen.  Be a man for her.  And food for thought: if you act like a little boy that's probably how you'll be treated.

Damnit, I sound like June Cleaver.  I'm not sure if I'll get married again, but if I did, I would look at the successful marriages that surround me and take note. 

As long as relationships and marriages are a part of our society I think it's important that we keep in mind that all it takes is a recipe of love, respect and commitment, then serve it on a silver platter to the one you've chosen to be with.

"Siddhartha reflected on his state.  He found it difficult to think; he had no desire to, but he forced himself."     ~Siddhartha by Herman Hesse

 Juggler Boy and Myself, with a typical reaction

Atantic City "International" Airport

"HEY!!!!"

"You slept on the plane, didn't you?"

"Yeah.  I was surrounded by a Pyramid Marketing conference on it's way here.  What else was I gonna do?"

"Get drunk and make them believe you were interested?"

"That's mean."

"No, that's entertainment while confined in a metal bird at 35,000 feet."

"You're crabby and you haven't slept yet.  I know you haven't.  You're chain smoking."

"It's 4:45am, it's Atlantic City,  I'm just chipper, and this is only the second pack today."

"Well, put the cigarette down.  I've got a present for you and pictures from Thailand.  Oh, and check out the new ink on the tattoos."

"Oooh, you finally got them colored in, eh?  Nice.  I've got some Bag Balm you can put on it when it starts to peel."

"What the fuck is Bag Balm?"

"You put it on your bag and your tats will stay moisturized."

"I didn't get my bag inked.  Seriously, what is that stuff?"

"Farmers use it on cow's udders when they start to chaffe."

"I'm definitely not using it now."

"You get tattooed in Thailand but you're grossed out by a canned product that's never touched an udder?"

 "That's right.  Lemme have a sip of your coffee."

"No way.  Diseases.  We'll get some on the way back.  You have your bags, can we leave now?"

"Do I have to put balm on them first?"

"You're getting a little sassy for a juggler, you know."

 "I learned it all from...hey, who are you staring at and what's up with the whistling?  Nance?"

Last night was another sleepless night in Las Vegas.  I paid a visit to my favorite watering hole where I don't get watered or holed for that matter.  I used to gamble there, quite a bit in fact, but the place still brings back some fond memories of lots of laughter.  The bartender Lance is a great dude and whenever I'm there he enjoys testing my music trivia skills.  He's in his early 30's so what the fuck does he know about The Alan Parson's Project?  Nothing, that's what.

Anyway, it would have been a great night for a drink.   My anxiety was so bad last week that I actually went to the doctor, who I can't afford and got a Xanax prescription.  I took two and threw the rest out because I can do this on my own.  And of course, I didn't drink.  I just sat there and had coffee and read the paper.  It's hard when your escape options are um...not an option, but sometimes just getting into a different atmosphere helps a bit.

 I talked to Lance.  I read.  I talked to Lance.  I read and sipped coffee.  Then some guy with an agenda sat in the chair next to me.  There are 30 stools at the bar and 29 of them were empty.  I wasn't in the mood to deal with what I felt was about to happen, so with a contrived smile, I quickly and quietly gathered my stuff and moved to the other end of the bar.  What I really wanted was to be alone with my thoughts, just as long as I wasn't in my home being alone with my thoughts.  Know what I mean?  You don't, huh. 

My thoughts consisted of really just one thing.  Apparently, someone close to my heart is having trouble with cleaning stuff and it's costly for a professional stuff cleaner to come in and help.  I know how that is.  It seems that his flooring is the general concern, moreso the marks left on the floor as they've embedded themselves in it.

I'd help him any way I could but I know it's something he should really do on his own.  If I could, and if he'd let me, I'd bring him some Murphy's Oil Soap and some soft cloths, get on my hands and knees with him and start wiping out the stubborn stains until they were gone.

And also, if I could, I'd make sure that he knew that I very rarely wear shoes, especially on beautiful and rare hardwood flooring.  Because not only would wearing shoes leave marks, it would ruin the finish. 

Yeah, I'd let him know all of that if I could.   I'd tell him I miss him.  Well that, plus I remembered the name of the band who recorded that 60's song we heard while walking that night.  It's Spiral Starecase.

"Thanks, Stephen.  I'll be here all week, if you wanna call..."

"Okay, and I won't forget to tip the waitresses."

"Ugh.  I didn't even catch that I said that, huh?"

"Nope, that was great.  Wait..shh..I have to keep my table-talk down to a minimum."

Stephen,

There aren't enough words to thank you for what you've done for me.  Your unselfish friendship, kindness and patience are unequaled and I love you more than you could possibly imagine.  I know I disappear now and again (sometimes you do too) but our friendship always withstands any length of time apart.   Nothing changes, including our acts.  Okay, my act.  Shut up...I need a closing bit, still.  If there was one thing Spin was good for, it was bringing us together in friendship. 

We've seen each other through so much and trust me, I wish neither of us had to go through what we did, but we made it.  And with all the conditions I've developed over the past few years, you've understood and shared your experiences and for that I'm grateful.  I really am.

The people out there should know the person that you are, so I put it here on these pages.  Well, that and the fact that you paid me big $$ to make you look good. 

Thanks for 10 years of friendship, thanks for talking me down tonight and thanks for letting me put you on mute while I peed.  I mean, we're friends...but that would have been pushing it.

Love always,

 Nancy

PS:  "Wait.....it's raining in Argentina."

You should all listen to Edvard Grieg's Pyr Gynt for this one.

Fuck MySpace, YouTube, the internet in general, AT&T, Verizon, Embarq, Sprint, National Enquirer, People Magazine, BritneyLohanHiltonRitchie, CNN, MSNBC (you rapers of journalism), and anyone or thing else that is trying to make our world a little smaller....FUCK YOU.  Not Bill Curtis though.  He rocks.  I love you, Bill.  And Tucker Carlson.  I say "Tucker" not for any other reason than I'd like to show him a thing or two after I've tied him up in bed with his own bow ties, and tease him until he screams "I'm not a Libertarian!!"  Say it, Tucker, say it.  God, thats hot. 

SHOW ME SOMETHING GOOD, PEOPLE....PLEASE!!!  Show me that you aren't all 12 fucking years old out there.  Show me that you aren't all so god damned shallow.  Show me whats REAL.  Not celebrities, or any fucking bullshit to pacify your inability to cope with your lives.  Come on, now!! 

This is what I want:

I want to call my mailman by name and ask how his wife is doing after her bout with the flu.

I want to go into the General Store and have them "put it on my tab". 

I want to have a block party and it's only me and my neighbor's house on the block.

I want to live in the town where it was safe to hitchike to work the way I used to, without worrying about who was stopping to give me a ride.

I want to decorate a Christmas tree out in the front yard.

I want to be late getting home because I got caught in another cow crossing.

I want to watch the deer from my back porch and curse at the raccoons for knocking over the garbage cans (again).

I want to make love on the rug in front of the pot belly stove.

I want to try to build another house and not be afraid of peeling logs this time.

I want to get called in to tend bar at a place I don't work.  It's just that the bartender is sick and the owner needs help.

I want to watch the gang play volleyball on Tuesdays.

I want to smoke some of the most fragrant hash I've ever had, listen to The Dead, dance if I feel like it and stare at the sky while I re-learn about Truth.

No cell phone, no computer.  Just some really great music and a kick ass book collection, the mountains, and the most incredible view of the Northern Lights you've ever seen.

Who's with me?