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Don't judge a book by its cover... This isn't about tube anemones.
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** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** WHEN LIFE GIVES YOU LEMONS SQUIRT THE JUICE INTO THE EYES OF YOUR ENEMIES... |
| Oh. I suppose that would cut down on some confusion. I thought it said if you could live a year over, which would it be, not if you could live any age for a week, what would it be. Duh. I wrote a whole, not very good, entry about the former. Now it's time for one on the actual prompt. I hope it didn't say if you could go back, because I actually want to go forward. If I could be any age for a week, I would pick the age of fifty. For those of you not yet fifty, you might ask why I would choose to be older, rather than relive the glories of my youth. The truth is, my youth wasn't very glorious. I had a lot of fun, but I don't want to be young and stupid again. I might have chosen sixteen, when I was in the best shape of my life and wasn't yet feeling even a twinge of pain. That was glorious. Maybe I should rethink this... No. I want to be fifty, just for one week, to see how I feel. To see if I can walk, or breathe on my own. I want to know if I still have my mind, or if it's more pleasant to be lost to dementia, if it's intermittent, or permanent. Am I bedridden? Am I in so much pain I can't stop screaming? Is someone coming around to change me when I soil myself? Blech. Or have I possibly been cured, or in remission, or at least feeling better than I do now? Maybe I feel great at fifty! Maybe I've won the lottery or something and have been able to be injected with some really wonderful stem cells! Maybe I'm glowing in my good health and joy! Maybe I can dance, and run, and play, and go up and down stairs without screaming. Perhaps I will even be able to hold things without dropping them, or screaming. Hmmm. Screaming seems pretty prevalent. So you see, it's important to know how I'm going to feel at fifty. I need to see if it's going to be worth it. Maybe I could split the week? Fifty for the first half, sixteen for the remainder? See, that way I might appreciate one or the other more. |
| Today's prompt is about going back and living an age again. Usually I just start typing and let things flow without much thought. Not today. This required a great deal of thought. There haven't been a lot of years I would go back to, just to live it over. Some of you may be familiar with Wish #3: Go back and change it all. However, in the interest of following guidelines, I went on a journey of the mind, from the first year I could remember (4) to the last year I can remember (uh...this one? Mostly?), picking up an age, examining it closely in the natural light of the sun, and discarding it over my shoulder like a chicken bone. After a few hours of careful consideration of one year in particular, I set it aside. It's tiring work examining and rejecting whole years of your life as if they were flawed gems, and also, my turkey soup was about done cooking, so I settled on the one I had set aside. Year 15. Year 15. I had my learners permit, and friends who were (insane) willing to let me drive their cars. I was too cool for school, so to speak, so I had a lot of time on my hands. That was when I put down the trumpet and picked up the guitar. I had a lot of friends, there was always somewhere to go, someone to hang out with, beer to drink, pot to smoke, parties to attend. I had a lot of fun that year, though in retrospect, I'm not sure it was worth it. I lived though, God, how I lived! That was the last year of my life before I realized that it couldn't all be fun and games. I won't say I was innocent, because I was hell on borrowed wheels, but I guess a sort of innocence died in me the next year. I can't even tell you what I did that year, except party. Dumb, I know. Maybe that's why I would live it again, because the other year's I can remember, and I don't really want to. Yeah. I was 15 years old, and I would live it again, as long as it was just that one year. Flies and Honey, my friends. Pass it around.  (get it? It flies! 625 emoticons, and no fly  ) |
| Had several truly horrible nightmares last night, but I immediately blocked them out when I woke up in a cold sweat. All I remember is they were what I call seizure dreams, trembling and black. I used to at least reflect on them upon waking, but these were so bad I instantly threw them away. Weird. I almost wish I could remember something so awful it would make me do that... Gotta go, Bedlam's tomorrow, gonna be a super long and painful day. When all of your wishes are granted, many of your dreams will be destroyed. The end. |
| ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** My family. Right now my family consists of my brother, who I don't really have any particular feelings for, and my love, who I would lay down my worthless life for, and Libs. I hang out with bro occasionally, because he's married to my best friend. Why does she like me? I don't remember, or I'm not sure. Why does my love like me? I make him laugh, I clean up his messes, I make sense of things that he doesn't understand, to bring order to his fears. I'm the other side of his damaged penny. I don't know why people like me. I certainly don't like myself much. Libs and I have been best friends for 21 years. We were instant buds. We've shared almost everything in our lives, and I feel like that's only because as time goes by, I shut her out more and more. There was a period of about six months when we barely talked at all, because I truly feel like I am a plague. Everyone I love suffers for it. I didn't tell her that. She would have laughed and said that's ridiculous, and the thing is, I know it's ridiculous, but I also know it's right. She did her thing though, and got me to come over. She's the smart one, the rational one. I tell her less and less as days go by. I'm careful to steer every conversation like a ship through a reef, making sure we don't break on the rocks. If a topic starts going somewhere personal for me, I ask about her mom, and it's off to the races for two or three hours. Poor Libs. I don't have the faintest idea why she likes me. My love. I'm not sure why he likes me either, and the more I think about it, the more I wonder. He does the same thing I do to Libs, evading questions, steering us away... but I know that trick. I ask why he stays with me, and he answers that I make him happy. How do I do that? What do I do? I don't know, is his response. Don't get me wrong, we have great fun together, and I truly believe he loves me. But like me? Hell if I know. My brother. Like most siblings in a broken home, we had a rough childhood, but rather than bond, our age difference(he's six years older) caused me to be his fool. I so wanted to be with him and his friends, and did whatever horrible things they wanted, so I could be included. I never learned that I was the butt. He hurt me, humiliated me, broke my spirit. When he went to prison, I felt free. I told people who didn't know me that I was an only child. I was an only child for ten years, until he got out. I thought we could try again, as friends, because I didn't know him anymore anyway. Another ten years has gone by, but I still feel indifferent toward him. I think he cares about me, but maybe only because Libs does. I honestly don't know if he likes me or not. I don't like him much, except that he makes her happy. I guess the only reason I can come up with is that I make people laugh, and people love a clown. Or fear them. I must be a clown, because I inspire both laughter and fear. I don't try for either, and don't think I accomplished either in this entry. Just melancholy sadness. Bummer. |
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Oh this is something I can really get behind! Today's prompt for the Circle 'O Blog Buddies is If you could have three wishes, what would they be? This is a topic I've given long thought to, as have most people, I think. Wish #1: Oh Genie of the magic lamp, my first wish is to be completely pain free for the rest of my life. I know there's a downside to this. I might cut my finger off and not notice until the blood starts squirting everywhere, but I've almost done that anyway. Worked at Subway for awhile, and we used these insanely sharp knives to cut bread. I was in a rush, and as I focused on my customer and cut the bread at the same time, I watched his face turn the most interesting shade of gray. He was watching my hands intently, and ignored my query about what kind of cheese he wanted, so I looked down in annoyance to see what was so fascinating. To my surprise, I had carved a U-shaped chunk out of my hand, and blood was rapidly soaking into the bread. "Oh." I said, in mild surprise. Hadn't felt a thing. I wrapped my pouring hand in a rag and threw the bread away, calling over my shoulder for someone to take care of the customer. He shook his head weakly and staggered away. I sincerely hope he didn't get in a wreck, but there were more important things to think about. Like disinfecting my gaping wound. But the upside was that I didn't feel a thing until I poured peroxide over it. No more pain, ever. A good thing. Wish #2: Oh Genie, please grant me the power of invisibility. What? No, I don't want to be invisible all the time, I want to control it. I don't want to steal anything, or sneak into the movies, I want to build a house in the woods. When people come, I'll be invisible, and pretend I'm a ghost until they leave. That would be the ultimate fun. Serenity. Also a good thing. And finally, Wish #3: I wish to live my life over, knowing then what I know now. Many people say "I'd do it all the same." Not me. I'd change every fucking thing I've ever done. I'd save my mother's life. I'd save my own. To hell with the consequences. To hell with whatever I undid, or caused, or caused not to happen. I would do every single thing differently. Butterfly effect. A paradoxical thing. And an excellent movie. On a side note, had a great day. Had Thanksgiving dinner with my loves large family. The weather was nice so we didn't have to stay inside the tiny trailer with thirty other people. That's a plus. He takes his family for granted, which pisses me off. It was always just me, my mom, and my brother, until he went to prison, then just me and my mom. When she started working three jobs, it was just me. When I lost the little family I'd made for myself, I was utterly alone. I feel awkward around all those people, but it's nice. It's nice to have family around, even if they aren't technically mine. He grew up in this huge family, and only deals with them when he has to. Makes me mad. On a side note, there's something I forgot to mention in my blog post about what I'm thankful for, and it's not ass kissing, I promise. I'm thankful for joining this blog group, because it forces me to write in a focused sort of way, rather than just blather on senselessly about my day. I get good ideas, and I'm forced to think about things I wouldn't normally think about, which is a good exercise for my brain, which is atrophying at an exponential rate. I enjoy the challenge. It's late, and I'm tired, so it's beddy-bye time for me. Had some other things to say, but I don't remember now. So goodnight, sleep tight, don't let the horseflies bite. Slather on the Honey so they can't get down that far. Night night. |
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** First things first, welcome new members to The Super Duper Blogging Circle of Friends! And Happy Birthday to others. I'm having a serious brain fog day, so please forgive me. I am soooo thankful this day is over! Seriously. You folks eat a lot of pizza the day before Thanksgiving! But I and my dauntless crew fed the masses and all are satisfied. Unfortunately, I have some really interesting diseases, and days like this leave me feeling like a pile of naked, open nerves and muscle, dripping off the car seat. I worked from 10:00am to 9:00pm. I'm in so much pain. As soon as I'm done with this I'm going to take a HOT shower, finish Season 8 of House, and not move until sometime tomorrow. So to reiterate, I am thankful that the day is over. The work part, anyway. I almost reposted an entry I made a few days ago, but that's against the rules, I believe. Too bad. I'm sleepy. So I'm taking the low road. I'm thankful for pharmaceuticals. I'm thankful for my dogs. Also for my best friend, and my love. I'm not homeless, I have a car, and hot water, and heat. I'm thankful that my kids are somewhere living a better life than I could possibly give them. I had another idea, but my love distracted me with a very weird subject. I won't go into it. It's innapropriate. But it deals with using Nair on parts you shouldn't use it on...  So in conclusion, I'm thankful for the scalding shower I'm about to take, and the bed I'm about to sleep in, and the pain meds I'm about to take to my use. Oh! And God bless music and Steven King! I remembered! Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Hold those close to you, help others when you can, and don't take anything for granted. Eat turkey and watch football, or shop, or whatever, and be happy with what you have. Goodnight, and remember, as always, Flies and Honey! |
| ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** I'm so proud to be a part of The Blogging Circle of Friends! It's a blast! It also causes one to reflect, and dive into things one might not often think about. Like skydiving. Today's prompt is about skydiving, whether we've done it, or would like to. I'm getting nauseous just thinking about it. I have some kind of weird condition that gives me vertigo when I get more than three feet off the ground. You can see how interesting my life must be, because my idea of living on the edge is leaning over the railing of my second story apartment. Now that's excitement. Oh, and try getting up on a ladder! This is free amusement park stuff, guys. It's not that I'm afraid of heights, though I used to be. I think that stemmed mostly from my brother coaxing me up onto the roof of the house when I was six, and then chunking me off, where I landed in a broken heap on the driveway. You know, in retrospect, maybe it's the brain injury I incurred then that causes my vertigo now. Call it a safety device. My brain sends out an emergency alarm when such and such height occurs, and the glands send out toxins to shut down the body, to keep it from incurring said injury again. But come on! That was a long time ago! Can't we just let it go already? I can pretty much take care of myself now! As much as I would love to go skydiving, or mountain climbing, or getting on a plane, or going higher than the fourth floor of a building, it's pretty much out of the question. Vomiting and passing out seem kind of counterproductive. When I win the redneck lottery (as my love calls it, I'm not sure what makes it different from a regular lottery), we're supposed to move to Australia. I will certainly miss the scenery as we fly over wonders, but I'm sure that I will enjoy the long, drug induced nap. |
| ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Ironically, or so I believe, my name in the OTHER world means "Old and wise". That's pretty much a joke, but I do have a few words of wisdom for those who come after me. Assuming, of course, that they aren't coming after me with pitchforks and torches. First and foremost, be careful with your body. It's the only one you have, unless you're lucky enough to afford a total body regeneration, but supposedly those don't exist, so good luck. I remember being a kid and thinking I was indestructible. Got news for you, sweetheart. You are totally destructible. And you will totally destruct at some point, so why not make it later rather than sooner? You should take every opportunity to make others laugh, because they will in turn make you laugh. Laughing might give you wrinkles, make your stomach hurt, make you cry, but for all that, it really is the best medicine. If you don't have much to laugh about, I've found that dancing around like a fool and singing loud, off-key opera works well on others. While it is medicine, laughter is a contagious and airborne form, so you'll be feeling better in no time. Lastly, Flies and Honey. I suppose it's about time to explain that. You know the saying, surely, about catching more flies with honey than vinegar? Well I believe wholeheartedly in that great axiom. No matter how obnoxious I am sometimes, I still can get what I need, because I'm never rude or mean. On the outside. Too bad my insides aren't made of honey. Anyway, rudeness and ugliness are not allowed in my vicinity, to me or anyone else. I try to spread this message a little everyday, until all the world will be covered with happy, sticky flies. Well, until later, Flies and Honey, Friends! |
| A groan of tedium escapes me, startling the fearful. Is this a test? It has to be. Otherwise I can’t go on. Draining patience, drain vitality. This paranoid, paralyzed vampire acts a little old. But I’m still right here, giving blood and keeping faith. And I’m still right here. But I’m still right here, giving blood and keeping faith. And I’m still right here. Wait it out... I’m gonna wait it out. Be patient... If there were no rewards to reap, no loving embrace to see me through, this tedious path I’ve chosen here, I certainly would’ve walked away, by now. Gonna wait it out If there were no desire to heal, The damaged and broken met along this tedious path I’ve chosen here, I certainly would’ve walked away, by now. And I still may... And I still may... Be patient. [x3] I must keep reminding myself of this... [x4] If there were no rewards to reap, No loving embrace to see me through, this tedious path I’ve chosen here, I certainly would’ve walked away by now. And I still may, and I still may, and I still may, and I may... Gonna wait it out. Gonna wait it out. Wait it out. Gonna wait it out. |
| Okay, first things first. I've made a revolutionary breakthrough with my scientific theory of cell necrosis. In my years of experimentation, with the L.D.50 of large rats and guinea pigs being 3.2 ml through direct inhalation and oral administration, I've concluded my theory as follows: gold spray paint and dramamine mix in such a way as to cause an extremely slow chemical reaction which, over time, causes the breakdown of otherwise healthy tissue into jelly. I am a large rat, and Libs is a guinea pig. I hope the jelly is at least strawberry. Then I will have served some kind of service to mankind, as my cell quantity will yield approximately twenty two pounds of jelly. This comes after careful calculation of H2O vs body mass\moon phase. Do you have peanut butter? That being said, Dust devil swept you away, it's still not real, ash and urn and silence, my recollections are all thats left of you...Horizon. Apparently it has come around time to once again go around the table and say what we are thankful for. I myself am thankful that I didn't know Thanksgiving was this week until I looked at next weeks schedule. What was once one of my favorite holidays has been reduced to so much ash and rubble to sift through. Metaphorically. Two things I'm definitely thankful for: 1. Maynard James Keenan. To some, it may seem stupid...wait, you don't know who he is, and I feel sorry for you. Maynard is the singer for several bands, Tool, A Perfect Circle, and Puscifer. He is also the owner and proprietor (is that the same thing?) of Caduceus Cellars and Merkin Vineyards in Jerome Arizona. Now back to my previous thought. To some, it may seem stupid to be thankful for someone I've never physically met, nor am I ever likely to, at this rate. However, he has changed me for the better in so many ways. I remember the first time I heard him. Besides having the voice of an angel, his songs (well, most of them, anyway) are really about something. The first song I heard was called Prison Sex. Read into that what you will. It is about the cycle of evil that comes from molestation, a struggle toward some sort of normalcy, some sort of temporary sanity, that a victim tries for. I wrote a thesis on it in college that made my professor cry. But I remember when I heard it, and just listening, jaw down to my chest, as I experienced the most profound sense of terrible beauty. Then, years and years later, at a darkly dangerous time in my life, popping in my eagerly anticipated brand new copy of Lateralus. I was driving, because there's no way I can wait when it comes to Maynard, and this song came on called The Patient. I had to pull over because I couldn't see through the tears. It was like a sign from God to hang in there, things will get better. Did they? I don't know, I'm still alive, and who knows what great things may or may have happened because of that? The point is that he moves me with an unseen connection, like an invisible umbilicus that stretches between us over the miles and eons. His beautiful and often hilarious soul has kept me tethered here, for what purpose I do not know. But I will trust in his vision because he makes me feel part of something bigger than I can possibly imagine. 2. Steven King. The same applies here. He was my first hero, and I swear if he wrote a menu I would read it as voraciously as I read anything he writes. The man isn't a genius, as I once thought, just a tool (yes, absolutely, pun intended) of our mysterious creator. He is the most honest writer there is, and believes as I do that we are not the makers, nor creators, only the conduits. I don't 'make up' my stories any more than he, they are already there, being whispered into our minds, and we simply write them down. Not to belittle my craft or anyone else's, but we are no more than the hands on the keyboard. We might think we are the makers, but be a little humble and look deep. We are not Gan, we are Kas-Ka-Gan, the ideas of a sleeping god. Or so we believe. I am also thankful for Libs, and my love, and all things that have enriched my life. The short years I had with my children, the little bits of love I received from my mom, all the animals I was lucky enough to know, and most of all, the fact that I have a roof over my head, heat, hot water, a good car, and health insurance. So to all those with families, gather them to you, put aside your differences, and rejoice in your love. If you have no family, I am lonely with you. But perhaps if you look deep you'll find there are other things to be thankful for. And hopeful. Hope is the thing with feathers, there has to be a winner because of hope, hope is what keeps you from eating a dirt sandwich sometimes. Hope that it might get better, that you made or will make some kind of difference, or change someone for the better. And if you happen to be blessed with the ability, reach out at any time and try to make that difference in anyone you come across, at any time. It doesn't have to a holiday to do some good. |
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I was never sick after a flight, real or imagined, and I have flown countless times.