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This is my blog. I just went through a divorce; it was the worst thing that has yet to happen to me. This is me dealing with it and life. It's my blog; I write about what I want. I hope you enjoy. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** The above was me about three years ago. It is the most up to date digital photo I have.
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| My blog has been seriously slacking lately. It is amazing how when life gets busy; it gets really busy. I currently have five major tasks on my hands now; I have to work, study French, write short stories, volunteer for the Autonomous Urban Vehicle project, and blog. Blogging has been falling short. My blog has gone from things about my life to things that I think about. When I was in a writing drought, I wrote nice blogs about how I wasn't funny because I was an engineer or how I believe in competition. Once the pencillin found the writer's block, my blog became introspective and selfish! Yay! I guess my writer's block is closely tied to how hard I try to hide my feelings. Does this happen to anyone else? My writing professor says that a writer must confront those dark, emotional places in his/her/its soul for that emotion to come across the page. I have been writing like a madman for a while now, and that emotion is stuck in my thoughts and dreams. (On a side note, my dreams have been spectacular lately! Sexy, funny, scary and that one were someone is chasing me, all last night!) I am stuck on dark emotions because I love human relations. I don't understand how relationships, plutonic or otherwise, work. So, I write in an attempt to figure out why certain people think I am funny and why others have restraining orders! (Just kidding, they haven't been filed yet!) For the purpose of making a story not boring, I like to deal with conflicting emotions, unrequited love, friendships that are torn due to misunderstanding, and basic human flaws like an aversion to deal with reality (I'm looking at you, Congress.) These emotions get stuck in my head like Hey Jude. No matter how hard I shake, they won't come out. On the plus side, the accompanying dizziness is fun for short periods of time. So, I write because running head first into a brick wall just wasn't working for me. However, my head has that nice flat piece for my Frankenstein costume this halloween. My costumed pick-up line will be, "Hey, baby, my flat head is great for setting your drink on, and my ears make great handholds!" Last year, when I tried this trick, Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz was the only gal to accept the offer, and thanks to a quick tip from Fred and Ethel Mertz, I found out that Dorothy was a Doroth-he! Whew! Dodged a Toto there. Anyways, enough bad Halloween puns. And, no, none of the above actually happened. Seriously, who would dress up as Fred and Ethel? This year, I am going to go as Spider Pig from the Simpsons movie. I am going to start shopping this weekend. The key is to find a mask that is comfortable and allows me to do shots. Oh, and I need to find someone whose costume is a sober ride home. I don't drink and drive; not since the auto-mo-car was invented. Let me tell ya, there is nothing better than downing some 'shine and taking the horse and carriage for a spin around town. Churning butter the next morning can be a real bitch. Well, I am done wasting your time. Have a great rest of the day, and remember, our taxes are paying those idiots in Washington to write bills condemning Rush Limbaugh instead of...oh, I don't know...helping the poor, maybe? Paying our troops better? Who am I kidding, condemning Rush is way more important than running this country. What was I thinking? Grifter Courage doesn't roar. It's that quiet voice at the end of the day that whispers, "I will begin again, tomorrow." |
| I am so busy; I have a French test tonight. I am not ready, so I am going to have to study hard. French is a great language, but it is tough for this boy to learn. Tomorrow night, my short story class meets. Will we be discussing my story? No! Two others showed up with their stories. One was an 1,8xx word list/description of the perfect female spy. The other was 3,1xx words about digestion from the point of view of food. The final scene is with a man on the toilet. It was as creative as it was distasteful. It felt like the writer was playing a joke on us because we are forced to read a fantastical story about a bowel movement. My story will be up next week; it ended up being 5,1xx words long. I am very anxious to see what the class thinks. From the two I have read so far, my story has a shot at being top dog. Not that it matters! Grifter |
| This is my entry for thursday; since I will be unable to visit a computer tomorrow till way late. I have a bunch of funny crap going on...forgot my license to rent a car, have to get it later tonight, ex-wife called sick as a dog expecting me to be her knight in shining, husky-sized armor, and me being an idiot and putting on my shiny, husky-sized armor because it sounded like she was dying! I had another entry about angry sex, but it contained some very adult things that I don't want on my blog. Besides, it would fit under the category of too much info. I had a blog entry about violence, but I am running out of time before class to write. So, I want to leave you with a question. Should you be nice to someone who treats you like shit and will continue to treat you like shit even though you are nice to them, when being nice to them will cost you nothing except a momentary twinge of memory? My answer is in that first paragraph. She was sick, and even though it bought me nothing to be nice, it cost me nothing. I felt that if I wasn't nice, I wouldn't be me. Now, I am off to do something nice for myself, but it is going to cost me a $1.00; I need a diet dew! Grifter Courage doesn't roar. It's that quiet voice at the end of the day that whispers, "I will begin again, tomorrow." |
| Tonight is my short story class, and I turn in my story. I am so excited; this story has evolved and grown on me. I keep reading and reading it. I am very happy with it, and once I get the revisions from class, I am going post the corrected copy on here. I am ready to get on with another story. I am having a hard time thinking of plots. I have one plot that I am thinking of, but the way I want to tell it is hard. I want to tell a story set at a funeral. It is about a man who never told his father that he was gay, and the way that the story is told is through people gossiping at the funeral. And, gasp, his lover is black. It has be told as gossip because I want it to reflect the people in the small town. It is a project that is way more controversial than I see myself being. My troubles will be that I am having a hard time keeping the story straight with lots of narrators. It eventually might have to be just one narrator. Plus, this will stretch my empathy because I am a straight, white man. I will have to use the old imagination to write about the difficulties of coming out of the closet, and I can't say that I have ever been discriminated against because of the color of my skin. I may need more practice before I tackle this. I want to be offensive without coming across as a bigot. Unfortunately, this will take more time than I have to create my second story for this class. But this story speaks to me. I know what it is like to be the center of gossip in a small town, and I know what it is like to be a small town gossip. We'll see; I have a lot of writing to do in my future. Maybe this one will make it out. Grifter Courage doesn't roar. It's that quiet voice at the end of the day that whispers, "I will begin again, tomorrow." |
| My first story for class is finished. Well, it isn't finished, but it is as far along as I can get it before class. It is 21 pages double-spaced. I have to print up eleven more copies before tomorrow. Two hundred thirty-one printed pages for my class to mark up. I am a little nervous; I wonder if my feelings will be hurt when they revise my papers. bugzy is baaaccck!!   has helped me revise. She has pointed out the mistakes I make in my writing, and I really appreciate that she has done this for me. When I received her comments, I was excited. My feelings were not hurt. Of course, she kept her comments focused on the work. She did not criticize me, just my work. I wonder if the students will focus on the work or the worker. I hope it is the former, but my professor said that there is always one or two that focus on the latter.Thank you, thank you, bugzy is baaaccck!! . I appreciate this, and whatever grade I receive is partly yours! |
| Saturday was a great day. I went to work and got a lot done; then I went out with my friends later than night. We went to a bar called Lucas Park, and we had a great time. We joked with each other about all the pretty girls around, but the night was young. Then, we moved to a dance club called Kyo. There was a line outside, which I have never seen. And instead of going straight into the bar area, we were ushered upstairs. Upon arriving upstairs, we found that it was indeed a special night. The upstairs is mostly open to the area below. It is railed off so that the people upstairs can watch the dance floor down below. Across the railed walkway on the other side of the second floor of the club, topless women were getting painted. That's right. They had on something covering the nipple, but paint was the only other thing on her. My friends stopped and watched. I ordered my drink, watched the blonde goddess get the first strokes of the brush put on, and then I went to the dance floor. I went there to dance, and I felt like I was at a strip club just standing there watching. When I got downstairs, no one was dancing. So, I went back upstairs. As people started dancing, I started dancing. These painted girls were also dancing and walking through the crowd. For some reason, I felt really awkward and didn't feel like trying to pick up a gal's number. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the painted gals, but I liked the regular club goers much better. I just wanted to dance, and I did. I left at two, an hour before closing time, because my legs were just too tired. Three straight hours of dancing will do that to me on days that I work. I had a great time, and I woke up Sunday feeling great. I ate breakfast with the kitties. They had their Purina, and I had my slice of pizza from dinner the night before. I was wondering why I felt awkward. Guys were picking up gals left and right with the topless women running around. So, why did I hesitate? I gave my word that I would forsake all others till death do us part. Unforunately, my marriage isn't legally dead, yet. It is dead in every way, but it is not official yet. I couldn't break my word. I know that may seem like an excuse; maybe it is. I don't think it is because I have been that way all my life. I grew up a country boy. If I gave a person my word, I kept it. I would not break my word no matter how easy it was. Even if it was the best thing for me, I did not break my word. I can only break it to avoid hurting myself or someone else, physically. That is one part of me that I really am proud of, no matter how much it sucks sometimes. I think there was plenty of opportunity to say hi to girls, but I avoided it. I don't know what a signal from a woman is anymore. I think I was getting a few signals, but I can't be sure. I was too afraid to ask, and until my divorce is finalized, I don't want to even lead someone on. I couldn't break my word, and I can't cross that line until my wife puts her signature on the line. Sometimes, having morals sucks. Grifter Courage doesn't roar. It's that quiet voice at the end of the day that whispers, "I will begin again, tomorrow." |
| After two bottles of wine last night, I woke to a purring room. When I cleared the cobwebs, I realized my Nelly was on my chest. She was purring, and Saleen was at my shoulder, purring. Amazingly, I didn't have a hangover. This is amazing. I am known for titanic hangovers. Usually, I feel like Zeus as Athena is being born from his mind. My brain soaks up the alcohol and expands to 100 times its normal size. This morning, no hangover. So, that is good. I probably shouldn't have drank so much, but oh well. I can't change the past. Next time, I will have to find a better outlet, though. Today, I feel better; I am not as light and bubbly as I was yesterday at this time. But, I am doing okay. I am going out tonight with my friends. I am going to have a great time. I am actually going to buy new pants today for tonight. I need nice pants for the nice gals. I am not a big clothes guy, but I am happy that I am able to do something nice. Thank you all for your support on last nights blog. It really meant a lot. Thanks! Grifter Courage doesn't roar. It's that quiet voice at the end of the day that whispers, "I will begin again, tomorrow." |
| I got home, and a letter from my lawyer was in the mail. He had scheduled a court date apparently. I did not tell him to do this; so, I called my wife to ask if she had scheduled a court date. She was a complete bitch and hung up on me. I am so upset. I had such a great attitude. I was happy, and then I called her. Stupid me, huh? I thought we could talk like adults. Obviously, I was wrong. I was so happy at the beginning of this day. I let her get me down, though. WEll, I have one bottle of wine down. It was a Californian White Merlot. It was excellent. Most red wines, actually, need to be cooled to 60 - 65 degrees F. You can accomplish this by putting the red in the fridge for 20 minutes prior to drinking. I followed my own advice. It was wonderful. I have a Californian Moscato airing itself right now. It is another wine. I am hitting it hard because the only way to happiness is to leave and never again see the woman that I love. Life is funny like that, right? I finally met the woman that I would lay my life on the line for, and she walks out. I can chase her forever and be miserable; or I can stay away and pray for healing. I know I will heal; she just knows how to rip open the wounds. I am on here spilling my guts and my soul because I have to let it go. I have to get back to entry 100, Eric. I like him a lot because that is me. I am a positive guy; she can make negative. I have to be positive so tomorrow night I can get laid! Okay, well, that might be putting the cart before the horse, but I felt great today. I was very outgoing at work, and I know I can get back there if I spew this nastiness now!!!! Sorry to all who read that this isn't bubbly, but it is therapeutic for me. I have pretty girls to smile at, and this helps. I was feeling like the fun guy whose body I once inhabited. I will be after I let go of all the crap that she seems to elicit. Thank you for listening. I feel much, much lighter already. * * * Thank you, to *Barbara Maria* for the merit badge. She gave me one for journaling. I appreciate it. She has a great blog, and I would recommend that you check it out, but my readers are all the same ones on her comment list. So, go over and give her a hug to let her know how special she is. Go Louisiana!Grifter Courage doesn't roar. It's that quiet voice at the end of the day that whispers, "I will begin again, tomorrow." |
| Today is a new day, and I wish each of you the best. Today is a chance to start something new or finish something old. Why is today special? Because we are alive. Being alive is a dynamic condition in which everything can change, but our tendency is become static, to pause while life swirls around us. “Dance as though no one is watching Love as though you've never been hurt Sing as though no one can hear you Live as though heaven is on earth.” - Souza I saw the above quote yesterday evening, and I thought it wonderful. It is so true. We have the chance to make our own heaven each day. My hope and wish for everyone is that today they are making their life a little better. I am. Today is my 100th entry. It is amazing because I knew I had a lot of crap to say, but I didn't know so many people would actually read it!  Thank you to all who have read my thoughts and commented. Thank you to purtycurls . She was the first comment I received, and it instilled a tad bit of self confidence. So, blame her! Anyways, thanks, and here's to a 100 more. Cheers.* * * Positive thought for the day: "To laugh often and love much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition, to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded." Ralph Waldo Emerson Grifter Courage doesn't roar. It's that quiet voice at the end of the day that whispers, "I will begin again, tomorrow." |
| Woo-hoo for writing class. Last night I was able to contribute to our discussion of the reading. I also made sense! Yay for understanding something! We also had to do a character chart. It was chart laid out to give the professor some idea about our characters and story. I knocked it out of the park. I had the best one there. I knew my character better than anyone else knew theirs. One small problem arose. My character wasn't the main character of my story. After writing this chart, I realized that she should be. I wrote this story three weeks ago. I have been constantly revising since then. bugzy is baaaccck!! was very kind and helped me revise it. (Thank you, very much.) Her revisions led to more thought about my characters, and more thought led to me understanding that I was telling the story from the wrong viewpoint. So, out of my mind spewed this character chart. Actually, my character wrote a monologue listing answering every item on the chart.After I finished, the room was silent. I thought I had done well, but no one had anything to say. Then the professor said, "Very well done. You really know this character." The only negative came from the token feminist of the group. (There's always one, right?) She said that I had to be sensitive to a middle aged woman's issues. Well, duh! Isn't that the point of writing? Because we are sensitive to our characters? Anyways, after a small rant about being sensitive to women, she said, "I don't mean to say you did a bad job." Well, if that is true, learn to say what you mean. She insinuated that I a late 20's male could not identify with a late 30's female. Well, maybe she had a point, but I don't care. I will write this woman as I see her. Hopefully, I won't stink up the joint! But the negatives were small compared to the positives. I felt very happy going home last night. The story is due next week; I will be the first or second reviewed. So, next week, I will know if I have a shot at being a writer or not. I will have to face the reviews and see if I can go anywhere with my short stories or if I should stick to blogwork ranting against happiness and deconstructing the actions of my cats. Wish me luck! I have one week to rewrite a story. Grifter Courage doesn't roar. It's that quiet voice at the end of the day that whispers, "I will begin again, tomorrow." |
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