Well, F**k a Duck

I'm not going to lie. I'm kind of annoyed that this post is even coming out of my brain...but dude. Seriously?? The Duck Dynasty dude is an idiot. But take a step back for a minute and chill the fuck out.

I'm sick of people blowing up the Facebook and Twitter feeds about First Amendment bullshit.

I don't recall reading about Mr. Duck getting arrested for what he said.  And I'm sick of  what  he said getting bandied about--it continues to propagate the hate. And that's just what he wanted.

Take a step back.

For one second look at the situation not the comments.

Let's change the script.


OK. I've had time to sleep on this. I actually fell asleep last night while writing this and thus decided it was time to go to bed.

Here's the thing. There are some key points that bug the fuck out of me with this whole Duck Dynasty bullshit.

1. His First Amendment Rights were never violated. He was never arrested. The authorities never came to his house and detained him for questioning based on what he said in the interview. He was just 'suspended.' His bosses didn't agree with what he said and were, I'm sure, looking for ways to do damage control on his incendiary comments.  You have the right in America to say what you feel you need to say, however job security is not a right. If your boss wants to fire you for being a dick, hit the bricks, pal.

2. I'm annoyed with people using the Old Testament of the Bible to push their agenda of hate and exclusion and in the same conversation reminding people that Jesus died for their sins. Do you even know how fucked up that is?  Seriously?!? Old Testament has some harsh laws...and harsh punishments for disobeying those laws. And a large portion of America would be in some deep shit--especially when Red Lobster has their Endless Shrimp Buffet.  God knew shit wasn't working and people weren't quite getting it. So the story goes in the second half of the Bible, that he sent his son to die for everyone's sins FOR ALL TIME. Meaning you don't have to go back to the Old Testament ways!!! Get the fuck out of the Old Testament. OR, and here's a novel thought, if you're truly going to live according to the Old Testament laws then live by ALL of them.  See how far you get before you have to stone your neighbor or your wife to death. Seriously. It's a brutal set of laws if you actually read through it.

Stop using the Bible as a means to persecute. Focus on the main theme of the New Testament Love Thy Neighbor and you'll be just fine. I don't give a fuck if you believe in God or not--Love Thy Neighbor.

3. Reality TV is not real. I know I've said this before, but everything that happens on reality TV is scripted. If you think that the editors didn't know what kind of narrow-minded asshole Mr. Duck was long before the GQ interview, you're sadly mistaken. I would bet money that there is footage on the cutting room floor where he's saying worse. The difference is, they could edit it out.

And while we're on the topic of what he said...people, get over yourself about homosexuality. Please?

I'm not going to get in to the whole nature vs. nurture born that way vs. chose to be that way bullshit. Why? Because it doesn't matter.

It's love.


Read that again.


I'm going to put something in here from the Bible. Since so many of you claim to follow this book, you should be familiar with the passage from First Corinthians, chapter 13, verse 4-7:

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

I keep reading that and am hard-pressed to see where that only applies to male-female relations. If someone truly loves another person--let them. True love is such a rare and fleeting gift.

I wonder where we would be if more Christians actually started their day with this passage? If they remembered this with every interaction with every person they met. If they truly 'got' the memo of loving one another as Jesus loved them?

God or no God. Christian or not. Atheist or believer. If we all remember that loving one another, above all else, is the most important thing we can do in this life--we'd all be a hell of a lot better off.

And seriously...stop fanning the flames of the Duck guy. Giving him any more time in the spotlight and lending any more credence to his venom is only perpetuating the problem.

Have a kick ass day my friends.

Love ya!



Yes, But Did You Have Fun?

It's human nature, I suppose, when mentioning that you traveled to a distant city to be asked 'That sounds neat--Did you have fun?.'

Especially when that city is some place like New York City (or in my case, Queens--which is close enough).

And I chuckle to myself when I hear this, because I know the person asking doesn't really mean anything malicious by it. And I also know that with very few exceptions, they don't really know what I mean when I say we 'cabled the new store.'

So I smile and say 'It was nice.'

But the truth is...in the 4 trips I've been here, I've only had one day 'off' where we weren't on the job site. So...I haven't really seen the city more than that one day. I haven't explored the ins and outs or local flavor of Queens at all, with the exception of the restaurants that are in walking distance to the hotel and the (friggin' amazing) Italian joint next door to the job site (Valentino's. On Kissena. It's amaze balls).

The other truth is that we work harder on these trips than when we're at home. At home a 10 or 12 hour day is the exception. At the job site, it's the norm. We have a set list of things we need to try to get done and a finite window. The hours are longer....the days are harder. It's not fun. But it's necessary.

Do I enjoy it? It can be very physical. It can be tedious. But at the end of the day I know that I'm doing my part to help open up a new store.  I've said it before, but this company is the best career move I've ever made. And it's definitely the move that my soul needed. From that standpoint, I enjoy knowing that this new store in Queens is going to have a piece of me running through it.

So...did I have fun? No. I worked. But for me fun is more of a state of mind. I'm a fun person. So...even in the mix of tedium and bullshit and dodging forklifts and elevator delivery men...I am a fun person. So, there is fun to be had.

This trip is especially difficult because of the temps.  There's still no heat in the store. And the work we have to do is intricate work that needs un-gloved fingers. Yeah. It's not pretty. And there's something about 25 degree weather with a biting wind that sucks the energy right out. But we're hitting our objectives, so that's good.

I get so off-kilter when I travel like this, too. I wake up and am slightly disoriented. Not sure where I am. I refer to the hotel as 'home.' "Let's pack up the job box and head home." "Todd--we don't fly home until next week."  "Home. Hotel. You know what I mean."

It's just a weird shift. I think my brain has the uncanny ability to adapt and assimilate to new situations and it locks things off in corners of my brain where I don't often look in the light of day. For example--marriage. To me it seems like at least 2 years or more since I was that married guy.  I mean, it literally seems like it happened to a different person. Like a different person lived that life and I just knew his story because I read the book or saw the movie or something. But in reality--it's only been 9 months since we separated and 20 days since the dissolution was final. And yet, the emotions that I feel about that time in my life are distant. They are the same sympathetic emotions I feel when I really buy in to a character in a movie. If I really identify with that character, I feel the things that the movie tells me they're feeling.  But at the end of the movie, I'm done with it.

Looking back on the 2nd marriage is like that. It would appear I'm just done with it.

And there's a weird one, huh? 2nd marriage. Yeah. Look...if we're picking out 'Friends' characters, I always saw myself as a mix of Chandler (Ms. Chanandler Bong) and Phoebe with a dash of Joey thrown in for good measure. Now it seems I'm one pseudo-marriage and dino-degree away from being Ross.

I don't really know what I'm saying at this point. It really is just mental diarrhea sometimes. I sit down and look up 20minutes later and there's a bunch of letters on the screen and I'm hoping among hopes that not only do those letters actually form words, but that somewhere in all the jumble there is at least something that someone wants to read. Some coherent thread somewhere that keeps your interest.

And if not, I'm sure there's something for you somewhere. The interwebs is a magical playground full of the collective knowledge of the human race. For better or for worse.

In case you don't follow me on Facebook (and no, I don't presume anything in this day and age), you might be happy to know that I decided in favor of actually putting up a tree. There was some annoyance getting some of 'my' Christmas decorations from the ex. And by 'annoyance' I mean that I forgot to take them when I moved out and had to actually ask her and wait on her to dig them out.  In any event. The tree is up. I can't wait to go home and put on the fake fireplace on NetFlix and watch it snow with my Christmas tree lights up.

Pretty, ain't it?

Alright...I need to hop off here. I have some kind of weird food coma thing going from dinner tonight, but that's a story for another time. For now, I leave you with the following:

I'm just kidding--I got nothin'.

Have a great rest of your evening. 



Holiday Funk

I seriously don't know what the deal is.

I just feel kinda...'meh.'

Oh don't get me wrong...I have some pockets of joy and bliss. And those are increasing. But it's the rest of the time where the focus and 'joy' seem to kind of just get put on the sidelines.

Once I get in to the actual activity (writing...photography...editing), it's fine. I find the bliss. But I'm finding that getting to the point and actually making myself sit down and do those things that bring me joy is where I'm struggling.

I dunno.

It's just a weird time of year for me, I suppose.

I doubt I'll reference this one on Facebook.  So if you happen to stumble across my moment of doubt, you get the easter egg.


No Time for Humbug

I really was on the fence about the whole Christmas Tree thing. And then one of my friends said something about liking to turn out the lights and just watch the tree.

And I got to thinking....'ya know....I like to do that too.' The scene in Christmas Story where they turn off the lights and just watch the tree kinda gets me every time.

So. Yeah. I stopped on the way home and got a 3ft, pre-lit artificial tree. And now it's set up.

As the snow was falling...the Fireplace was on Netflix....lights off...tree lit.

It felt very calm. Peaceful even.

And for nice little chunk of time tonight I forgot all of the other shit that's been swimming 'round my brain.

This would be one of those nights when I would walk to Brew'Stirs. I'd know it was going to be a dead night. I'd get to hang with my friends behind the bar. And the few tortured souls who braved the elements for a pint. And then when I'd gotten piss blind drunk, I'd stumble home and fall in to bed.

And wake up the next morning...or afternoon. And go on like everything was just peachy keen in the world.

Only it wasn't.

for the last few years, it was just the facade of being OK.

And maybe that's why I fought putting up a tree. Because that was one of those things.

I used to love to put up the tree. To untangle the lights...go through the ornaments...put everything on. I really did like that.  And then one year...I have no fucking idea where I was or why I wasn't home. But the wife already had the tree up. And then it became her Christmas tree. And every year after that I got more distant.

The tree still looked nice. It wasn't necessarily decorated the way I would have. But I did my part. I got the decorations down off the shelf in the garage. And when we were done with them and the shit was ready to go back on the shelf. I did that, too.

So...perhaps I have a few hurdles to overcome with the holidays.

Meh. It's all good.

And least, it will be.

Peace out, and stay warm this weekend.



Why Bars Are Better Than Facebook

So...I'm reaching the point in the year where I'm getting fed up with the bullshit on Facebook.  When I find myself saying 'Lighten the fuck up people, it's only Facebook' more often than I say, 'wow...that's cool,' then I know it's time to dial my exposure down a bit. I don't think I need to walk away cold turkey like before, but I'm gonna be slowing my roll a bit.

As I was in the shower today I thought of two funny 'eCards.' One was just the phrase "Alcohol. The original Social Media." The other was a picture I took a while  back of shots all lined up on a bar and I would caption it "The original Friend Request."

Rather then re-hash all of my "Facebook is the Anti-social Devil" bullshit today I thought I'd switch gears (oh, don't worry, I will re-visit the irony of calling Facebook a 'social' network again in the future, but not just yet).

So...all the lines of the whole Bars: The Original Social Network theme, I thought I'd go in to why Bars are better than Facebook. You have to understand that I wrote this whole thing in my head this morning on my commute in to work and I'm sure by now I have forgotten most of what made me chuckle as I was dodging the idiots on the road.

You Control the Newsfeed

  • Wanna see sports only? Go to a sports bar. Upscale hoity toiletry? Yup, hit one of those bars with an accent in their name. Boobies? Yeah. They have bars for those, too. Easier than hiding the feed, just walk out, find another one. Some bars are a combination...the booby/sports bars have the best of both worlds, from what I hear.

No Annoying Ads

  • Ok sure...sometimes bars have vendors in that are hawking the latest pineapple daquiritaberry flavor, but so what? Normally that results in free drinks. And a lousy free drink is still infinitely better than no drink at all and a damn sight better than getting annoying posts about Bill Shatner's new Asteroid Watch. I'm fucking sick of that thing.

Your Privacy/Anonymity Is TOTALLY In Your Control

  • Seriously. There is no email verification. Only the bartender knows your real name, Mr. Sumner. Otherwise, be whoever the fuck you want to be. And, if you pay in cash, you are completely off the grid.  Chill by yourself...be a superstar named McLovin' on the dance floor. It's really up to you.  Not to mention you get to avoid that whole FB PhotoStalker phenomenon. You know the one. You friend someone and like 2 days later, pictures you posted 4 years ago start getting 'liked' with comments on them "Great shot!" ..."Love this!!" ..."Too funny"...."OMG.Me too!!"  Gah. Leave it be, brah.

Friends Are Mostly Temporary

  • We've all been there. In a DrunkBooking Moment (or maybe because we can't say no when there's more than 4 Mutual Friends), we friended someone and almost immediately got hit with that 'Oh Shit' moment. And of course if you unfriend someone then the monthly Backgammon Tourney at the Senior Center just gets awkward. At a bar you can be fierce friends until last call and then the next day (if you're lucky) forget all about that shit. And you always have the 'Wow...dude...you look familiar, but I was pretty wasted' defense when you bump in to the person later.
I had a few more ideas pop in my head about why bars are better....but really it comes down to one thing...

Actual Human Interaction
  • Oh sure...for all the drama that ensues when alcohol is involved, you are still actually interacting with someone. Having human contact. There is actually nothing more important in this world than that connection.
And that leads me back to the soapbox, I suppose. 

There are benefits of Facebook. I'm not going to deny that. My beef is that it's skewing our perception of reality and what a 'society' is. And it's taking personal responsibility out of the mix.

You can call someone a douchenugget on Facebook...turn off your PC and never actually see how that comment affected the person on the other end. And that's dangerous.  If you were at a bar and called someone an asshole (or the ever popular douchenugget), you would be forced to actually deal with their reactions. And in doing so, might bring home the fact that the person you're ragging on is actually just as fragile as you.  And that's a valuable lesson to learn. It's what makes us human.

That connection.

It's not there online. I'm sorry it's just not. Even with web cams and chat and Skype...it's still not the same. There's still a level of being detached.

And we're bringing up an entire generation of people who will stay at home, logged in with their 'friends' and think that they are being social and have absolutely zero people skills.

THAT'S the reason I get fed up with Facebook. I realize that my time online is getting sucked away from doing other stuff like writing, or hell, I don't know, even unpacking the one last room in my apartment (although I suspect part of that is because when I finally get unpacked, it will be real, I'll be fully engaged in the new life...looks like I'm adding that to my to-do list this weekend).


Step away from your computer.

Take a walk down to your local pub (I HIGHLY recommend having a bar/pub within walking distance).  Introduce yourself to your bartender and ask for their recommendation.

Start a conversation.  Do  you know why a lot of bars have TVs? So you can make a comment about what's on TV to the person next to you and be as vulnerable as if you just started up a conversation out of nowhere. OK...that may not be the actual reason, but damn if it's not a a nice side-effect.

Have a drink and soak in the humanity.

You'll remember those moments long after you've forgotten anything you ever posted or read on Facebook. I assure you of that (well...actually, your mileage may vary in the remembering arena depending on how many bartender recommendations you followed in any given night).

And now in the ultimate act of irony, I'm going to be posting this link to my Facebook page.

How fucked up is that?

Yeah. Trust me...the irony isn't lost on me in the least.



I'm Not A Policeman

OK...so I posted over on Facebook land this clip:

And I said in my status message that I had no idea why I posted it.

I lied.

I know exactly why I  posted it. It's the look on the kid's face.There's all this chaos going on around her...and she stands her ground once. And almost stands it a second time until she succumbs to the norm and follows the pack.  But even then, there's this kind of quiet resignation about the way she says 'Alright...'

And I guess that's how I feel.

It makes sense that my friends and family tell me that I'm better off on the path that I'm traveling. I get that. I really do. I mean, I understand why you all say it.

But it doesn't fucking help. I know you think it does, but think it through for a second.

I had a person in my life that was my best friend...that I was planning on spending the rest of my life with. And then...that person slipped away (I'm sure I slipped away from her, too, if I was ever that person to her).  And I didn't or couldn't stop it by the time I figured out what was happening.

It's still a grieving process, my friends. There was this person in my life. And now they're not there.

And there is a very distinct void.

And I'm trying to trudge on. I know it's for the best, ok? But fuckitall...I'm not a policeman. I'm a princess.

So to speak.

You know how  quite a few of you knew shit was going south? Maybe even before I did. And you didn't say anything. You were there supporting me. You realized that I had to come to that conclusion on my own or it wouldn't work.

This is the same thing.

You have to let me come to the carpet with my toy in my own time.

I'll get there.

I just have some shit to wade through first.

It's all good though. I know the direction I need to go. And I will  get there.

I am a bundle of raw, exposed emotions right now. And there are mornings....and evenings...and hours in between where it's taking every fucking ounce of energy I have to keep it the fuck together.

Angry? Fuck yeah. Sad? Damn straight. Deliriously giddy? Almost shamefully so. Denial? Yeah, it's there, too. Depressed? Probably--if you want get technical about it.   It's all part of the process.

And that's what it is, at this point. a process. I have to go through this to come out the other side. There's a better Todd on the other side. But you can't really just skip ahead.

Did you ever read one of those Choose Your Own Advenure books? You get to the end of a chapter...and you have a choice...and that takes you somewhere else. I will let you in on a couple of secrets in those books.

  • Reading them straight through, from cover to cover, will mess you the heck up.
  • The ending to the 'story' is never at the end of the book.  It's usually buried somewhere in the middle. 
  • The last page always said "The End?"  (OK...I quite likely made that last one up..but it should have, if it didn't).
I'm living one of those books. Hell, we all are.

The question is which page do we turn to next?

Bombs in the Bassbins

I need to take a week or two vacation. I need to head down to the farm. With my laptop...a decent set of cans, and the reference monitors.  Maybe a guitar and a mic. And I need to write (fiction/songs/poems) and I need to record.

I just need to see what comes out when it's just me. With no distractions for literally miles.

I'm not sure when this can happen. Perhaps next summer. Not sure. It may not happen until I get my own house built on the 1 acre my papaw left me.

In any event I know we're close. We're close to shit bubbling over the surface.  I know there are songs and works I that I need to write. I know they are just below...ready to break that thin film of dew that sits on the water at daybreak.

And yet, part of me wonders how much of that is the new normal.

It's still quite fucked up in my head...I'm not going to lie. It's not so bad that I would consider medication, because let me tell you...there was NO good that came from me being on Anti-Depressants. At least not for 12 damn years. The first six months or so, maybe. Until shit got stabilized all up in my cranium, but certainly after that it was a matter of convenience. It was easier not to feel the pain, so I stayed on the pills. Easier not to have the highs and the lows.

And in the process I lost me.

So...now...I feel like I'm a place where I can find me. And there's a good chance that part of me is kind of a selfish asshole. I'm not going to lie. There are times when I just shut down. If there's something I don't want to do, I just don't. If we were supposed to hang and I have it in my head that I need some 'me time,' then, I'll go for the me time instead of putting on the false front of hanging. Now...I know that sounds messed up. And heres the thing...if we did hang, it would be cool. But there are times when my brain just needs to chill. I need time in a quiet house.

I'm starting to realize that I haven't really had that since high school. There used to be a couple hours after school every day when it was just me in the house. And it was quiet. Or I was playing my music. And that was cool.

As soon as I went away to school, that went away. And I haven't really had it since.

Until now. I am quite honestly anxious for the winter time to pass because I really want to just sit outdoors at the picnic table in my courtyard and write. My place is back far enough from the beaten path that there are elements of it that feel secluded. And yet it's a 5 minute walk from Uptown Westerville.

It really is perfect for me.

And....yeah...I'm not really sure where I was going with this post. I figure part of me is writing it just to make sure that I write something every day. If what I write is shit for days on ends, somewhere in there I expect there to be a nugget of truth that can help you.  Whether it's a rant...or rave..or whatever. I know that at a fundamental level...I need to write. I need to chronicle. And a piece of me hopes that what I write will somehow live on so that when I come back in the next lifetime, I'll stumble upon these works and find myself identifying with them. I won't know right away that I've lived this life before. But a part of me will. A part of me will read these words and be able to see every nuance and know this life...this person...and know the heart of the man that is going through these trials and tribulations right now.

And admittedly, my 'trials and tribulations' are quite small compared to the injustices against the universe that are being carried out all over the world as I sit in my sheltered break room in corporate america banging this out. So in the grand scheme, it may not seem like a big deal.

And yet, it's what's on my heart.  Its where my thoughts are drawn. It is the center of my tiny universe at the moment.  And if my being open and honest about the shit I'm going through can move someone or help someone put their own world in to perspective, or better yet, document their own world...create something. Then I have come one step closer to fulfilling my life's purpose.

And I guess that's why I write...even when I know I'm only rambling, and it's quite likely shite.


Lunch is nearly over.  With that I take my leave.

Peace out!!



It's weird, yeah? I'm sitting here....alone in my apartment.

I'm not going to lie. There were times in my marriage (well...both of them, actually), when I thought that I'd fucked up by getting married. With my first marriage, it wasn't so much the case because I've got an amazing daughter and there's not a single fucking thing in this world I would trade for that.

What's weird to me though, is that there were times when I would see this sort of 'alternate reality' version of Todd. There were a couple I was rather fond of. 

One was the scraggly haired philosophy professor that was walking across the quad at OSU on the way to his next class. Tweed sport coat with elbow patches. Well loved by students and fellow faculty alike. "Crazy" was used in a positive context when I was talked about.

Another was the author. I'd be sitting at the coffeehouse with my Apple laptop (it was a Powerbook in early visions of this reality), working on my latest mind-expanding novel. Metaphysical truths wrapped up in a fictional timeline that was non-threatening, but mind altering all the same. It was a small town. People walking by on the street would wave.  Again, I was known as the 'weird writer dude'...but it was ok. There was nothing malicious about the nick name.

A third was a rock star, jamming to sold out crowds. Rocking with other famous musicians...known or unknown, it didn't matter. That one was purely for me. Jamming up on stage is a drug I was first introduced to in 1991 and I know that at some point in my life I'll need more of that.

So...here's what's fucking with my head right now.  Amongst other things.

Simply this. 

Alternate reality Todd is becoming reality Todd.


So...after I moved my mom dug out this letter that the head of the Philosophy department at OSU had sent me after 2 courses there. On the recommendation of one of my professors, they would very much like me to declare my major as philosophy. It was a trippy letter and is currently hanging on my fridge. A reminder to me that there was a path...a clearly defined doorway to Alterna-Todd #1. And although I'm not a tenured professor, I'm sure there are those who see me as that philosophy dude (especially if you and I have ever had a conversation until the wee hours).

As for the Rockstar Todd....that's already happened. In 2008, I won a national contest. I won a VIP Package to the Rock and Roll Fantasy Camp. Four cities. Four bands. I was in bands with Dave Ellefson (Megadeth), Gilby Clarke (GnR), and Glenn Hughes (Deep Purple). In addition to jamming with and taking workshops from Kip Winger, Mark Slaughter, Mark Hudson, Earl Slick, Elliot Easton. It was fucking surreal.  We opened for Kings X and Extreme. And I played to sold out crowds at The Hard Rock (Vegas), The Fillmore (San Francisco), and House of Blues (LA). I look back and it's almost like it happened to someone else. I know that I'll be in a band again. It is like a drug. And I'm not ready to give it up just yet. Even if I'm just playing covers. It's just too much fun.

So....there's another Alterna-Todd that's slipped in to Reality Todd. If only for a week.

What about Writer-Todd? I just made my last payment on the MacBook today. I've upgraded it with an SSD drive, additional ram and just subscribed to Office 365 (not that I need MS Word, per se...just one of the word processors I'm used to). In other words, the laptop is primed for me to sit on the patio at Jimmy V's or out in front of Heavenly Cup and do my writing on weekends, evenings, and days off.

That's really the mind fuck of all of this.  The Alterna-Todds were more than day dreams. They were pieces of me that needed to come out. It's weird. It really makes me wonder how many more of the alterna-Todds that I've daydreamed about (and there are quite a few...some completely different, some that are just variations on a theme)...but how many of them are going to become reality. And am I looking at this all wrong?

Are these just spikes on my 'potential'...things that were always there...realities that I've tapped in to? If so...what is the catalyst? How close am I to being able to think 'well...next year I want to do XYZ' and have it happen? Have things just 'fall in to place' and suddenly I'm on this path that I've only ever considered a day dream.

And what is a day dream anyway? A dream you have when you're 'awake?' Don't even get me started on 'awake' and 'asleep.' It's not a normal point of view that I have on those two concepts. But that's OK. I've never been a real big fan of normal anyway.

Alright..I need to feck off. I've got some Alterna-Todds that I need to hone. I've got a couple jacked up books floating around in my brain bucket that I think need to see the light of day in very short order.

Peace Out

you're damn skippy I've got Pac-Man fever, bub!


To Tree or Not to Tree

So...first Christmas alone in...well...ever. Even after the first divorce I had my daughter living with me,  so there was another person in the house. The decision to put up Christmas decorations was an easy one. She was a small child...I wanted to share the joy of the season with her. No brainer.

After this dissolution, though, I'm alone. Don't worry...I'm not lonely...well...not all the time. But there's just me here now.  My daughter is 19 and doesn't live at home anymore.  Christmas eve is always spent at my parents house. And I don't see any presents being opened here on Christmas day (unless of course I decide to get myself something and wrap it all up...but that would be weird).

I have a wreath on the door. That's pretty much for everyone else. Oh sure..I see it when I come and go, but it's mostly out of sight.

I guess my thinking is...I don't want to really be reminded of all the Christmasy things this year...and least not when it's just me here alone. When I'm out around other people, fine. That's cool. But I don't know...I guess I'm just not feeling it right now.

That doesn't mean I don't want my ornaments back that are still over at the ex's house. I absolutely do. I'm just not sure I'm going to put them out this year.

I'm still in the stage where processing certain things still seems weird to me. Not waking up next to someone I (used to) care about...not kissing them good bye or seeing them when  I came home from a hard day at work. And the Christmas decorations are one more thing on that list. One more reminder that in spite of my friends and family and the other wonderful people in my life....at the end of the day, I am living here alone.

That's not a bad thing. Believe me. I know that there are going to be some dark nights of the soul...some serious bouts of introspection and insight. And I'm looking forward to those.


Meh. It is what it is, I suppose.

And you know me.. I could be out somewhere...see a little table top tree and totally flip on the feelings I'm having right now and bring that shit home and go all Ghost of Christmas present on it....never can tell.

But for now, I think we'll just stick with the wreath on the door.

Peace out.

Failing NaNo - 4 Years and Counting

I looked, Dear Readers, and noted that the last time I saw fit to let the words fall from my brain bucket and onto these virtual pages was o...