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I Resolve Nothing

I'm gonna say this right now. You may like it none too much. And Jack, forgive me, but it bears being said in just this way.

Fuck New Year's Resolutions.

It's taken me quite some time in my relatively short 43 years on this planet (this time around) to figure out one thing: Resolutions Don't Work.

Now...as with most..ok..everything I've written on these virtual 'pages;' your mileage may vary. Resolutions may work for you. I doubt it, but I've been wrong before. And even if they do work, they're a bad idea from where I'm sitting (which at the moment is on a chocolate colored microfiber love seat while Nick Offerman is streaming on Netflix).

Dude. How can they be bad? Making New Year's Resolutions helps people. 

No. It doesn't. As I'm sitting here reflecting on the sometimes glorious, sometimes completely fucked year that was 2014 and looking ahead, I finally figured it out.

New Year's Resolutions are based on Guilt, Frustration, an…

A Promise is a Promise

This has been something of an unexpected Christmas season, if I'm being honest.

And it's my blog. Why the hell wouldn't I be honest? Doesn't make much sense, does it? No. It doesn't. But that's neither here nor there at this point.

Point is....erm...OH. Right. Weirdfuckingholidayseason and what-not.

I have a friend who gave me a gift. I have a few, actually. One was a Swatch watch. Vintage. To add to my growing collection (because I like Swatches....and watches in general). To date almost all of my watches have been gifts from friends. It floors me every time. Not only do they know me well enough to know I will love that, they also know which particular watch in the watch universe looks like a Todd-watch. And trust me...there is a mold for that. And my friends nail it. Every single time.

It blows me away. Seriously.

Another friend and reader of my more positive posts and blog gave me this set for Christmas.

It's a 5 year journal and companion piece. The mai…

Holiday Funk

I posted today on that social media (purgatory?) site that I was feeling like the Holiday Funk was coming on.  I got a few 'likes'...and a few more people telling me to fight the funk (in whatever form).

And I get that.

I understand fully that I am blessed. If I were to list everything that I count daily as a blessing, I would be high on the list of people you want to throat punch-trust me.  But that's not the point. The funk doesn't come about because I forget to count my blessings. It's not a George Bailey Moment where I have to be shown what the lives of others would be if I weren't here.

It's not really any of that.

It's the grey days. It's the apartment that at once seems massive and fatally constricting. It is the fact that it has only been one year since the divorce was finalized (and all of the internal bullshit that floats in my head from that).

So...with all of that, there is a funk. A funk of trying to remember that yes, this was the best…

I'm Sorry

Odd title to the post, I know. But I feel I owe you an apology.

You. My friends. My family. My co-workers. The random person in the check-out line I used to joke with for no reason other than I was trying to figure out why you were buying a lawn chair, Dr. Pepper, and a box of condoms (said with a British accent) at 2:47 in the morning.


I'm not going to lie and I'm not going to sugar coat it. This shit with my neck is kind of fucking with me. It started a little over a year ago. The diagnosis (after much physical therapy) was that I had arthritis in my neck (between the C5 and C7). And that since, I could not take Ibuprofen, there really wasn't much in the way of any kind of temporary or long term relief I could expect.

A thin veneer of pain enveloped me.

Later, my index fingers started twitching. Resting tremors is what it seemed to be based on my limited medical training. I tried to avoid WebMD (because everything there usually leads you to something fatal or incurable).…

The App Store Connundrum

I wonder, as I click off the page listing the number of views each of my posts has received, if the title entices the reader. If there's a pic added on the post (which will invariably be added to the bookface post), does that create the draw?

Prior to really actively shilling my written wares on the social media du jour, I averaged about 15 readers per post. I'm sure that at least 4 of those were mine as I checked the page and what not.  I think one of my recent posts managed to break 50.

It's both encouraging and discouraging. Encouraging that at least 50 of my friends took enough time to click a link on my Facebook wall. Maybe they shared it. Maybe they didn't. But the downside of that....the doubt that sits on the sidelines like a fieldgoal kicker waiting to get his big moment in the game....the doubt makes me wonder if I can only get 50 or so people to read this blog which (as some of you may know) is written in much the same voice as my other work, then would I ha…

Taking Inventory

The phone this morning wakes me....ringing well before my alarm...
I look over and see the time, reaching for the phone.
"Hello?..."
The conversation is quick and concise.
Feet swing over the side of the bed and shuffle in to the other room to grab the laptop and dial in.
I deliver the information I have. Unsure if it's exactly what they need or not.

Conversation over. Phone disconnected. I close the laptop. Head leaning back against the back of the couch.

There is always a slight annoyance when my sleep is interrupted. Especially on my day off.

Day off.

A day to be with friends and family. To celebrate the things I am thankful for.

Let's look at how that whole thing played out again...the context of being thankful.

The phone this morning wakes me....ringing well before my alarm...
Thankful I am alive another day to fulfill my life's purpose. Thankful my ears can hear the music of the world....

I look over and see the time, reaching for the phone.
Vision has not fa…

Who Am I

It's a little bit funny (this feeling inside?) no...but I was thinking (because that's what you do best, Butch) how quickly things that are completely fucked up become the normal. Not necessarily in general...but in my life. When acceptance of a situation was handed out as a coping mechanism, I think I was given a little extra. True to form, I'm sure I said 'huh...well. I suppose I'm meant to have that much extra of this shit, so ...let's have at it then.'

Maybe acceptance isn't quite the right word. But stuff that should bother me just doesn't. And I don't think that it's that I don't or won't stand up for myself. It's more that I just don't think it's worth getting upset over. I'm (relatively) healthy. I have a (relatively) decent life. I am able to write. You're able to read it. I jam and play music with my friends. And occasionally I have a nice glass of bourbon to wind down the evening.

It really is good.

I&#…

Effing Entitled

It would appear that I have a habit of not waiting things out long enough.
I worked for a food distributor in the 90's. 6 months after I left, everyone on the team I was on got a $10K bonus.

I ran in to a friend today at Giant Eagle. Her husband was the one that got me the job at a software company in 1998. I stayed there for 14 years before jumping ship and heading to my current position. I found out today that some very lucrative changes happened at the company and everyone there got taken care of.

I had a flash...a millisecond really of.., "What the fuck?!" Before I looked her in the eye and said, "Good. They needed to take care of the people there."  The people that stayed through the shit times busted their ass to build that company. And they damn sure should have been taken care of.

Am I sad I didn't stay?

Fuck no.

If I had stayed, I would have 16+years under my belt. But I didn't like where my position...my team was heading. I couldn't work …

Two Fridays

Working retail this particular time of year is not without its set of challenges. I am fortunate for a couple of reasons. The first being that the company I work for has a strong sense of wok-life balance and they want to make sure that the balance is maintained. It's a blessing to actually work for a company that says it and practices it. The other thing I'm happy about is that I work in the corporate offices. We still have to work around the schedules of the stores, but I've always had little things-like my weekends- and not the funky retail 'weekend in the middle of the week' BS.Until now.Because of some changes in scheduling, we are adding people to our Saturday and Sunday shifts. Factoring several things in to the equation, having me as the Sunday person makes the most sense at this time. Sooooooo....yeah.I thought about it. Eventually I'll be able to have Friday and Saturday off so it will again feel like a wekeend. As it stands, I'll be having Sat…

And So Begins...

"Ever have one of those moods where you just want to fuck the shit out of somebody...use and be used...no words...no strings...just fuck the pain away until you're both exhausted?

And so begins the great American novel by A.T. Skaggs, "Two Balls for a Quarter"..."

No. Not really. I know that language like that is a slap in the face to some. And others see it as the current vernacular of our very self-centered society.  The language is meant for one thing. The only thing language is really ever meant for--to convey. It was a thought that popped in to my head as I was cleaning. I thought...how funny would it be to open up Rolling Stone magazine and see a book review that started that way?

I do that sometimes. I carried around an Oscar acceptance speech for a time. When I wrote it, it was an acceptance speech for Best New Screenplay. I gave myself until 45 for that one. So...I have some time left. Although, I'll have to tweak some of the people on the 'tha…

Cluttered

I was invited to a couple of Halloween parties tonight.  Aside from my neck/back still being sore from Tuesday's shot, there's other shit going on that's keeping me close to home.

It does seem like the shot is helping. The pain has lessened...and I was able to get a good pop this morning (which I hadn't been able to do for months it seems)..so, the swelling might be going down.

That, or judging by the increase in finger twitching, it's shifting...it's probably too soon to tell. According to the discharge sheets, it could take up to a week, 7 days, to actually notice a difference.

And lucky me, the doc said it was too risky to try again. If the shots don't work-he recommends surgery. I'm gonna a) try other routes first (i.e. acupuncture) and b) get a second fucking opinion before I go under the knife again. The post-op complications in '97 are still fairly fresh in my mind thankyouverymuch.

Had it not been cold and rainy with the freeways jam packed …

Tortured Souls

I'm betting, being the clever lot that my limited readership is, that you've no doubt  guessed by the title of this post that it's not going to be my normal sunshine and glittery unicorn farts of a post.

And you'd be right.

I'd apologize for it, but the moroseness has to come out and see the light of day from time to time. Even if it's the pale light of the moon.

I suspect it's because I've been binge watching some Vampire Diaries  spin-off on Netflix. Or perhaps it's because that sliver of universal truth that lives in each of us and cries to be re-connected with every other sliver in every other living thing is tweaking just the right creative vein. Or rather the right neuron to let the thoughts float in my head. Leastwise until I exorcise them.

And that, as you may have also correctly deduced, is where this blog comes in.

From time to time it's a place for me to lay my demons to waste. Oh sure...I have the requisite eom-kid paper journals to …

The Surreality of a Single Second

When someone says something is ‘surreal,’ I believe they mean that something is/has/or will happen that is outside of the normal parameters for what they have up to that point known as their reality.  I have some experience in this definition, as I tend to find things like that on an almost daily basis.
Yesterday was no exception. Dad and I were on our normal sojourn to the Farm. This is something we do or try to do every month or so. The Farm is in Kentucky, and if you knew anything about my history with this place, you’d stop obsessing over the fact that I tend to almost always put it in caps. Yes, it is that important to me.  Our route takes us down 23 southbound for almost half of the trip. Although, after yesterday, it’s possible we will find another way around Chillicothe.  I remember this as though it was yesterday, because…well, it was yesterday. But, after what I had seen…been a part of…I imagine that in 50 years when I tell the story, I will still preface it by saying I can…

Lard Ass

Before I get started...I just have to clear this out of my brain bucket.  Every time someone post "FML" on something, I just kinda wanna scream. FML= Screw My Life or something close to

I get it. We've all been there. Something shitty happens in your life. Say for example, you go in to see the doctor because your wife tells you that she's no longer dealing with your depression and leaving you with the baby if you don't get some help. And in that Dr. visit, doing their routine physical, they find something wrong with your heart. And determine through subsequent tests that you have 6months-tops-to live without heart surgery. Oh. And you're 25.

Certainly that would merit saying 'fuck my life...'

I mean, sure I pulled that example out of my ass, but you get the point. Point is...shitty things happen to all of us.

What frustrates me about the whole "FML" phenom is that it ultimately (in my humble opinion) winds up bringing additional negative ene…