Fear & Loathing

I had a conversation last night with someone about Fear, and it came to a point where I could no longer verbalize what I felt.  That never happens to me.  So I thought I would try to put it down here, in long-hand, to try and get that out.

I am afraid.  Sometimes it gets overwhelming, and I need to pull away, breathe, and get myself back under control.  Fear is a phantasm; it is not real.  It is a product of your own mind, a combination of negative thoughts and anxiety.  I do my best to not let fear control me.  It is extremely difficult much of the time.  I know that I have to just laugh and press on anyway through the fear.  I know that when I follow my heart when choosing my actions, the end result will be something *of* my heart, and will be a good result. 

Sometimes, the fear gets in the way.  Sometimes doubts and anxiety cloud my vision of awesomeness, and cause me to misstep.  I am afraid of that happening, which causes a paradox.  I sometimes become afraid of the fear causing me to fail.  I become afraid of Fear Itself.  (Fuck you, FDR!)  Entering a given situation, if I go in unconcerned about the final outcome, the situation resolves itself with good results.  If I enter a situation where I have a desire for a specific outcome, the Fear latches on to the occasion, like a tick gripping a flap of arm fat, burrowing its monstrous little head into your body causing mind bending pain and insisting that you Deal With It, instead of anything else going on.  The alternative to this is to not give a fuck about anything, which is not really a solution, but a cop out.  That lifestyle is only maintainable so long as you have very little regard for yourself.

Many times, I am afraid of myself.  Nothing in this world, no outside influences frighten me more than my own ability to destroy.  I am aware of my own capabilities of destruction.  If I dwell on it for any length of time, it terrifies me right down to the bone.  I know what I can do.  Knowing what I can do is the only thing that keeps me from doing those things.  I do not consider myself particularly strong, just strong enough.  If a task needs completed, I can be strong enough to complete that task.  No question about it, I can be just exactly that strong, for as long as is needed to complete the task.  The toll afterwards is usually enormous, whether it is mentally or physically, but it is paid.  Is this a good quality?  Some might say absolutely, Yes, it is.  I just know that it is a terrible understanding of oneself.  I understand that there are very few tasks that can be put in front of me that I cannot accomplish.  Think about that.  When someone says that, you usually have visions of things like the Olympics.  Athletes reaching for the stars.  Steve Jobs.  Martin Luther King.  Mother Theresa, Mary Lou Retton, Nelson Mandella, Fucking Oprah Winfrey.  All amazingly talented and compassionate people, changing the world with their vision.  But, still just simple humans, like you and I.  Now consider the convex: Ed Gein's mutilations and experiments.  John Wayne Gacy.  Jerry Sandusky.  Jeffrey Dahmer.  Jack the Ripper.  The guy who just shot up the elementary school.  These are also people with Vision.  Visions of terror and destruction, but still... just simple humans. I understand my own capability to visualize and attack.  My ability to Identify and Resolve.  We all are born with equal parts good and evil within us.  The path taken in the course of your life depends entirely on which seed you water. 

Those are, of course, extreme examples.  I am no Hitler, any more than I am Ghandi.  But, I am aware of how my actions affect others.  Constantly, painfully aware of this fact.  I have 2 boys.  Having children is an instructional course in abject terror.  These boys' only influences from the world around them are the ones that I put in place.  Their entire world view is shaped by me and the things that I put in front of them.  Sometimes I feel that any influence I can give them, other than mine, is a positive influence.  How can I possibly allow my sweet children to become infected by the poison that saturates my being, seeps through my pores, weeps constantly from my soul?  I have a strong understanding of the depths and depravity possible by man... and while it may be a source of strength for me, I do not wish such an understanding on anyone.  I protect my children from the dangers present in the world, and I also protect them from Myself, as I represent those dangers as much as anything else.  More so, because I am their parent. 

I have influence over 2 more children, for the 2 years that I lived with them, and more.  I love these children with all of my heart, as I love my 2 boys.  These 2 love and respect me as well, as they have not had a male role model in their lives.  I will not pass judgement on their mother, but just say that these 2 have had a tougher time with life and parental influences than my children.  I was moved at times to do what I could to protect them from their mothers influence, as I had stumbled across someone who was decidedly more poisonous and damaged than I had ever really encountered before.  I did what I could here for the sake of the children, not seeing the damage that I was doing to the mother.  My own good will and intentions, for the sake of the children, added to the rift between the children and their mother.  I had fallen in love with the children, and not their mother, who also KNEW THIS FACT, but kept quiet about it for the sake of her kids.  My decisions, my actions, had caused this woman to suffer as she watched her kids drift further away from her, and on to me.  I was suffering because of the inability to communicate with this woman.  Meanwhile, my own children suffered from my misery, seeing me pushing so hard against something that I could not possibly move.  After two years plus, things finally came to a head, and everything exploded. 

Now, I am not jackass enough to believe that everything revolves around me.  It wasn't my fault that she was fucked up.  She was fucked up when I got there.  I took a chance on someone, and was blinded by all of the early warning signs, because BOOBS.  But, the fear is there.  The fear is that a situation like this spun completely out of my control, and people were hurt.  Not just people, but highly impressionable children were hurt.  Not only mine, which I can take responsibility for, but I voluntarily ordered up a plate of hurt for someone else's children as well.  Did I do some good?  Sure.  I am the dad to these kids that they never had.  I am their De De.  But now, I am not there any more.  I am not there to take care of them, to hold them when they cry, to snatch them up with they step out of line, yet they have been given the impression that I would be there for these things.  Like a De De should.  And, now I am not. 

Do I regret the whole situation? Absolutely not.  To do so would throw away everything that we have had.  To do so would piss all over the memories and the positive influence that I know I had over those 2 wonderful children.  But, the fear is there.  The fear is there, because I did crush them, with my actions.  Who else will I do this to in my lifetime?  The road to Hell is paved with Good Intentions.  What other 'good intentions' will crop up in my selfish quest for companionship?  Should I just give up?  Have no more relationships with anyone except for the few people that I must retain relationships with, for the rest of my life?

No.  I will not do that.  I will not let the terrorists fear win.  To do so, would be to give up the human experience.  What example would I be setting for my children, for all of the children that I have influence over, that giving up is ok?  The fear will not rule me.  It may influence me on occasion.  That tick is still gnawing on the back of my arm... but I am just going to slap it and press on. 


Oh, and because the profanity in this article is disastrously low:  Fuckery Shitball Cuntsicle Lollipop Ass Raped Bunghole Poop Shower.  You are welcome!


The Angry Man

Offense - Religion pt. 2

I saw something on my way home today that made me want to pick up something heavy and smash somebody with it. This post is titled 'Religion' because what I saw has something to do with religion, or rather the atrocities that are enacted in the name of religion. I know you can't say "All Christians are assholes" or "Muslims are camel humping cock-mongers" because its not ALL people of any faith whom perform bestiality whilst hoarding penises... Just the ones who take themselves (and their religion) just too god damn seriously to be allowed out of doors unsupervised.

I was on my way home from the store in the pedophile van, and I saw a mini-van in front of me with two bumper stickers. One said "Marriage = One Man + One Woman" and was sponsored by a website nogaymarriage.com; the other said "Body piercing saved my life" and it had a picture of a hand with a spike driven through it (as in crucifixion). It took everything I had not to squeal the tires in my piece of shit and ram that motherfucker into the guardrail.

First of all, who the fuck cares who someone else marries? HOW does that in ANY WAY affect YOUR life? Why should anyone other than me have a say in to whom I can pledge a sacred vow? Two men, two women, one man and 5 women, an Irishman and his sheep... who cares? Be happy that another human being found love and is expressing it publicly. Gay people have a hard enough time getting by in society as it is; leave these people the fuck alone!

Second, why are the religious (and Christians in particular) so threatened by this? Does the advent of gay marriage some how invalidate an individuals faith? Faith is defined as "Loyalty or allegiance to a cause or person." So, if Ben Roethlisberger and Payton Manning (I think so, anyway) get together and 'brown' it up, this somehow makes YOUR belief in Jesus less sure? Is it because you believe God wouldn't allow such a thing to come to pass? That God is disgusted by homosexuals? But, didn't God create each and everyone of us in His own image? Then how is it possible that we have any power whatsoever to go against 'almighty Gods' design?

And, why drag Jesus name through the mud with your message of hate? People are assholes, but I cannot believe that religion was designed with any amount of hatred as its intent. Jesus was a good man... Same as Mohammad, Buddha, the guy from Latter Day saints, all the prophets ever named; all good, decent men. Emulating the finer points and attitudes of such good men is a pretty good idea. I just cannot believe that ANY of these men spent any time HATING someone else. That said, how can any person who calls themselves a person of faith use up any energy with hatred and prejudice? And then, have the audacity to attribute it TO their faith?

Finally, the last thing that chapped my ass: It was a mini-van. A fucking FAMILY vehicle. So this douche-bag cunt is teaching her family these same values. Starting a new generation of hate mongering ass wipes, enacting violence and prejudice on their fellow men and women... in the name of Jesus Christ. WWJD, what would Jesus do? Samuel L said it best: "...And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know My name is the Lord, when I lay my vengeance upon thee." Then commence with the pious bitch-slapping of these ignorant, self-hating, arrogant pricks.

Grrrrr...

The Angry Man

Offense - Law

This is about some shit that happened to a friend of mine last week that just frosts my buns. He was a passenger in a car, and was given an $80 seat belt ticket when the vehicle was pulled over.

I have a serious problem with that. He is an adult, and was riding out to a job site for work, and forgot to strap himself into the vehicle. The state has been given the right to monitor our private activities to the point of levying fines for behavior potentially unsafe to OURSELVES. What in the fuck is THAT about? Why hasn't there been an outcry of huge proportions over this? People are so god damned worried about losing their freedoms in the form of public health care, yet are perfectly willing to allow this utterly moronic injustice to pass.

Look, I don't have a problem with seat belts. I understand the function of them, and that they may save my life in car accident. I understand that it is important for my children's safety to have them fastened into the vehicle. I do not think it is fair that the government gains revenue by fining its citizens for not following these warnings. Cigarettes come with a warning label for pregnant women. Alcohol and beer have the same warning. Are pregnant women fined for drinking and smoking? Absolutely not. Its the woman's body, and her fetus to damage, so lets just let her go!

I think the same thing about helmets. I get hassled for not putting a helmet on my 8 year old when I was teaching him to ride a bike. He is LEARNING to ride it... meaning he is not going to go careening down a cliff face, jumping over fallen logs and attempting back flips. No, he is in fact going to plod along at barely walking speed with me right behind him in case he falls. An officer is obligated to ticket ME, were he to see MY child riding a bicycle without a helmet and pads. Law does not replace parenting, and I will make the decision concerning protective gear for my children, thank you very much. (Now go track down one of those crack smoking pregnant women, officer, and leave me the fuck alone!)

If I owned a motorcycle, I would wear a helmet. Dumping a motorcycle is much more common, and much more deadly, than wrecking a car. It makes sense to wear one while travelling at excessive speeds. But to make a law DEMANDING that I wear one? That's like making a law fining me for not wearing a condom. Sure, its a good idea, but they are just so danged uncomfortable that I usually don't wear it, unless someone asks me to. I guess the only difference is one protects against death, while the other protects against life.

Think about that next time you are bitching about Obama bowing to a foreign emperor. We've got a LOT bigger problems than him shaking hands in another language...

Give me a fucking break

The Angry Man

Offense - 4 Deaths

This post is about something that has affected my life last year, in what was one of the few years that I actually recall what had happened. I don't say that like I'm some fucking drug-addict and every year is a blur... But, realistically, how often do you equate your experiences to the year they happened in? I remember clearly driving to Florida for vacation a few years ago, but i couldn't tell you without some serious calculation what year it actually was... 2008 will be forever remembered to me as the year of Four Deaths, and I will tell the story of why it is significant to me.

2008 was a BAD year... Economy was in the toilet, worried about losing my job, marriage falling apart... and four people I knew died in very different ways. The first was Jacob, a friend of mine from work. It was May 30th when I got the news. I was on vacation that week, and I got a text message saying I needed to call in to work for something important. I called my friend Angie, and she told me very directly "Um... dude... Jacob is dead." I was sitting in my moms driveway at the time, on my way to have dinner... and I couldn't move. People say things like "I was stunned!" or "My blood ran cold" or some shit like that... i just... COULDN'T... move. "What." i said in a total deadpan. "He killed himself last night", she told me. "I wanted to call you and tell you, so you didn't find out on Monday when you got back." I sat in Mom's driveway in silence for about a half an hour, before going in and telling her about the phone call I just had. I couldn't think of anything to do or say about it. It was what it was, no take-backs. Jacob was THE most upbeat person at the office. Everyday, he would walk by my desk and go "Helloooo!" with a big goofy smile, and we all loved that. His car would break down, and he would come in to work and say "Well, the alternator needs rebuilt. WEEE!!" and just laugh.

And then... he died. I had noticed a change in him at around the beginning of the year, but i didn't know anything about his personal life, and wasn't going to pry. I found out later that his wife had left him around that time. I'm not going to say some shit like "Oh, if only I had said something!" and blame myself for it... HE made the decision to cease living, and playing the 'coulda, woulda, shoulda' game is a waste of time and emotion. But, his death is the one that i find myself reliving the most out of the four... the one that is perhaps the most senseless. Jacobs suicide has had a lot to do with many of the choices I've made in the last year... because to me, while Jacob chose to die, I choose to live. I never did find out how he did it...

The second death of 2008 is that of my then Father-in-law, Bob. He was a good man, with some serious health problems caused, in my opinion, by a life too close to the edge for too long. He loved and helped everyone he came into contact with... even people who had ripped him off time and time again, he still helped them. And then, his wife died in 2006. His world died with her. It took two long, painful years for him to finally follow her, but he did. In the meantime, he all but ignored his old friends and family, his grandkids, his own health... He was rushed to the ER so many times during that period where they had to literally bring him back to life... and he would just sign himself out, call a ride home, and start the cycle all over again. Bob's death is as much of a suicide to me as Jacob's... both men found life too difficult to continue. Both made the choice to quit. I was the second person to witness his death; his girlfriend at the time draped over him, bawling, because her golden ticket had finally expired. I genuinely admired the man; but his giving up like that disgusts me to this day...

Death number three was surprisingly the easiest for me to handle, being that it was the only one that was a direct relative of mine. My grandmother, Murlene, (White Grandmaw we used to call her) was the toughest old bitch that ever put on boots and walked the land. She was 89 at the time of her death... Up until she broke her hip the first time in 2004, she used to mow her own lawn with a push mower EVERY week. I swear, she knew EVERYTHING there is to know about birds, plants, genealogy... She had like 30 grandchildren, and she remembered each one's birthday, as well as her kids' spouses, and her neighbors! Although she was my Dad's mom, she was my mom's best friend. She broke her hip for the second time in mid-October. She told the doctor at the time "If the surgery doesn't go well, just let me lie," and she signed a paper giving her wishes. The surgery actually went fine... but during recovery, she developed pneumonia, and spent over a week in hospice on pain killers. At first, i was upset that they were just letting her lay there in bed and basically starve to death... it just seemed cruel, no matter what her wishes were. Now I realize she was tired, and was going out on HER terms. On the outside, this seems similar to the first two deaths... but White Grandmaw had lived a good long time, and had earned that last rest. It is more like an honorable surrender to a superior opponent, than a cowardly bowing out, out of fear.

The last death is the one least connected with me personally, but was the hardest to handle. Eden was 8 years old. Of these four, she was the only one who wanted to live. She had been living with the utter debilitating pain of lymphoma her ENTIRE life... and yet, life was still too sweet for her to surrender it. I had only met her once, when she was 4 or 5, and bald because of the chemotherapy she was constantly under. Eden was as lively as any of the other kids, and totally unafraid to romp and play. Thinking about it now, I can barely stand to write the rest of this... but I will. It is important.

Her death was on December 27th... two days after the best Christmas she had ever had. They had let her grow her hair out for the previous few months, her parents having already been given the news that she had lost the fight. She dyed it pink, just because she could. She got everything that was ever made for Hannah Montana, and screamed like a maniac when she opened each one. She died at home. In her father's arms.

The funeral was January 1st, 2009. It was THE most soul-crushing event I've ever been to. There were probably 300 people at the church. I remember Jim Ganahl giving a speech about the first time he met Eden, at Red, White and Boom in 2006. I remember the high school cheerleaders, in tears, telling about making her an honorary member of their squad. I remember the tiny 7 year old girl, a cancer survivor and friend of Eden, saying very clearly into the microphone through her tears "I love you Eden, and I miss you." And yet, the worst part, was the song at the end. I don't know the singer, but the song was called "Don't tell me if I'm dying." Her mother, surprisingly serene and calm through the entire presentation, told us the story of the first time she had heard that song. She and Eden were riding in the car, and Eden said "Mommy, turn this song up!" She sang every word. Her mother had to pull over for 10 minutes because she was crying so hard. I remember seeing her tiny, still form lying in the casket.

SO... (wiping away the tears) why drag myself through this again? Because, it is important. Of these four well-loved people, only ONE of them wanted to live. So many people in this world give up on life... while others hang onto it tooth and nail, and have it stripped away. Forget all of your problems. Forget all of your religion and politics. Forget all of your insecurities, your obsessions, your doubts. LIVE. LOVE. FIGHT. Fight until the blood runs free from your veins, then fight some more. Let nothing stand in your way. I saw pictures from all over the country with Eden shaking hands with President Bush, Alan Jackson, Jim Ganahl, throwing the first pitch at baseball games, dropping the puck at hockey... she packed as much experience into her life as she possibly could. Of these fallen friends, I choose to take her example... the others will remain forever in my memory, as fuel for the fury that will sustain me.


The Angry Man

Offense - Depression

OK, I think I've let the dust settle long enough from the last post. Tonight, I thought I would go in a different direction; these political posts are getting fucking stale, and that isn't the purpose I originally set for this thing. I've also caught some flack for the 'confrontational' nature of this blog which, to me, is a sign of success. If people hate my writing enough to yell at me for it, I have done my job. And, a reminder; if the word 'fuck' offends you... surf on, Kemosabe...

I wanted to take the time to discuss my views on depression. It's become almost a political topic nowadays, and drugs to combat depression are advertised every-fucking-place... almost as much as beer, which USED to serve as the only anti-depressant people needed! Talking about depression in public is almost as bad as discussion religion... people have their views on handling it, and FUCK YOU if you think different.

Everybody gets depressed once in awhile... Most people get depressed quite frequently. (I have been depression free for about... 38 minutes now! Thank you, thank you, please hold your applause until the end.) Does this mean that there is some imbalance in their chemical makeup, causing them to wear black clothes and listen to Suicidal Tendencies? No, it means that every day isn't fucking peas-and-carrots like these fucking do-gooder motivational speakers want it to be. Being alive sucks pretty god damn hard most of the time... but, it sure beats the shit out of being dead!

Now, I'm no Dr. Phil, here to tell you to "Get real" and just get over it. Being depressed is some serious shit that everyone deals with, and you need to look into it and find the source. Any emotion has a trigger; you don't perceive anything without an object of your perception... Seeing the sun set triggers happiness in me. Watching my son climb a fence causes anxiety in me, for fear that he will fall. The thought about the amount of work I will have to complete tomorrow can cause anxiety, or even despair. Reminiscing about past relationships can cause all sorts of emotions. Depression follows the same rules. Is your depression caused by a sense of failure over your accomplishments, or lack thereof? Or is it caused by the loss of a loved one? Unrequited feelings for another? Unfulfilled expectations?

What O-fends me is the band-wagon of American culture towards chemical solutions to depression. I'm not going to get into the Health care speech again, I've done enough of that... but, it seems to me that the pharmacists just weren't selling enough pills, so they came up with a plan. "Hmm," thought Bob, the pharmacist. "What do people need today? Already got a head full of hair and an enormous penis! How about we convince people that 'depression' is a medical problem, and start selling pills to fight it?" (As if giant dick pills weren't enough to combat depression!) Now, you've got shit like Celexa and Prozac flying off the shelves like Tickle-me Elmo, and people are not 'fixing' their problems, just 'setting them aside'.

Before some asshole gets on here and yells at me like "You don't know what it's like!" let me spit my depression cred... My grandfather killed himself when I was 1. My dad has been admitted into institutions. My step dad hung himself in my mom's basement, where she found him. I've already written about the other people I know who gave up. I have lived with it for my whole life. I took Celexa for a year, finally buying the story that "maybe it IS medical". What that shit did for me was make me an emotionless zombie. Shit just didn't matter anymore; I would stare at the wall until someone called my name, then I would turn sleepily towards the sound. Oh, I wasn't feeling depressed anymore. I wasn't feeling anything else, either!

Then, there is the other side of it... these super-upbeat, nothing-bothers-me-ever, stiff-upper-lip, grass-is-always-greener, perpetual LIARS that walk around and act like bad feelings just don't exist. THOSE are the people that scare me the most, that keep such an iron grip on their emotions that there just isn't room for anything else. Emotions are like Jello (just go with me on this...) its all wiggly and fluid, and it fills the container you put it in perfectly... but if you grab a hand full and squeeze, that shit will come squirting out all sides. The idea with Jello is to make a nice, safe container for it, in whatever shape you desire... then chill.

I guess my point here is, depression happens, and you have to deal with it. Sometimes forgetting about it for a while actually IS the answer. (Bring on the recreational drugs!) Most of the time, it takes some serious soul-searching to find the answer but, trust me, the answer IS there. Just take the time to look, and be honest with yourself. That is what most people have trouble with, is self-honesty. Admitting, even to yourself, that you have a problem.

SO... Find a friend, smoke a blunt, drink a beer, do whatever it is you have to do to take the time to search yourself for the answer. Check over your own bowl of Jello to find out what is sticking out of it that doesn't belong (Carrot sticks? WTF?!) and take care of it. Taking any kind of medication is not, nor will ever be, a real solution to depression.

By the way, you know what my mom and grandmother did after finding their dead husbands? My grandma lived in the same house another 25 years... my mom is still in the same house after 8. THAT is fucking cast-iron BALLS right there... Go Mom! Go Grandmaw!

The Angry Man