Monday, June 16, 2014
Dedication
This page and all it's contents is officially dedicated to DG. Clearly your work has inspired much of what I have written. Which explains, why I have not written in quite sometime. Where ya at DG? Damn man...like the cheesy song from the 80's says...you're my inspiration! Get to bloggin' dude!
Thursday, March 27, 2014
Walking the Forest Floor
So a friend of mine gave me a little assignment with detailed instruction on what I was to write about. She likewise presented me with a paper the I have not yet looked at which supposedly will tell me my views on life and love. I have not yet looked at that paper, and instead am going to write my description of my walk through the forest as instructed. Here goes...
It was a cold and foggy spring morning when I decided to take a walk through the dense forest that bordered my family property. It was the forest I had grown up playing tirelessly in and around. The leaves of the forest floor were still wet with the morning dew and therefore the leaves did not crunch beneath my feet. I could see the first signs of Spring in the budding branches, and the sound of the whippoorwill echoed methodically.
I came upon a path. The path was narrow and worn. It was clearly the trail used by the deer that inhabited the forest. Perhaps other small creatures used the muddy trail, but it was clearly too small for larger wildlife that lived in and around the area. I chose to follow it that morning, to see where it would lead.
In my travels, I came upon many items, the first of which a key. The key was silver and tarnished with the weather. It had many scrapes and scratches. What was it doing here I wondered? What could this key possibly be used for? I placed the key in my pocket and traveled onward, not knowing where it was I would end.
Shortly after discoving the key, I came upon a tin cup. The tin cup was white, though the white paint had weathered in many places. It was small and dented, and I wondered if the cup was that of a child. The cup intrigued me, perhaps more than the key, for my child had such a cup she drank from
when she was small. Could this be the same cup? I had not seen it for years, and the memory of her
drinking from it made me want to take it back with me to my home. I held tightly to the cup, and continued down the path, wondering what else waited around the turn ahead.
Soon I found myself staring at several large trees impeding my travel. It is was odd to me, that not one, but several trees had managed to land after falling in the same location. It was clear that the trees had not been placed there by human means, rather they had blown over likely in a storm. Moss was beginning to cover the trees, making them nearly impassible. I stopped briefly to assess whether I wanted to go around the obstacle or go through it. With very little thought, I decided through it I would go. I managed to slip through the obstruction with a few cuts to my bare legs. This reminded me of my childhood days playing in the woods for hours on end with my brother and sister. "If we had been lucky enough to find trees such as this when we were children, we would have had the best fort", I thought to myself.
It wasn't long before I heard the trickle of a stream. Oh, yes! I knew that stream. I had played there, caught minnows there, and once, when approaching my teens, my best friend and I had come upon the stream. As we removed our shoes to get in to cool off we both screamed at the sight of a snake as it swam away from us. The stream was flowing fast and cold this morning, and though I was tempted to taste the water, I was educated enough to know that wasn't a good idea. I bent low and let the cold water trickle over my fingers and then I recalled the items from my collection. I quickly washed the cup and the key off in the fresh spring water. The water was so very cold, but I so desired to see my items clean, that I scrubbed them as hard as I could. Though they still did not look new, they did look better. I returned the key to my pocket and held tight to my tin cup.
The sun was beginning to shine more prevalently through the trees by now and though I thought of heading back home I wanted to travel just a bit further. In doing so, I came upon a fence made of rock and wood. It was well put together surprisingly, and I wondered who had taken the time to build such a unique structure in the middle of the forest. On the other side of the fence was a field full of
daisies. The dew had nearly dissipated, and it occurred to me that it was someone's property likely used for livestock. The daisies were so beautiful, so plentiful, I jumped the fence to pick some to take home with me.
It was time to head for home, and I couldn't wait to get home to share my treasures. The trip back was not nearly as exciting as the trip down memory lane, but I am glad I took the path I took to get where I ended up.
Thursday, March 13, 2014
March Madness
At one time in my life the term March Madness meant the excitement of basketball season was upon us and for me that meant the enjoyment of my favorite youthful sport in all it's glory. Don't get excited sports fans...this post has nothing to do with shooting hoops. Rather it has everything to do with my daily trip to work and the frustrations of seeing the various displays of human apathy in its unique form. Oh yes, the folks who feel having their Christmas decorations ablaze in the wee morning hours of March is the topic of today's blog!
So imagine this, on my way to the job of my dreams, cup of coffee in hand, listening to my favorite jingles on XM, pondering the day ahead and the various tasks awaiting me. Frantically cursing the traffic with no chance of passing on the country roads before me. My thoughts methodical. My focus blurred only by the wildlife that frequently attempts to impede my travel. I round the turns swiftly as if riding on rails, and BAM...there it is! Twinkling lights, vibrant reflections of days gone by, distracting my expedition. The first day I am drawn to the images like a moth to a flame. How pretty, I think. Very nicely done. THAT was in early January.
February comes. Ok, so Christmas is a month or so past, it is really time to pack those decorations away, but perhaps an aged individual resides within having no family to assist in the removal of what remains of the year's most blessed holiday season. February goes.
March! Are you kidding me right now? Has anyone checked on the people living inside that house? Am I going to see this on the next 48 Hours Mystery episode? Should I stop and check on those people? What if they are deceased inside that house? How would I explain my random detour, my footprints circling the house in the snow, my fingerprints on every doorknob as I tried to gain entry?
"We'll Officer, you see, I couldn't fucking stand the sight for one more day of the Christmas lights of
the deceased. So, I felt the need to stop, tell the shit head that we were now living in the month of
March, and I noticed some eggnog sitting on the counter. That sir, further infuriated me, so I began to knock on every door, determined to wake the lazy ass that I could see sleeping on his couch from the door in back of the house...you know the one with the wreath on it. As I banged on the door I noticed that I was clearly being ignored. Because he was not budging, I decided to open the door and walk inside to have a word with the jolly old elf. Upon entering the home I noticed the mistletoe, the tree fully lit, stockings hung by the chimney with care, all the bullshit reminiscent of the most wonderful time of the year. That is when I yelled, "Hey, Saint Nick, get your ass up. It is fucking March, I'm trying to get to work, and I'm here to tell you that the time has come to take down your decorations!" He ignored me, so I did grab the goblet of eggnog and toss it his way. When he didn't stir, I stormed over to the couch and quickly realized that in my frustration I had in fact wrapped my hands around his neck, but he was already dead. This sir is when I got scared, locked the house back up, and went to work. While I realize my DNA is all over the place, I don't know the guy and had no real motive to kill the man. Do I need an attorney?"
Because I have now played this entire scenario out in my head, I guess my best course of action is to take the road less traveled and develop a new route to work. Another option, would be to suck it up and ignore the possibility of Dead Santa. If, however April arrives and this matter is not resolved, I may in fact take my chances and spring into action. The snow will be gone by then and I will make certain that I leave no DNA behind!
If you are in fact reading this, and are an offender of this type of behavior, please, do me the favor of removing your decorations. Save me the trouble of mounting legal fees in my defense of the Capital Murder charges I am sure to face by showing clear premeditation through the writing of this blog.
Merry Fucking Christmas!
So imagine this, on my way to the job of my dreams, cup of coffee in hand, listening to my favorite jingles on XM, pondering the day ahead and the various tasks awaiting me. Frantically cursing the traffic with no chance of passing on the country roads before me. My thoughts methodical. My focus blurred only by the wildlife that frequently attempts to impede my travel. I round the turns swiftly as if riding on rails, and BAM...there it is! Twinkling lights, vibrant reflections of days gone by, distracting my expedition. The first day I am drawn to the images like a moth to a flame. How pretty, I think. Very nicely done. THAT was in early January.
February comes. Ok, so Christmas is a month or so past, it is really time to pack those decorations away, but perhaps an aged individual resides within having no family to assist in the removal of what remains of the year's most blessed holiday season. February goes.
March! Are you kidding me right now? Has anyone checked on the people living inside that house? Am I going to see this on the next 48 Hours Mystery episode? Should I stop and check on those people? What if they are deceased inside that house? How would I explain my random detour, my footprints circling the house in the snow, my fingerprints on every doorknob as I tried to gain entry?
"We'll Officer, you see, I couldn't fucking stand the sight for one more day of the Christmas lights of
the deceased. So, I felt the need to stop, tell the shit head that we were now living in the month of
March, and I noticed some eggnog sitting on the counter. That sir, further infuriated me, so I began to knock on every door, determined to wake the lazy ass that I could see sleeping on his couch from the door in back of the house...you know the one with the wreath on it. As I banged on the door I noticed that I was clearly being ignored. Because he was not budging, I decided to open the door and walk inside to have a word with the jolly old elf. Upon entering the home I noticed the mistletoe, the tree fully lit, stockings hung by the chimney with care, all the bullshit reminiscent of the most wonderful time of the year. That is when I yelled, "Hey, Saint Nick, get your ass up. It is fucking March, I'm trying to get to work, and I'm here to tell you that the time has come to take down your decorations!" He ignored me, so I did grab the goblet of eggnog and toss it his way. When he didn't stir, I stormed over to the couch and quickly realized that in my frustration I had in fact wrapped my hands around his neck, but he was already dead. This sir is when I got scared, locked the house back up, and went to work. While I realize my DNA is all over the place, I don't know the guy and had no real motive to kill the man. Do I need an attorney?"
Because I have now played this entire scenario out in my head, I guess my best course of action is to take the road less traveled and develop a new route to work. Another option, would be to suck it up and ignore the possibility of Dead Santa. If, however April arrives and this matter is not resolved, I may in fact take my chances and spring into action. The snow will be gone by then and I will make certain that I leave no DNA behind!
If you are in fact reading this, and are an offender of this type of behavior, please, do me the favor of removing your decorations. Save me the trouble of mounting legal fees in my defense of the Capital Murder charges I am sure to face by showing clear premeditation through the writing of this blog.
Merry Fucking Christmas!
Monday, March 10, 2014
Ulysses Grant
Ok...time to fess up folks. My name is NOT Ulysses Grant. Big surprise, I know! So why of all the names I could give myself, why, oh why, would I choose Ulysses Grant? Well it goes a little something like this...
While fucking around with one of those ridiculous quizzes that exist out there in Internet Land, I came across one that asked a series of questions in an effort to determine what U.S. President you would be. Several silly statements followed which asked the quiz taker to choose from a series of items. Things like:
1. Choose a type of dog...ummmmm ok?
2. Choose an ingredient...a what?
3. Choose how your teachers would describe you...really?
4. Choose a beverage...NOW you're talkin!
5. Choose an Olympic Sport...wtf, I hate the Olympics!
Anyhow, you get the point.
Apparently the random answers somehow calculate at the end and determine which President it is that you would most likely be if you were one. Not only does it tell you the who...but also, it takes the time to drop a little ditty by telling you a bit about yourself! Very fucking scientific!
So through this little quiz I learned that I am in fact the reincarnated version of Ulysses S. Grant. I apparently have a rough exterior but am forgiving and kind. I am apparently a person of high moral standards, I am thoughtful and can see how my own actions impact the "larger scale". Lastly it added the little fact, or perhaps a note of warning, that indicated ole Ulysses must have been a heavy smoker and the hope was that I would not be following in his footsteps.
I find it all a bit comical actually. Ulysses is in many ways a good mix of the person I really am, and the person others think I am, with little sprinkler of the person I will never be. I guess that little sprinkle is where that damn ingredient question came into play. Damn pepper!
So what aspects of ole Ulysses are like me and which ones are not? Hmmmm...if you are reading this and TRULY know me, that is fairly easy to figure out. Few truly know me....the rest of you can just call me Ulysses.
Time for a smoke!
While fucking around with one of those ridiculous quizzes that exist out there in Internet Land, I came across one that asked a series of questions in an effort to determine what U.S. President you would be. Several silly statements followed which asked the quiz taker to choose from a series of items. Things like:
1. Choose a type of dog...ummmmm ok?
2. Choose an ingredient...a what?
3. Choose how your teachers would describe you...really?
4. Choose a beverage...NOW you're talkin!
5. Choose an Olympic Sport...wtf, I hate the Olympics!
Anyhow, you get the point.
Apparently the random answers somehow calculate at the end and determine which President it is that you would most likely be if you were one. Not only does it tell you the who...but also, it takes the time to drop a little ditty by telling you a bit about yourself! Very fucking scientific!
So through this little quiz I learned that I am in fact the reincarnated version of Ulysses S. Grant. I apparently have a rough exterior but am forgiving and kind. I am apparently a person of high moral standards, I am thoughtful and can see how my own actions impact the "larger scale". Lastly it added the little fact, or perhaps a note of warning, that indicated ole Ulysses must have been a heavy smoker and the hope was that I would not be following in his footsteps.
I find it all a bit comical actually. Ulysses is in many ways a good mix of the person I really am, and the person others think I am, with little sprinkler of the person I will never be. I guess that little sprinkle is where that damn ingredient question came into play. Damn pepper!
So what aspects of ole Ulysses are like me and which ones are not? Hmmmm...if you are reading this and TRULY know me, that is fairly easy to figure out. Few truly know me....the rest of you can just call me Ulysses.
Time for a smoke!
Sunday, March 9, 2014
Folger's and Bologna
Anyone remember the jingle that went along with Folger's coffee? You know...it went a little somethin' like this..."The best part of waking up, is Folgers in your cup". REALLY? How fucking sad is that! The best part of waking up is Folgers in your cup!
Apparently whomever wrote that has never given much thought to how ridiculous it sounds. I mean, imagine this...you have just gotten through a night of restful sleep, uninterrupted sleep, sleep filled with some of the best dreams you could ever imagine. You roll over in the sack and open your eyes to the world around you...and BAM! It becomes crystal clear obvious to you, at that exact moment, that the best part about waking up is that you can now pour some cheap ass coffee into your choice of the many gifted coffee mugs received from the various obligated gift givers over the course of time! So you jump to your feet, forgoing the brushing of teeth and the cleansing of your person by way of a warm shower, run swiftly to the kitchen, fire up the coffee pot, and pour youself that first cup of amber liquid because, after all, nothing else can compare. Nothing can even come close to the experience of having that cup of coffee. So, then what? Well apparently the rest of the fucking day is completely shot. Unless you plan to drink coffee all day in your jammies, you are clearly about to have a shit day!
Then there is that little jingle from the Oscar Mayer clan. You know kids...now sing along with me..."My bologna has a first name..." You know the tune. The one where the poor kid who sings the song divulges that he just LOVES to eat it everyday! Seriously dude...you love to eat bologna EVERYday. Do you ever just want to go wild and crazy and have a turkey sandwich? Is the best part of waking up for you, that delicious cold cut waiting in the fridge? Don't you sometimes just want to have some Cambell's Soup? After all it is "M'm M'm Good".
Apparently, I am really missing out on the joys of coffe and bologna. I love having that cup of Joe each day, and an occasional bologna sandwich is tasty, but to say these things complete me, bring me joy, make life what it is would be ludicrous. You really want to get me excited, get me a bag of Tootsie Pops. I can make a day outta counting how many licks it takes to get to the center. Now THAT my friends is a good time!
Apparently whomever wrote that has never given much thought to how ridiculous it sounds. I mean, imagine this...you have just gotten through a night of restful sleep, uninterrupted sleep, sleep filled with some of the best dreams you could ever imagine. You roll over in the sack and open your eyes to the world around you...and BAM! It becomes crystal clear obvious to you, at that exact moment, that the best part about waking up is that you can now pour some cheap ass coffee into your choice of the many gifted coffee mugs received from the various obligated gift givers over the course of time! So you jump to your feet, forgoing the brushing of teeth and the cleansing of your person by way of a warm shower, run swiftly to the kitchen, fire up the coffee pot, and pour youself that first cup of amber liquid because, after all, nothing else can compare. Nothing can even come close to the experience of having that cup of coffee. So, then what? Well apparently the rest of the fucking day is completely shot. Unless you plan to drink coffee all day in your jammies, you are clearly about to have a shit day!
Then there is that little jingle from the Oscar Mayer clan. You know kids...now sing along with me..."My bologna has a first name..." You know the tune. The one where the poor kid who sings the song divulges that he just LOVES to eat it everyday! Seriously dude...you love to eat bologna EVERYday. Do you ever just want to go wild and crazy and have a turkey sandwich? Is the best part of waking up for you, that delicious cold cut waiting in the fridge? Don't you sometimes just want to have some Cambell's Soup? After all it is "M'm M'm Good".
Apparently, I am really missing out on the joys of coffe and bologna. I love having that cup of Joe each day, and an occasional bologna sandwich is tasty, but to say these things complete me, bring me joy, make life what it is would be ludicrous. You really want to get me excited, get me a bag of Tootsie Pops. I can make a day outta counting how many licks it takes to get to the center. Now THAT my friends is a good time!
Friday, March 7, 2014
Self Reflection
What the hell happens to people? I mean how can some folks get up each day, look themselves in the mirror and go before others while hiding their true selves? At what point do we become this? Does anyone REALLY know the people they live, work, and exist with?
Fraud
Persona untrue
Fact
In hiding
Lurking behind the curtains of the soul
Reflection
Staring back
Untrue version of what really is
Seeking release
Fictitious character known by all
Acceptance
Thunderous emotion
Turmoil within
Tumultuous battle
Self indulgence, singular allegiance
Rejection
Splintered, torn
Withered existence
Tattered
Scars beyond healing
Open the curtains
Be true to thine self
Endure
Dismiss all fears
Heal the soul
Nah...I'd rather not!
Nah...I'd rather not!
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Don't Get Me STARTED
Well here goes it folks! My first attempt at blogging my brains out. Don't expect much this first time around as it may take me quite sometime before I feel completely comfortable purging the ole soul to God knows who. I'm not sure which is more scary. The thought of airing it all out to someone I don't know or airing it all out to nobody because nobody is really there. Hmmmm....
Really not certain where this blog thing will end up. Likely the end result will disappoint. Disappoint whom you may ask? Well now, that is dependent on who it is that actually takes the time to dig around in Grant's tomb. If it should be nobody, then for certain the only one potentially affected would be thine self. It is what it is!
Really not certain where this blog thing will end up. Likely the end result will disappoint. Disappoint whom you may ask? Well now, that is dependent on who it is that actually takes the time to dig around in Grant's tomb. If it should be nobody, then for certain the only one potentially affected would be thine self. It is what it is!
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