Coulda Shoulda Woulda

If . . . you hadn't simply decided to throw away a life, my life, with your closed ears and lying heart, then things would be different today, right now. Your decision was unilateral and you blamed me for it. It was your decision, based not on fact but on your own definition of reality. You threw me away like so much lint, without the least thought that tomorrow should have, could have and in fact, would have been different.

You denied the incontrovertible truth about was I was telling you. Why? Because it scared you. Scared you so much that you could bear to listen to the end of my sentences and believe that it might be true. Then you'd be on the hook. Then, you'd have to walk with me. Then, all would be different and you didn't want it to be. If you did, you wouldn't have done what you did.

I built my future on your promises and our potential. I gave my heart away. I made career choices and sacrifices that you apparently choose to deny are real. I did all I did and only then, did you throw me away.

Once, you told me you were feeling bad and I said I'd turn around and come to you. No, no - don't do it, I can't do that to you, you said. I told you to not be silly, that I was turning around. I reached out, time and again, and you slapped my hand away and that's your proof that I should have "done something."

Well, I did plenty. I set the stage, made my peace, accept the changes and then you summarily discarded me. Deleted me without so much as a goodbye.

So, all the time I trusted you, confided in you, relied on you, hoped and prayed with you was just entertainment for you. A toe in the water of real commitment without actually having to make that commitment and then, a savage kick to the curb. So, it was a lie and I was stupid enough, as usual, to believe that manipulation was actually caring, was actually something I could count on, that we were family, that there was forever. Apparently not.

I must say that your timing is impeccable. Just as the confluence of the streams of my suffering came to a head, something new. Interestingly, you never bothered, not once, to see whether I was alive or dead. What kind of human being is that cold? And I'm disappointed terribly that the reality of who you are is undeniable in the light of what you've done.

And it doesn't stop there, does it? You need to get your rocks off at my expense, still. You can't leave well enough alone, after taking my life and my future away, now you have the audacity to call me a liar? With facts - not my facts, but real, hard truth - shining brightly, telling you that what I told you was consistent and honest all along, from day f*cking one. And now you're there and I'm here, as invisible as wallpaper.

It should have been different. It would have been much better than you imagined it. It could have been now. It was your choice to make me disappear. It was you who decided to not take the next step, despite all of the facts before you. It was your decision to ignore the truth and my earnestness supported by the facts. You decided to make us unequal, to make me sub-human, not worthy of your consideration. And now, I'm dead to you. Even in that, you get what you want.

Losing It

It hasn't been a good week. Not good at all.

I've worked very hard to set the stage for my future, but not only for me - for my girlfriend and for my daughter, too. Now, I've lost my girlfriend. She can't see me for what I am or maybe she sees what I am and I don't - I don't know because there's no way to talk to her about it. We had a bad phone conversation the other night and it seems that she just won't hear it and there's nothing I can do about it.

So, short of following her around and losing my freedom and then, my daughter, I need to remain silent and grieve. In my mind, I was preparing the nest and we were going to go forward. She told me what she wanted and I thought carefully about how to achieve that. She was willing to compromise so that I could be near my daughter since she, too, is a devoted parent and was willing to make sacrifices so that this could happen for me. And, I loved her all the more for it.

But now, she's gone in the most absolute way. I can't argue with her or discuss how I feel or how she said she felt because by her decision, it's irrelevant. So, all the plans I had and all that we talked about, the expressions of love, of distrust, comradeship and fear are all equally tossed away. She mostly paid the price for my "situation" and I knew it and always felt horrible about it but I worked to get to the point where I am now . . . ready, willing, able to live a full life with he, to magnify my commitment to her. Instead, there's nothing but a broad, empty place where she should be standing.

I told her that I would do anything for her and that's what I set out to do. I guess I just took too long in doing it and adding that to my, let's say' very unique personality, made for a recipe that she ultimately found unpalatable.

On some level, I salute her for having the presence of mind to simply tell me to get lost. On the other hand, it was juvenile and stupid since we weathered much and she in particular compromised much, to get to this point. So, I'm hurt and disappointed.

I miss her very much. Obviously, I have no choice but to get over it. But it's wrong and unfair and it hurts very very much and I miss her and I want to be with her but she is, for all purposes, dead. So, like my Mom, I go to pick up the phone but I know I can't call her.

So, what do I do now? What's the point? I have a job, but I have no friends, no family except for my daughter. I haven't done anything creative to completion in I don't know how long and I don't want to. I have to move week after next - by myself. Whatever plans I so carefully made are void. I've lost it all.

My House Burned Down

Some bad news from this side of the world. My house burned down. Yup. Kinda sucks to be balls-out, everything one owns either gone or charred beyond retention. So, it's time to introduce my very own patron saint, St. Mildred. Here's an official prayer for her:

O loving Lord, the source of all joy and goodness, we praise you for the life and example of our patron, Mildred of Thanet, who preached the Christian faith in pagan times and we pray that, as the radiance of your love was seen in her faith, her devotion and her good works, so we, in this unbelieving generation, may show forth practical love, generous compassion, and joyful faith. We ask this for your name's sake. Amen.

Yup, sounds about right. A little vague as to what those good works were exactly, but I guess that's covered in the section of the Catholic Church manual on how to be a good'un or something. I like the concept of generous compassion and practical love. Lots of give and take there.

What I found out about her is certainly some substance for a lengthy, if possibly very boring, historical novel. She was born into nobility around 650 or so, her mother was a princess in Kent and ultimately a saint herself, and St. Mildred went to school at a convent near Paris. A dude pursued her but she brushed him off, instead choosing the staid life of service to the poor and rejected. So, fill, fill . . . and you've got a NYT bestseller.

I know someone who is very much like St. Millie and very devoted to all that religion stuff I hold in such low regard. But she believes and I can't fault that. I might want to argue it, but it's only an intellectual discussion and no amount of grey matter can obscure faith. In other words, rationality is no match for the seemingly irrational, because people who hold a belief will likely hold on to that no matter what "truths" are brought to bear.

There is a comfort in faith that is akin to love, either romantic or platonic. It means never having to doubt the silent presence that is your given calling. It means having to say that you're sorry for not fulfilling all that your "significant other" expects but that said beacon is your beacon alone and will forgive you and allow you to improve, try again, possibly fail but will still love you, and your failures until, one day, you finally do make it.

Apparently, though, the true believers can't fault the object of their devotion as that would be blasphemous. Never question the Word. Well, folks, this is why I'm not a Christian, Catholic, Hindu or Muslim. If the answer's in there, don't make me pretend to be stupid when I can ask a question. You're free to be a lemming if you want but that doesn't mean I'm wrong for not wanting to dive off the cliff with you.

I respect your right to believe what you want. In fact, I'll defend it as I would my own right to believe that there is no God, well, at least, not in the bearded-guy-that looks-like-that-guy-from-Metallica sense, anyway. And you simply have to respect my position. Don't proselytize - it offends me. It's not like I haven't thought about it, you know. I majored in that crap in college. Gonna bring it up? Fine. Expect an argument, not a nasty one, but an intelligent one and an unapologetic one at that.

In the meantime, if I have to choose an entity to worship, it will have to be St. Mildred, only, the modern day version, since it's a lot harder, especially with Infidels like me around, to really, truly believe and you know, I kinda like that.

It's Time To Be Disappointed

When I was a kid, I was really into photography. And I was pretty good, too. In fact, I recently found a proof sheet of 35mm negs that date way back that contained a lot of good images. Considering that I was shooting at far lower ratios than today, meaning, 1 good image for every 3 bad, say, versus 1 good image versus 15 with digital photography that I do now.

As I got a little older, I discovered girls, but they weren't interested in a chubby, geeky kid until I hit thirteen, when I sprouted to my present height of six feet even and got really slim. In fact, that was my lowest weight until today. Today's weight? 142 pounds, but there's a long, sad story behind that, to be revealed later, if I manage to live that long. Anyhow, I was also working out - on the guitar, that is, and boy did the girls ever like the musician part of me. That was the elixir of love and lust, I will tell you, no matter what a hound you were. Ray, our drummer, was a real mutt but was never short of interest from the laydees. Through all of this, I discovered something strange. As long as I had a girlfriend, at least, one that I was interested in, nothing much new happened creatively. In fact, years later when I performed I found that the distraction of girls was a definite no-no. It was a creativity killer. My sex happened on stage.

Later in life, long after my music career dissipated in favour of other worldly delights, I became creative in other areas: art, graphics, web design, audio design, video editing. I could sit and work at a thing for twenty hours at a stretch. And it was good work, polished, complete, right. I was pretty well known for my audio work and even one a couple of (useless, in terms of money) awards. I think they're in the attic now. I'll have to look so that I can leave them to my daughter so that she can use them as doorstops, I guess. But it was technical work. Yes, there was some creativity, but not like writing a song or framing a photograph just so. Nothing from the soul.

As it turns out, I lost my soul. Pffffft - gone. It's a bummer because I kinda liked it. But, wait, that's not the climax of the story . . . what happened was that I met this girl and

New Definition

"In reviewing your case, in consideration of the heinous nature of your crimes, with the mitigation of the sliver of apparent goodness within your soul, I have decided to show you some measure of mercy and have decreed that your sentence shall be to be hanged about the neck until dead, but only once."

Mercy be.