I feel so confined right now. There are so many things want to say but, I don’t feel like I can. Father’s Day makes things even harder to keep silent. I never felt that I was the kind of guy who kept silent when the truth needed to be screamed at the top of my lungs, but I just don’t feel the need to drag anyone’s name through the mud.
I suppose my biggest issue right now is deciding when enough is enough. My Dad once said, or was it my Mom, that my father contracted MS because he kept everything inside until it poisoned his soul. With my silence, I feel like I’m shouldering this unbearable burden. This huge fucking sack of bricks that I’m simply not able to put down quite yet.
I don’t know when I’ll be able to.
I don’t know if I ever will be able to.
I have the sneaking suspicion that I never will be able to.
I suppose that some day the shit in my head will be the shit in everyone’s face. That will be a fucking interesting day. Everything has its proper time. Everything has its proper place. The day that those two things align will be an amazing day, with massive fallout.
So, I’m sitting here in the midst of a late spring storm that won’t quite manifest itself. The wind is blowing and the trees are shaking and it’s blowing shit off my desk. I fucking HATE using paperweights. I could shut the doors and windows but I like the 55 degree weather coming through though it’s making the air inside a bit damp. Meh. Enough about the fucking weather. I don’t really know why I was talking about the weather. Weblogs aren’t created for inane fucking small talk.
I suppose I wanted to just start writing, although there is nothing terribly interesting going on in my life right now. My dog is sitting on the floor next to me, smiling at me, unmindful of the fact that in a few hours, she’s getting a rabies shot the thickness of my daughter’s thumb shoved through her skin. My dog has never bitten someone before but, truth be told I’m shrieking with glee at the prospect of some half educated vet’s assistant being the first on that chopping block.
My books are coming along just fine. “A Step Left of the Devil’s Road” is in its final editing stage, before I post it for publication and “Ladies First” is on hold for a week while I let the text settle in my brain.
Chug chug chuggin’ along.
My daughter is in her room, watching Arthur. She’s also testing her screaming voice. The cycle repeats itself over and over. She screams, I run from my desk and jump over the gate looking for a daughter covered in blood, but instead find a 24 inch tall, cute little smiling butthead who’s trying to raise my blood pressure. My daughter will be the death of me. I know it. I just got done playing ball with her, in her room with an oversized ball that is about as large as she is. Funny thing is we’ll bounce it off the wall, it will come back and hit her in the face, and she’ll look at me like I just sucker punched her. It’s almost endearing. Fast forward five years she’ll probably be lighting my bed on fire while I’m in it.
What are you looking for in your life?
What drives you to get up in the morning?
What do you hope to accomplish everyday?
Can you answer these very basic questions? Can you sit down and think objectively about what would make you happy as a human being? (Provided you’re not happy now, that is….) Can you dedicate yourself to finding out what the hell it is you want from this life?
So Michael Douglass is in the news about having cancer or something or other. I don’t really care, because I don’t give too much of a shit about Michael Douglass. A mediocre actor with a hot wife doesn’t rank very high on my list of importance. Having said that, it did bring the whole “throat cancer due to HPV infection via oral sex” topic to the forefront of my conversations with my wife. One of my exes had HPV and while both me and my wife had been tested (both of us having an intimate relationship with her) neither of us had it and we just dealt with it based on those findings.
But, then I started thinking about one tweet I saw this morning which basically said “Throat cancer is a small price to pay to eat out Catherine Zeta-Jones’ vagina.” I’m sure this isn’t going to win me any friends or anything, but here goes.
I’m sitting in a dark room, with only my computer screen to give what light I need. I’m sitting in the dark because I’m a little depressed.
Depression I suppose is the wrong word. More like a lazy annoyance that reminds me that I judged someone SO wrong.
So very, very wrong.
In my previous blog entry, I was a bit angry and said some things, while correct in my opinion, that were unnecessary. I don’t regret saying them, I just know they were unnecessary. I am so very, very bothered about the notion that this woman has that the Sandy Hook shooting was a hoax that was politically motivated to start the discussion about gun control.
My mind is so full of fuck right now…
This week I have seen a common theme among my friends and family. This notion of putting things off until later, the constant procrastination of one’s desire to either better themselves, or just do something that makes them happy. The motivation to take advantage of your life and mold it to your image seems to be lacking among my friends and family.
- The want to lose weight or become healthier.
- The want to start or finish a project.
- The need to make better decisions.
- The want for greater and better things.
- The time to enjoy the things you already have.
So, yesterday afternoon (5/15/2013), my wife had an endometrial ablation. As a result, our chances of having more children went from “slim” to “well, fuck that”. I have mixed emotions about it, but my wife is really taking this hard. She always imagined herself with a LARGE family. (If memory serves, 4 kids, 2 dogs, a baker’s dozen cats and whatever else.)
I suppose mentally, for me, this all ties into this week’s theme of women’s health issues, and this notion of what is right for one, may not be right for another. My wife is an amazing mother, and personally, I look forward to devoting every spare second of my life to this kid, and really spoiling the absolute shit out of her. But, even though there have been a few people who said things such as, “What right do you have to deprive your daughter of a sibling?” Whores like that can eat a bag of dicks. For the most part, I have friends who get this idea.
Well, this article is going to make people rather pissed off. I’m fine with this. I feel the need to address this because I’m sick of celebrity worship.
I am of course talking about Angelina Jolie’s press about her having a preventative double mastectomy, that lowered her chances of contracting breast cancer from 87% to just under 5%, all because she carried the cancer gene. This article, beautifully written by the amazing Mandy Stadtmiller, really says everything about the issue that needs to be said.
Because I’m a cynical asshole, part of me wondered if this whole thing wasn’t just the sly way of preventing scrutiny for wanting a boob job. Again, cynical asshole. But, I’m going to assume that she’s not “Hollywood-through-and-through”, and that she went public for the reasons she said she did, “To help women make informed decisions about their health.” For the purposes of this article, I’ll accept that at face-value.
Before we get to the meat of this article, I will say that I intend to start writing a lot about gaming, so if you’re not the least bit interested, stop following my this website, it will only cause you irritation. That being said, I’m not going to write SOLELY about gaming, I just realized how much of my life it actually is, and my website will be reflecting this.
Some people are not meant to be PCs. Some people are meant to run games, not play them. I am apparently in that category.