A Broken the Hand is Worth Two in the Fist

"It's like making a tattoo, Daddy, but it's not." --Ruby

“It’s like making a tattoo, Daddy, but it’s not.” –Ruby

“Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion. I myself prefer to laugh, since there is less cleaning up to do afterward.” –Kurt Vonnegut

I broke my hand recently.  It happened when stress and frustration joined forces with my fear of being found a fraud.  Together they conspired against the better angels of my nature to hobble me.  It is tough to type now.

I tried using voice recognition software as a means of dictation to build a MS Word document.  My computer barely survived the ordeal.

As a result, correspondence will be slowed in the near future.

Since breaking my hand I’ve noticed that, having heard the story, people fall into one of two categories: 1) Those who show empathy/sympathy for the frustration that I felt, and 2) Those who make the obvious remark that hitting a cabinet is a stupid choice.  I am ever fascinated by those who feel the need to state the obvious.  I am also fascinated by religious television programming.  Not that Pat Robertson states the obvious.  Rather, it is the lack of self-awareness–combined with the compulsion to force one’s voice, regardless how awkwardly, into any given situation–that bind the Pat Robertsons and the “Staters of the Obvious” in this world.

We’ve all but sold our house.  The projected closing date is December 30th.  We’ve been here before not here, per-se, but within eyesight; time will tell…she always do.

For some time I’ve wanted to do a blog with a long view on vision.  A blog that has a magazine-like philosophy of content.  The other day, while driving northbound on State Route 3 between Belfair and Sunnyslope, it came to me.  I realized the topic: DIY paint projects.  I decided that I want to do photo-shoots and interviews with anyone who has refurbished a car, wall, dresser, room, or anything else using their imagination–rather than cash–as the impetus of revelation.  I’ve already lined up my first interview.  The blog will be called: Rattle Candy…provided no one has already taken the name…

Was hitting the cabinet a stupid choice?  The answer is rendered moot if it fails to clearly present itself prior to hitting the cabinet.

I posted some pictures of a new obsession of mine: Stencil Graffiti, on my Tumblr…Check it out here


The Century Mark: Surely It should Mean Something

it is not given to us to try and parse a moments significance...that is a contrivance...

it is not given to us to try and parse a moment’s significance…that is a contrivance…

“Repetition is the death of magic”–Bill Watterson

One hundred…it’s kind of a big deal: I mean to me it is…and, probably, to me alone.  I had big plans for this post…I’ve been working on a couple of important posts.  But, in the end, they seemed contrived.

I had a harrowing tale about performing fellatio on a teenage boy (as a five…or, mayhaps, six year old? who can reliably keep track…this is not a rhetorical question )…(worry not; it’s coming…no pun intended).

I had an update about my life.  It included the story about me breaking up with the church to which I’d dedicated (along with some of my closest friends) a decade of my life to make something beautiful…which was taken from me…without remorse or apology…in the end, I was made out to be the bad guy…”I don’t know how you can do this so easily”; was a statement that was handed to me, as though I was the one who was being dismissive.  Insult to injury?  Mayhaps; but I still strive to be the bigger man…

The point?  I’ve put a lot of pressure on myself to make a big impact on my century mark.  I don’t know why.

At the end of the day, I don’t give a shit about that sort of thing…I’m not trying to make a point.  I’m trying to be honest to those who care about that sort of thing.

Some people do.  I have a great circle of friends who like when I’m honest.

Here’s the rub: I don’t know if I can trust them.  I’m not sure if they are supporting my journey, or if they’re just happy that I’m the car doing 70mph on my way to church while they do 67.

This is not to call in to question their motives…I am powerless to do so.  This is only to point out how impotent I am in discerning where I stand.

It is the journey of a victim who works tirelessly to find an ally.

But maybe this is just a manipulative way to purge the thoughts that plague my mind…I am not above that: trust me…or don’t.  I am not above that.

So here we are…post: 100.  It may be annoying for me to bring it up over and over, but it marks one of the biggest commitments I’ve ever made in my life.  In some respects it’s like climbing to the top of the hill and learning nothing new…again, this is not on you; you just happen to be witnessing a moment of disillusionment…if it is uncomfortable; I apologize: sincerely.

It’s been a tough 6 months.

It’s also been a great 6 months…I’ve had an opportunity to see great support.  While I lack the wisdom…or trust…or discernment to understand the motives behind the support, I am blessed (beyond measure) to have friends who truly love me.  I cannot–reliably– explain to you what that means to me…mainly because I’ve never taken the time required to contemplate its possibility…this is all new to me.

I can only imagine the frustration that this has caused in the people who’ve risked themselves to love me…truth be told, I really can’t imagine.

So: here it is…post 100…what a steaming pile of rambling horseshit…I wouldn’t have it any other way…scratch that…after struggling for months to make something cool…I couldn’t have it any other way…

I am okay with that…

To those of you who are also okay with that: Thank You So Much…