Dinner is finished. I’ve just washed my dishes, put away my leftovers, donned my backpack, and walked down to the shopping center to buy some more cream and sugar for my coffee drinking session this evening. It is a drab, dreary, and overcast Saturday. The temperature is hovering in the forties. I am bundled up in my warmest jacket. Rosa is sitting down by the dollar store as I walk up to greet her before finishing my shopping. I sit down beside her.
I watched as Rosa pulled out two cigarettes putting both in her mouth and lighting them. She handed me the other. It was a Newport menthol. I am not fond of menthol cigarettes, but smoked it out of respect for the very kind offer.
“We were just talking about you,” She says.
“You and who?” I ask intrigued.
“Dan,” She replies. “You know. The old man that rummages through the dumpsters out back.”
“Ah, Dan,” I say as I smile. “I haven’t seen old Dan in days.”
"That’s why he was asking about you,” Rosa says. “He was wondering where you have been.”
Rosa was dressed in sweat pants and a tattered and worn coat with an old New York Yankees baseball cap pulled down low over her brow. If you didn’t look closely, she would have been easily mistaken for a man. Around her neck was hanging a pair of headphones tethered to a Sony Discman CD player. I could hear music softly emitting from it.
“What are you listening to?” I ask.
“Elvis Costello,” Rosa replies as she pulls off the headphones and hands them to me to take a quick listen. I know the tune well and I start to sing along.
“…Oh it's so funny to be seeing you after so long, girl. And with the way you look, I understand that you are not impres--,” I sang.
I pull the headphones off, stop singing, and say, “Okay, I am embarrassing myself.”
“You have a beautiful voice,” Rosa says. “I wish you wouldn’t quit.”
I blush and tell her of my three years at the University of Montevallo as a voice performance major.
"I couldn’t ever imagine going to college,” She says. “Why did you quit?”
"I was young and dumb,” I reply. “I didn’t want to be a music teacher caged in some stuffy old classroom teaching wet nosed high school kids. That is about the only way to realistically make a living with a music degree.”
I watched as Rosa pulled out two cigarettes, putting both in her mouth, and lighting them. She handed me the other. It was a Newport menthol. I am not fond of menthol cigarettes, but smoked it out of respect for the very kind offer.
“Well, I am going to head home and watch my British comedies,” I say as I flick the extinguished cigarette into the boxwoods planted in the flowerbed in front of us.
“I will tell Dan I saw you,” Rosa says.
“You tell Dan I said to stay warm,” I reply.
Rosa told me she would as I got up to walk to the grocery store and then home. As I walked up the road by the newspaper office, a tulip tree was blooming in full glory.
“Tonight’s frost will get you,” I thought.
Such is the tenuousness of life. Today’s beauty will be tomorrow’s brown and frost burned vegetation. It reminded me of my own experiences with mental illness. Much like the weather, I never know what tomorrow may bring.
Saturday, February 03, 2007
The Dance of a Thousand Lights…
I awoke early this morning to start the ritual of another day. Carolyn rolled over and drifted back to sleep. I and Maggie walked upstairs so I could let her out for her first visit of the backyard for the day. I stood on the back deck with my mug of steaming coffee in the 24 degree air. Far off, down in the Chattahoochee Valley, a dance of a thousand myriad lights shone in downtown. I watched sleepily and mesmerized as a far off traffic signal swayed in the breeze and turned from green, then to yellow, and finally to red. The chill morning air finally chased me and my faithful companion back inside after only a few moments of admiring that sight.
I stood at my backdoor as I watched her get in her car and drive off. I realized she probably will not call tonight. It was most likely the last time I will ever see her again. At least, we ended on a good note.
Midnight had rolled around yesterday evening with me on the phone. Carolyn had called me. It had been a week since we last spoke. The interval gets longer and longer as we drift apart farther and farther. We once spoke every night like giddy high school kids filled with excitement of a new relationship and prospects of love.
“I thought about you all day,” She told me. “Little things remind me of you and I miss you.”
A few weeks ago such a statement would have hurt me deeply. Time does heal old wounds and I thanked her for the kind words instead of pouting and sulking with her.
“I wish things could have worked out between us, but I understand,” I replied.
There was a quiet moment as I heard her quietly start to sob on the other end.
“Can I come over?” She asked between sniffles.
“Come over here and let’s go to bed,” I replied. “I want to hold you.”
I awoke again abruptly around 4 AM. My arm was around Carolyn and her head was upon my chest. My most striking memory of last night was of her breathing softly as she slept with her soft breasts pressed up against my side. The smell of her hair, which was scented like apples, brought back a thousand memories of us lying together after making love.
Just like my ex-wife, Carolyn is a fair weather friend. She told me last week that she couldn’t deal with the irrationality of my mental illness. The final nail in the proverbial coffin was my week long visit to the mental hospital a few months ago. It scared her and she didn’t know what to do.
I am no stranger to being alone and will survive. I sat at my kitchen table this morning drinking coffee as Carolyn took a shower and got ready for work. I wondered if this would be the last time I ever saw her.
“I’ll call you after work,” She said as she hurriedly walked out my backdoor just as the sun was rising on the horizon. “I am going to be late.”
I stood at my backdoor as I watched her get in her car and drive off. I realized she probably will not call tonight. It was most likely the last time I will ever see her again. At least, we ended on a good note.
I stood at my backdoor as I watched her get in her car and drive off. I realized she probably will not call tonight. It was most likely the last time I will ever see her again. At least, we ended on a good note.
Midnight had rolled around yesterday evening with me on the phone. Carolyn had called me. It had been a week since we last spoke. The interval gets longer and longer as we drift apart farther and farther. We once spoke every night like giddy high school kids filled with excitement of a new relationship and prospects of love.
“I thought about you all day,” She told me. “Little things remind me of you and I miss you.”
A few weeks ago such a statement would have hurt me deeply. Time does heal old wounds and I thanked her for the kind words instead of pouting and sulking with her.
“I wish things could have worked out between us, but I understand,” I replied.
There was a quiet moment as I heard her quietly start to sob on the other end.
“Can I come over?” She asked between sniffles.
“Come over here and let’s go to bed,” I replied. “I want to hold you.”
I awoke again abruptly around 4 AM. My arm was around Carolyn and her head was upon my chest. My most striking memory of last night was of her breathing softly as she slept with her soft breasts pressed up against my side. The smell of her hair, which was scented like apples, brought back a thousand memories of us lying together after making love.
Just like my ex-wife, Carolyn is a fair weather friend. She told me last week that she couldn’t deal with the irrationality of my mental illness. The final nail in the proverbial coffin was my week long visit to the mental hospital a few months ago. It scared her and she didn’t know what to do.
I am no stranger to being alone and will survive. I sat at my kitchen table this morning drinking coffee as Carolyn took a shower and got ready for work. I wondered if this would be the last time I ever saw her.
“I’ll call you after work,” She said as she hurriedly walked out my backdoor just as the sun was rising on the horizon. “I am going to be late.”
I stood at my backdoor as I watched her get in her car and drive off. I realized she probably will not call tonight. It was most likely the last time I will ever see her again. At least, we ended on a good note.
Friday, February 02, 2007
Eyes in the Storm…
I awoke and sat on the edge of my bed. Maggie yawned and sighed softly before curling back up to go to sleep once again. I pulled on my shorts, socks, and tennis shoes to get ready for my morning walk. It was still dark as night outside without a hint of dawn on the horizon.
Here’s to hoping it will be another quiet and uneventful day less filled with the turmoil’s of my mental illness. I have to treasure these eyes in the storm of the turbulent hurricane that can be my mind.The sun was just beginning to rise on this cold morning as I once again completed six miles. The cold and dampness of the air made me shiver after all that rain we got. I walked over to Merl’s Diner to eat breakfast and to drink as much coffee as my bladder could hold.
Merl’s was busy this morning. The smell of frying bacon came wafting out of the kitchen evoking memories of cold winter mornings spent on my grandmother’s farm. Breakfast was the biggest and most important meal of the day for her.
“You’ve got to start your day right,” She would tell me. “A good breakfast gets you on the right footing for the day.”
I could picture her standing in her quaint little country kitchen over a hot stove as she fried bacon and scrambled my favorite, cheese eggs. The creak of the door of her oven would sound as she would pull out a big pan of made-from-scratch biscuits. She would carefully cut in half each biscuit to add a dab of fresh cream butter. We would then eat quietly as she sipped upon her piping hot coffee from her favorite and ancient old coffee mug as shafts of the warm morning sun would splay out upon her kitchen floor from her window.
This morning I ordered two sausage, egg, and cheese biscuits along with a large coffee. I sat quietly eating as I people watched. The owner of the restaurant, Merl, then went around to each table to ask her customers if everything tasted okay and if they needed anything. I thought that was a nice touch. You surely wouldn’t see something like that down at McDonald’s eating their bland breakfast fare.
I finally finished my breakfast and stepped into the bathroom to make room for all the coffee I had drank. I then stepped back out into the cool morning air to make it home in time to watch ER on TNT which has also become a morning ritual. Here’s to hoping it will be another quiet and uneventful day less filled with the turmoil’s of my mental illness. I have to treasure these eyes in the storm of the turbulent hurricane that can be my mind.
Gothic Country
Darrin has piqued my interest with this post:
January just ended, and I think I've already got my favorite album of the
year. Cortney Tidwell's debut full length album was released last year across
the pond, and on February 20 it finally gets a domestic release. Aided by
members of Lambchop and Hands Off Cuba. Tidwell builds on the relative
minimalism of her self titled EP to create a spacy folk/pop gem. Initially
tagged as "gothic country," she adds a quite a bit more electronics and layered
harmonies to the mix this time, and the result sounds like a cross between The
Sundays and Sigur Ros.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Mediocre Day Draws to a Close...
The highlight of my day? I installed Microsoft Office 2007 Enterprise Edition and LOVE IT! I only installed Word and Outlook, but I really like the way the new Word is programmed. It is pleasing to the eye. I just had to write a post to put it to good use tonight.
Dinnertime found me standing in the kitchen boiling spaghetti noodles. I had heard once on Food Network to never add oil to your pasta water. I added a little olive oil tonight and the pasta turned out fine. It certainly helps to keep it from sticking together when you pour it out to drain in the colander in the sink.
I have a weird mish mash oddball spaghetti sauce recipe I perfected in college by trial and error cooking with a hot plate. I came up with the recipe on my own and it works for me. I sauté finely chopped celery, onion, and garlic in butter until translucent and sweating. I then brown 2 pounds ground beef and add one large can of store bought pasta sauce such as Prego or Ragu. To that, I add a small can of sliced button mushrooms, one can of Italian style tomato paste, one can of tomato sauce, and two cans of diced tomatoes with oregano and basil. I let that simmer for about two hours on low heat until the sauce thickens and then serve over spaghetti with a liberal sprinkling of grated Parmesan cheese accompanied by buttery garlic bread. Tonight, I even cut up a little side salad and enjoyed it with buttermilk ranch dressing. I think my butt just gained a few pounds tonight.
Maggie was being a total spazz tonight. We have a nightly ritual where I let her out in the evening for one last romp around the yard. The rain had ended, but there was standing water on my back deck. Maggie saw that water and would not go outside no matter how much I encouraged her. Maggie will burst before she will use the bathroom inside so I knew she was uncomfortable. I finally picked her up and carried her out the backyard into the fence. She did her business, chased a few errant squirrels, dug three holes in the yard, and then called it a night. She is curled up on the bed with her stuffed pound puppy waiting for me to retire. I have had entirely too much coffee tonight to be able to sleep at a decent hour. At least, she doesn’t constantly nag me to come to bed like my ex-wife always did. I would take Maggie over Rachel any day as far as having a woman in my life these days.
I have been trying to incorporate more fruit into my diet. I bought a huge bag of granny smith apples on sale and put them in the fridge (They will last me for weeks). I love bananas, but had read they have too many sugars in them. Eating apples is a pain though. I have gotten in the habit of taking a sharp knife and cutting them up in slices and find that easier to eat. My favorite fruit is kiwis, but they are so expensive and I only purchase them sparingly.
Most evenings about this time (11 PM) I listen to the USA radio network via the internet while drinking coffee, smoking cigars, and browsing blogs. I rarely, if ever, agree with these conservative idiots that are talk show hosts and find their narrow and closed minded view of government, politics, and life in general to be alarming. Still, I listen to hear what they are shoveling down the throats of the poor, misguided, and deluded souls that actually believe all that crap. I tend to be very moderate in my political leanings and yearn for a talk show with 100% less crap from either side to listen to. There are a thousand other things I can think of that would be more interesting to hear than what that Pinocchio in the White House is doing.
Well, let me go start another pot of coffee. It looks like I am going to be burning the proverbial midnight oil tonight. I knew I shouldn’t have taken that two hour nap this afternoon, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open and those cool covers and pillows were so inviting. Till we speak again this is Andrew signing off for another broadcasting blog day. Good night.
Dinnertime found me standing in the kitchen boiling spaghetti noodles. I had heard once on Food Network to never add oil to your pasta water. I added a little olive oil tonight and the pasta turned out fine. It certainly helps to keep it from sticking together when you pour it out to drain in the colander in the sink.
I have a weird mish mash oddball spaghetti sauce recipe I perfected in college by trial and error cooking with a hot plate. I came up with the recipe on my own and it works for me. I sauté finely chopped celery, onion, and garlic in butter until translucent and sweating. I then brown 2 pounds ground beef and add one large can of store bought pasta sauce such as Prego or Ragu. To that, I add a small can of sliced button mushrooms, one can of Italian style tomato paste, one can of tomato sauce, and two cans of diced tomatoes with oregano and basil. I let that simmer for about two hours on low heat until the sauce thickens and then serve over spaghetti with a liberal sprinkling of grated Parmesan cheese accompanied by buttery garlic bread. Tonight, I even cut up a little side salad and enjoyed it with buttermilk ranch dressing. I think my butt just gained a few pounds tonight.
Maggie was being a total spazz tonight. We have a nightly ritual where I let her out in the evening for one last romp around the yard. The rain had ended, but there was standing water on my back deck. Maggie saw that water and would not go outside no matter how much I encouraged her. Maggie will burst before she will use the bathroom inside so I knew she was uncomfortable. I finally picked her up and carried her out the backyard into the fence. She did her business, chased a few errant squirrels, dug three holes in the yard, and then called it a night. She is curled up on the bed with her stuffed pound puppy waiting for me to retire. I have had entirely too much coffee tonight to be able to sleep at a decent hour. At least, she doesn’t constantly nag me to come to bed like my ex-wife always did. I would take Maggie over Rachel any day as far as having a woman in my life these days.
I have been trying to incorporate more fruit into my diet. I bought a huge bag of granny smith apples on sale and put them in the fridge (They will last me for weeks). I love bananas, but had read they have too many sugars in them. Eating apples is a pain though. I have gotten in the habit of taking a sharp knife and cutting them up in slices and find that easier to eat. My favorite fruit is kiwis, but they are so expensive and I only purchase them sparingly.
Most evenings about this time (11 PM) I listen to the USA radio network via the internet while drinking coffee, smoking cigars, and browsing blogs. I rarely, if ever, agree with these conservative idiots that are talk show hosts and find their narrow and closed minded view of government, politics, and life in general to be alarming. Still, I listen to hear what they are shoveling down the throats of the poor, misguided, and deluded souls that actually believe all that crap. I tend to be very moderate in my political leanings and yearn for a talk show with 100% less crap from either side to listen to. There are a thousand other things I can think of that would be more interesting to hear than what that Pinocchio in the White House is doing.
Well, let me go start another pot of coffee. It looks like I am going to be burning the proverbial midnight oil tonight. I knew I shouldn’t have taken that two hour nap this afternoon, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open and those cool covers and pillows were so inviting. Till we speak again this is Andrew signing off for another broadcasting blog day. Good night.
Calm at Command Station Central…
It is rainy days like this that I so enjoy. I don’t feel guilty for spending all day in front of the computer. I have an old favorite Joni Mitchell CD playing on my overkill home theater. Maggie is lying at my feet chewing on the remnants of a rawhide bone. The smell of slow simmering spaghetti sauce is wafting out of my kitchen. All is right with my world today.
He is only sixty and has already had triple bypass heart surgery. That drug store is a damn stressful place to garner income.Mom called me a minute ago.
“My hip is killing me,” She said. “I am not going to be able to go out tonight to eat.”
“Do you want me to go get you something for supper?” I asked.
“No, I will just eat one of my Lean Cuisine meals,” She replied and we got off the phone.
Dad has also called to talk about the weather. I inherited my weather obsession from him.
“We narrowly dodged the bullet last night,” He said above the loud din of his busy pharmacy in the background.
“I know,” I replied. “It got down to thirty four degrees and just held there.”
“I was worried we would get some ice forming,” He said. “That would have been a mess.”
“We still have several more chances of snow coming up,” I replied. “James Spann says it might not get above freezing Monday and that is rare for the Deep South.”
“I love that I and you can talk weather,” Dad said. “Your brother doesn’t even know when it is raining.”
I laughed and agreed with Dad about my brother.
Dad had to go fill some more prescriptions and hurriedly got off the phone. I don’t envy him of his job. His business has taken a toll on his health over the years. He is only sixty and has already had triple bypass heart surgery. That drug store is a damn stressful place to garner a income.
A Cold, Very Cold Rain…
The National Weather Service issued a winter weather advisory for us last night. I stayed up all night watching the weather, rain, and the temperature on my little wireless weather station. The temperature dropped to 34 degrees and just stopped. I was so disappointed. I live so close to the Gulf of Mexico (a day away) and it moderates the cold air to a certain extent. That is why it is so hard for us to get a decent snow or just a snow at all. It has been seven long years. I was hoping to get to use the 4-wheel-drive on my Honda CR-V for a change.
A friend of mine emailed me and wanted to know some particulars of my life lately so I decided to write about that today for her. Yes, I still go to Alcoholics Anonymous every night. Lunch times often find me sitting over at Rodger’s Barbeque eating the daily special. Wednesday is meatloaf day and I never miss it. They cook a fabulous meatloaf recipe.
Me and mom still eat out every Thursday night. Last Thursday we went to the Waffle House and I ate the double hamburger platter. Mom got a chicken salad. You see the most interesting people in the Waffle House. My friend Charlie says they are a little too interesting.
Sam found his old owners. I put an ad in the paper for him. I just knew he was somebody’s dog. He turned out to be the property of a local doctor who lives out Spring Road. I went to High School with his son so he knew me very well. They came and picked up Sam the first of the week so it just me and Maggie again. Maggie really misses Sam and I was starting to get attached to him as well. I was glad he got reunited with his rightful owners though.
I am very excited about my new home. I should start moving in the next few weeks or so. The workmen finished framing the windows in my laundry room and I have to go pick out some linoleum for the kitchen and carpet for my bedroom and computer room. I had a guy come and tile the hall which looks very nice. This house has completely eaten up my savings though. At one time, I had $5000 dollars in the bank as an emergency fund. It is all gone now. It will take another few years to rebuild it after I move in and get used to a completely new budget.
Well, I am going to go get lost in a game of NeverWinter Nights 2. I have been a fan of Dungeons and Dragons since I was a little boy. I miss me and my many childhood and college friends getting together to play the pen and paper game. At least, I have an electronic version to enjoy. I hope you all have a good day and snow comes your way!
A friend of mine emailed me and wanted to know some particulars of my life lately so I decided to write about that today for her. Yes, I still go to Alcoholics Anonymous every night. Lunch times often find me sitting over at Rodger’s Barbeque eating the daily special. Wednesday is meatloaf day and I never miss it. They cook a fabulous meatloaf recipe.
Me and mom still eat out every Thursday night. Last Thursday we went to the Waffle House and I ate the double hamburger platter. Mom got a chicken salad. You see the most interesting people in the Waffle House. My friend Charlie says they are a little too interesting.
Sam found his old owners. I put an ad in the paper for him. I just knew he was somebody’s dog. He turned out to be the property of a local doctor who lives out Spring Road. I went to High School with his son so he knew me very well. They came and picked up Sam the first of the week so it just me and Maggie again. Maggie really misses Sam and I was starting to get attached to him as well. I was glad he got reunited with his rightful owners though.
I am very excited about my new home. I should start moving in the next few weeks or so. The workmen finished framing the windows in my laundry room and I have to go pick out some linoleum for the kitchen and carpet for my bedroom and computer room. I had a guy come and tile the hall which looks very nice. This house has completely eaten up my savings though. At one time, I had $5000 dollars in the bank as an emergency fund. It is all gone now. It will take another few years to rebuild it after I move in and get used to a completely new budget.
Well, I am going to go get lost in a game of NeverWinter Nights 2. I have been a fan of Dungeons and Dragons since I was a little boy. I miss me and my many childhood and college friends getting together to play the pen and paper game. At least, I have an electronic version to enjoy. I hope you all have a good day and snow comes your way!
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Between a Rock and a Hard Place…
There was a knock upon my door late yesterday evening. At first, I had trouble discerning whether it was an auditory hallucination due to my schizophrenia until Maggie came running jubilantly out of my bedroom and into the den whining and barking. She gets so excited when I have company. My father was standing out in the cold night air on the threshold of my backdoor.
“Uh, no,” I said hating to lie to my mother. I was between a rock and a hard place. “I think he went down to the pharmacy to check on some things.”
“Can I borrow your DVD player and the television?” He asked.
“Sure,” I said as I opened the door wide and welcomed him inside.
My father is obsessed with the British Monarchy. They have a library in their home and it is filled with books on the Monarchy that were gifts and purchases over the years. My father has read them all. In his hand tonight was a DVD video he wanted to watch that he had ordered from public television out of Boston.
“Your mother is driving me crazy,” He said. “She has asked me a thousand questions since I arrived home from work. I couldn’t take it any longer and need to watch this in some peace and quiet.”
I laughed. My mother is a tad obsessive compulsive. “Like mother, like son,” I thought. She has been known to call me three or four times in a row asking questions as well. My recent abscessed tooth brought forth a frenzy of concerned and obsessive calls from her. I managed to narrowly escape going to the dentist due to her urging by taking antibiotics.
Ring. Ring.
Dad was watching his video as I answered my phone.
“I am not here,” He said.
I picked up the phone and said hello.
“Andrew, your father has just disappeared and I am worried about him,” My mother said on the other end.
“He’s fine,” I replied.
“Have you seen him?”
I looked at dad wondering how to answer. He waved me off.
“Uh, no,” I said hating to lie to my mother. I was between a rock and a hard place. “I think he went down to the pharmacy to check on some things.”
I finally managed to get off the phone with my mother. Dad thanked me for so astutely handling that awkward situation. I sat down with him and watched the rest of that DVD about Charles, The Prince of Wales, and Camella Parker Bowle’s royal wedding. It was nice spending some quiet time with my father even if the video bored me to tears. I have never been one much for weddings. I was almost late for my own.
“Uh, no,” I said hating to lie to my mother. I was between a rock and a hard place. “I think he went down to the pharmacy to check on some things.”
“Can I borrow your DVD player and the television?” He asked.
“Sure,” I said as I opened the door wide and welcomed him inside.
My father is obsessed with the British Monarchy. They have a library in their home and it is filled with books on the Monarchy that were gifts and purchases over the years. My father has read them all. In his hand tonight was a DVD video he wanted to watch that he had ordered from public television out of Boston.
“Your mother is driving me crazy,” He said. “She has asked me a thousand questions since I arrived home from work. I couldn’t take it any longer and need to watch this in some peace and quiet.”
I laughed. My mother is a tad obsessive compulsive. “Like mother, like son,” I thought. She has been known to call me three or four times in a row asking questions as well. My recent abscessed tooth brought forth a frenzy of concerned and obsessive calls from her. I managed to narrowly escape going to the dentist due to her urging by taking antibiotics.
Ring. Ring.
Dad was watching his video as I answered my phone.
“I am not here,” He said.
I picked up the phone and said hello.
“Andrew, your father has just disappeared and I am worried about him,” My mother said on the other end.
“He’s fine,” I replied.
“Have you seen him?”
I looked at dad wondering how to answer. He waved me off.
“Uh, no,” I said hating to lie to my mother. I was between a rock and a hard place. “I think he went down to the pharmacy to check on some things.”
I finally managed to get off the phone with my mother. Dad thanked me for so astutely handling that awkward situation. I sat down with him and watched the rest of that DVD about Charles, The Prince of Wales, and Camella Parker Bowle’s royal wedding. It was nice spending some quiet time with my father even if the video bored me to tears. I have never been one much for weddings. I was almost late for my own.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
A Moment of Reflection…
Lunch time found me sitting down at the shopping center in deep thought. The four walls of my apartment felt like they were closing in on me and I craved fresh air and the busyness of other people’s lives. I quietly watched as the many people came to and fro from the stores near me.
I pulled out my pack of cigarettes and offered her a smoke. Just like George hates to drink alone, I hate to smoke alone and wanted to share the joy.
Rosa came walking down and sat down beside me. I was glad to have her near to talk to.
“You look like shit,” She said. “You need a shave.”
“I feel like shit,” I replied rubbing my face.
I pulled out my pack of cigarettes and offered her a smoke. Just like George hates to drink alone, I hate to smoke alone and wanted to share the joy. I have smoked three packs since midnight last night as is par for the course when I am feeling mentally interesting.
“You are awfully quiet,” She said contemplatively.
“I know,” I said. “I am dealing with a shit load of mental baggage at the moment.”
“When I get to feeling down and crazy,” She said. “I eat a good meal and lie down for a nap. I always wake up feeling better.”
I took Rosa’s advice and headed home for a good lunch and a nap. I hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon. I warmed up some left over pot roast and vegetables and made a big cast iron pan of buttery and spicy Mexican cornbread. I took a double dose of my noon time medications and got to feeling much better in an hour after lying down. Rosa was right and I added this routine to my list of things to do when feeling like crap. It is amazing that something so simple can make you feel so much better. Routines are the key.
I pulled out my pack of cigarettes and offered her a smoke. Just like George hates to drink alone, I hate to smoke alone and wanted to share the joy.
Rosa came walking down and sat down beside me. I was glad to have her near to talk to.
“You look like shit,” She said. “You need a shave.”
“I feel like shit,” I replied rubbing my face.
I pulled out my pack of cigarettes and offered her a smoke. Just like George hates to drink alone, I hate to smoke alone and wanted to share the joy. I have smoked three packs since midnight last night as is par for the course when I am feeling mentally interesting.
“You are awfully quiet,” She said contemplatively.
“I know,” I said. “I am dealing with a shit load of mental baggage at the moment.”
“When I get to feeling down and crazy,” She said. “I eat a good meal and lie down for a nap. I always wake up feeling better.”
I took Rosa’s advice and headed home for a good lunch and a nap. I hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon. I warmed up some left over pot roast and vegetables and made a big cast iron pan of buttery and spicy Mexican cornbread. I took a double dose of my noon time medications and got to feeling much better in an hour after lying down. Rosa was right and I added this routine to my list of things to do when feeling like crap. It is amazing that something so simple can make you feel so much better. Routines are the key.
No Good Judgment…
I just don’t exhibit good judgment when I am not feeling well with regards to what I will write or post. I am clueless about social norms which was the case of an old post I published dealing with homelessness this morning and then took down. There was a good reason I never published it, but that escaped me this morning. Until I get to feeling better, I am on sabbatical.
Discernment…
When my mental illness rears it’s ugly head, I usually turn tail and hide. This can often mean falling silent and going to bed for a few days. Just warning a few of you if that happens.
I have had trouble discerning reality from fantasy tonight. I also constantly hear what is like a car door shutting outside and it is literally driving me crazy.
I have had trouble discerning reality from fantasy tonight. I also constantly hear what is like a car door shutting outside and it is literally driving me crazy. Add my social phobias to the mix and the door shutting sound makes my heart race and anxieties roil as I fear I have company or strangers coming over.
I and Charlie finished painting my den, computer room, and bedroom today. We painted them this beautiful beige/olive color that I really liked. I will try and get some pictures up for Annabel if I feel like driving over. All that is left is my laundry room, bathroom, and kitchen. I hope to be moved in soon. I am waiting on one of the workers to add the wood trim around the windows in the laundry room and to put linoleum down on the kitchen floor. That’s about it and I will be ready to move in. Those of you that have read me for years were probably wondering if this new house was just a figment of my imagination as the remodeling was so long and drawn out. I assure you it’s the real deal. The house is paid for and just awaiting occupancy.
Well, I am about to take an extra dose of my anti-psychotic (usually that makes me sleepy) and try my hardest to sleep. I have usually been in the bed for hours by now. I hate it when I feel like this. My mind is so buzzy and my thoughts so chaotic. I am sure my dreams will be just as vibrant and “crazy” tonight as my waking hours this evening. I hope you all have a good day tomorrow and I will try not to make my silence last too long. Good night.
I have had trouble discerning reality from fantasy tonight. I also constantly hear what is like a car door shutting outside and it is literally driving me crazy.
I have had trouble discerning reality from fantasy tonight. I also constantly hear what is like a car door shutting outside and it is literally driving me crazy. Add my social phobias to the mix and the door shutting sound makes my heart race and anxieties roil as I fear I have company or strangers coming over.
I and Charlie finished painting my den, computer room, and bedroom today. We painted them this beautiful beige/olive color that I really liked. I will try and get some pictures up for Annabel if I feel like driving over. All that is left is my laundry room, bathroom, and kitchen. I hope to be moved in soon. I am waiting on one of the workers to add the wood trim around the windows in the laundry room and to put linoleum down on the kitchen floor. That’s about it and I will be ready to move in. Those of you that have read me for years were probably wondering if this new house was just a figment of my imagination as the remodeling was so long and drawn out. I assure you it’s the real deal. The house is paid for and just awaiting occupancy.
Well, I am about to take an extra dose of my anti-psychotic (usually that makes me sleepy) and try my hardest to sleep. I have usually been in the bed for hours by now. I hate it when I feel like this. My mind is so buzzy and my thoughts so chaotic. I am sure my dreams will be just as vibrant and “crazy” tonight as my waking hours this evening. I hope you all have a good day tomorrow and I will try not to make my silence last too long. Good night.
Monday, January 29, 2007
The Weather Ahead this Week...
Interesting weather ahead for the Deep South as a storm forms over the Gulf of Mexico and east Texas and slides into Alabama, Tennessee, and Georgia Wednesday night on into Thursday. It looks like it will be an all rain event here with the ice/snow line around the Alabama, Georgia, and Tennessee border. Some models are calling for a half inch of ice in northern Alabama, northern Georgia, and southern Tennessee. That will certainly bring down power lines. One cubic foot of ice weighs a little over 62 pounds and when all that ice forms on something, things come crashing down.The weather continues to be unsettled on into next week with a series of storms forming over the Gulf and moving across the southern states. This has all the models confused and running a tad on the warm side. We barely got out of the thirties today with the noon time GFS model predicting temperatures in the high forties. That is way off!
Will we get anything more interesting in the next few days other than rain? The pattern is set with lots of reinforcing shots of cold Canadian air over the next week. Keep an eye on the radar and your favorite local forecast. Most meteorologists are handling the forecast on a day to day basis as the models are not handling the current pattern very well.
Images and radar courtesy of Accuweather.com.
A Flourish of Orange and Red…
Dawn arrives with a flourish of oranges and reds on the horizon revealing a heavily frost covered landscape. Old man winter decided to pay a visit overnight and the morning is brutally cold. I wrap my heavy coat around me tightly and pull my wool toboggan down over my ears. I am so obsessive compulsive that even the coldest morning of the year will not deter me from my morning walk.
At the table beside me sits an elderly couple. I notice they pray very visibly before starting their meal of eggs, bacon, grits, and toast. Such a blatant show of religiosity would embarrass me deeply I remark.
I finally walk six miles. I am only about ten minutes away from home when I make a detour for the diner with thoughts of hot coffee upon my mind. I step inside to the almost blustery hot confines to find a scattering of people sitting around eating breakfast. In one corner sits a gruff looking railroad crew heartily eating and boisterously talking. I wonder where they are headed today upon the rails after their meal. It invokes the wanderlust within me.
I pull off my cap and sit down with that hot coffee in hand as I warm up and watch the world unfold around me. At the table beside me sits an elderly couple. I notice they pray very visibly before starting their meal of eggs, bacon, grits, and toast. Such a blatant show of religiosity would embarrass me deeply I remark. The old woman scolds her husband for not putting a napkin in his lap like a mother hen. It reminds me of my own experiences with being married to an overbearing wife. He sullenly complies and unfurls the napkin upon his legs as he begins to eat, too tired looking and broken by years of marriage to contest.
I finish my coffee and walk over for a refill. I carefully pour in cream and sugar to give the coffee an appearance of caramel. I step back out into the cold morning air as my warm breath condenses and bellows out in great drafts of steam. I head for home.
As I walk, I remember the often said remark that people live lives of quiet desperation as I often have during these long years of adulthood. It brings to mind that elderly hen pecked fellow and his stodgy and overbearing wife. “What a saint,” I remark of him as I walk. I am glad to report that I am living a life of unbridled joy and exuberant adulation these days. I only have one day at a time to live and what a glorious one morning it was.
At the table beside me sits an elderly couple. I notice they pray very visibly before starting their meal of eggs, bacon, grits, and toast. Such a blatant show of religiosity would embarrass me deeply I remark.
I finally walk six miles. I am only about ten minutes away from home when I make a detour for the diner with thoughts of hot coffee upon my mind. I step inside to the almost blustery hot confines to find a scattering of people sitting around eating breakfast. In one corner sits a gruff looking railroad crew heartily eating and boisterously talking. I wonder where they are headed today upon the rails after their meal. It invokes the wanderlust within me.
I pull off my cap and sit down with that hot coffee in hand as I warm up and watch the world unfold around me. At the table beside me sits an elderly couple. I notice they pray very visibly before starting their meal of eggs, bacon, grits, and toast. Such a blatant show of religiosity would embarrass me deeply I remark. The old woman scolds her husband for not putting a napkin in his lap like a mother hen. It reminds me of my own experiences with being married to an overbearing wife. He sullenly complies and unfurls the napkin upon his legs as he begins to eat, too tired looking and broken by years of marriage to contest.
I finish my coffee and walk over for a refill. I carefully pour in cream and sugar to give the coffee an appearance of caramel. I step back out into the cold morning air as my warm breath condenses and bellows out in great drafts of steam. I head for home.
As I walk, I remember the often said remark that people live lives of quiet desperation as I often have during these long years of adulthood. It brings to mind that elderly hen pecked fellow and his stodgy and overbearing wife. “What a saint,” I remark of him as I walk. I am glad to report that I am living a life of unbridled joy and exuberant adulation these days. I only have one day at a time to live and what a glorious one morning it was.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
New Home Update...
Well, me and Charlie finished the sheetrock and started painting my new house today. The time is getting close to when I will be able to move in. I can’t wait to have my own home for a change!
Homeless is as Homeless does…
I was reading a recent post written by The Homeless Guy. He loves to portray the life of homelessness as hard and arduous. It is all a play on your sympathies and a tug upon your heartstrings and purse strings. I call it his Messiah complex. He wants you to believe that he is “suffering” for a greater cause; that of advocacy for the homeless and their plight. Yes, I will agree that those long winter nights spent in a tent were awfully cold and I would often cry myself to sleep bundled up in my down sleeping bag. There is an untold story of homelessness though; a tale of idle days with little responsibility and even less direction to life.
I regained a home a bitter, resentful, and hurt man. I was coming off the heels of a devastating divorce. I was a broken soul. It was easier to just escape into the woods with all my camping gear carrying a case of beer, a carton of cigarettes, and a sorely damaged and bruised psyche.
Years later, I look back on my homelessness with a certain fondness. They were very, very simple times where my only responsibility was keeping up my addictions. I have found that keeping a home is much harder. If keeping a home was easy and not filled with many pitfalls then there would be very little homelessness.
One of the hardest aspects of keeping a home for me has been juggling the many responsibilities that came with said ownership. I had to become an adult. I had to think carefully of the future and plan ahead. No longer could I just run willy nilly rampant through life without a forethought for the future. I had to save my money. I had to be careful with my shopping and purchases. I had to pay the bills. I had to sober up. I had to take my many medications for my schizophrenia. I had to rebuild family relationships and friendships and nurture them. I had to escape the selfish thinking of the homeless mind and become more aware of the people around me. All of this took hard work. One of the hardest things was reaching out for help. I was always a very prideful man and swallowing that pride and rash bravado was a giant hurdle to leap.
I regained a home a bitter, resentful, and hurt man. I was coming off the heels of a devastating divorce. I was a broken soul. It was easier to just escape into the woods with all my camping gear carrying a case of beer, a carton of cigarettes, and a sorely damaged and bruised psyche. The cold was a less cruel mistress. I wouldn’t have to deal with people, my pain, or all the responsibilities of life. I was alone with only my own selfish concerns to care about and the alcohol to drown my sorrows in.
I look back on the past few years of regaining a home as some of the hardest I have experienced, but also the most rewarding. As my life grew less chaotic, I become more sure of myself and a self healing occurred. I regained my composure. I regained some sense of pride and wellbeing. The many burned bridges of my past life were rebuilt and strengthened. It took a lot of hard work and this broken and battered man was made whole again. For the first time in my life, I am responsible for myself and my actions. That is a very novel concept in this life of a formerly homeless man.
I regained a home a bitter, resentful, and hurt man. I was coming off the heels of a devastating divorce. I was a broken soul. It was easier to just escape into the woods with all my camping gear carrying a case of beer, a carton of cigarettes, and a sorely damaged and bruised psyche.
Years later, I look back on my homelessness with a certain fondness. They were very, very simple times where my only responsibility was keeping up my addictions. I have found that keeping a home is much harder. If keeping a home was easy and not filled with many pitfalls then there would be very little homelessness.
One of the hardest aspects of keeping a home for me has been juggling the many responsibilities that came with said ownership. I had to become an adult. I had to think carefully of the future and plan ahead. No longer could I just run willy nilly rampant through life without a forethought for the future. I had to save my money. I had to be careful with my shopping and purchases. I had to pay the bills. I had to sober up. I had to take my many medications for my schizophrenia. I had to rebuild family relationships and friendships and nurture them. I had to escape the selfish thinking of the homeless mind and become more aware of the people around me. All of this took hard work. One of the hardest things was reaching out for help. I was always a very prideful man and swallowing that pride and rash bravado was a giant hurdle to leap.
I regained a home a bitter, resentful, and hurt man. I was coming off the heels of a devastating divorce. I was a broken soul. It was easier to just escape into the woods with all my camping gear carrying a case of beer, a carton of cigarettes, and a sorely damaged and bruised psyche. The cold was a less cruel mistress. I wouldn’t have to deal with people, my pain, or all the responsibilities of life. I was alone with only my own selfish concerns to care about and the alcohol to drown my sorrows in.
I look back on the past few years of regaining a home as some of the hardest I have experienced, but also the most rewarding. As my life grew less chaotic, I become more sure of myself and a self healing occurred. I regained my composure. I regained some sense of pride and wellbeing. The many burned bridges of my past life were rebuilt and strengthened. It took a lot of hard work and this broken and battered man was made whole again. For the first time in my life, I am responsible for myself and my actions. That is a very novel concept in this life of a formerly homeless man.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Digital Photography Accessories, A Shout Out, and a Blog of Note…
When choosing a digital camera, one of the best choices I made was buying a camera that used standard AA size batteries. You can find them anywhere around the globe in a pinch. Another great purchase, although expensive, was to buy rechargeable nickel metal hydride batteries and a charger. I bought this charger and two sets of batteries up at Kroger. It was rather costly but I have already saved money on the purchase in the short life of my camera ownership compared to the cost of replacing traditional alkaline batteries.
My good and dear friend Pipe Tobacco is going through an especially tumultuous and arduous time. Abbagirl originally came up with this “shout out,” but I wanted to follow her lead and do the same. If you get anything out of this blog, do me a favor and drop Pipe a line of support. He needs our little blogging community to rally around him at this time. Just a small comment of I hear you and hope you get to feeling better can make all the difference for a fellow blogger and it only takes a few seconds.
The Thoughts of a Frumpy Professor
Some other blogs of note to check out are…
Angel – She is so funny and cracks me up with her razor sharp wit. I love her video blogs as well. She is also a devastatingly beautiful redhead. Thank you for your comments Angel!
The Emancipation of a Drama Queen
Pitter Patter of Raindrops and Possible Little Feet…
It is raining softly outside my windows tonight. The only sound is that of the pitter patter of great drops of water off the eaves of my house. This house does not have any gutters and furrows have been carved out around the house in the lawn below from the relentless onslaught of water.
Maggie just sighed softly and is lying at my feet. She normally goes to bed around nine and will no doubt make her way to the bedroom soon to wait upon me.
George came by this afternoon and it was a most interesting encounter. He was quite animated during our discussion.
“Pookie told me she was pregnant and wanted me to start paying child support,” George said exasperated reeking of alcohol.
“I doubt a woman in her late forties is pregnant,” I replied. “That would be highly unusual.”
Still, it had George worried. Pookie just wants more money out of George. She is an irascible character and will say anything in the heat of the moment of one of their many arguments.
After George had left, I walked back down to the shopping center. The winter sun was hanging low on the horizon and dark clouds were rolling in from the Gulf of Mexico. You could smell the forthcoming rain upon the breeze. Rosa was nowhere to be seen, but Big S was perched upon his usual bench looking for the handouts of the more monetarily endowed shoppers than he. I avoided an encounter with him though. I didn’t want to get caught in another discussion about football and that is all Big S and the gang seem to be talking about these days with the impending Super Bowl on the way.
I decided upon the chicken wings restaurant on the corner of the shopping center. I walked in, placed my order, and sat down. Soon they called my number and my meal was ready. I quietly sat eating as I dipped each spicy hot chicken wing into cooling blue cheese dressing and carefully nibbled all the little bones free from their meat. The crunch of ice cold celery would resound after every bite followed by a drink of coca-cola. It was a messy affair and soon my fingers were covered in greasy buffalo wing sauce. I had ordered two dozen wings and could only eat a dozen and a half. Six remained and I closed the lid to my to-go box and carried them to Big S. I handed out the box as I walked by.
“Buffalo chicken wings,” I replied as I kept walking.
I could hear the box open and Big S begin to eat as I disappeared down the bend in the sidewalk to walk on home. It has been an uneventful day.
Maggie just sighed softly and is lying at my feet. She normally goes to bed around nine and will no doubt make her way to the bedroom soon to wait upon me.
George came by this afternoon and it was a most interesting encounter. He was quite animated during our discussion.
“Pookie told me she was pregnant and wanted me to start paying child support,” George said exasperated reeking of alcohol.
“I doubt a woman in her late forties is pregnant,” I replied. “That would be highly unusual.”
Still, it had George worried. Pookie just wants more money out of George. She is an irascible character and will say anything in the heat of the moment of one of their many arguments.
After George had left, I walked back down to the shopping center. The winter sun was hanging low on the horizon and dark clouds were rolling in from the Gulf of Mexico. You could smell the forthcoming rain upon the breeze. Rosa was nowhere to be seen, but Big S was perched upon his usual bench looking for the handouts of the more monetarily endowed shoppers than he. I avoided an encounter with him though. I didn’t want to get caught in another discussion about football and that is all Big S and the gang seem to be talking about these days with the impending Super Bowl on the way.
I decided upon the chicken wings restaurant on the corner of the shopping center. I walked in, placed my order, and sat down. Soon they called my number and my meal was ready. I quietly sat eating as I dipped each spicy hot chicken wing into cooling blue cheese dressing and carefully nibbled all the little bones free from their meat. The crunch of ice cold celery would resound after every bite followed by a drink of coca-cola. It was a messy affair and soon my fingers were covered in greasy buffalo wing sauce. I had ordered two dozen wings and could only eat a dozen and a half. Six remained and I closed the lid to my to-go box and carried them to Big S. I handed out the box as I walked by.
“Buffalo chicken wings,” I replied as I kept walking.
I could hear the box open and Big S begin to eat as I disappeared down the bend in the sidewalk to walk on home. It has been an uneventful day.
Rough Exteriors filled with Beauty and Wisdom…
It is late afternoon. I am bored and have read my fill of the internet. I wander down to the shopping center in the late afternoon sun. Nary a cloud is in the sky and the warmth of the low hanging winter sun splashes upon my face only interrupted by the occasional tree or house as I walk through my neighborhood. The day has warmed up quite nicely.
I pass the newspaper office and a few cars are sitting in the parking lot. I think of late deadlines as editors ponderously peruse over today’s newsworthy items for tomorrow’s edition of the local paper getting ready to publish. I don’t envy them of such a job. Early next morning will soon arrive and a sea of delivery cars will adorn the parking lot to deliver the paper in the dark hours before sunrise. People will wander out to a new morning sun to gather their papers only to be entertained by the unexceptional news that a small southern town can generate in one day. The daily police report is one of the most hotly read columns.
As I approach the many dumpsters behind the shopping center, a lone bicycle is propped up against one. An elderly black man crawls out with something in hand. I remark to myself how popular these dumpsters have become for scavenging. Dumpster Diving Dan has the right idea to hit them so early in the morning. That old adage the early bird gets the worm comes to mind. I haven’t seen Dan in days and hope he is okay.
I walk past the hair salon and the tax preparation office as I round the corner. Rosa is sitting on an isolated bench far down from the main part of the shopping center. She looks deep in thought as she holds a can of soda. I take a seat beside her and drum up a conversation. I notice her hands once again as we talk. Just like the many lines on her face, these calloused hands tell a story; a story that is not often told as it is normal to not let your steely guard down that most people put up.
“I have a daughter,” She tells me as I offer her a cigarette from my backpack. “I haven’t seen her in years.”
“Does she live near here?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” Rosa says with a forlorn look upon her weathered face.
“I’ve never had any kids,” I say. “I don’t think I ever will.”
“Never say never,” She replies. “You are still so young and life has a way of bringing the unexpected.”
I realize there is a bright, wise, and beautiful woman underneath that drug worn and unflatteringly rough exterior. She was probably beautiful once and was courted by many a man. She now sits tired in middle age with her thoughts about a past life. Idle days trying to stay clean and sober with those thoughts are not easy. Much like my own long days I have experienced this week broken only by the safe confines of the meeting halls of A.A. every night.
As I leave Rosa, I hand her my spare pack of cigarettes and my almost spent spare lighter from my backpack. She smiles softly revealing a few missing teeth.
“Thank you,” She says. “You made today easier.”
I genuinely just wanted to bring some small comfort to another soul. I needed someone to talk to and she was there. I left her staring out in the parking lot watching the middle class ladies with their glamorous SUVs busily chattering nosily upon cell phones as they all made their way to the many stores in the shopping center to spend their money. Rosa doesn’t have much and her life is far removed from these ladies I just spoke of, but she has a story to tell; a story much richer and vibrant than those of those milquetoast ladies leading uninspired lives filled with the frivolousness of modern American life.
I pass the newspaper office and a few cars are sitting in the parking lot. I think of late deadlines as editors ponderously peruse over today’s newsworthy items for tomorrow’s edition of the local paper getting ready to publish. I don’t envy them of such a job. Early next morning will soon arrive and a sea of delivery cars will adorn the parking lot to deliver the paper in the dark hours before sunrise. People will wander out to a new morning sun to gather their papers only to be entertained by the unexceptional news that a small southern town can generate in one day. The daily police report is one of the most hotly read columns.
As I approach the many dumpsters behind the shopping center, a lone bicycle is propped up against one. An elderly black man crawls out with something in hand. I remark to myself how popular these dumpsters have become for scavenging. Dumpster Diving Dan has the right idea to hit them so early in the morning. That old adage the early bird gets the worm comes to mind. I haven’t seen Dan in days and hope he is okay.
I walk past the hair salon and the tax preparation office as I round the corner. Rosa is sitting on an isolated bench far down from the main part of the shopping center. She looks deep in thought as she holds a can of soda. I take a seat beside her and drum up a conversation. I notice her hands once again as we talk. Just like the many lines on her face, these calloused hands tell a story; a story that is not often told as it is normal to not let your steely guard down that most people put up.
“I have a daughter,” She tells me as I offer her a cigarette from my backpack. “I haven’t seen her in years.”
“Does she live near here?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” Rosa says with a forlorn look upon her weathered face.
“I’ve never had any kids,” I say. “I don’t think I ever will.”
“Never say never,” She replies. “You are still so young and life has a way of bringing the unexpected.”
I realize there is a bright, wise, and beautiful woman underneath that drug worn and unflatteringly rough exterior. She was probably beautiful once and was courted by many a man. She now sits tired in middle age with her thoughts about a past life. Idle days trying to stay clean and sober with those thoughts are not easy. Much like my own long days I have experienced this week broken only by the safe confines of the meeting halls of A.A. every night.
As I leave Rosa, I hand her my spare pack of cigarettes and my almost spent spare lighter from my backpack. She smiles softly revealing a few missing teeth.
“Thank you,” She says. “You made today easier.”
I genuinely just wanted to bring some small comfort to another soul. I needed someone to talk to and she was there. I left her staring out in the parking lot watching the middle class ladies with their glamorous SUVs busily chattering nosily upon cell phones as they all made their way to the many stores in the shopping center to spend their money. Rosa doesn’t have much and her life is far removed from these ladies I just spoke of, but she has a story to tell; a story much richer and vibrant than those of those milquetoast ladies leading uninspired lives filled with the frivolousness of modern American life.
Friday, January 26, 2007
Lunch with Wanda…
I looked at my hair in the mirror of the car using my hand to rearrange it. I had just pulled up into Rodger’s parking lot.
“You are not on a real date, stupid,” I told myself. “You are just going to talk A.A. stuff and eat lunch.”
Still, I didn’t want to look like I just crawled out of the bed and I did. I couldn’t get my hair to do anything.
“Screw it!” I muttered as I reached for my baseball cap on the passenger’s seat and put it on.
I walked into the restaurant to find Wanda sitting by a window near the back. My social anxieties surged. Beads of sweat broke out on my forehead. My hands felt clammy. She turned to look at me and waved me over as she smiled. I felt as if everyone in the busy restaurant was watching me. I took a seat at the table.
“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,” She said.
“Sorry,” I replied. “I am running a little late.”
“What are you having?”
“I think I am going to have two barbeque sandwiches and an order of fries,” I replied. “You get whatever you want. I have a tab here.”
Soon, the waitress arrived and we ordered our food. The waitress disappeared into the kitchen to place our order. There was an awkward silence as we both sat there for a moment. I looked out the window watching the cars pass on the busy highway and the many patrons coming to and fro from the convenience store across the street afraid to make eye contact.
“I don’t bite,” Wanda finally said breaking the silence and captured back my attention.
I smiled.
“I know,” I said. “You have to forgive me. I can be awkward in such one on one social situations.”
“You don’t act like you are,” She said. “You have such a pleasant speaking voice and seem so sure of yourself.”
I touched my finger to my temple and said, “It’s all up here.”
She laughed as she leaned across the table and quietly said out of earshot, “Honey, I am a little loco myself. I don’t think we could have drank like we have and not be a little crazy.”
Her saying that completely disarmed my social phobias. We sat for over thirty minutes after eating talking about A.A. and the various aspects of the program. She also has two dogs and we got on that subject as well.
“I expect you to have a sponsor in a few weeks,” Wanda finally told me before I was ready to head home and she had to go back to work.
“I will try,” I said halfheartedly with a lukewarm and uncomfortable smile.
The waitress brought our receipt and I placed a tip upon the table. I and Wanda got up to walk out of the restaurant.
“Let’s do this every week,” Wanda said.
“I would like that,” I replied. “I feel comfortable around you.”
“It’s just my charming personality and alluring wit,” Wanda said facetiously.
We both laughed. She gave me a hug and I drove home with a full stomach and a big smile on my face. My therapist told me that just enduring these social avenues would help me overcome my fears and she is right. It gets easier every time I try.
“You are not on a real date, stupid,” I told myself. “You are just going to talk A.A. stuff and eat lunch.”
Still, I didn’t want to look like I just crawled out of the bed and I did. I couldn’t get my hair to do anything.
“Screw it!” I muttered as I reached for my baseball cap on the passenger’s seat and put it on.
I walked into the restaurant to find Wanda sitting by a window near the back. My social anxieties surged. Beads of sweat broke out on my forehead. My hands felt clammy. She turned to look at me and waved me over as she smiled. I felt as if everyone in the busy restaurant was watching me. I took a seat at the table.
“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,” She said.
“Sorry,” I replied. “I am running a little late.”
“What are you having?”
“I think I am going to have two barbeque sandwiches and an order of fries,” I replied. “You get whatever you want. I have a tab here.”
Soon, the waitress arrived and we ordered our food. The waitress disappeared into the kitchen to place our order. There was an awkward silence as we both sat there for a moment. I looked out the window watching the cars pass on the busy highway and the many patrons coming to and fro from the convenience store across the street afraid to make eye contact.
“I don’t bite,” Wanda finally said breaking the silence and captured back my attention.
I smiled.
“I know,” I said. “You have to forgive me. I can be awkward in such one on one social situations.”
“You don’t act like you are,” She said. “You have such a pleasant speaking voice and seem so sure of yourself.”
I touched my finger to my temple and said, “It’s all up here.”
She laughed as she leaned across the table and quietly said out of earshot, “Honey, I am a little loco myself. I don’t think we could have drank like we have and not be a little crazy.”
Her saying that completely disarmed my social phobias. We sat for over thirty minutes after eating talking about A.A. and the various aspects of the program. She also has two dogs and we got on that subject as well.
“I expect you to have a sponsor in a few weeks,” Wanda finally told me before I was ready to head home and she had to go back to work.
“I will try,” I said halfheartedly with a lukewarm and uncomfortable smile.
The waitress brought our receipt and I placed a tip upon the table. I and Wanda got up to walk out of the restaurant.
“Let’s do this every week,” Wanda said.
“I would like that,” I replied. “I feel comfortable around you.”
“It’s just my charming personality and alluring wit,” Wanda said facetiously.
We both laughed. She gave me a hug and I drove home with a full stomach and a big smile on my face. My therapist told me that just enduring these social avenues would help me overcome my fears and she is right. It gets easier every time I try.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
A Fitting End to a Grand Day…
As I walked into tonight’s A.A. meeting, a chill was upon the air and the strong smell of brewing coffee accompanied it. Several members were watching the television in the front lounge as I passed on through to the meeting hall. They all greeted me as I said hello and good evening, and then I kept walking, avoiding the dreaded small talk.
I took a seat near the rear were I felt the most comfortable. You are less likely to be called upon to speak by overzealous chairpersons. Most of the people who attend these A.A. meetings smoke, and soon they poured into the room from the backdoor escaping the cold night air. The heavy smell of stale cigarette smoke hanging to everyone’s clothes wafted through the room on the cold wind from the open door.
“Everybody ready for a meeting?” The chairperson said as the low, steady drum of the many conversations quieted and people took their seats.
Tonight, Twitch was at the meeting. I call him Twitch in that he can’t sit still and makes me nervous. He constantly has to go to the bathroom, get up and stand in front of the gas fireplace, go pour another cup of coffee, or head outside for a quick cigarette. It is very distracting and most people are just too kind to say anything. He is an old timer with lots of sobriety, and garners a certain amount of respect from the group.
We were well into the meeting when another old timer leaned over to me and whispered, “Old ‘Twitch’ is awful nervous tonight, isn’t he?”
I chuckled quietly and nodded my head in agreement. Twitch had maybe gone out three times to smoke a cigarette, not able to sit still, and as many times to get a refill of coffee. Coffee was something he definitely didn’t need.
Finally, the meeting ended and a lady named Wanda came up to hug me. I really like Wanda. She is this very heavy set woman in her late forties and her demeanor is so disarming as far as my social phobias go.
“How have you been, honey?” She said with her arm around my shoulder as she looked at me and smiled. “Come on outside and smoke a cigarette with me. I ain’t letting you escape so easily tonight like you usually do.”
A great throng of people had formed outside on the back porch and near the barbeque pit to smoke cigarettes as is customary to do after a meeting.
“I get a lunch break tomorrow around noon. You want to meet me somewhere to eat?” Wanda asked me very forwardly.
I like forward people and they tend to cancel out my shyness with such affairs.
“Meet me over at Roger’s Barbeque and lunch will be on me,” I replied as I took another long drag from my little cigar and exhaled it out through my nose.
“Twelve ‘o’ clock?”
“Twelve ‘o’ clock,” I replied as I smiled.
“It’s a date then,” She said as she hugged me goodnight.
I walked on around the meeting hall and got in my car to drive home. I noticed through my windshield driving home that it was the first time I have seen stars in what has seemed like weeks. The weather has been so drab here. A beautiful country starry sky greeted me as I pulled onto spring road to have one more cigar before heading home. I rolled down my windows slightly and the briskly cold night air blew in. I could make out the dark silhouettes of many cows out in those dark pastures as I passed by as a bright blur on that long and winding country road. What a fitting end to what has been a grand day!
I took a seat near the rear were I felt the most comfortable. You are less likely to be called upon to speak by overzealous chairpersons. Most of the people who attend these A.A. meetings smoke, and soon they poured into the room from the backdoor escaping the cold night air. The heavy smell of stale cigarette smoke hanging to everyone’s clothes wafted through the room on the cold wind from the open door.
“Everybody ready for a meeting?” The chairperson said as the low, steady drum of the many conversations quieted and people took their seats.
Tonight, Twitch was at the meeting. I call him Twitch in that he can’t sit still and makes me nervous. He constantly has to go to the bathroom, get up and stand in front of the gas fireplace, go pour another cup of coffee, or head outside for a quick cigarette. It is very distracting and most people are just too kind to say anything. He is an old timer with lots of sobriety, and garners a certain amount of respect from the group.
We were well into the meeting when another old timer leaned over to me and whispered, “Old ‘Twitch’ is awful nervous tonight, isn’t he?”
I chuckled quietly and nodded my head in agreement. Twitch had maybe gone out three times to smoke a cigarette, not able to sit still, and as many times to get a refill of coffee. Coffee was something he definitely didn’t need.
Finally, the meeting ended and a lady named Wanda came up to hug me. I really like Wanda. She is this very heavy set woman in her late forties and her demeanor is so disarming as far as my social phobias go.
“How have you been, honey?” She said with her arm around my shoulder as she looked at me and smiled. “Come on outside and smoke a cigarette with me. I ain’t letting you escape so easily tonight like you usually do.”
A great throng of people had formed outside on the back porch and near the barbeque pit to smoke cigarettes as is customary to do after a meeting.
“I get a lunch break tomorrow around noon. You want to meet me somewhere to eat?” Wanda asked me very forwardly.
I like forward people and they tend to cancel out my shyness with such affairs.
“Meet me over at Roger’s Barbeque and lunch will be on me,” I replied as I took another long drag from my little cigar and exhaled it out through my nose.
“Twelve ‘o’ clock?”
“Twelve ‘o’ clock,” I replied as I smiled.
“It’s a date then,” She said as she hugged me goodnight.
I walked on around the meeting hall and got in my car to drive home. I noticed through my windshield driving home that it was the first time I have seen stars in what has seemed like weeks. The weather has been so drab here. A beautiful country starry sky greeted me as I pulled onto spring road to have one more cigar before heading home. I rolled down my windows slightly and the briskly cold night air blew in. I could make out the dark silhouettes of many cows out in those dark pastures as I passed by as a bright blur on that long and winding country road. What a fitting end to what has been a grand day!
Rosa to the Rescue…
“There is blood on your ass,” Rosa told me this morning.
I reached around to the back of my jeans and then looked at my fingers to find more blood. I had gone to get my injection of Risperdal this morning and the nurse must have hit a vein. I can’t explain the delayed effect of the blood.
I went inside the grocery store to the bathroom upstairs. I looked in the mirror and it was a rather small amount, but made a stain on my blue jeans. I bought some bandaids, put one on, and continued with my day. I fixed two cups of coffee in the employee’s lounge of the store and headed back out to carry one to Rosa.
“What are you going to do today?” I asked her as I sat back down upon the bench on the outside.
“I am going to enjoy this sunshine for as long as I can,” She replied.
“It is so nice, isn’t it?” I said as I smiled.
It felt rather balmy after being so dank, dreary, and cold for over a week.
“Will you take me down to Opelika?” She then asked.
“That’s a long drive,” I said “And I only have a half a tank of gas for the rest of the week.”
“I will put some gas in your car.”
“What time?” I then asked.
“Pick me up around noon,” She then said.
“Well, let me get home to get a shower and I will see you after lunch,” I replied.
I bid Rosa farewell and walked the ten minutes home. Rosa has the chance to get her license renewed after a suspension and you have to go to Opelika to get it done. I agreed to take her as my license is expired and I need to get it renewed as well. We will kill two birds with one stone. I will check back in probably this afternoon sometime.
I reached around to the back of my jeans and then looked at my fingers to find more blood. I had gone to get my injection of Risperdal this morning and the nurse must have hit a vein. I can’t explain the delayed effect of the blood.
I went inside the grocery store to the bathroom upstairs. I looked in the mirror and it was a rather small amount, but made a stain on my blue jeans. I bought some bandaids, put one on, and continued with my day. I fixed two cups of coffee in the employee’s lounge of the store and headed back out to carry one to Rosa.
“What are you going to do today?” I asked her as I sat back down upon the bench on the outside.
“I am going to enjoy this sunshine for as long as I can,” She replied.
“It is so nice, isn’t it?” I said as I smiled.
It felt rather balmy after being so dank, dreary, and cold for over a week.
“Will you take me down to Opelika?” She then asked.
“That’s a long drive,” I said “And I only have a half a tank of gas for the rest of the week.”
“I will put some gas in your car.”
“What time?” I then asked.
“Pick me up around noon,” She then said.
“Well, let me get home to get a shower and I will see you after lunch,” I replied.
I bid Rosa farewell and walked the ten minutes home. Rosa has the chance to get her license renewed after a suspension and you have to go to Opelika to get it done. I agreed to take her as my license is expired and I need to get it renewed as well. We will kill two birds with one stone. I will check back in probably this afternoon sometime.
Singleness of Purpose…
I have a new dog. I have named the puppy Sam. I drove out spring road yesterday afternoon on my usual ride for photo opportunities. I wanted to get pictures of the many cows in the pastures, but they were far a flung in the remote pastures off the side of the road. As I neared where the road turns to dirt and gravel, a small dog that looked like a miniature golden retriever was wandering on the dirt portion of the road. I parked, got out, and called for it. It immediately came to me and hopped into the car. I brought it home and Maggie immediately was taken to it. The dog is currently sleeping in front of my heater which is on high and has made himself at home.For those of you wanting to know about the kitten, the kitten only stayed a few days. Maggie was entirely too rough with it and would carry it around in her mouth like a stuffed toy. The kitten stayed continually wet from dog saliva. I had to find it a home due to fears that Maggie would hurt it.
Last night, I again wandered over to the A.A. meeting hall after dusk. We have two distinct A.A. groups that meet over at the meeting hall. One is very liberal and is dying due to lack of membership. I think one reason it is dying is that the group is so small and they put a lot of pressure on newcomers to talk. This makes me immensely uncomfortable when I go.
Last night, was the extremely conservative A.A. group which is thriving. It is filled with A.A. goers with years and years of sobriety. I find them a very close minded and stodgy group of fellows with only a scattering of females. The whole group consisted of pertaining to talk only about alcohol and the use thereof. Many people spoke of the “singleness of purpose” of A.A. I have found through my own travels of recovery that drinking was just a symptom of a greater sickness of the soul. I drank to hide my failings and to cover up these imperfections of my spirit. These are the things I needed to talk about. It is not allowed in last night’s group as they are very vocal about this “singleness of purpose” and sticking to it. I still go though as I find the social aspects to be beneficial although I mainly just sit there and listen.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Forecast Weather Models...
Some meteorologists are saying we are going to get cold air entrenched for February like we haven't seen since the mid-eighties. Here are what some latest GFS models are showing...
All the models are indicating very cold weather is on the way with good agreement. The above image is valid for today. We still have a strong subtropical jet over the south bringing rain to the lower regions of Alabama and the South.
The above model image for Monday the 29th shows the very cold arctic air starting to dip south over the great lakes region.
By February 3rd Sunday, the arctic blast is full underway and entrenched over much of the nation. With impulses following the southern jet over the south, the models are showing a good chance for snow somewhere in the Deep South. It could be as far north as Nashville or as far south as Montgomery.
Images courtesy of The National Weather Service.
Images courtesy of The National Weather Service.
A Deer in the Headlights…
I was standing in the produce section surveying the bananas. I am banana obsessed and will carefully spend five minutes picking the best bunch. It reminds me of the little old ladies we called “milk maids” when I worked in the grocery store. They would spend fifteen minutes trying to find the perfect gallon or half gallon of milk with the furthest date of expiration; often going through the whole case of milk.
“HEY ANDREW!!!” Rang out and startled me as I stood there.
I was so intent upon find the perfect bunch of bananas that I had lost all connection with reality. I quickly turned to look.
“Shit, Germaine. You scared me,” I replied as I laughed.
Germaine is this big hulking black fellow that went to high school with me. I often find him buying his groceries at the same time I do on Tuesday nights. Germaine is so big he can’t walk. He has to use one of those motorized scooters to get around.
“How is Alex doing?” Germaine asked of my brother.
Germaine always asks about my brother and has a slight infatuation with him.
“He is still a doctor in the Navy and living in San Diego. His birthday is coming up at the end of the month,” I replied.
“What did you get him for his birthday?”
“I sent him thirty dollars to get a nice shirt for work in a card,” I replied.
Germaine can talk for hours and hours and I dread getting caught by him. I started trying to find ways to get out of this conversation.
“Man, I have really got to go to the bathroom,” I said in desperation.
“Well, don’t shit in your pants. Go use the bathroom,” Germaine said as he smiled goofily.
I quickly lost track of my banana selection duties and briskly walked to the back of Kroger to the bathroom. I disappeared inside a stall, closed the toilet lid, and sat down. I had narrowly escaped another hour long encounter with Germaine. I sat for the longest time until I thought it was safe to make an appearance. I slowly opened the door to look out upon an almost empty store laid out in front of me. I then quickly finished my grocery shopping and headed home.
“HEY ANDREW!!!” Rang out and startled me as I stood there.
I was so intent upon find the perfect bunch of bananas that I had lost all connection with reality. I quickly turned to look.
“Shit, Germaine. You scared me,” I replied as I laughed.
Germaine is this big hulking black fellow that went to high school with me. I often find him buying his groceries at the same time I do on Tuesday nights. Germaine is so big he can’t walk. He has to use one of those motorized scooters to get around.
“How is Alex doing?” Germaine asked of my brother.
Germaine always asks about my brother and has a slight infatuation with him.
“He is still a doctor in the Navy and living in San Diego. His birthday is coming up at the end of the month,” I replied.
“What did you get him for his birthday?”
“I sent him thirty dollars to get a nice shirt for work in a card,” I replied.
Germaine can talk for hours and hours and I dread getting caught by him. I started trying to find ways to get out of this conversation.
“Man, I have really got to go to the bathroom,” I said in desperation.
“Well, don’t shit in your pants. Go use the bathroom,” Germaine said as he smiled goofily.
I quickly lost track of my banana selection duties and briskly walked to the back of Kroger to the bathroom. I disappeared inside a stall, closed the toilet lid, and sat down. I had narrowly escaped another hour long encounter with Germaine. I sat for the longest time until I thought it was safe to make an appearance. I slowly opened the door to look out upon an almost empty store laid out in front of me. I then quickly finished my grocery shopping and headed home.
New schizophrenia treatment possible
This looks very promising. I am going to print it out and show it to my father. I wonder if there is a way to get in on this study. I need to call my brother...
Read the rest here from Science Daily.
TORONTO, Jan. 23 (UPI) -- Canadian researchers have discovered a dopamine signaling complex in the brain that might lead to a new treatment for schizophrenia.
The team, lead by Drs. Susan George and Brian O'Dowd of the Center for Addiction and Mental Health, said the complex is composed of two different types of dopamine receptors that might offer a new in understanding of schizophrenia.
"This distinct unit provides a novel signaling pathway through which dopamine can impact the function of brain cells," said George. "This is significant because signaling through calcium release is a major mechanism regulating many important functions in the brain and we have provided the first direct mechanism by which dopamine can activate a calcium signal."
[...]
Copyright 2007 by United Press International. All Rights Reserved.
Read the rest here from Science Daily.
Videos of St. Petersburg Authories Destroying Homeless Tents
These homeless people apparently had an agreement with the city to camp there. Fortunately, the good citizens of St. Petersburg donated new tents. The mayor ordered the tents torn down. He is still silent about the whole affair.
Videos and information thanks to Micheal Hussey of Tampa who writes the political blog Pushing Rope. Micheal is currently homeless in his city of residence.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
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