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August 2, 2001

the more things change, the more they change

My Aunt seems to be doing well since my Uncle's death. She's a remarkable woman with an incredible spirit. She is very much an inspiration to me.

My Aunt lost her first born son over 10 years ago. He died in a VA hospital under suspicious circumstances... but, I don't want to get into that right now. That really would require a book. Besides, all I'm doing here is illustrating a point...

...then, almost a year ago, her youngest son committed suicide in a public way. He was in his car while being followed by the police. After being surrounded, he put a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. He was one of them only off duty. Street clothes stained with his blood.

Nobody will ever know what was in my cousin's mind prior to the act itself. The memories are mixed in with questions we'll never have answers to. The pain remains. It's like a stain. It's not as bad as it was at first, but it's still there. You never get rid of it. You live with it.

Prior to my cousin's suicide, my Aunt had been diagnosed with breast cancer. She got a double mastectomy. She is a breast cancer survivor.

Through it all, she has carried herself with grace. She speaks with such kindness and compassion that you can feel her spiritual strength when you are around her. Her spirit is radiant. In light of everything life has thrown her way, she has NOT let this destroy her. Her eyes sparkle as she speaks. Her hands dance expressively and she smiles when she talks.

My Uncle's death has freed her in a way that you can see. While he was sick for a long time with heart and lung problems he was an absolute pain in the ass. Yet, he was somewhat of a tyrant when he was well. No. Not somewhat of a tyrant. Let's tell the truth. He was a tyrant. And, it was well known what a complete asshole he could be. At least in the circles he ran. And, some he didn't.

For years I wondered why my Aunt put up with the gestapo pip-squeak like she did. I will never understand that, but, now he's dead and that's the way things were. That's the story, end of that chapter.

M and I visited my Aunt with the kids while they were here. We had a pleasant visit and we toured the place inspecting what my Aunt is now going to be dealing with. The "estate" is in probate. He didn't leave a will. He did leave a mess.

Oddly - he had a habit of putting his damn name on E V E R Y T H I N G. How annoying is that? I noticed it when we were sitting outside. It felt a little strange sitting on one of those old, aluminum framed, webbed folding chairs when I looked down and there it was. His name was on it. Written in some indelible marking pen. I felt like he should have had this chair with him.

Prior to that, we had cruised his 40 x 60 outbuilding that was full of STUFF. And YES... much of this had his name written on it as well.

Unbelievable describes the material possessions this man had. I don't have a problem at all with my stockpile compared to him, but, the biggest problem my Aunt has now is that most of the bigger things aren't even paid for. Topped off by the probate lock.

What a fucking mess. Uggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh. I got exhausted looking at it.

My Aunt doesn't know what will happen. She doesn't know if she'll be able to afford to, or, even want to live there. Yet she has a extraordinary spark of optimism that never seems to fail. I can't help but to look at her and feel slightly awestruck.

This appears to me to fall into a category far beyond choice. If anybody is being propelled by a higher power it's her. Cool phenomenon, eh?

Since I haven't posted a picture in quite some time...

August 6, 2001

Monday. And, another hot one here.

We are in dire need of rain in the upper Midwest. Although there are a few reasons I'm personally enjoying this, the farm crops are suffering. The one distinct advantage I have with the excessive heat and drought is that the grass hasn't needed to be cut in a month. Also, the hot weather has slowed down the meandering dogs, Tasha and Booda. At least they lay around and sleep in the heat.

Well, OK... so it slows them down anyway. Last night at dusk they brought home a 5 pound box of 16d galvanized nails, and, a slightly chewed funnel. Hmmmmm... thanks. They have been doing most of their neighborhood pillaging later in the day. One day I hope they drop this annoying habit.

Yep. These dogs are a lot of work alright. They've certainly pissed me off more than once with their antics, but, not enough for me to get rid of them. I'm not sure they could piss me off to that point. But, I sometimes worry that because they are Pit Bulls that the first time they get into a dog fight or nail the a neighborhood cat, that they'll be in the paper. They've shown no aggression towards people and they love kids... if that wasn't the case, I'd have no choice but to say goodbye. The one thing they do that sometimes scares kids is that they jump up excitedly to greet you or, to lick your face... and they'll sometimes scratch you in the process or knock you over. I'm working on breaking them of that and, up to now - nothing is working in the long term. Tasha seems to be the worst offender < when it comes to jumping on me >, although Booda jumps up more around the kids than he does adults.

It's not fair to classify all Pit Bulls as mean, because they aren't. The media hasn't helped the image of the breed, anymore than have the ignorant people who have trained or abused their dogs for aggression.

Alright. Enough about that. Let the now sleeping dogs lie...

Update: the dogs woke up and I caught Tasha < again > working on the hole to China that she's been digging... when I looked out the window, she was completely underneath the footbridge and Booda had his head under it and was wagging his tail. When they saw me they had that look on their face that told me they knew they were in trouble. They immediate followed me to the lock-up facility. To the kennel with no treats.

A potential turn of events
While it has been my intention to move to Arizona to be with M and the boys, they are now considering making the move here. That thought only crossed my mind in passing during a conversation we had on the phone about 10 months ago. The thought never came back because the notion was instantly quashed when she informed me that she'd NEVER move, let alone move here. But now, the thought has crossed M's mind... and, she's mulling it over.

Wouldn't you know it... as is her style, she is thoroughly researching the notion. She has drawn up a list of personal pros and cons and has been doing a lot of net surfing < so far, it seems the pro side has the advantage >. On Saturday she sent out letters to potential employers requesting information on the job market, and, she is investigating the possibility of becoming certified to teach in the state I live in.

How do I feel about this? Well.... of course, I would be happy to have them here with me! Actually, I'm excited about this new possibility, but... I'm still surprised. Dumbfounded really. This is a real turn around. Ultimately, I know we will be together and I know both of us will be moving either way. It's just that I hadn't anticipated this flip of the switch.

If she did it, we could all live here in this house for a while, yet this would not be where we'd stay forever. We need more space - and, at least, 2 full bathrooms. But, this house would give us the time we needed to make a move into a place we agreed upon.

It would be a tremendous change for M. My biggest concern is her health and happiness. I could never ask her to make this decision. This is entirely up to her. I'm neither pushing or pulling.

In the Midwest, we experience 4 full seasons. But, we don't have the excessive population growth or the water problems they have out there < except for the current drought > and, here there are still plenty of rural areas in which to live. Those areas are few and far between out there and real estate is very expensive in Arizona. On the other hand, we could get a large house with acreage here for the same amount of money we'd get a modest house on a lot for there. That is the most distinct advantage to them being here.

All except for the winter thing... Ugh. I know she'd hate that part. I know she would.

But, hey... I'm not crazy about winter either. I mean, the days are short and it's fucking cold! You have to scrape your the windows and let your car warm up in the morning. You have to worry about stupid drivers on the road. You might have to buy a new battery or, get a morning jump-start. You might get stuck. You have to shovel and shovel and shovel again. Everything looks black and white. The wind blows and the chill factor drops. Ice storms occasionally knock out electrical power. You have to wear so may clothes outside that you feel like you are wearing a fat suit. You have to worry about falling on the ice. I'm sure there's more... I know there is... but, probably the worst part about winter is that after a while of being in it, you begin to feel like a trapped rodent. A rodent that can only think of spring.

It helps to have indoor hobbies in the winter. Lots of 'em.

Of course, some days the snow actually is a stunning site to behold. Like those days when you wake up to find that it is clutching every tree branch and naked vine available. When it's blanketing the evergreens and sparkling like diamond shards in the morning sun. When there's not a footstep or a dog track in it. When you have a hot cup of coffee or a steaming mug of hot chocolate and you are in a warm house looking out the window. That's when it's best. Particularly, when you don't have to go anywhere. Snow is always best when you're looking at it out the window.

Then comes spring. The season where things begin to come back to life again. The season that makes me jump for joy the first time I see a sprout emerge from the ground or, a leaf bud on a tree. You can't help but to notice those things after winter. Well... I can't. Everything old really is new again. The rebirth of all things green is like a spiritual experience.

Since "there's a time and a season for everything..." in the scheme of things, I suppose that winter has it's place.

.

.

.

.

It doesn't matter if I think it should be in hell.

August 7, 2001

Tuesday. My "Monday" at the office. And, not a bad one.

Unless you consider the fact that my office in the basement is literally freezing. Aside from that annoyance, the contrast in the outdoor temp and humidity is amazing. In fact, I may be one of the few people in town who wore long sleeves to work today.

Despite the temp divergence, I managed to have a highly productive day. I did have a helper - a small ceramic heater blasting at my feet... and, all things considered, I left there today with a smile on my face. Of course, during the drive home I momentarily wondered why every day couldn't be like that. Then... I instantly remembered... if that were true, I wouldn't truly appreciate it. See... even misery has its place.

It's way too hot to be doing much after getting home. Anything outside anyway. So, here I am in the house plotting the weekend ahead, stopping along the way to write a bit.

The upcoming weekend temps look good according to the reports out today. BUT, I know that weather predictions are sometimes unreliable, yet, today I have my fingers crossed that they are right. If so, I should be able to make some handyma'am progress.

The plan is to work on cutting collar beams out of 2 x 8's for the unfinished bedroom addition. While I wouldn't ordinarily do this, I'm contemplating using materials I have at hand rather than going and buying more wood. The reason why I wouldn't normally use this wood is because it's outdoor pressure treated lumber and not your ordinary pine framing. But... I am leaning toward using it because I won't have to go out and buy anything else, and, it's the right size.

The 2 x 8 boards I have are 16 feet long. Hopefully, this weekend I'll get into the barn and cut them there. At least I'll cut them into handling length until I figure out the angle cuts necessary to attach them to the rafters. The collar beams are an important part of the overall strength of the roof. They will also allow a space for air flow of the ridge vent and provide a flat surface to mount ceiling fixtures on.

After the collar beams are in place, it looks like I'll be framing in a few closets. Then, I'll figure out the electrical plan, nail in boxes and run wiring. I'll have my electrician add another small sub-panel in the room and make the final hookup into the main < I'd never mess with that >. Of course, there's plenty of other things to do along the way. Hopefully... I'll have the work outlined done by the end of this year. Then, it'll be insulation and < hopefully > drywall by spring. Of course - sooner if possible. Of course, I'd always like things to happen sooner. BUT... after all I have done, I know better. This is a modest assessment and time frame. Therefore, I'm giving myself plenty of time to get the job done sooner.

It's 8:35 and I just hung up the phone after talking to M < gee... I don't even call her "Michelle" anymore... the "M" thing has certainly stuck >. The dogs are back in the kennel, the mail is still in the mailbox, and, I haven't had any dinner < or fed the old dog > nor have I gathered the trash for the morning pick-up, or, figured out what I'm wearing tomorrow.

M told her sisters that she was thinking about moving. The recent revelations haven't sent them screaming into the streets, or, thinking she's gone bonkers. Actually, both of her sisters seem to be supportive. M seemed relieved because of it and I could hear it in her voice, but - she's yet to tell her best friend. The one who sent me down there for her birthday. That'll be a tough one... OHMYGOD...that'll be damn hard... and, hell... even I am feeling just awful about it as I write. I feel like I am taking her away from her. The more I think about it, the more I feel that pit in my stomach. That sickening feeling thing. Yuck. It's already a known fact that her friend will take this pretty damn hard, and, she may be less than supportive of the move to a place with 4 distinct seasons. It's an established fact that she doesn't think the winter would be good for M's health at all. Mostly, because she has asthma. They both have asthma. And - years ago, her friend migrated from a cold place to Arizona. Top all that off with the fact that she feels like that move saved her life.

So... I sit here already feeling like the bitch that arrived on the scene to completely fuck everything up. And ...what a damn bitch!

That part sucks. And, it sucks even worse because I really, really like her friend... and, because I do - I care about what she thinks and how she feels.

I'm beginning to realize how incredibly guilty I feel.

August 9, 2001

Hmmmmmm.... what will I write about today?

GOODGOD. I've said it before...
Much of the time I never know where things will lead once I sit down at the keyboard and get writing. That’s sort of like when I’m doing other things in my life, too. Yes. I admit it. I get sidetracked quite a bit in real life. I’ll start doing one thing and pretty soon I find myself doing something else. It’s the old “one thing leads to another” catch. I’m like that because I like that. It’s a departure without necessarily being a quest. I just can’t help it.

- - - - - - - - - - 1st divergence - - - - - - - - - -

Everybody in the US seems to be talking about the weather. I guess we’ve got nothing better to do than to lament the heat. Granted, it’s damn hot. But, I wonder if anyone who says that actually enlightens even one person. I mean, is there anybody out there who has said, “Huh? It is? Oh yeah... I guess it is hot. I didn’t notice. Wow. Thanks for pointing that out! Now I’m going home to tell  E V E R Y B O D Y! Thanks again!”

So... can you tell that I’m hot and bothered by all this talk about the heat? Oh, please shut up. Ummmmmm.... there I go talking to myself again. I didn’t mean for YOU to shut up. So, you just go ahead and keep right on talking. Now what were you saying?

- - - - - - - - - - here’s the 2nd divergence - - - - - - - - - -

Cloning:
While some people scream, “it goes against the laws of God,” I wonder why those same people haven’t taken that same stance with fertility drugs and fertility procedures, organ transplants and the like. And, I feel safe in presuming that somewhere somebody has already tried doing it. There’s probably a clone human in the world somewhere now.... hmmmmm.... could that be the answer to the long purported coming anti-Christ?

And, how do we know exactly WHAT God wants? Especially when you take a good long look at the people that are already here today who allegedly have God’s blessing to live. Do you think that God had all of this shit in mind at the moment of creation? Then, there’s that little sticking point of welllllllllllll... God did create us and gave us minds to use. Of course, we also have the ability to make bad choices. Look around. Not only that but think about the bad choices YOU
have made, and stop blaming everyone else. There’s already been a few times when I should have been struck by lightning. Don’t try to tell me your ass shouldn’t have been singed at least once in your life. If you do, I’ll think you’re lying. No. I’ll know it. Nooooooooo.... never mind. BUT... GOD WILL KNOW.

Cloning. Your so vain, you probably think... well, I hope you think. And I hope you think that one of you is enough. My God the thought of two of me is moderately frightening. I mean, the thought of my clone wanting to wrestle me for the keyboard is rather annoying. Besides, I could easily speak for us both. But then, if I had a clone... my clone would be a baby and I’d be changing diapers. Now, couldn’t you call that changing your own diapers? Hmmmmm.... I suppose you could say that - genetically speaking.

Cloning. And think how the clone baby would look just like you. “Awwwwww.... is he/she cute. My he/she looks just like you!” Damn skippy true, eh?  Damn clone better look like me. And, if it doesn’t, could you sue yourself?

Cloning. The nuclear family may one day be comprised primarily as by products from nuclear science. I can just see a late night infomercial touting a Ronco Cloning Kit. “And if you order within 45 seconds, we’ll include another one free!” Of course they would. And it’ll be just like the first.

Me and my clone baby. I can see it now. The kid is running around, “look at me!” Ummm... yeah. Giving substantial meaning to, “been there, done that.” Gee... I just can’t get away from myself. But, would the kid want my cast off clothes? Would I see myself in a different light? Would they understand when I said, “I know... I used to be just like you.” Would I finally know what I mean? Would I know what I want? Would I hate myself? Like myself? Would I be somebody I’d want to hang around? Would I drive myself nuts?

Cloning. Here I am picking a daisy... pulling off the petals... clone me... clone me not... clone me... clone me not. Clone me wins. 20 years later... meet the cloneheads.

Cloning. Yeah. And, if I raised my own clone, I’d make sure they never ever experimented with drugs just to see how much better I’d turn out. Yes. I’d actually be willing to take that chance, even if it meant I’d be an insipid mass of flesh. And, of course...I do a much better job at raising me than my parents did. Hell, it would be like having a second chance. Hmmmmm.... maybe I’d clone 2 and drop one off at my Mother’s place. If I didn’t like the way I was turning out, maybe
she’d get the 2nd one, too.

Of course, I wouldn’t have to ask her if she wanted to do this. She always said... if she could do it over she’d.... < be creative and fill in the blank >

Cloning. Somehow I don’t think my Mother would think this would be a good idea.

I guess one of me really is enough.

- - - - - - - - - - here’s the 3rd divergence - - - - - - - - - -

Vaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrooooooooooooooooooooom.

I’m getting a new computer! Na na na na na nah.

Should be built and here sometime next week.

I’m certain the ground will begin to shake as data is processed at peak speeds. BUT... there will probably be swearing going on here, too. Yes. There will be.

Why do I know this?

Because I can’t get a frickin’ cable modem. Not yet. Nyet. Nyet. Nyet.

< go ahead... chalk up ONE good thing about living close to town... >

pfffffffffffffffftttttttttttttt

- - - - - - - - - - here’s the 4th divergence - - - - - - - - - -

My spam filled e-box spewed forth added value e-trash:

< The actual text in part: >

1. Call this FREE number 1-800-340-7202.
2. Have your Claim Ticket in front of you.
3. We will guide you to one of our Master Psychics.

Then enjoy an interesting, revealing, person-to-person talk with a brilliant Psychic expert for a total of 5 FREE minutes –– without you having to pay a cent!

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Note the signature. It’s Miss Cleo. You know bay-bees...leeson tu meee... tha beech wit da fake Jamaican ahhhk-cent oooooo iz ebb-burr-ree-wear Mon. Today she showed up in my e-mail box.

You go ahead. Call her now.

Sunday. The day I forgot to rest.

My day started off with grocery shopping. Even though I hit the hay after midnight, I found myself at the grocery store as they were unlocking the doors at 7 a.m. Seems sleeping in is only a vague idea that I have. When I can sleep in, generally speaking, I don't. Of course, when the alarm wakes me up at 5:30 four days a week, for 3 days out of the 4 < sometimes 4 >, I feel as if I could sleep for hours.

After unloading and putting away groceries, I headed for the unfinished bedroom. The same room that was originally roughed-in to become a master bath, the one that is now slated to become an additional bedroom - all because I'm planning to sell the house and move with M. I'm happy because making it a bedroom makes more sense, and, it'll be easier to finish the room... not to mention, much cheaper to complete without buying bathroom fixtures - including that whirlpool tub I've been dreaming about. And, it has nothing to do with giving up that dream... it's just that I've put enough money < and time > into this house as it is. For the purpose of selling, that has no real point. On the other hand, if I was staying here - I'd get what I wanted. Therefore, I will get a whirlpool tub... but, it'll be in the house M and I eventually buy. If it's not there when we get there, it will be shortly thereafter. That's the sole requirement I have in a house.... well, OK.... it's gotta have an outbuilding - like a barn. Multiple outbuildings have a distinct edge... and I'll tell you right now... for whatever the reason, M finds my excitement over barns and outbuildings rather amusing. Hmmmmmm... although I wasn't born in a barn, I do like ‘em!

Anyway... while I began telling you about heading out to the unfinished room, I took a little side trip. That's OK. I'm back now... and, what I was saying is that I put up the vast majority of the collar beams today. Now, I have a few left to do that I'll tackle in the morning, and, I've got some nailers I need to put in place before hanging the drywall. I figure I may as well get those things completed before getting the place wired.

When I designed the addition, for whatever the reason, I felt the need to have an exterior light fixture on all three sides of the addition. Yep. I'm all about lighting - the "if I want it it is there" option. Hell... I can practically light this yard up like a stadium now. Convenient if it's dark out and you decide to weed the garden or do whatever outside. A little extreme perhaps, but, the choice is there. Looks like soon I'll be shopping for 3 exterior lights. Interior fixtures, too. Then, there really is much to buy to complete the project aside from drywall, insulation and flooring. Maybe a few minor things. The job is mostly labor. Labor that I'm going to start kicking in the ass.

I want this done. I've got extra incentive to bust ass since M made her mind up and told me that she will to move here with the boys - providing she can get a job. I am ecstatic that we have a potential time frame regarding being together!

It'll be another 65 days until I'll see them again. Today that feels like a long time from now. Without whining let me reiterate that I can say with assurance that it is absolute hell being away from them, especially at certain times. Particularly at certain times. But, I am dealing with < or trying to depending on the day > the positive aspect of this because I realize this separation is allowing me the time I need to get some major work done. I now have something to work hard toward. And, for that reason... I am happy inside. Very happy. We now have a tentative time line.

But... uhhhhh.... she still hasn't talked to her friend about the potential moving thing. She went from intending to tell her that she was "thinking" about it... to now having to tell her that she wants to do it. The time hasn't been right for her to talk to her about it. While I'm not sure the time will ever be right, the time is unequivocally near. She pretty much knows what to expect when she discloses this. Surprise... negativity... and... eventual acceptance. Ultimately acceptance because that's the kind of friend she is. The best kind. The kind we wish for. The kind we need.

My neighbor came by today and brought me some zucchini bread she baked. We talked for a while about the dogs... and, she thinks they "aren't as bad as they were." Ha! She said that right after I handed over a plastic turtle that one of them stole recently from her garage. I intercepted it before it was chewed up. I told her that Tasha had it and I took it away, but, she said that Booda, well... that he is the thief. She's caught him more than once attempting to steal stuff. So, she figures that he stole it and she intercepted it. "... he steals everything that isn't nailed down and, she digs holes." OHMYGOD! She is digging there, too... OHNO... and the kindly neighbor bearing zucchini bread, laughed and said, "don't worry about it, I'll fix ‘em." So... I barbequed some chicken this afternoon and took her over dinner. That's the least I could do. All I can say is that everyone should have a neighbor like her. I could only wish for neighbors like her when we move. In the meantime, perhaps I should cook for her everyday in appreciation.

Damn though. It sure would be interesting though to have a couple of wireless dog cams. Hmmmm.... now that would be an riveting addition to the web, eh? A dog reality show. I'm sure some people would watch because, after all, people are paying for the webcams on Big Brother 2. Apparently, some of us have nothing better to do than to explore our carefully camouflaged voyeuristic tendencies. Hmmmmm.... if that is your wish, the Net sure makes it easy.

So, how does it feel to be looking through a peephole in my life and random thoughts?

To be fair, maybe you should tell me something about yourself that I don't know.

August 17, 2001

a.m.
The clouds moved quickly overhead this morning while I took a break and stood outside with my cappuccino. Positioned near the Fed Ex express box and overlooking the "it's seen better days" asphalt parking lot, I stand there. There was a noticeable contrast within the view. Wow. Cracked and tarred up asphalt floor with the cloud filled sky moving like a mechanical product. Interesting even with cappuccino in a paper cup... and, especially so when you are leaning against the Fed Ex drop box.

Here she goes... I feel something coming on...
DAMN. Has the human presence ever had an effect on the planet or what? In a flash, there's that passé reminder of why I am periodically annoyed by our so called progress...

Just let her bitch... she'll be back in no time at all...
Oh yeah... no doubt I've ranted about this before... but, I'll do it again anyway. I'll do it because I'm a little riled up in my consciousness... < this space is provided for a deep breath, or - a cue to make a quick exit > ...alright then...the rant in my head plays out in pixels...

...while the Indians lived here for thousands of years, it really hasn't taken long for us to deface the natural environment and fuck a whole lot of things up. Not long at all. And, we are continuing to do so at an ever alarming rate.

I'm wondering why are we are so fucking stupid en masse? Why do we feel like the next generation should worry about the problems we are collectively continuing to exacerbate? Why does that predominance win? Why do we continue to plow a path which is certain to lead to our self destruction? Why do we have blinders on when it comes to environmental and preservation issues? Why don't we want to hear it? Could it be that we are living in the NOW? Could it be that we only care about US? Are we selfish procrastinators and hypocrites? Or, do we think that everyone -anyone who gives a rat's ass about these issues is the tree hugging liberal hippie type? Hmmmmmmm.... well... I wouldn't exactly say I'm THAT... even though I do have a distinct predilection for trees.

Sometimes I do wonder how we can keep using lumber. One day, and even if it ISN'T in my lifetime... it's bound to happen... it's bound to come to an end. Right now, the mad handyma'am cannot fathom a world without lumber, let alone without working with lumber. Yet... the path we are on is heading us down that road. There will be a day when trees and lumber are a precious commodity... but, it's too bad we don't see it that way today. So.... if you are a person who gets a real tree in your house for Christmas and then throws it to the curb... slap yourself. Slap yourself hard. Or, as a compromise because "someone else cut it down and is selling it to make a living"... then build something with that tree you had to have so bad.

Now if that isn't the human condition I don't know what is. Like a twangy country song being sung complete with stale beer breath right in your face - we don't always know what we've got until it's gone. And, unless it's right in our face, we don't appreciate it. We're great at ignoring things. Particularly things that have few immediate repercussions. We want everything now. And... we want it OUR way. Is there another way?

The advance retreat route...
This impersonal ambience we've created isn't a virtue for society's mental health. Not only are we eating away at our environment, but, we are eating away at our populace with apathy and disdain. Our spiritual consciousness is unconscious. Our divisions are numerous. If it isn't in our back yards, we don't care. If it doesn't happen to us, we think it never will. We are immune to nothing and we don't like to admit it. We hate to realize it because it makes us insecure. At all costs we like the front of strength. Especially in our people. Anything less than a show of strength and society declared "normalcy" makes us uncomfortable. Like a lodge full of blockheads, we'd rather skip over or cover-up what makes us uncomfortable. We don't like to be bothered with some awkward details when we get uncomfortable. So... we try not to think about it.

I know I'm all over the map - but... < I make no excuse >
...it's also weird to me that we are a society that appears to be fueled by sensual and completely - overtly even - sexual messages that are thrashing us in every medium. You can't escape the hype. Ooooooooo... yeah... check it out baby. Wooooooo Hoooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!! Yet, on the other hand... we can easily flit back to tight assed puritanism at any given moment. We are both scintillated and abhorred by what we have created and allowed. Pssst! But, ya damn right we want all the sordid details so we can pass our magic high moral wand over it. Why I never!! Isn't it awful? Did you hear about it... and, if so, what did you hear?

Sunday it is. My place of worship today is in the garage. As a result of using the router, I am covered in sawdust. Since Jesus was a carpenter, I figure it's probably OK to work with tools and wood. I am anointed with wood chips and dust. Hallelujah.

Today I am really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, missing M. 58 days and counting down. All I can say is that loving someone from a distance changes affection to an affliction. I never saw myself as someone into anything that remotely resembled torture. Clearly... I've reached previously unfathomable depths.

I talked to my Aunt today. Talked to her while I stood in the garage. We talked about the incredible material mess and subsequent debt my Uncle left her with. What a heap of stress that little bastard left her. While she should be getting ready to enjoy retirement, she doesn't think she'll have much left - or - if she'll end up entirely bankrupt. That SUCKS. She mentioned she was going to see her probate lawyer tomorrow... she'll call me in the afternoon.

My Uncle is dead and I still think he is an asshole for the mess he left her with. While material things aren't the best things in life... sometimes it can make a difference. For my Aunt it would. This is one of those times where I wish that I was in a financial position to help her. She has always been so kind and helpful, so caring and observant... my heart really goes out to her. She's truly a special woman. A deluxe... class A... top of the line lady. If I could only get her a place to live that was safe and make sure she had what she needed, well... I'd sure feel better. I don't like to hear the worry in her voice. I don't like to know she stressed and I can tell even when she tries to hide it... it's in her voice. Within the inflection of sentences like, "no... I'm OK..." and, "I'll hope for the best." It hurts me to hear her hurting. It hurts me because I love her. Damn it. If I'd only made money more of a priority... things could be different for her. What the hell did I know?

We talked about Rob, too. Of course we did. We always do. It's coming up fast on the 1st year anniversary of his suicide. It's important that we talk about him. So, if she doesn't bring something up within 10 minutes - then I do. I know he's on her mind. Especially now. I've been thinking about him quite a bit lately, too. It's hard to believe he's really gone in the physical sense, but, it's the ugly truth.

The vultures continue to circle. It's amazing that people are STILL creeping around my Aunt's place trying to snag items my Uncle had. They want this and that... they want to buy this and that... how much does she want for < whatever > ? She is very kindhearted and I think that many people perceive her as a pushover. It makes me feel better knowing that she sees this for what it is and that she knows that this big mess is all she has left in monetary terms. It's evident that it also hurts her feelings that people are acting this way. And, some normally sane people, too. As for me, well... it plain pisses me off. I don't want her to be taken advantage of.

And THAT right there may be one of the few differences I have with my Aunt. She silently gets mad or offended about things, while I get pissed off and expressive. In response to someone asking, "what she wants for...< something >" she'd say, "oh, I'm sorry... I can't sell anything now... it's in probate... I'm sorry." While I'd say something smart assed like, "... more than you'd want to pay for it..." or, "why don't you come to the auction and find out - I'll let you know when it is... < looking at watch >... oops, sorry I can't chat any longer but I've gotta run!" Statements which I have to admit that sound better than my first thought... which was a concise, "well fuck you very much."

some other stuff
Michelle had "the dreaded talk" with her friend earlier in the week. You know, the one about her moving away. And, it went just like we figured it would. They talked for a couple of hours and, in the end, after all of the negative scenarios were spelled out, she told her she would support whatever she did. Whew. M is happy to have that out in the open with her... of course, so am I... even though I still feel like it's my fault. Hmmmmm. Apparently, this is an area I have to work on.

I get mail
Yes, I do. Sometimes... it takes me a while to get back to people, but, sometimes you get a breakneck response. Once in a while I get a stray mail. Like today. Today I got an e-mail from an unidentified surfer who wanted to know: "why don't you have more gay stuff on your site." Ummmmmm.... uhhhhhhh.... like what? GAY STUFF like what? Isn't the fact that I have declared I was gay early on in the journal enough? Does it have to be an issue everyday? Once a week? Once a month?

Should I be worried that I'm not "gay enough?" Should I have a gay flag somewhere on the site? A rainbow? Is my sexual preference pertinent to my everyday life? Are gay people all alike? Because I'm gay does everything I touch turn gay? Do I have to worry about losing my status in my invisible gay community? Will someone PLEASE send me the gay agenda? Should I write a lengthy article on "how to be gay?" Should I write a "guide to all things gay?" Should I chop my hair off and throw the lipstick out? Should I break it to my power tools and the dogs that I am gay? Should I do something "gay" everyday? Should I get a cat and wear a flannel shirt? Decorate the neighborhood with pink triangles? Declare a certain day of the week, "gay day?" Put a bunch of "gay links" on the site?

Apparently I'm gay enough for my girlfriend. How in the hell I could be any more gay... I don't know.

It just so happens I am in love with a woman. A woman I met via the this technology. A woman I began writing to in 1998. A woman I first spoke with on the phone last summer. A woman I first met this past February. I have a life. I'm busy living it.

The whole "gay" label < including whatever else you could call "it" > is something that is attached to me due to stereotypical circumstances. Therefore, I feel no obligation to post "gay stuff" anymore than I feel an obligation to post things about people with blue eyes.

Do I sound snippy?

Hmmmmmm.... then maybe I should post stuff about snippy bitches, too.

August 21, 2001

When you write a journal like this, you run the risk of hurting people. Sometimes even yourself. Well, OK... always yourself. Always yourself because it always comes back to you because you fucking did it. Under ordinary circumstances, one would not be privy to all of my thoughts, feelings and general bullshit. It was my idea to do this in the first place. Nobody pushed me. Nobody planted the seed. I have nobody else to blame. I chose this medium as my virtual dumping grounds. This place I verbally spew. The place I put everything random. It's full of my thoughts, deep seated feelings, frustrations and anger, bewilderment, joy, my ignorance and complete frivolity as well as some of the simple ordinary things.

It's a record of my life. And, it ain't always pretty.

I've always written. It's just that I haven't always written like this. Why in the hell did I choose to do this? Right now I can't actually answer that. Maybe I didn't realize at first that people would even read it. And, I admit... after I found out people were reading it I began to feel a little exposed. I've wondered if it was the right thing to do. More than once.

I don't worry about what the general population feels when they look at any of these letters put together to form words. I have never worried about that. WHY? Because I still think that we all have things in common no matter how far removed we may seem from each other on the surface. We all share feelings, and, although we may have different levels of expression... there are certain things we can all understand as human beings.

When I am upset or hurt < or when shit happens >, my writing takes on a different dimension. My writing itself is troubled. You can nearly feel it through comprehensive osmosis. The words attack the page. The words are carved in an indelible state. The pixels freeze it in place. I am often fierce with words, a reflection of unrestrained emotion. Some of what I have written hangs there like a furious fucking train wreck.

Later, when the anger has went out with the tide, and I'm days/weeks/months ahead of it... I am left with the brand of past entries. Unlike this place... in real life... when I get mad, I quickly get over it. I have a hissy fit and I'm better. Here it's like a damn bronze plaque in front of City Hall. IT IS THERE. And, there it stays. I could go back and erase it - but, that isn't even the point. Yet I have the power to do so.

Written words can be full of shrapnel. The pain can linger long after the intention because that's the way things are when they are put into writing. I know that. I know that and I keep writing. Even though I have the power to stop. The truth is, I truly do enjoy writing. It's cathartic.

Although I rarely have, when I go back and read at things I've written previously, at times, it can make me wince. It can make me uncomfortable. A little mortified even. It's very hellish to feel my some of the emotions I've shared again. Of course, in retrospect, there are things I wish I wouldn't have written... but, I promised to be true to myself and to talk as honestly and openly as I possibly could. That's not an easy thing to do.

My 5th anniversary for this journal isn't far off. I began writing here on January 21st, 1998. During that time I took a little break and came back. When I came back, I promised myself I'd be true to myself in my writing. That was a big point with me. THE big point.

Now... you might wonder why I wrote this entry today. Hmmmmmm.... I will abandon the thought of going deeper into a pile of shit I created, let the words speak for themselves. What happened? I offended someone I care about. Someone who hadn't been reading in quite a while.

Subsequently, I feel like an asshole.

Let's leave it at that.

August 23, 2001

Put your money where your mouth is
The day started out OK and then... come mid afternoon - everything turned to shit.

I headed to the dentist at 3p. Shit. I got my teeth cleaned. Shit. I need a damn crown. Shit. I don't have dental insurance. Shit.

It is ALWAYS something. Lately it's been a money thing. Irritating.

The crown thing set me off today. In retaliation, I've set off to drink a few shots of crown.

August 26, 2001

Water based polyurethane. Sawhorses in the middle of the living room. Plastic on the floor beneath. Miter box on the floor. Finish nails. Wood glue. Hammer. Sawdust everywhere.

It's trim day. The beginning of it anyway. Final installation. Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa hoooooooooooooo!

The windows are getting finishing trim. It is about damn time.

Five windows in the front room. Evidently, I enjoy my light sources... yes, I do. It's very true.

The finishing trim is a pile of work. But what hasn't been? When I think about what I've done to this house, this has all been a tremendous effort. There's actually not a thing new here. I knew this was coming. This wasn't a surprise. It's just that I sort of dreaded it.

OK...no whining allowed...

...back to work.

August 28, 2001

It's Tuesday and here I am back at the office again. This morning I am less then thrilled in being here, my mind is elsewhere. Hopefully my attitude will improve as the clock ticks toward the end of the day.

I'm happy-happy-happy to say that I had an exceedingly productive weekend. That in itself is the likely culprit regarding my general malaise in being here today - if I was home, more would be accomplished. Well.... more of what I WANT to be doing. More of my personal agenda. Today I am actually working here, but... you know... I'm experiencing pangs of selfishness.

I kicked some major ASS on the trim in the house over the weekend. I routered, sanded, polyurethaned, measured, cut, fitted and < finally > nailed up some interior window trim. The 5 windows in the front of the house are nearly finished. Woooooooooooo hooooooooooooooo! It'll be finished by the end of the week.

Yes... it's true... this was a looooooooooooooooong dreaded job. The biggest pain about it was that it required extension jambs before the trim even went up. What the hell is THAT? OK, if you don't know... extension jambs are necessary when the window frame is recessed from the surface on which the trim will be applied. Wood strips build a frame out flush with the walls prior to the final trim.

I found myself being propelled by M over the weekend. Not that she can snap a whip from 2,000 miles but, because of my thoughts... because there is a good possibility that she and the boys could relocate here by next summer - pending the whole job thing. It could happen. So, when I think about that timeline - in handyma'am terms, that isn't all that far away. There's still plenty to do. I'd rather do it now instead of when they are here. When they get here, I will have plenty of other things to do... < go ahead and use your imagination >

OHMYGOD!!!!! You should see my house! The sawhorses are still in the living room and sawdust coats most surfaces - except the computer that was covered in plastic. I worked too late last night to clean everything up... 5:30 a.m. on a Tuesday morning comes early. So, after a tiny bit of contemplation the realization hit me that if I just keep kicking the ol' construction ass like this, then I can do a major clean-up over the labor day weekend. Yes. I will be laboring this mini-vacation as usual. Labor day isn't fitting for anything else where I am concerned.

Damn it... I did break another nail yesterday. The downside of a weekend otherwise full of accomplishment. Bah.

In between working I talked with M on the phone both Saturday and Sunday. Those are our two big phone days... so, even though I am technically alone here in this house - for the most part, I don't feel like it. Of course, we don't talk as much during the week - but, we have a standing phone call at 10:30 EST every night.

There isn't a day that goes by that I don't wish she and the boys were here with me. There isn't a time I leave my office to go home that I don't wish they were there, or, that I was home waiting for them. Every damn day I wake up and wish I could reach for her. Oh hell... there haven't been two days in a row in which I haven't shed a tear over it. I miss them.

Hmmmmm... look how sappy I've become. Yes... it's true.

When we weren't on the phone, I was busy thinking while I worked. The hours sped by. Especially since I know that this is an accomplishment will eventually lead to a new house with my new family. These thoughts are rather captivating while the loose ends are being tied up here. So, here I am doing this work and daydreaming about the house we will have someday. A different house. A big old farmhouse in the country would be nice.

A big old farmhouse? Guess I'd better keep all of the tools... ;^)

Actually, my sappy thoughts went even deeper than that...

...I thought about the values we'd each give the kids... I wondered about the people they would eventually become... I thought about us working together in our garden... about canning food for winter and cutting firewood... about grocery shopping together... about playing together... about reading stories... about laughing... and more and more and more... and even more...

...I thought about so much that it touched me. The impact this woman has had upon me is unmistakable. There was a moment in which I felt as if I would explode with emotion.

Apparently I didn't because here I am writing...

< the phone rings and I quit typing >

August 29, 2001

I "skipped" the office today. Actually, I traded it for next Tuesday. Tuesday would have been my vacation part of the Labor Day weekend - so now, I'll go in the office that day.

Today I've been exceedingly constructive... still going strong on all that finish trim. All the tedious parts. Wow. These are the things that make a noticeable difference. The icing on the cake. And, the blinds are hung, too. The room looks unfamiliar

More than likely I'll begin tackling the baseboards and the trim around a few doors this weekend. There's a ton of trim work and some drywall repairs to be tackled in the kitchen, too. I may as well continue on while the mess is still in the house. As much as that mess and those sawhorses are bothering me - to hell with it.... I want this shit done.

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