FORMER JAILBAIT

I know what makes me comfortable,
And I know what makes me tick,
And when I need to get my way,
I know how to pour it on thick..

All the rest is out of my hands
I will learn to let go - what I cannot change.
I will learn to forget - what I cannot change.
I already love - what I cannot change.
But I will change, I will change.
Whatever I, whatever I can.

QUOTE ME

"It's like he's gargling a hamster that's been dunked in mayonnaise."

(1/9/08)

DON'T QUOTE ME

"Life is wonderful and mostly satisfying."

"You don't always get what you want, but sometimes you get better than that."

(9/26/05)

PUSH

SCHOOLHOUSE ROCKY - A CHIP OFF THE BLOCK

Knowledge is power
Don’t bite the hand that feeds you
Smile
Learn

Your mind’s a flower
Ever-blossoming

The road less traveled
Can reap the most rewards
Arrive at that fork
Which way to turn?
Either path is right
Make it so

Where is your garden growing?
Always feeding
Always burgeoning
Always pullulating

Look forward
Let them follow
Take no victory
Simply transcend, welcome and share

WHAT'S HAPPENING

EDITED UNTIL LATER.

THE TIMES THEY ARE A-CHANGIN'

New time.

New place.

New me.

UNKNOWN

What do you see?
Is it dark?
Is it light?
I don't know.

If it keeps raining, will that levee break?

When does one give up and stop caring?

I found a penny on the ground.
I'd never seen that penny before.
But I hadn't looked.
It was there a long time.
I never gave that penny a chance to shine.
Think I'll put it in my pocket.

This killing floor is hard and cold.
It's supposed to be - so I've been told.
Do I play on? Or is it time to fold?
Am I growing up, or done growing old?

Confusion.

Meandering thoughts across the board.
Emotions all over the place.

Beat up and beat down - a beating regardless.

Chewed up and spit out.
Take another bite.
Repeat.
Relationship bulimia.

What happened to logic and hope?

When you hurt, you're still alive.
I'm still here.
If she gives up, will I?

WHO AM I?

It seems like such a cliched question. Who am I? Yet it's a question I've asked myself recently. And the answer hasn't exactly been all that favorable.

I find myself at a crossroads in life. For the first time in a long time, I face an uncertain future - a future that I don't fully control.

And I'm scared. I'm very scared.

I'm scared of what lies ahead and what could be. How I got to this point really isn't important. What is important is what I do about it now. In the past, when faced with something like this, I basically gave myself two options. One was to run away. The other was to retreat into a corner and hide - which is somewhat similar to running away as well.

Recent events have caused me to examine my own life - who I am, what I want to be, and how I want to be. And I've reached one basic conclusion. I don't like myself. I don't like the person I am. I don't like the way others perceive me. And I don't like the fact that my poor wife has often had to cover for me and make excuses for me. "No, he's fine. He's just shy."

I have faults. I have a lot of them. Is that unusual? Probably not. But some of my faults are big ones, and have far-reaching consequences. Example? A few months ago, my wife was visiting with her brother and their mom. I wasn't around. But I came up in conversation. At one point, my wife mentioned that I am a really funny guy, with a great sense of humor. My brother-in-law then looked at her as if she were retarded. It blew his mind. Why? Because he doesn't know me. Truth be told, I am a funny guy. I do have a great sense of humor. But how many people know that about me? Very few. And whose fault is that? I only need to look in a mirror.

Ready for a bitch session? I've only just begun.

I spent most of my childhood getting picked on. I took a lot of verbal abuse. I was an outcast. I wasn't popular. I had very few friends. And that abuse took its toll on me. I simply recoiled. I chose to not let it bother me. But I didn't retaliate. Instead I just retreated into myself. I clammed up. I rarely spoke. I didn't interact. My self-esteem was shot. And you know what? I have never recovered from that.

Today I am a 36-year-old man. But in so many ways, I'm still a little boy. I have a beautiful wife, two beautiful daughters, and an overall good life. Yet hiding underneath that surface is an immature boy who is still scared of life.

I have no social skills. Frankly, it's a miracle I was ever able to find someone who loved me. Yet I somehow pulled it off. Bless her soul, she's an angel for seeing through all my bullshit, and finding the real me beneath that surface. With her, I let down all my defenses. And she saw the good in me - the good person that I am - the kind, gentle soul that is me. But in doing so, she also saw the bad - the self-esteem issues, the argumentative issues, the stubborness, the selfishness, the air of superiority that I sometimes carry.

I say it again. I have no social skills. So what does that mean? That means when we get together and go to a party or go to a relative's house or something like that, I quite often find myself sitting alone because I don't care to interact a whole lot. Basically, I speak when I'm spoken to, and rarely utter another word otherwise. I look to my wife to be my safety net. I want her by my side. If she's there, she can talk for both of us. She shoulders the load. When she's in another room, I often divert my attention to the TV, or a newspaper. Why? So I don't have to participate in the conversation.

And how does that make me look to other people? I come off as smug and standoffish. Am I that way though? No. I'm just painfully shy and have no self esteem. That may be an explanation. But it is not a good excuse.

So why do I retreat away from the limelight? It's because I'm afraid. I'm afraid I might say somethng stupid. Or I might say something I think is funny, but no one else does. And that fear is powerful. It's so powerful that it overwhelms me, and prevents me from saying a word. It's safe and comfortable in my own little world. It's quiet. But it's safe. And sadly, it's also very lonely.

The ironic thing is that when we leave a situation like that, I feel like shit. I feel like my wife has once again had to shoulder the burden for both of us. Everything falls onto her shoulders. And of course although she may not say anything, deep down I know she resents it. She knows I feel bad about it. On top of her own irritation, she also feels bad for me. It's an endless circle.

Shall I continue? Of course. Let's talk about arguing. I have been argumentative my whole life. It started as a young child with my parents. I always wanted to do things MY WAY. And quite often, I did. And that's why I got into a lot of trouble as a youth. As I grew older, my rebellious nature subsided to some degree. I still often did what I wanted - only I conformed enough not to go outside the limits of the law.

But the arguing remained.

Some would call it debate. Hell, my best friend and I have been arguing since our freshman year in high school. From the long walks home from school, to the modern-day E-mail exchanges of today. Our debates are legendary. But no one ever sees them. It's private between him and I. But at times, they're ruthless and sometimes even mean-spirited. Sadly, when we get together, we sometimes argue then as well. But my friend has a way of pulling back. He's learned to keep the inappropriate nature of our private arguments from the public who sees us. In other words, there's a time and a place for that sort of behavior. But unfortunately, I haven't been smart enough to learn that. Even in a public forum, I need to always be right. And I fight for my opinions. And in the end, I come off looking like a fucking asshole. I come off pompous and smug. I'm a jerk.

Now how could I not have recognized this? I'm a smart guy. Yet I act like an ass in front of people, and then pat myself on the back for being right. And the most ironic thing is, I'm not always right. Yet I argue and argue and argue until the pther person simply gives up or gives in. Either way, I look bad - and rightly so.

Let's move on to manipluation. Another wonderful character trait of mine. Again, going back to my wild childhood days of getting in trouble, I always had a knack of getting other people to do my bidding. In my circle of friends, I often was the leader - dictating what we should do. Yes, I could get people to get in trouble with me - or get them to do something wrong that would benefit me somehow - or something that I would get a kick out of. I sometimes would hang out with complete idiots - probably for that very same reason. They were easily manipulated.

And now, as an adult, I still find ways to do that sometimes. The recipient - my lovely wife. I do things. I plan things - often without her input. Well, that might not be completely fair. I do get her input. But too often it's been the result of arm-twisting. I'll plan something, then tell her about it. And if she complains, I'll start to work on her so that she can see my point of view - which of course I believe is the "right" point of view. And again, I argue. I manipulate. I lay guilt trips. "Well, if you don't want to... I think it's a good idea... But obviously I won't do anything without your ok..." And what happens? She gives in. She succumbs to my wishes. And that is that.

Now how does this make me feel? Honestly, I didn't feel bad at the time. Why? Because I didn't see what I was doing. I didn't see the hurt and disappointment. I was blinded by my own short-sightedness. I see it now. I realize it now. What an asshole I have been. It's always been about me, me, me - never a thought to the feelings of others around me.

The past few weeks have been very eye-opening for me. I've had to look at myself for the first time. And like I said, I don't like what I see. In fact, I hate it. And it makes me incredibly sad to think about what I've become. How did I get this way? And what has it gotten me today?

Well, for one thing, I have very few friends. The one guy I've always considered my best friend seems to want nothing to do with me. We haven't hung out and done anything for 14 months. We still communicate via E-mail sometimes. But that's about it. I've discovered that I also have no support system. And right now, is a time when I need it the most. Yet the only people who have reached out to me (save for my parents) are a guy I haven't laid eyes on in over a dozen years, and a girl who lives five hours (and two states) away. There's no one else right now - no one to put their arm around me to tell me it's going to be ok - no one who can give me a shoulder to cry on - no one to talk to - no one to comfort me. And why is it this way? Because I've refused to let people into my world. I've refused to be social. I have no one to blame but myself.

I have always been a strong-willed person. When I set my mind to do something, it gets done! And no one who knows me will deny that. But now I face another challenge - perhaps the biggest fight of my life. It's been said that a person needs to hit rock bottom before he can pick himself up again. I thought I hit rock bottom 10.5 years ago. I was wrong. I've hit it now. The question becomes, what am I going to do about it?

Do I retreat? Do I hide in a corner? Do I run away? That's been the norm thus far. And don't think that those ideas haven't crossed my mind. Because they have. But what has that gotten me thus far in life? Read above. Does this sound like a healthy existence?

I've signed up to begin therapy. My first appointment is December 26th. I consider it a Christmas present to myself. I certainly need it. I have no doubt that I will once again be diagnosed with depression. I've been there before. I know how it feels. God knows what else the therapist will find wrong with me. But I'm sure there will be more.

But therapy is not the only answer. What else can I do? Well, for starters, I just listed a shitload of things that are wrong with me. And I need to work on those things myself. Regardless of what the future holds, these are things that I need to do for me. I am a good person. I know that. But I have problems. And I can be a better person. It's quite simple really. I have to be. And it all starts with thinking about other people besides myself. This whole "me, me, me" attitude is sickening. I am ashamed of who I've become.

I have to focus on the positive right now - take things one day at a time. I need to be open to new ideas. And I need to cease having the need to always be right. It's not right that I demand to always get my way. That's bullshit! And it's done. I need to focus on being the best husband, best father, and best overall human being that I can be.

I need to grow up. I need to act my age. I need to stop worrying that when I walk into a public place alone, people will look at me funny and laugh at me behind my back. Silly you say? Perhaps. But it's what I feel. It's what I've always felt since I was a teenager. Some feelings simply don't go away.

I need to be social. I need to talk. I need to be funny. I need to speak up. How awful is it that my wife's own family doesn't even really know me? I'm embarrassed and ashamed. I've wrestled with this issue for years. And I've vowed to try and overcome my shyness. Yet it still refuses to go away. Why is it that I can sit in front of a computer screen, and type my most intimate secrets and memories for the entire world to see? Yet when I get face-to-face, I shut down and put up a wall. Well no more. Can I be the life of the party? Maybe I can. Why not? After all, I do have a good sense of humor. Once people see it and respond to it, it will be easier the next time. And pretty soon, it will be like second nature. Even if I'm not the life of the party, I can be a nice, added addition to any conversation. People don't know me. But it's time that they do. A big part of my life depends on it. And you know what? They will like what they see. Because those few who have known me, know I'm a likable guy.

I'm repeating myself. But again, it's not all about me. I need to start giving back. And I've taken some steps to do that. Earlier this week, myself, my wife and our daughters volunteered our time at a nursing home. We helped several of the residents decorate some small Christmas trees for their rooms. And you know what? They enjoyed it. And so did we. It felt good to do something for others - people in need. And tonight I took our daughters back to that nursing home. However, this time, there was no one to supervise us. I was supposed to play some balloon games with them. But when I got there, I was on my own. One of the staff members handed me three balloons, then left me on my own. Umm... help! But you know what, I did it. I blew up those balloons, and the girls and I played with the residents - at least the ones who were receptive to playing. I talked. I was social. I asked what their names were. I introduced them to my girls. And I saw joy - pure, non-phony joy on the faces of those residents who played with us. Ok, there was one grumpy guy who was a stick-in-the-mud. But besides him, we all had a blast. I was reminded of that scene in "Patch Adams" where that elderly woman got to jump into the giant vat of noodles. The look on her face was the look I saw tonight on several of the residents. And as corny as this may sound to say, it was very rewarding. And I'm happy my girls got to take a part in it. Tonight brought several smiles to my face. And that's something that has been missing recently.

I recently signed up and committed myself to six months of volunteer work with my local humane society. I'll be helping animals in need. I'll be walking dogs, cleaning cages, petting cats...

I'm now on a voyage of self discovery. And I'm still very scared. But over the past three or four days, I've also been hopeful. Hope is a beautiful thing.

Is it too little, too late? For some people, perhaps. But it's not too late for me. I'm only 36. And there's a lot more living to do.

**EDITED**

**EDITED**

THE LAST ONE

With this entry, I must bid farewell to my recent blog-a-day endeavor. Perhaps I'll return at some point in the future. Then again, perhaps not. If this is indeed my very last blog entry anywhere... it's been fun. If I inspired others to blog, that's a good thing. Keep writing. You're all great.

SUNDAY

So here I am, back at the blog. Unlike last night, only one of my three fellow blog-a-dayers has gotten his quota in for today. So tonight I'm #2.

I find myself alone, as my wife is at work, and the kids just went to bed. So while I'm watching the Patriots' weekly dismantling of their opponent, I'm having some leftover pizza from this afternoon - one of those new five-meat pizza pies from Papa Murphy's. Lord, it's good too. But man, there's a lot of pizza here! By the way, it's amazing how much mess a two-year-old and a four-year old can make. I've got some cleaning up to do.

So what do I have for a topic? Well, not much actually. Although I do have a little something. It involves Burger King's new ad campaign. It features their creepy mascot - the king. You know him. Look down.



So the new ad campaign features three women who are trying to kill the king. In the first ad, they hire a hitman to "whack the king." In another ad, their chasing the king in a car. And in yet another, they're trying to run over the king with their car.

Now call me crazy, but isn't this sort of ad campaign really inappropriate? Seriously, when did murder-for-hire become an acceptable way to sell false food?

Now don't get me wrong. I really could care less. The ads haven't caused me to lose any sleep. But still, it is what it is. Am I wrong about this?

Oh, and for the record, Burger King has great onion rings!

That's all I got. I need to warm up another piece of pizza.

SATURDAY NIGHT

Well well, here I am. It's 9:30, and every other fellow blogger has filled their quota for the day. Based on the norm, I figured I had at least two more hours before the new entries would begin to filter in. But no, today I'm the last one. Now granted, I did do a quickie earlier today. But that doesn't count. That was just a cool song.

I really don't have much to say today. I have no topic. So perhaps it's diary time. What did I do today?

Well, I woke up around 8:35. Our youngest daughter woke up at that same time. Blame the alarm. It woke us both up - which isn't surprising, since she happened to be in the bed next to me. She wandered in around 6:00, and just stayed.

We went downstairs and found her sister and her mama. We bummed around a bit, then headed to the YMCA. Our oldest daughter was in basketball. My wife and I worked out on the treadmills.

We went home and had lunch. I had two hard-boiled eggs and a cheese sandwich. We then took turns showering - no shared one today. (Sigh) Then she left for work around 2:00. I've been on my own, playing daddy, ever since. She won't be home for another two hours.

Tomorrow we repeat the same performance. However tomorrow also includes a Packer game. Woohoo!

Oh, I spent maybe a half hour chatting (via Yahoo Messenger) with an old high school classmate, Ben Franco. Life is surreal sometimes.

Anyway, that's it for today. Perhaps tomorrow I'll be inspired to have something witty flow from my fingers. But hey, overall, I had a pretty good week - really long posts and such.

Until then, peace!

THE LAST RESORT

I'm hoping this isn't my blog contribution for the day. At this moment in time, I have every intention of coming back later tonight to blog about something else. And most likely, I will.

But until then, I invite you to watch this clip. It's a song by the Eagles. This is a live performance from their 1994 reunion special. The Eagles are one of the greatest groups of all time. They have a countless number of hits. They are one of those bands that I could probably listen to, and enjoy everything they've done. But if I had to choose an all-time favorite song, this would be it.

It's called "The Last Resort," and can be found on their "Hotel California" alubm. Just take a listen. It's a powerful, powerful tune. Just listen and enjoy. It's long, but well worth it.

REPO MAN

After I graduated from college (UWGB - class of 1996) I eventually found a job in Milwaukee. What was my job? I worked for a place called Remco. It was a rent-to-own store, owned by the same people who own Rent-A-Center.

For those of you unfamiliar with this type of business, what it is is a place for people who have no credit or bad credit, to get quality items such as furniture, appliances and electronics.

Rent-to-own stores sort of have a bad reputation in the media and such. Because they feel that they prey on poor people. And I can see their point. Because the prices these stores charge are outrageous. Customers either pay on a weekly or monthly basis, for a period of time - be it six months, 12 months or 18 months. And in the end, the customer will pay roughly double (sometimes more, sometimes less) than what it would cost them brand new at a regular store.

Back in those days, a customer might pay $500.00 for a VCR. Sounds insane! But in all fairness, our customers were people who simply don't have any other means to obtain these things. And in all fairness, a lot of our customers stop paying at some point. And that means that unless they return the item, or we can amicably pick it up, they end up stealing it. And that of course is the reason why the stores' prices are so high. It's a vicious circle.

Not surprisingly, stores like this thrive in the inner city. Inner city folk represent about 95% of the customer base. And my store was on 23rd & North on Milwaukee's north side. And for the record, that is right smack dab in the middle of the hood. Milwaukee's north side is the "bad" side of town. It is where most of the crime occurs.

So picture this. I'm a little reddish-blonde-haird kid from a small white-bread town in Wisconsin. And I suddenly found myself as a collector in the hood. If there was ever someone who looked non-threatening and out of place, it was me! My job was to try and collect the money from our customers who were past due. Ideally, we would call them up and have them come down to the store to pay. But let's face it. Most of our customers didn't have phones. So that means, we had to get in the van and drive to their homes to try and collect. And if we couldn't collect, we had to try and repossess the stuff. Repossession was a last resort. We'd rather have the money. Besides, no one wants to have to carry out a bedroom set. That shit's heavy!

I did that job for close to two years. I had quite a few memorable experiences. I repossessed a refrigerator from a second story apartment, all by myself - with no dolly. I was threatened. I heard occasional gunshots. I saw a fight in the street - where a gun was pulled. I saw panhandlers, hookers, drug users, drug houses, and garbage - lots and lots of garbage in the streets. I also saw that so many people have little or no regard for their environment. So many trash everything around them - their streets, their apartments, their furniture. Seriously, you'd be disgusted at the sight of some of the stuff we repossessed. Some of the homes smelled so bad that you would literally tear up. I mean call me crazy. But when I finish eating a piece of chicken, I throw my bones in the garbage, not on the living room carpet.

So anyway, it wasn't all doom and gloom. I liked my coworkers. And we had an awful lot of fun there. Well, I had this one particular customer who lived in this dark and gloomy apartment complex - just a few blocks from where Jeffrey Dahmer had lived actually. And everytime I went there, it creeped me out. It was a three-story complex with maybe eight apartments on each floor. She lived on the third floor. There were always several lights burnt out in the hallways. So it was darker than it should be. And there were absolutely no windows anywhere, with the excpetion of in the apartments themselves. And to top it off, there was only one door in and out of that place. I often thought to myself that if I was ever going to get killed on that job, it was going to happen in a place like that.

Well, I had a customer in that building. Her name was Nicole. I won't say her last name because it wouldn't be proper. (Trammell) She owed money on a living room set - sofa, big puffy chair, lamps and tables. She had no phone, was never home, and would never respond to the tags I'd leave on her door.

There was one other collector in our store. His name was Dave. I always called him Grumpy Dave because he was a hot-headed asshole. He was basically unpleasant 95% of the time. He had a different approach to the customers than I did. He would yell and scream. I took more of a "kill them with kindness and make them feel guilty" approach. But hey, whatever works. Both Grumpy Dave and I were the two best collectors in our entire market - which included about 13 Milwaukee stores, as well as stores in Fond Du Lac, Sheboygan, Manitowoc and Green Bay. And considering the fact that our store was in the worst neighborhood of all of them, that's quite an accomplishment.

So one day I headed out to Nicole's place again. And this time, Grumpy Dave went with me. Had I been able to get inside her apartment, I would have needed him to help me carry the stuff out of there - assuming she refused to pay. I considered Grumpy Dave a necessary evil most of the time.

Well, a few days earlier, Grumpy Dave had purchased some pepper spray. We weren't allowed to carry anything in terms of protection. But he carried it anyway. And I knew that he was very anxious to try it out.

So we get to Nicole's building and knock on her apartment door. And lo and behold, someone was actually home! Now, by law, if we can get our foot inside the door, and can enter the dwelling, we can legally refuse to leave if we don't have our stuff with us. So that was our goal. We can't force ourselves in though. We have to be allowed in.

On a side note, remind me to someday tell you the story of how I tricked someone into letting me in their apartment to "call my boss to discuss the situation." Boy, was that woman angry when we repossessed a ton of stuff!

Back to the story. Nicole's door is opened by three young women - none of which were Nicole - allegedly. I say allegedly because I had actually never met her before. So we tell them that we're there to pick up the living room set. Of course they refused to let us in. They knew the game. And it ended up being a pissing match between us and them. It resorted into laughing though, because we all knew we had no chance of getting in there. It was just fun and games.

After a few minutes, we knew it was futile to continue. So we walked down the hall to the steps leading down and out of the building. The three women continued to taunt us a bit. And then Grumpy Dave shouted, "Ho, ho, ho!" No, he wasn't giving his best Santa Claus impression. He was referring to the three mdoel citizens as "ho's."

Well, no sooner had we reached the bottom of the stairs, then we heard the sound of multiple footsteps tearing down the hall. As we got outside and got back to the van, the three women shot out of the door, stood on the stoop, and shouted insults to us yet again. One of them threw a beer can. Another one grabbed a broom and waved it at us. Why? Who knows. I was laughing at the scene. And so were they. Then Grumpy Dave poked his head out of the van window (I was driving) and said, "Why don't you come here and wave that broom!"

Oh lord... I knew exactly what was coming next. Not to be showed up, the woman came over to the van. Grumpy Dave grabbed his pepper spray. Once she got close to the window, he opened up and sprayed her in the face. And that girl went down like a rock! What had been fun and games now turned serious. Her friends came to her aid, while Grumpy Dave yelled at me to go. I backed out and headed back to the store. Meanwhile, there were screams of anger trailing behind us as we left.

So we get back to the store. And Grumpy Dave informed our boss what happened. He tried to play it off as a situation where he was merely defending himself. But he's the one who antagonized the woman and invited her to come over to the van. What an asshole!

About an hour later, two cops come to our store. Apparently someone back at Nicole's apartment called to report the incident. Grumpy Dave fully admitted to what he did. The police officers read him the riot act, informing him that it was against the law to use such a weapon, and not report it. Believe it or not, Grumpy Dave got mouthy with the cops - even though they were threatening to arrest him! Eventually he backed down. I think they issued him a citation though.

Before they left, one of the cops informed us that there were about 20-30 relatives of this woman who were back at the apartment complex. And he said they were hopping mad. He warned us that there could be trouble, and that we should be careful. Great!

Grumpy Dave decided that he was going to take the rest of the afternoon off - leaving the rest of us at the store. What a guy! Well, about an hour later, we got another visit. This one was from Mike - our former delivery driver, who had quit about a year earlier. Unbeknownst to us, Mike was the sister of Nicole. And Mike was mad! He burst into the store shouting, "Where's Dave!" Yikes!

Well, Grumpy Dave was gone. Thankfully our store manager was able to calm Mike down and defuse the situation. Had Mike not known us, I shudder to think what could have happened as retribution.

The aftermath of that event is that about a month later, our market manager found out about the incident. And Grumpy Dave was fired. That was a happy day! Also, although my boss told me to to simply stay away from Nicole's place, and not pursue our stuff, we ended up suing her over the property. This was a common practice if the customer had paid less than half of the term of the rental agreement. So a few months after this incident, the sheriff's department went over there, got in, and repossessed the entire living room set.

And there's more. The furniture was in relatively good condition - which was somewhat of a rarity. So it was put back on the floor in order to resell it. And about that time, my now-wife was getting an apartment of her own, and needed some furniture. My boss always had the option to "cash and carry" any item. He could sell it very cheaply, depending on how much money had already been paid on it. In this case, for about $75.00, the store would make a profit. So he sold the couch and chair to her. I helped deliver it. And before long, we would occasioanlly having sex on that couch.

That couch had a colorful history. If only it could talk.