The Following is a Paid Advertisement…

Having trouble concentrating? Can’t get the motivation for just one more report that is due? We have the answer for you…

FACEBOOK

No other product will suck the life right out of you and make you want to screw off the rest of the day, like FACEBOOK. You can communicate with friends, lovers and that strange person whose picture looks surprisingly close to a model in Cosmo but you know they aren’t really that good-looking.

Disclaimer: Facebook may lead to the early termination and career ending moment. Do not use Facebook if you really give a crap about your job, marriage or mental well-being. May cause moments of grandeur when you think that person actually thinks you’re hot. Facebook should not be used for sexual stimulus, that would be porn, you idiot. Do not leave your Facebook account signed in when leaving your desk as it may cause others to get addicted, as well. Facebook should be used in moderation and not a supplement for real life. Facebook will not cause pregnancy as you will not get laid if you are on it all the time.

FACEBOOK…No Better Way to Blow Off a Day. 

Related Post: The Friendship is Over…Just Ask Facebook

Until next time…

jerryb

©2010

 

We Pay For This…

We punish ourselves in many ways. It may start with simple vices and progress to the realm of debauchery. As a child, I remember my first vice was foregoing sleep for the words in books, spending many dark hours with a dim lamp as I travelled the worlds of non-fiction. As I grew older, peer pressure and the quest to explore new feelings grew with me; I sampled cigarettes, booze and, yes, the pursuit of the opposite sex. Some, I still partake in while others have fallen to the sidelines of better judgment. With my recent quest, I have taken to exploring the methods of inflicting pain on myself. Yes, I have chosen someone to inflict moments of pain and pleasure, a chiropractor.

 I knew that it would someday come to this, the desire to wake without the agonizing ache in my lower back or the end of the day pain from poor posture. On recommendation from my loving better half, I set my first appointment with little expectations, just, the hope that the pain will all magically disappear. The understanding escaped me as to what this truly had in store for me. From the first few moments of my visit, I was lured into this dark world.

 It starts with being led into a dimly lit room. Soft music plays from a small CD player in the corner of the room. The scent of calming candles burn on what might have been a decorative shelf from Good Housekeeping. The receptionist, in her soft but cheerful voice informs me to prepare myself for the massage then quickly leaves the room. My first thought was bordering on confusion. How does one prepare for a massage? I grew up in an era that massage parlors were quite different from the retail strip mall salons of today. They were rumored to have something called a “happy ending” but being a little bashful, I never confirmed it. I half hoped that this was not the case in this situation or I will be disappointed that my insurance would have been covering such things for the past 20 years. In my confusion, I just sat there and opted to wait for further instruction.

 Unlike my other medical visits, the wait was not long. Within minutes, my adolescent images of the seductive masseuse crumbled as a middle-aged woman with a gravelly voice enters. She instructs me to lay face down on what; I would later view as the initial torture bed, and relax wearing only my pants. It could not be truly considered a bed as there was a donut shaped pillow at the end that my face rested in as I stared down at the shadowed commercial carpet. As she starts, I relax to the gentle massage, thinking that I had been missing out on this all along. Then, when I was lulled into a false sense of security, the pain begins.

 Her fingers change from the gentle massage to a piercing pain as she started to work on my trouble areas. The digging and kneading of my lower back made me reconsider my morning aches as an acceptable price to pay. I wanted to call out but bit my lower lip for fear of retaliation. The torture only lasted for tem minutes but an eternity passed in my mind as I reconsidered my Last Will and Testament. As quickly as it began, it stopped.

Let it be said that I have a new-found respect for electricity. My Florence Nightingale proceeded to lay warm towels on my newly traumatized back. The mild comfort was quickly replaced by an increasing, rhythmic blast of good old fashion electric current. After this little procedure, I might examine my feeling as to whether the electric chair is cruel and unusual punishment. For the next ten minutes, Ol’ Sparky did its number on me. I say ten minutes but I am not sure when it stopped. Even after it was removed, I still felt the pulsing through my body. Like a STD, it was the gift that kept on giving long after you thought it was gone. On one of these visits, they forgot to turn off the machine before touching the little pads. Let’s just say that the pain is like nothing I could put into words but I do wonder if that is what a prison shank might feel like as it punches through your kidneys.

 As I was considering if I should get my clothes back on or whether to run out the front door, they instructed me to move across the hall to another torture rack. Unlike the first room, this one was brightly lit and without doors. The doctor comes in to ask a few questions on my pain levels. A sense of humor is something he must not have been sharing with me as I explained that I came in with a three that is now a pulsing seven. For the record, I will remember not to make flippant comments before he does the procedure in the future. 

I will say that I have never heard the sound of so many bones popping as he moved me through the twist that even a contortionists would be impressed. I have to admit, I did feel a little better after that. In fact, at this time, I am almost addicted to going in there to be “adjusted”.  Maybe, I will find a 12-step to fix that.

 Until next time…

© 2010

I once was a writer.

 It was back in the early 80’s when I first sat in front of a blue plastic Brother beginners typewriter. This machine was manual, plastic and could only type in capital letters. I remember the first thing I wrote, or should I say typed. It was a cross between Star Wars, Battlestar Gallatica and other science fiction that an eleven year old would be drawn to. I believe that the story ran out of steam at about 31 pages but it was the first thing that I can remember putting down on paper that was as close as I could get to something original.

The next memory of my pursuit of writing came in the form of a research paper a few years after my first attempt. It was a documentary of sorts on survivors of the Vietnam War. In this little piece, I even went out and interviewed people who served or lost family members during that time. I even entered it into my school’s history contest to see how far I could go with it. Well, this attempt fared better than the fiction story as it made it to Honorable Mention in the county-wide contest. Before you congratulate me on this feat, it was the lowest recognition that anyone in my class received. So, I let my desires to be published take a back seat to other pursuits.

I wanted to write, not for the recognition but to be able to give to someone a place to escape from the world around them. I remember in my early childhood, sitting in the back room of my aunt’s house reading everything I could get my hands on. I couldn’t get enough and during some very difficult years of my young life, this is what helped me to get through. To this day, I devour as many books as I can get my hands on.  I wanted to be able to spin a tale of fiction to transport the reader to a place where there wasn’t divorce, loss and fear. Where the underdog could find a way to save the world or conquer the impossible. This world would make them think and live in a way that reality couldn’t deliver.  I wanted to create something from the imagination that would come alive and grow.

My next attempt was not a conscious act of writing as much as a discovery of a new technology. It started in the dial-up era of computing with a service call AOL. I remember working late at the office of a small company that I started. I was using the internet to research clients and a window popped up on my screen asking me how I was doing and then another window appeared asking me about myself. In that moment, my characters started to come to life. My early typing on that Brother typewriter gave me enough skills to keep many conversations going at once, each of them a different personality. I would spin tales of character that had a unique background, nothing overboard but different from the person that was typing them. I would, at times, have over ten characters playing out at once. The phantoms could be male or female, with various background and occupation. The difficulty laid in remembering the stories because I soon found out that, to the person on the other end of the message, thought each was real.  

I started keeping track of the story lines and personas that were created. Weaving them into stories and connecting them to the other characters that I created to add depth. Oh, I  do wish I still had those notes from those days as I believe I created a little community of people, though the reality was I felt like I was falling into my own fractured personalities. In the end, my imaginary world had no plot, people lost interest. I have to admit that a couple started to get attached to the characters and had to be let down easily. In the end, I discovered that this was not the stories I had hoped to create and like my first attempt of my youth, it ended abruptly without conclusion.

I once was a writer. Fast forward twenty years and you are reading this confession on your screen. Am I still a writer? No. Putting a few words together on a screen does not define a writer. Somewhere, through the years, I lost my imaginary friends and stories. However, most of all, I lost the innocence that helps to create those fictional worlds that can magically transport a reader to another place. Instead, I ramble on about thoughts and observations of the world around me with little hope of impacting the reader. I lay in bed at night and stories still play through my mind without the ability to convert them to paper. I see the worlds as if they are a movie that I alone are able to see but unable to project them to others. I have tried many methods from journaling to voice recording but as soon as I start to let the story out, it fades into darkness. To say I still have a chance to be a writer is on the same page as believing that person in their fourth decade could go from playing on the company softball team to the majors league.

Should I give up? I honestly believe that isn’t in my nature. I will still sit here day after day and pound out words and hope that I will get beyond the first chapter of an idea. Who knows, it is said that even a monkey, given enough time, could compose a Shakespearian novel.

 Until next time….

© 2010

Sound Of Madness

I created the Sound of Madness.
Wrote the book on pain.
Somehow I’m still here,
To explain,
Shinedown…Sound of Madness

Oh, I do love the sound of the musical poet. I have mentioned it time and time again that music is the sound track of our lives but how it that the sound track gets more and more interesting as the year goes on. If anyone has ever said nobody feels their pain or understands what is happening in their life only needs to scan through their music collection. I will assure them that the pain they feel is lurking in there somewhere, shared by the tormented sole that poured it out for your listening pleasure.

For the record though, I have created the sound of madness. Or more correctly spoken, I do the written interpretation of madness. Day in and day out I look around the little world I live in and see the madness of it all. Each moment we live adds to the madness. Stopping to get you morning coffee can be an adventure when they mix up your drive with the herbal tea drinker in the car behind you. To the moment you’re sitting in front of your computer, typing out words on the screen. Madness is a state we all live in.

Should we run from the madness? I say no. Embrace your inner psychosis for what it really is: the realization that things don’t go the way we hope and plan but they still work out the way they are meant to be. We don’t have to understand why or what that is at the time but truthfully, isn’t that the point of madness.

Another lose cannon gone bi-polar
Slipped down, couldn’t get much lower.
Quicksand’s got no sense of humor.
I’m still laughing like hell.
Shinedown…Sound of Madness

What I truly suggest is not the giving up your self to fate and just letting things happen as they will but to look beyond what is happening. We need to fight for what we believe in and what we want but before you can do that, you have to know what that is suppose to be.

The hardest thing I have found to do is to look at things from the outside perspective. To see what is really going on. Why is it that you smiled at that person and gave them your number when you already have someone waiting for you at home? Could it be that you already know where the current relationship is going and there is something lacking? Another common situation is the not knowing  if you want to be somewhere or with someone. It isn’t a difficult decision to make but we have a tendency to hold on to what is there while we look for something better. The indecision of what you want and what you don’t want to give up. How is this so difficult to comprehend? Do you want to be there? Can you let them go? If answer is yes to either one of these then you have your answer. It isn’t like you need to make a chart and see what happens next or what you need to see happen. If it is not happening then move on. Life is too short. We are too fragile to open ourselves up to heartbreak, disappointment or rejection. 

That the darkest hour never comes in the night.
You can sleep with a gun.
When you gonna wake up and fight… for yourself?
Shinedown…Sound of Madness

You’re asking yourself if I am saying stay there or go. Leave things up to fate or fight for what you want. The answer is yes. Stay, go. Run, fight. All of these things are true. Find the one that works for your situation. I try to fight for what I believe in. I have hope that I am doing the right thing and it will work out. Try to cut my losses when failure is eminent. But most of all I try to live. The sound of madness is the result of living. What would you learn of love if your heart was never broken? How could you appreciate trust if you haven’t experiences the loss of it? What would you offer someone if you never fought or work though a problem? This is living and this is what gives up the lessons that are needed to bring something to the table. This is the sound of madness that we hear in the darkest of nights. The true test of faith and belief in oneself is how you deal with it.

Each of you have written your own book of pain as the song implies. Each of you have found a song that expresses what you feel at that moment. You are not alone in this world and your problems are not the first time in history someone has suffered. Just try to remember all those other songs in your collection that express the good time with friends, finding your true soul mate, and the good memories in your past. To forget those songs or to edit them out of your playlist will not show you where things can and will go. Have faith in yourself and patience.

What is your top five songs that grab the way you feel these days?

What is it about?

As I go back and read the things I have written, I realize that from the outsider’s perspective that it seems like I could be a little jaded or hurt. This is not the case in most of them. I wonder about things that have happened or realize some things that I have learned through the years or even in recent months.

The most asked question I get (though not in post but in email) is who is that blog about? I really can answer that one here for all the past and future blogs. The blog is about my observations and me. They are inspired by you and everyone I have ever known. To write something that shows insight into my mind has to be based on things that I know. So, yes they are you  in these words one way or another. It might be something you said, you showed me or that I learned from you. For those of you I have not met, you are also here in the words if they reach out to you or you can understand the point of the message.

What is the message that I am trying to convey? Well, that depends on what you see. I think back to the lessons that I have learned and things that have touched me. It isn’t a Zen moment or showing the divine inspiration when I start to write . It is just the crazy babbling of the madness that is in my mind. I look in the dark shadows and things hidden under the furniture. I try to clean out the cobwebs in the darker regions. I like the shadows as that is the area where the interesting things happen.

Try looking into your dark shadow. Draw a picture, write out the words to describe them or just tell a story. Expose them to the light and watch how they aren’t as mysterious as we believed them to be. You might grow as a person as you do. Building the blocks of your own story.

© 2010

Falls Apart

And the hell of it is what we are
We finish and wish we could start again
Our skin tears away
As our memories fade with age
And we don’t even know ’til it’s gone?
Hurt….Falls Apart

I was thinking today on thing from my past and the lessons that I have learned. I wonder if I sabotage each of the relationships I have been because I haven’t figure out how they are supposed to work. We have this fairy tale image of what they are supposed to be like when we look at the movies. Not matter how disastrous it begins we still think in the end it will work out. If it is working out in the beginning we are looking for the reason of failure.

Once failure arrives, either by our own hands or by that of our partner, we scramble to save the pieces out of desperation. We try to talk through it and look for the things that are broken. We try to hard to fix it and forget why we were there in the first place. Mayhem and broken dream follow. Until the day it is over and you have nothing left by shattered memories and an aching heart. Searching for the answers as to what happened. That is easy, we happened.

We happened to it and there is only ourselves to blame.  We tried too hard or not hard enough. We lost site of the fact a relationship is a partnership that requires each to bring something to the table. There are sacrifices in other aspects of our lives to make it work. We have to make time for each other and make an effort if you want it to happen. Words alone will not put the pieces together. Actions and honesty will keep it from falling apart.

So lie like a waste by the side
As everything just falls apart
‘Cause everything just fell apart for me
Hurt…Falls Apart

So, what to do when it does fall apart? There are multiple answers to this question. We could walk away and leave the past in the past. Then you will lay awake at night and wonder if that was the right decision and sometimes it is. We could try to put the pieces back together but in only rare cases this can work.

Stepping back to remember why you were there in the first place and seeing if the direction each are heading is the same. This takes both parties to agree on. Fear of loss will generally push you to try again, even if it isn’t for the right reason. In the end only the two of you will know what course to take.

I wonder if the reason I am still wander out in the world of failed relationships is my lack of understanding or is it my desire to be with the wrong people. Those that are unavailable or cannot commit to being in the partnership of a relationship. Each person I am with satisfies a need that I have in some way but do they satisfy the majority of the needs that make the relationship worth while? My heart leads me into these issues that I have and the fear of losing the things that I enjoy keeps me beating my head against the wall. Is my life made up of a collage of different people who provide bits and pieces of my emotional and physical needs? Some stimulate my mind, while others make me laugh.  There are so many connection on so many levels and each of them bring forth a little bit of happiness.

When do we meet the person that completes and provides the whole package for us? Do we ever or do we settle for what is here right now? I guess that there are times when I want these answers and when I don’t need them at all. Which of these two mindsets is the real me?

And I don’t feel the need to go on
I was happier singing along the way
I had things, I need to say
Hurt…Falls Apart

Where’s the Effort? A Trip to Higher Education

 “you dropped a hundred and fifty grand on a f*ckin education you coulda got for a dollar fifty in late charges at the public library”…

 Will from Good Will Hunting

In my previous post I mentioned being back in school. This isn’t a new thing for me, even at the advanced age. I have always wanted to be in school to get my degree. It wasn’t from the lack of desire or motivation; I just have lived a, how should I say unusual life. I spent many years working in an industry that you didn’t know from day-to-day where you would be waking up. After leaving that world, I thought I would try my hand at the “normal” life and walked into the wonderful world of information technology, commonly called IT. It wasn’t a career I chose but one that I fell into when I needed steady employment. I began this new career thinking that I would have more time to go back to school.

I wasn’t embarrassed when asked where I went to school at in the beginning. I would proudly say the University of Borders. Why pay $1200 dollars for 3 credits when you could get more information from $200 of books at the local Border or B&N. I thought it was a cute way to respond until I realized as my experience grew in my field, I was hitting the glass ceiling. You know, the one here you look up at all the asses above you and think, I could do better. Well, my schedule normalized and I wavered more than a politician on whether the time was right for me to go back and finish the degree I desperately needed. I made my choice of schools that worked with my schedule and bit the bullet (can I use any more clichés here?). I was a college student again.

 I had high hopes of being surrounded by higher thinking individuals; people who might challenge me to think of bigger and brighter things. By surround, I meant in the virtual world of online classes. You would think that anyone that can make an entry into a college level course that requires the use of a computer and internet would have some brain power to put together a thought or two. It just goes to show you that higher education does not mean higher intelligence.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not an elitist and think that I am smarter than anyone else in the expansive world we live in. I believe that others in my class are potentially just as able to use their minds as the next person. What I found were people who had the ability to do the work but the drive to barely get by. How can you inspire to be a better person through education and still do the bare minimum? I see this as a chance to learn new ideas, methods and expand the mind to have personal growth at a price tag that will choke even the monetarily blessed. If you are paying the amount we are for an education, why can’t you grab it for all it is worth? This isn’t high school anymore. The education isn’t free just because you are not paying for it now. The bill will come due. 

 The daily review of my classmates makes me wonder why they bother with doing it at all. They lack the effort to correct even the simplest grammar mistakes. Not that I have the best grammar but how can you not catch mistakes like “that would be the word I would of used.”? Instead of using the tools to communicate and share ideas, they simply log on and post “checking in” for attendance. Nothing and I mean nothing, irritates me more than someone who is lazy and unmotivated. You do not have to be smart or well read but you do have to try.

 Classrooms and discussions are supposed to be about the exchange of ideas and the sharing of thoughts between people with a common goal. If I wanted to just pass my time in this life I would have went the way of Dante and Randall and worked at the convenient store all my life.  I could have spent my entire day exchanging sophomoric rhetoric with other with a like mindset. At least then I would have been able to share thoughts with people.

 My disenchantment with the laziness of our current society will probably poke its evil little head out to rant from time to time. It seems the further we evolve, the less motivation we have. Everyone wants a handout and entitlement. What happened to working for it? I am where I am at in life for two reasons, I worked hard to get here and I didn’t work hard enough to be further along. I have nobody to blame but myself. I do not need someone giving me anything that I am not willing to work to get. Why do my fellow classmates think that doing the minimum will give them the degree they seek. Was there a special on a degree at Wal-Mart or something?

 Until next time…

Will you read to me?

Like most nights, I was sitting in the bedroom, listening to the sounds of the family coming in the open door. My laptop rested on my legs as I was stretched out, the words on the screen blurring from staring too long and the fatigue of my eyes. I could feel the breeze coming through the window above my head, the coolness of air that you only get in the early Fall. It was another night of homework and time away from the family.

She comes through the open door, her blonde hair falling to her shoulder and her shining eyes looking around. Her movements were apprehensive as she didn’t want to disturb me with her entrance. I looked over the screen to her and hid my smile as she crept across the room. Climbing into bed, she scooted up besides me and laid her head on my arm. Looking up at me with those bright blue eyes, her voice sounding small in the world of noise, she says, “Daddy will you read to me?” as she pulls a book she had hidden behind her.

My daughter is now the advanced age of four. She has a hectic life of adjusting to two homes since me and her mother parted ways a year ago. The resilience of youth is amazing to me even now. She has adapted with ease and looks to her, now common life, as something to expect and embrace.

All parents praise their child. That is just what we do. I am no different. I see each of the not-yet-adults in the house to be an amazing influence on my perspective of the world. They each remind me of the lessons that I may or may not have missed while growing up. My oldest, is on the cusp of becoming an adult and is walking through the minefield of learning responsibility for herself and her actions. The middle one is becoming a teenager with all of the newness of changes in mind and body. He is adjusting better than I think I did at his age. My youngest is absorbing the world with fresh eyes. She sees it as a new adventure, something to test and explore. All bring me back to the things, as adults, that we tend to forget.

Setting aside my laptop and thoughts of homework, I pull her closer to examine the her book of choice. Ah, tonight we will be reading Dr. Seuss and his comical adventures of Sam-I-Am, which is one of her favorites these days.

In a time when video games, television and computers dominate the hearts and minds of the youthful, along with some post-pubescent adults, my youngest has a craving for coloring, singing and reading. Her room looks like a library, with books upon all the shelves, mingling here and there with the stuffed animal of the week. Rarely does she get to sit in front of the TV to watch the latest animated commercial ridden programming in her weeks at the house. This is both by her choice and ours. Instead, she excitedly finishes up her post-dinner responsibilities and requests her coloring book as she lies on the living room floor and concentrates on staying in the lines.

I smile down at her as she sits up straight next to me in preparation for the coming story. I hold the book, using my knees as an easel, and start to read the familiar story. Before I can get the first syllable past my lips, she speaks the word on the cover. No, she hasn’t learned to read at an early age of four. As I said, it is one of her favorite book. We giggle as I open the cover for another journey in to Dr. Seuss’s world.

I look down as the pages turns, listening to her tell me the story from memory and from the pictures colorfully drawn in front of us. I think to myself, do I remember what it was like to be that eager to hear my parent’s voice as they read to me? That is one of the memories that are locked inside my head for later review.

As the last page turns and the words, The End are spoken, I dread the idea of going back to my homework. My little cautiously takes the book out of my hand and looks up at me.

“Will you read me another one, please?”

With a smile and all thoughts of the assignment that is due lost in the pile of discarded thoughts, I tell her that I would love to read another. She bounds out of the room in search of the next book as I smile to myself and think how wonderful it is to be home with my family.

© 2009

The Simple Things I Long For

Just take a minute and think of the little things that would make your day a little brighter. I did just that and came up with a list of simple things that make the day a little more enjoyable.  

1. More stairs in the building I work at as it is the only real exercise that I get.
2. Just the right song at the right moment on your way home.
3. The slow waking of a lazy day with the fall breeze blowing in through the open window.
4. Conversations that last for hours even if they are endless ramblings of an awaken mind.
5. Inspiration to come as I am sitting in front of my computer instead of when I am stuck in a line without paper to jot them down.
6. To not get the last of the fries before they drop a new batch.
7. A day of laying in a hammock reading as the leave fall from the trees around me.
8. Having the answers to those difficult questions your children ask.
9. More time with the people I love. Those moments are too fleeting.
10. Being able to love the work I do as much as I love the times at home.
11. Having more inside jokes that only “we” know the meaning and laugh at the very thought of them.
12. The smell of fresh coffee as I wander, blurry eyed into the kitchen first thing in the morning.
13. To be sitting under a blanket, with the person I love next to the fire as we watch the flame perform their dance.
14. For procrastination to have a 12-step program that works. At least a patch or something.
15. That all of life’s lessons were in a text-book. I would study it, I promise.
16. To not have to wonder why we go through AA batteries so quickly.
17. The ability to leave the door unlocked and know you are still safe.
18. That someone somewhere wouldn’t have just one more for the road.
19. That my worse fear would only be if I left the light on.
20. Keeping the ones I love safe, giving them the guidance I can and never having to say goodbye.

Peaceful Easy Feeling…

The worst is over now
And we can breathe again
I wanna hold you high, you steal my pain away
There’s so much left to learn
And no one left to fight
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain
Seether…Broken

Peacefulness. Not the quiet of nothing happening but the feeling that you get when you realize that things are the way they are and you are ok with it. You fight so hard for many things to make them work and realize that you forgot the reasons you were fighting. Looking back on many things from relationships to careers, I notice that the road is a constant battle but we lose sight of why we were going through the steps in the first place.

Recently, I looked at a situation that I have been going back and forth on for almost a year now and wonder why? I mean, it isn’t as if it will be resolved. I think that there is hope but the hope is dimming. Some things should just be let go of and taken as a life experience. You can look for someone to share things with you but if they don’t want to take the journey then you must let it go. If you do not, then you are wasting your life and that is too precious to squander on things that will never be.

But I’m on the outside, I’m lookin in.
I can see through you, see your true colors.
Staind…Outside

I started this off with the comment about “peacefulness”. Let me get back to that thought. Peace comes from the understanding what is happening. It is the realization that the reality is yours alone. Our wants, perceived needs and idea of what should be are ours alone. We cannot project them on others. Once you realize that our perception of reality has no bearing on the rest of the world and become expectant of this, you will find peace.

I know I’ve been mistaken
But just give me a break and see the changes that I’ve made
I’ve got some imperfections
Staind…Right Here

My perception of reality could be considered strange or different from others. I imagine we can all say that to some extent. I tend to look beyond the surface and see what lies beneath, the weaving or threads of many lives in a pattern.

Do I have doubts and insecurities? Yes.

Do I look for things to be more than they are? Yes.

It is a struggle some days as I walk through the house and am haunted by memories and dream of a different future. I see the family that is not going to be there. The laughter of making dinner with someone who wants to be a part of this life. The emotions that flow through the walls of a future that won’t exist. This sense of peacefulness comes from these images and feelings. It is an understanding of that even though you feel a loss of what never happened, you also feel the joy of what will.

There was nothing I could say,
And when you slammed the front door shut
A lot of other’s opened up
So did my eyes so I could see
Daughtry…Over You

Look beyond the loss and insecurities to find that spark of hope. Not for what you wanted but for the fact that every moment you exist you have one more memory, one more thought, one more feeling of emotion and one more chance to have what you want. I have had questions of faith and hope. I have lost and regained my sense of belief more times than I can count. Through this, I find that that belief isn’t in others but in oneself. That belief is what give us the spark of hope for the next moment.

© 2009

Words on a Screen…

An online friend of mine was messaging me this morning. I started to type a reply to one of the messages and this is what came about. Before I hit the send, I read through it and thought that it applied to all of us out here. So, instead of sending the message, I thought I would share it with you. Those that read and wonder what goes on in my thoughts. What is my angle:
To all my readers:

For each of us, caution is necessary. I have seen some of the best in people and more often than not, the worse. I look for everyone’s angle, even if they do not know it themselves that it exist. I am a study of people so that I can understand myself more. I like to explore others mind, not for nefarious reasons but for understanding.

What do I want from you? It would be a fair and logical next question after my statement above. I have that answer. What is my angle, as I stated everyone has one? I too have an angle with you. I am learning many things from you with each message. I learn about both you and your readers in each post you make. You are a realm of diverse subscribers and each has their own little niche in the world.

I once, in another life, used to work with musicians and guide their careers. Those days are long gone but I miss the ability to share my insight with others. Being online gives me the chance to do that again without all the drawbacks it previously had.

Be cautious with people. They do deserve the added attention. I enjoy our conversations and will not make the blanket statement that I am different from the others because, honestly, I do not know that I am. I know I think in different ways from the people I have met. Just think of me as words on a screen. We will never meet in person. Never hear the voice on the other end of the phone. We are just words on a screen with thoughts behind them.

I will offer this to you as I offer it to all other people that I talk to: I will give you honesty in my statements in all that you ask of me or when I share with you. I have nothing to lose by giving that up freely.  I do not ask this in return but only hope that it is given as freely. I will not ask you personal questions that would show your true identity or where you are at in the world because that would take away from the trust we will build.

I know this sound like a lot of rambling but I wanted to give you a piece of me to dissect as you give up fragments of yourself in our conversations.

I am here to encourage because the world needs more people like you to express themselves. I am here to listen as it will foster ideas in your writing. Consider me your virtual muse. Nothing more than words on a screen.

Until next time…
~jerry b

©2009

Where is my muse?

Where is the muse? The deity that inspires us to create and guides us to take up our art has not made a visit to me in what seems like and eternity. Her presence has not been felt in the past week and I say her because as in most mythology, my imagination goes to a dark hairs goddess sporting her flowing toga. Not a very modern idea, I know, but one that is hard to dispel.

The life of a career, a student, a partner and a parent can bring many challenges to balance all the parts that make us who we are. Some are a requirement and others are a need. I hold each of the moments with my love precious and get protective of the time that I have with her. As a parent, my need is driven to be the best that I can be for my children, learning as they learn how to transition from one level to the next and hoping beyond hope that each decision is the right one for their future.

Being a student brought challenges in the past week as a deadline loomed and the desire to produce my best writing drove me to moments of frustration and inspiration danced away from me. I am over the hump with the paper and only the final edits are remaining for the next week as the class comes to a close. It is not the essay I intended it to be but one that has passed the test of compliance. I look forward to putting this class behind me and moving to the next.

As said before, my career, at one time, would define who I was. In the recent past, this focus has changed. The downfall is the apathy that comes with realization that it is just a job and each hour there is counted down. Seeking the moment where I can turn off the lights, shut down the computer and pack my things up for the evening. I rush out the door to start my evening with family and my partner.

My thoughts rarely leave her as I move through my day. The person I have sought since the moment of birth has been found. I wake to the look that crosses her face as I chase away the sleep, the routine of the morning is an exercise in restraint. Our desire to shut the door on the real world and slip back into bed is strong and requires discipline beyond what I knew before to not give in to the need. Each moment ticks away until the moment when I will leave the outside world at the closed-door of our bedroom to have the time for us.

The final piece of my life comes from my friends. Those people who I reach out to here as words on a screen to those that I enjoy in person conversations. I fill the moments with conversations and the sharing of ideas that warm me in ways I hadn’t given them a chance to in a previous life. Supporting each other in the good times where laughter prevails to the inevitable situations where a shoulder is needed to nuzzle against in the darker moments that life presents them.  Whether we are able to sit across from each other or only exist in the realm of word and images, each is just as important in my life as the next. The limitations of distance no longer exist.

Where is my muse? She has sees my life is full of many moments that need my attention. She stands back in the shadows waiting for the time when she may step into the light to give me the inspiration to my hovering fingers and let the emotions flow to the screen. I think I may see her movements as I type this. There is a hint of a smile and sparkle in her eyes as she nods to me. Maybe soon, she will whisper in my ear again.

Until next time…

~jerry b

© 2009

Life’s Little Frustrations

We all have them. Then nagging moments when you feel the urge to scream out your frustrations. In an effort to share some of those moments, I have compiled a list of the things that may or may not bring about the personal explosion that comes from the uncontrollable stupidity or frustration. Most of the time, it is your own fault.

Life’s frustrations:

1. When you need tech support for your system and all the IT friends are busy. Or being an IT person and not having time to fix your own broken computers.
2. Thinking that you will just fill up the gas tank in the morning only to find out it jumped up 30 cents while you were sleeping.
3. Wearing an outfit that is appropriate to the weather outside but not knowing what the temperature in your office will be. Hence the freezing in the summer or the feeling of on a winter day. Where is the office weather forecast?
4. Spending an hour doing inventory and making a list before going to the grocery store only to realize, once you’re at the store, that you forgot it on the table at home.
5. Spending the whole day at work wishing that you could get something done only to get a “must do” task 45 minutes before the end of day.
6. Making a sandwich and realizing that the last, and most important ingredient, is the thing you told the children they could have the night before, leaving none left for your masterpiece.
7. Realizing that the traffic report’s explanation of the hour-long backup is actually caused by your broken down pile of junk that you call a car.
8. The day our favorite show is doing the series finale is also the day Mother Nature decides to give you the worse storm in history, knocking out all power, satellite and cable for thousands in your area.
9. Leaving work, fighting the lunch time traffic across town only to find that the bank that you desperately needed to get money from is closed for some obscure holiday.
10. Waking up after a post-sexual escapade nap only to remember that your child is having friends over. This realization comes as you stumble into them, naked, on your way to the bathroom.

Finally, this is an example of one of the most frustrating things. Expecting there to be something worth while to read when you click on someone’s blog only to find out it has been a waste of your last few minutes of your life that you will never get back. Wanna scream now?

Until next time…

© 2009

10 Cosmic Practical Jokes

I have had many twists and turns throughout the years I have been on Earth. Each breath has brought me new possibilities to learn. I learned to walk, ride my bike, kiss a girl, and the joys of parenthood. Of all the lessons that have been ingrained in my head, there are moments, lessons really, that rear their ugly head from time to time. Observations, if you will, of things that can be seen as cosmic practical jokes. I started a list of these things that frustrate, cause outbreaks of panic and made me realize that someone out there has a seriously sick sense of humor.

1. I have learned that not only is there not a free lunch but you usually have to pick up the tab for the others at your table. Everything has a price. Sometimes, you end up paying someone else’s bill.
2. The waiting room of a doctor’s office does not have a magazine from this year or even this century in some cases. If you do finally find an article that you are interested in, your name will be called and you will have to leave it, never to see it again.
3. You only truly have to use the bathroom when there isn’t one available for miles. After frantically searching, you get there and find out you don’t have to go as badly as you felt you did.
4. The one day in a weeks that you can sleep in late, is the day that you naturally wake up early- never to be able to find sleep again.
5. You meet someone who you completely connect with only to find that they are committed to someone else. Then when they finally realize what they are missing out on and leave their situation, you have already moved on.
6. The situations you have learned the most from, are the ones, when at the time they were happening, felt like your world was ending. Looking back on these situations and their lessons, they seemed minor.
7. When you feel you have created a masterpiece,  your greatest creation and then look back upon years later, you realize it is equivalent to your first finger painting project.
8. The day after you scrape money together to fill your gas tank, you car will break down. This is almost as sure as the sun rising in the morning.
9. After months of seeking a willing partner in your sexual escapades, you finally find someone incapacitated enough; be it drunk, desperate, or out to get even with someone, and it happens to be the one night of the decade that you are unable to go home with them.
10. It doesn’t matter what car you buy, when you first get it, you are meticulous about keeping every speck of dirt off it. Months later, it looks like the overflowing trashcan from the local fast food joint.

This collection is not all inclusive by any means. I am sure if I sit here for a while longer, I will be able to add at least another ten. That would only prove to be disappointing and cruel. Some things are better left inside the dark corners of my mind, if only to have something to write about in the future.

Until next time…

jerryb.

© 2009

Related Articles: The Friendship is Over…Just Ask Facebook; Monday Morning Stupid Questions; Five Winning Ice-breakers For The Office

Fresh Eyes…

 

“What are you doing, daddy?” comes the small voice belonging to my youngest that recently climbed up beside me in the bed.

“I am reading news articles, babe” was my semi-distracted response as I read through the latest news articles for an upcoming blog.

“But, Daddy, what happened to the old ones?” she replied.

There was a brief moment of silence before laughter erupted in the room as we, the adults present, realized what was said. It wasn’t a joke that she was making, trying to garner attention from the parental figures but a sincere question from the words spoken. This is a typical moment, where we forget about things we take for granted that the younger children take us so literal. Moments that seems to remind us that the world can be new again. If only as adults, we can remember what it was like to not take words and phrases for granted and see things, people, and places with new, fresh eyes instead of the close-minded adult ones.

See the world with fresh eyes.

What would it be like to have the knowledge you have now but the wonderment of seeing the world new. No longer would you see the color of someone’s skin or judge someone by the clothes they wear. Someone’s beliefs wouldn’t matter to you. Take a look at a pre-school daycare where all the children play together, there are not any differences between one and the other in their eyes. The only concern is who has the purple crayon.

What happens to us between the age of innocence and puberty that we start seeing people differently? We fall into social groups that start to define us through our pubescent years only to find out after high school that none of it matters. Moving on to your adult life it became obsessed with what you had and the title on your business card. Then again, do they have a business card?

Why can’t there be the innocence that you see in the little ones. They are discovering the world anew. Each moment shows them something different. Words that we take for granted are explored. Imaginary worlds are created and there are things that really go bump in the night. And a daddy’s attention is all that is needed to make a Sunday afternoon pass by.

Until next time…

© 2008

Are you real?

But my dreams
They aren’t as empty
As my conscience seems to be
The Who…Behind Blue Eyes

It is becoming late in the night. I have found that it is easier to look through the darker areas of my thoughts when the house has become still; the almost winter wind pushes at the seams of the place I call home, bringing thoughts to me on their chilling wind. . I glance at the clock knowing that it will be hours later than I had planned on staying awake, yet the pull of the dream world has not lured me to its fortress walls yet.

The exploring of your profiles and writings brings me to wonder what is real.  Who is the persona that you show with your pictures and words. It isn’t always easy to discern between the two. Messages pass between us and each one shows a little more of your hand. Words of the real you are followed by that of the image you want to present. Anonymity is what you seek. To be hidden behind the facade you that you embrace is to never allow anyone to really call you a friend.

Personalities of a sex kitten or a housewife, a womanizer or a businessman all flash before the screen. Hints of the real you are there like little clues. Pictures are subjective and could be real, but at times they are just borrowed from an old college classmate. The fear of exposing who you are has bound you into submission greater than any in the real world. You profess the opportunity to be the “real you” while you only project the persona that you want to be.

If I swallow anything evil
Put your finger down my throat
The Who…Behind Blue Eyes

How do we call ourselves friends? Do I know your hopes and dreams or is this what you think we want to hear. The quiet man who shuffles around in the background of the real world could be the entertainer of hundreds with his sharp wit and quick tongue online. The executive down the hall could be the seductress of the night once she slips out of her normal, quiet life and lets her fingers move across the keyboard.

Do we really know who we are growing attachments to in this online affair of the heart? How much of what you see is what is real? How real is it if in the outside world they cannot embrace who they are?

No one knows what it’s like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes
The Who…Behind Blue Eyes

I have said, many times, that what you see of me online is what you would meet in the local tavern or sitting across the isle from your cubical. I wear no mask as there is no need. With so much deception and posturing that already exists, I can walk among you as I am, each of you believing that what you see is no more real than what you are presenting. The few that truly show themselves here in cyber world, can slip in and out without notice.

Until next time…
~jerry b

© Jerry B. 2008

Have Some Sympathy

Please allow me to introduce myself
I’m a man of wealth and taste
I’ve been around for long, long years
Stole many man’s soul and faith
Rolling Stones…Sympathy For The Devil

As I read the words shining before me on the monitor, my thoughts race. My throat tightens as I read the words again. They were spoken in jest but the meaning is clear to me. It isn’t the first time my playfulness has prompted that thought.

“You are the devil incarnate.”

The cursor flashes back to me as I think of the response. What is it that I do that prompts this reaction? I only intend on exploring your thoughts and desires, to garner understanding for both parties involved. The questions I ask are meant to search beyond what is spoken of in general conversation and dive deep into the shadows, seeking out where the dust bunnies of your mind hide the secrets and desire so dark that they aren’t admitted to even you.

What inspired you to say those words? I look over the conversation, turning the words over in my head.

“…my breath warms your neck as my lips hover over the softness of your skin, teasing you with the anticipation of what is to come. You feel my fingers entwining in your hair, the tension increasing as you feel the moistness of my lips touching you neck just below jaw. A gasp builds in you as my mouth traces a line down. Kissing and teasing of what is to come, I whisper to you, “tell me what you want” as your breath quickens…”

These words work their way over the screen. How could this be evil at this point? I am just looking for the reaction to the words, painting a picture if I may. I am testing the boundaries you declare you have in hopes of discovering something new that was never seen before. Is this evil? I think not.

“…I feel the pulse against my lips as my teeth summon the pleasure from you. Your breath comes in gasps as I explore your neck. Each move has intent; each drawing of my breath sends sensations through you. I whisper in your ear “What are your boundaries? How far will you go?” The only response is a gasp as my voice resonates through you. My hand caresses your cheek, turning you to expose more of your neck to me. “Do you want me to stop?” I whisper, feeling your body tense against me. Your response is a mixture of a moan and one word, “No.”…”

This is a typical conversation for an afternoon when I am unmotivated to work and seeking new excitement. What starts as a friendship, turns to exploration. Will I see something I haven’t seen before? Discover a hidden room where the desires go beyond what I have found in my quest to understand?

I do not find it any semblance of evil in this quest. I see if the words can entice an emotion, a reaction, or a new openness.  I can see in the theater of my mind not only the images that I type, but the reaction of the reader, imagining how they are shifting in their chair, waiting on the next message.

At what point does that become evil? If evil decided to walk the Earth, why would it choose me as its vessel? For the record: I am not the devil incarnate. See, he offers temptation of wealth, fame, etc. in exchange for your soul. In the end you don’t get what you want but a trick of the wording, He is such a con-artist. I however, offer temptation and offer only pleasures and companionship in exchange for the same. My deal is much better than his. I don’t appreciate being compared to that hack. He gives us all a bad name. I do not want your soul … well, maybe a piece of it, but not the whole thing. That would be too much responsibility.

“… a shiver flows through your body as my hand slides down your neck, across your shoulder. My fingertips continue to move across your soft skin leaving a trail of sensations. My breath, teasing your flesh as my hand …umm, sorry I have to go, I have a meeting…”

And here I am, left with this message on my screen …

“Damn you! You are the devil incarnate!”

So if you meet me
Have some courtesy
Have some sympathy, and some taste
Use all your well-learned politesse
Or I’ll lay your soul to waste
Rolling Stones…Sympathy For The Devil

Until next time…
~jerry b

© Jerry B. 2008

Just Another Day

July 10, 2007

For those of you who have children you might understand. For those that don’t yet or don’t plan to have any this will probably not make sense. Each night when you come home from your day at work, there is someone waiting for you. Many nights, I make a stop on my way home to get my little one from daycare. Just walking in there each night and entering the room to have someone get excited just to see you. Her eyes light up, she lets out a scream of excitement and runs to meet me. That washes away any stress from the day. Instead of thinking about all the things left undone or your next business day, you get to hear and learn the day a three-year old experiences through the eyes of innocence. No deadlines or task, just play time and new friends to hear about. Does anyone remember what it was like the first time you were able to just play and have no worries? Daily I get reminded of what that was like. The walk to the car is even an adventure. Climbing in the car is a show of independence as she insists on doing it herself. Then, don’t even think of hearing your music on the radio. “Can I listen to my music” is the first thing that you hear as you close your door. For the millionth time, you hear “I’ve been working on the railroad”. These days, it doesn’t come just from the radio, you hear the soft sounds of her learning each of the new words. The last remaining miles of my trip home each night is blessed with the excitement many of us haven’t known since we were sitting in the back seat, listening to our music and telling of our day of coloring, play-doh and new friends. Maybe tomorrow I can teach her some of music…Breaking Benjamin isn’t that difficult for a three-year old to learn.

UPDATE…

August 2010

I was reading an old post from a few years ago. How things have changed. The little girl who sits in the backseat no longer hums along to the childish songs. She received my old iPod this weekend and it was loaded with some of her “new” favorite songs. At age five, soon to be six, she is a fan of a little known band for this day and age by the name of The Beatles. Gone are the simple children songs of her youth. Now, I hear the off-key sounds of “Let it Be” and “All You Need is Love”. The Beatles are not the only songs that ring from not only the car but her room, the kitchen and even in the shower. She has a growing fondness for some of my childhood music to the likes of The Who, KISS, Elton John and Queen.

How things have changed in the past three years. Though there are still bedtime stories read each night, a little under half of them are read to me now. Her reading skills amaze me each day. The sound of her voice brings me joy as she reads a line in her book and giggles at what the characters are doing, pointing out how silly some of it is.

Next week, she will start school. I look forward to hearing about the new friends, as well as some of her current ones. The excitement of riding the bus the first day, as well as the hundredth will keep me smiling for months to come.

And to the point of new music, I haven’t ventured into Breaking Benjamin yet but she does have some selected songs by Seether filtering in with the classics. Maybe there is hope yet.

© August 2010- j. benns

The First Steps…

Well, I have been looking for something to talk about today. Just a moment in time to dumb some random thoughts. I first scan the internet for interesting tidbits of information, search through the personal journeys that I am going through and think about the cute things that my daughter does for inspiration. Nothing came to mind today that just reached out and grabbed me. Why I am still writing then, you might ask.

The reason is that sometimes, you just have to start somewhere. You may not know what you want to do but you have to do something. It all begins with the first steps. I am looking at the coming week and I am in the same boat. My daughter goes to her mother’s new place on Friday morning after having spent the past two weeks with me. In those past two weeks, I have spent most of my waking moments playing and doing new things and come Friday, I won’t have that to occupy my time.

This is my life
Its not what it was before
All these feelings I’ve shared
And these are my dreams
That I’d never lived before
Somebody shake me
Cause I, I must be sleeping
Staind…So Far Way

The realization hit me that we get so dependant on certain things in our life that when they aren’t there, we feel emptiness. Whether it is something as simple as a weekly routine or a friend that is no longer there to share time with. When they aren’t there, you are at a loss on how to fill the void. In my case, there are many things that were there in my life that recently have gone missing or unavailable. People I have brought into my life, shared my self with, and they are no longer there in that capacity. The ideas and plans you had are no longer valid or possible.

So, what do we do? The first instinct is to curl up in a ball and just pull into you. After that fails miserably, you start going on a manic quest for new things. You have a fake sense of happiness or energy as you do many new exciting things but when the day ends, you still feel that loss. Late at night when the outside world goes to sleep you lay awake with memories and questions. In the morning, you open your blurry eyes with the alarm and ask yourself why bother.

Forgotten thoughts of yesterdays
Through my eyes I see the past
Well I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know why

I believe, I believe, I believe in the truth
From inside
Go away, go away, go away from me
Leave me alone
Puddle of Mudd…Drift and Die

Why do we bother? We have to take the first steps. Even when we don’t know what they are or what is going to come from it. You reach for the alarm, turn it off, get out of bed, and start the things you can do. You have to start somewhere. Each step or task you complete is one more thing that adds to who you are. Each “good morning” opens a new door for every door that closes, a new one opens. You cannot change yesterday. You have no idea of what is to come tomorrow. You can only take the next step at this moment.

All of our life is made up of little moments. With enough of them, you will have a past full of memories. Each of these moments changes who you are and who you become. I have seen the recent surveys that are out and one of the questions that pops up over and over again is would you change anything in you past. I can say that there are things that I wish would not have happened but I wouldn’t change them. They are what got me here to this moment and the person that I am.

These are my words
That I’ve never said before
I think I’m doing ok
And this is the smile
That I’ve never shown before
Staind…So Far Away

As I started writing this today, I had no idea of where this would go. The only thing I could so is start with the first step by doing something. When you are sitting there reading this today, ask yourself what did you do today and are you ready to do something?

Until next time…

©  July 2, 2008