Many of you have probably seen certain tweets or heard me on the podcast saying that I have a lot of not fun stuff going on, but never going into detail. It’s not [...]]]> Wow, it has been way too long since I last updated my blog. Sorry about that, but things in my life are crazy.

Many of you have probably seen certain tweets or heard me on the podcast saying that I have a lot of not fun stuff going on, but never going into detail. It’s not that I don’t want to share; it’s that I don’t want to depress everyone. So, here’s what’s been going on, starting from the beginning.

I moved back home in 2005 to help take care of my Grandma when she was diagnosed with cancer. Since I work second shift, I took care of her during the day while my mom was at work. Shortly after my Grandma passed away in 2006, my mom started slowly going downhill as well. Last year, though, my mom really started to turn for the worse. She needs both hips replaced, has an infection in her left kidney that has spread much more now, and she also has cancer. She hasn’t gotten anything done about any of it since she has no health insurance. She also cannot get disability since her boss has not sent paperwork into Social Security (where disability funds come from) for the past 10 years. Also, since she owns the house (inherited from my Grandma), she can’t get any sort of low-income assistance. She refuses to have anything done since she can’t afford to and hasn’t bothered going to a Social Security office to even try and take care of getting things in order with that. I found and put in order all of her income tax returns from the past 10 years so she could go take care of it, but over a month later, still nothing.

She can barely walk most of the time. Yes, she’s still working, but she won’t be able to much longer. She needs a walker, which I’ll be able to afford to get her one in a couple days, but I know she’ll refuse to use it. And since she won’t be able to work much longer, I have to get a second job. I’ve been trying to figure out how to work two jobs and take care of her. It’s pretty much impossible. I’m the only one there is, really. Everything falls to me and there is nothing anyone can say or do to help. I’m used to being alone and doing things on my own, but this is overwhelmingly too much. The worst part, it’s not even as bad yet as it’s going to get.

I need a new car, though. My car has too many things wrong with it and it’d be cheaper to get a used car. Yesterday I finally called and got a loan from my 401K. Part of the money is for a down payment on a new car. Part of the money is to start paying some bills I’ve fallen behind on. And a very small portion will go into my savings account as a cushion. I can only hope I don’t need a co-signer for the new car. If I do, I’m screwed. The only thing keeping my car from falling apart right now is prayer to the gods.

And duct tape.

Literally.

Things don’t end there, though. I also have to take care of the house, inside and out. If things don’t get done, she bitches. The woman has only had 4 or 5 nice things to say to me since I graduated high school in 1996. Everyday there are cuts to my self-esteem from her. Little jabs that eat away at me and my soul. Somehow I can manage to ignore them most of the time, but not always. She wants some sort of perfect perfection from me that nobody can achieve. Nothing I ever do or say is good enough for her. Hasn’t been for too many years to remember. So, I do all this extra stuff. Most of the time I can stay ahead of her. I make lists daily of what I need to do before and after work. About the only time I truly have to myself and am doing something for myself is when I’m sleeping. A second job will suck away at that.

And then there are my own personal health issues. I’ve needed to have surgery on my right shoulder for 4 years now. I was waiting until last year, my 10 year anniversary at work, so I could get 75% of my pay during the time I’d need off, compared to only getting 60% of my pay if I had gone before my 10 year anniversary. Right at the time my 10 years at work came up is when she went downhill. I can’t help her with my dominant arm in a sling for 3 months or so. I’m pretty sure I’m also developing arthritis in my hands and might just have an artery clogged. Again, I can’t take care of her and have these things taken care of. I know I need to take care of myself first, but I just can’t. I’m so stuck I am unable to move.

In the past month-and-a-half, I have come beyond close to killing myself twice. First with a sharp, sharp knife in the woods behind a cemetery where nobody would ever find me and then wanting to see if my car really could do 140 mph right into a tree. Both times I was stopped by a spirit (not the same spirit both times) saying it wasn’t my time. When I was suicidal in my teens, I could literally feel the end of the rope I was clinging to. No matter how thin that rope got, though, it always raveled itself back up and pulled me up with it. The scariest thing for me right now is I don’t feel that rope anymore. Maybe the Universe doesn’t think I need to feel it anymore, that I’ve outgrown the need to feel it beneath my hands, but I do need it. Without its presence, a spirit might not be enough to stop me next time and that scares the shit out of me. I’m not the type of person to seek therapy, but I’ve felt like I’ve needed to see someone for a few months now. The only thing is, I don’t have the time to. Not with trying to do everything else. And it’s not like a shrink is open at 1am, when I get off work.

I know I should make time for both a doctor and a shrink, but I get less and less sleep as it is as the days and weeks go by, because more and more stuff is added to the list that I have to take care of. And since my mom doesn’t have a walker yet, I have to make sure I’m home to help her from her car, up the deck stairs, and into the house. She fell once and blamed me for not having helped her. Since then, I’ve helped her everyday. She blames me all the time for stuff that isn’t my fault, as well. With a walker, I won’t have to be around to help her from the car into the house. Then I can work two jobs. But what about helping her into and out of her clothes? Yes, I have to help her change all the time. And on top of everything else, what about time to make meals to eat? Time to buy groceries? Do the laundry? How can I possibly do all of this stuff, take care of her, work two jobs, all while being in constant physical pain and trying my hardest to maintain even a shred of sanity to keep me from offing myself?

I can’t.

I just can’t.

But yet, I have to.

Somehow.

It’s loosely based on what happened when my mom told my dad she was pregnant. To find out the real story and why I [...]]]> This is the audio skit performed with my friend and co-host, Chris, from the upcoming Episode 15 of A Cup of Fresh Hell Served With A Side Of Heaven podcast I co-host.

It’s loosely based on what happened when my mom told my dad she was pregnant. To find out the real story and why I went the Rhett/Scarlett route with this, you’ll have to listen when the episode comes out on Thursday.

This is not my own recipe. I found it and loved the simplicity of it. It’s a very old-fashioned [...]]]> I never thought I’d be posting a recipe here, but I’ve had so many requests for this recipe that I thought I would put it in one handy place for everyone to view/copy/email etc. at their leisure.

This is not my own recipe. I found it and loved the simplicity of it. It’s a very old-fashioned recipe and one of the easiest things I have ever had the pleasure of making.

Last Saturday I had 5 teeth removed (all 4 wisdom teeth and 1 extra molar), so all I can eat right now are soft foods. I was tired of soup, had some extra ripe bananas around, and voila–banana bread. I made it for the first time last night and it turned out perfectly, which is surprising since my oven is quite temperamental and doesn’t always heat things evenly.

Anyway, here’s the recipe. Enjoy!

3 or 4 ripe bananas, mashed

1/3 c. melted butter

3/4 c. sugar (can use 1 cup)

1 egg, beaten

1 tsp. vanilla

1 tsp. baking soda

pinch of salt

1 1/2 c. all-purpose flour

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. With a wooden spoon, mix butter into mashed bananas in a large mixing bowl. Mix in sugar, egg, and vanilla. Sprinkle salt and baking soda over mixture and mix in. Add flour last and mix in. Pour mixture into a buttered 4″x8″ loaf pan. Bake for 1 hour. Cool on a wire rack. Remove from pan and slice to serve.

Note: I used 4 bananas and let it cool for 30-40 minutes. This gave it time to be cool enough to touch, yet still warm enough to melt butter on the bread. Also, I did use butter on the pan instead of Pam like I normally would. I’m glad I did, as it gave it a beautifully delicious brown crust all the way around.

Today I cleaned out my car and cleaned all the inside windows. This was an accomplishment in and [...]]]> Either senility is kicking in for me way early (good possibility), I’ve been replaced by a pod person (also a good possibility), or I’ve had it with being out-of-shape (most likely scenario, other than the pod person thing).

Today I cleaned out my car and cleaned all the inside windows. This was an accomplishment in and of itself. If you had seen my car before, you would understand.

As of yesterday, I have stopped drinking energy drinks and regular soda. I am now drinking much more water, milk, and Coke Zero (no calories or high fructose corn syrup), but mostly water. I’m not bitchy, slept better last night, and already feel like I have more energy than I did. If you knew about my addiction to regular sodas and energy drinks, you would this is also an accomplishment in and of itself.

Wait! There’s more! Tonight I’m going to be going back to the gym for the first time in almost two years. I went once last year in January, but don’t really count that.

So what the hell has gotten into me? Last Friday at work, those of us with penis’s had to go in the back and help start inventory early. I was lifting/pushing/pulling heavy totes and stacks of totes and by lunch was walking like Quasimodo and Tiny Tim had a baby. Also, my right hand was only good for use as a Chinese back-scratcher. I was sweating, short of breath, and basically wanted to die. I had been toying with the idea of going back to the gym earlier last week, and after Friday, it was confirmed.

I’m ready for this. I’m ready to get healthier and lose weight. I did it once before and I can do it again. The reasons I quit going to the gym aren’t there anymore. I am doing this for me and nobody else. I was happier and healthier when I was going to the gym and eating right before. I want that feeling back.

I’m comfortable with my body and love it the way it is, but I know I can have a better body if I work at it. Little changes here and there in my daily life (eating right, finding time to exercise, etc.) are all that’s needed at first. Well, that, and some personal motivation. I think not sweating while eating a bag of peanut M&Ms is a great motivator.

I put my mind to this before. This time, though, I may need some extra support from friends, mainly because I’m lazy and full of good intentions. Plus, I don’t have my workout buddy this time around. I do have a killer playlist to workout to on my iPod, though.

I haven’t set all of my goals yet, but will finish that tonight or tomorrow morning. I do know I want to get down to at least 200 pounds, including muscle development. (Muscle weights more than fat for those of you who may not know.) When I have my goals all set, I’ll make another post here and announce it on all my sites. I’ll do this so people know I am serious and will kick my ass in gear if I start to flail. Yes, I will be watching myself as well, but a little extra support never hurt anyone.

Unless, of course, you’re wearing a jockstrap during a BDSM session, but I digress.

I am such a dork. LOL I recorded this for episode 3 of the podcast I do and I’m laughing at my own stupidity. Seriously, I need professional mental help. If you haven’t listened to the podcast yet, here’s a snippet. No, this is not normal material on the show. Please don’t judge the whole [...]]]> Hey y’all!

I am such a dork. LOL I recorded this for episode 3 of the podcast I do and I’m laughing at my own stupidity. Seriously, I need professional mental help. If you haven’t listened to the podcast yet, here’s a snippet. No, this is not normal material on the show. Please don’t judge the whole podcast based on this one gods-awful bit I did! LOL

Also, I’m posting this to try out a new media player plugin. The other one I had (and never used) kept giving me an error every time I went to update it. Since I’ve gotten into podcasting, I may make some audio updates here and want a player that will work. Here’s hoping.

I’m still writing and will be posting more stuff here again very soon. Besides the old stuff I lost and haven’t put back up yet, I also have old stuff I never finished and new stuff I’m working on. Within the next month you can expect more posts regularly here.

I’m behind on emails I want [...]]]> It’s probably been a few weeks since I last posted something here. I honestly cannot remember right now and am too lazy busy to even look. I’ve had, and continue to have, so many things going on that I can’t seem to catch up. Well, for right now, at least.

I’m behind on emails I want to send. I’m behind on commenting on blog posts and contacting podcasts I like.  I’m behind on working on my novel.  I’m behind on tweets. I am so far behind on so much stuff that the light at the end of the tunnel is probably a distant galaxy twinkling and taunting me. I’d rather the light be a freight train at this point.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not actually complaining. In fact, I’m glad I’m so busy. If I wasn’t, I may be still partly depressed, trying to figure things out in my life. Instead, I’m so busy doing things, I finally feel like I’m partly living my life again, which is a good thing for this recluse.

Most of my attention has been going into the creation, editing, and setting up of A Cup Of Fresh Hell Served With A Side Of Heaven, the new podcast I co-host with my friend Chris. The initial setting up of the site, getting it into iTunes, learning the editing and rendering ropes, dealing with feeds that won’t let you change things when you need to, fucking things up majorly in the process, re-editing an episode that somehow got messed up during the rendering, has all been a huge headache, a huge learning process, and a huge amount of FUN!

Yes, I truly mean it. It has been headachy at times, but it has been a lot of fun as well. This initial starting up phase is the worst part time-wise. After a couple more episodes, I’ll have more time to get back to things I need to get back to, because all the hard and time-consuming stuff will be taken care of by then.

The podcast isn’t the only thing taking up my time, either. I’ve still been writing, just not working on my novel. I’ve been working on articles and submitting them to various freelance sites, even though I don’t have a proper background in English, writing, or journalism. It still doesn’t stop me from trying, though, and I continue to hope my articles will be seen by someone who will realize my writing ability and give me a chance.

I’ve also been working on short stories to submit to magazines and paying online markets. It’s my dream to be a writer and to have enough work to be able to support myself with my dream.  I’d much rather write fiction than non-fiction, but hey, whatever pays works for me.

I’m busting my butt right now trying to achieve my dream. I can only hope the people and things I’ve neglected will understand.  I’m 32 and feeling like it’s a now-or-never sort of thing. In the next two weeks to a month I should be calmed down and have much less on my plate and then I’ll be able to get back to the people I need and want to get back to. I’ll be able to socialize more again on Twitter* and Skype.  If you’re a friend who’s been waiting to hear from me, I haven’t forgotten you! I have a list right by my computer of whom I need to contact. You’re in my heart and in my head, dear friends, but in no way are you forgotten.

*I beyond miss talking and chatting with my friends on Twitter! I’ll be back soon and look forward to catching up with so many of you.

The podcast is called A Cup Of Fresh Hell Served With [...]]]> It’s been over a year since I first thought of doing a podcast and finally it’s come to fruition, thanks to my friend Chris Guido. He reminded me of it last month and we sat down a few days ago and recorded our intro episode.

The podcast is called A Cup Of Fresh Hell Served With A Side Of Heaven. Guess who’s the hell part? It’s about life and its absurdities. In our intro episode (Episode 0), we bullshit and laugh our way through it. Yeah, we were completely unprepared, despite having sat down a couple weeks ago and thought things out. Notes are great. Not so much, though, when they’re not in front of you. Ha ha.

Take a listen and call us, email us, comment, and subscribe. Yes, we take and want drunk calls, too! Details are on the site.

I will say the editing is crappy and the file size is way to big for only 35 minutes, but that’s my fault. I wasn’t too familiar with the recording software I used. Testosterone causes me to have an aversion to instruction manuals. After swallowing my pride, I finally looked a few things up. Things will be better in future episodes, I promise!

We hope to have the podcast available in iTunes soon. I sent in the info yesterday and got an email back shortly after saying the feed works and that the podcast in under review for consideration. In the meantime, you can listen on the site or download it in mp3 format. This will be a weekly podcast, though there may be times where we have to skip a week.

So hop on over to http://acupoffreshhell.com and let us know what you think.

Not literally, obviously, but figuratively. We all have deaths of ourselves throughout our lives, or at least, death of phases of ourselves. This death was fast, painful, and unexpected, but I’m coming to realize, good.

With every death of ourselves a new life begins. We become the people we turn into and leave behind [...]]]> I’ve died again.

Not literally, obviously, but figuratively. We all have deaths of ourselves throughout our lives, or at least, death of phases of ourselves. This death was fast, painful, and unexpected, but I’m coming to realize, good.

With every death of ourselves a new life begins. We become the people we turn into and leave behind our past selves. Once we hit a certain age, though, there are some things about us that won’t change, but there are still plenty of changes that can occur. Sometimes the changes are subtle, perhaps a changing viewpoint. Other changes, however, can make our personalities into something completely opposite of what other people—and ourselves—once knew.

I can’t count the number of times I’ve already died in this lifetime. At this point, I think it would take a supercomputer to figure that out, or at least someone really good with an abacus.

With every major death I have thought about the person I was going to become and wondered where that person would take me in life. While I admit I have done that a little bit with this new death, overall I’ve hardly thought about it. The reason being is I know from past deaths that thinking about it won’t make getting adjusted into the new life any faster, easier, or better. I drove myself crazy with questions that I had no answers to and I refuse to put myself through at least that portion again.

I don’t know how I’ll turn out when I do get adjusted into this new life I am coming into. I know I’ll be different, but not in what ways. The only thing I know for sure is I’ll be stronger. I always am after a death. Confidence levels, allotment of self-esteem, overall personality, these and more are traits in which I will just have to wait and find out how they turn out.

I’d like to think I have a say in how I turn out, but I really don’t. It’s a natural process. In the nature vs. nurture debate, which I have studied at length, I believe nurture plays only a very tiny part, if any, really, in how we turn out. It is nature, our individual souls and personalities, which shapes and defines us. I’m not trying to open up a debate here, just stating my opinion after much research over the years.

While thinking about this personal death/life thing today, I had a quantum leap of hope for the future happen inside me. It was nothing more than a cellular spark from deep within, but it happened; I felt it, and still feel it within me. From creating life, to having an idea, to even the Chaos theory, we all know that one tiny spark can lead us on a path to bigger and brighter things. This spark led to hope. Let’s see where it takes me from there.

As a writer, I can paint you a picture with words, creating captivating new lands, opening your imagination, making you laugh, etc. As an artist, I can draw you a picture [...]]]> It’s said that a picture is worth a thousand words. Take off three zeros and there’s only one word left to describe anything I draw—crap!

As a writer, I can paint you a picture with words, creating captivating new lands, opening your imagination, making you laugh, etc. As an artist, I can draw you a picture that you would be more than happy to wipe your ass with. Although, you may want to do the same with anything I write, but that’s beside the point.

I have had an idea for a short horror story for a few years now. I tried writing it, but realized the format was wrong. I tried it as a screenplay and still the format was wrong. One day last year it dawned on me that it should be a graphic novel and it worked. The only problem is I can’t draw to save my life. Seriously, even my stick figures need work.

So what’s a boy to do? I don’t want to scrap the idea, as I really like it. I’ve tried asking friends that can draw, but they’re not interested. I don’t have money to pay anyone to draw it for me, especially something that has no promise or guarantee of ever being published, except for maybe on this site. As a different creative exercise, I decided to draw the first page panel for it. The result is the monstrosity below. (Sorry, I don’t have a scanner. I took the picture with my iPhone and emailed it to myself so I could show it here.)

Allow me to describe in words what’s supposed to be going on in this picture and in subsequent panels after.

The blazing sun was setting on the spacious country village of Salem Hills, a small farming community. I stood looking out at the horizon and that’s when I smelled it—rain. There was rain in the air, but it would be two more weeks before it would fall.

Record-high temperatures and not a drop of rain for the past four months baked the ground until it killed off almost all the flora, leaving behind only sparse tufts of brown grass surrounded by large patches of dry, cracked, hardened yellowed earth. No crops could grow as we weren’t equipped with crop sprinklers, our water coming from underground wells. What was left of our water, anyway.

The severe drought that plagued our village had claimed 73 lives, mostly the elderly and the very young. We couldn’t dig through the ground in either one of our town’s two cemeteries, so we used combines to till the hardened land in an open field. The makeshift graves were shallow, but we had no other alternative. The dead were wrapped in large cloths and extra dirt was placed on top of them to help prevent insects and wildlife from desecrating or disturbing their temporary resting places.

At first, when we could no longer dig full graves, we placed the deceased in their coffins, laying them out in the field, but soon found the scorching heat warping and destroying the coffins. That’s when we realized what we were going to have to do. As a community, we were sickened by the thought. But with no other options except hope for rain, we decided to just deal with this blight in our village’s history.

When the rain finally came two weeks later, it was not the blessing our village hoped for. Instead, it was a curse, a living nightmare that would haunt our sleepy little village for years to come.

Okay, that may not be the best description, but it’s all I got for right now and you at least get the picture of the picture. The guy in the picture is not supposed to be grabbing his crotch. Since I can’t draw hands or feet at all, he has none and it was just a weird placement where I had his one hand going. Also, it’s supposed to be a gravel road he is standing in front of. The weird shapes behind the messed-up sign are supposed to be the temporary graves.

It’s also said that practice makes perfect, but I don’t have the patience or talent to draw. Seriously, this is as good as it gets for me. While I was writing this post, I thought maybe I would draw the next couple pages as more creative exercises and post them here. I don’t know if I will yet or not. I’m still mortified over the above obscenity. Talking about this story again, however, has renewed my interest in finally getting it done, even if that means I have to draw crappy drawings to finish it, so maybe I will. Unless, of course, one of you lovely readers knows of someone artistic who would be willing to collaborate with me on this project.