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Metamorphosis (or, How I Found God)

11 January 2012, 11:19 pm

Is this what it feels like when the butterfly begins to emerge from the cocoon? Reborn, seeing the world, although vaguely familiar, through new eyes?? It defies my life-long, logic filled thought patterns.

Something is happening to me, and it’s so good, I’m almost afraid to let it carry me off. To cut to the chase, after searching, questioning and doubting for my entire life, I finally found, and felt God. It’s just that simple. I’m sure thoughts of every bad thing you’ve ever heard or thought about religion are storming through your head, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the purest examples of God. A sense of calm; so calm it’s making my head spin. Love. Not physical love, but just love for everything I see and everyone I know. I absolutely feel love for the people in my life, instead of the normal feelings if disdain I’ve always had. And direction. I feel like I’m well armed, instead of the feeling of defencelessness I’ve always had.

Kevin and Jim and their families have been very supportive of me, and have gently steered me in this direction. I’ve resisted, struggled, accepted at times and tried to see whatever it is that they see, without success. But this past Sunday, on a strong urge to go to Church, I truly believed God finally made his presence known to me. For the past months, I’ve spent a lot of time, curled up in a ball, feeling hopeless, lost, miserable; crying, no – sobbing – non stop sobbing, thinking it was on deaf ears. That whoever this God was, he wasn’t paying attention to me. He didn’t know or care about me.

I always hear that it happens when you are at your most vulnerable. When you are at the bottom of the pit, and death is looking like a comfort.

In Church Sunday, listening to the Pastor talk about Joseph and his murderous brothers, the pit he was cast into and how it relates to our lives, I suddenly, and unexpectedly felt like I was alone in that building. I truly could not sense the presence of the congregation behind me. And every word that came out of Pastor’s mouth, described me and my life perfectly. Not just described it, but it was me that he was talking about, and me he was talking to, and as I half muttered prayers under my breath, asking God to PLEASE just come to me, tears started streaming down my cheeks. I started to quiver, and felt displaced from the entire crowd of people and all I could hear was Pastor, describing how we put ourselves in similar pits; describing me to me; warning about Satan’s lies, and it all just happened. I wish I had the words to describe it, but afterwards, I felt like a different person. Like I was a blind man just getting sight for the first time in my life.

Now, I can’t get it out of me and I don’t want to. I actually wish that traumatic moment would happen to me again and again. Like a jolt, keeping me concious. Now, I’m not ready to grab a Bible and robe and walk the earth proclaiming God’s word. Hell, I don’t even know God’s word. But I do know his presence. That I am positively sure of and that God made that presence known to me, in the front row at Riverside Church this past Sunday.

Could anything in life be as good as that?

Well, I did meet a girl that I am just head over heels about, and I don’t even know her yet, but it just feels right. A woman that is walking the same direction I am, shedding a similar past.

The hell with logic. Following my heart seems like the way to go.

Filed under God, Life, Love, Motivation.
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Looking Back… Looking Ahead…

31 December 2011, 10:08 pm

In 1989, I met a girl named Renee on December 30th, and we spent the next four years in a relationship. On December 31st of that year, she took me to a party and we stopped at her friend’s house, where everyone was given a bottle of Martini & Rossi Asti Spumante. Tonight marks the 22nd consecutive New Years Eve that I’m breaking open a bottle of Asti. Last year, I bought 2 bottles, in hopes that I would be celebrating yet another bad ending and an optimistic beginning. Tonight, I find myself in the same boat. Looking back at a bad year and ahead with optimism. But this year, more optimistic than hopeful.

This year ended just as it had begun; a 3 month stretch of not seeing the kids and the War Of The Roses, still Raging. I spent the year at the same hateful job, in the same overloaded position, the same low pay, everything the same. I struggled to pay bills and end this year behind on all of them, again. I struggle with untreated depression and aching loneliness and an overall empty feeling.

So, what’s different? Why does 2012 bring expectations instead of just wishful thinking?

Well, for one, I’m starting a new job next week. A little better pay. A lot better atmosphere. An appreciative boss and instead of filling the role of a manager, but not being recognized as one, I come to this new place in charge of my department.

I made some friends this year that I know have my best interests at heart. Friends that think about me when I’m not around, and I about them. People that are pulling for me. And praying for me. Which brings me to my most profound change in attitude. After years of lying to myself and anyone that would listen about how “spiritual” I am, with the help of my new friends, I’ve taken a step towards a God and a truly spiritual life. One step, the first of many, and I have my fears. Letting go is never easy for me. Trust is not easy for me. Belief in anything is not easy for me, but I’m looking and moving in the right direction.

There are still setbacks. My truck is in the shop with an 800.00 repair bill, but I have the kids this weekend. And Bridget actually started talking sensibly for a change.

So I take my first sip of this year’s Italian nectar and I toast you, Jim & Loni, Kevin, Chris & Cyd, Pastor and the people at the church and everyone else that’s had an impact on my life this year. Cheers. Salud!

Happy New Year and God, Bless each and every one.

Filed under 2011, 2012, family, Friends, Life, Motivation, Work.
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The Plantation

1 December 2011, 7:10 pm

The company I work for does not provide a real viable service or product to the world. We’re not creating new technologies. We’re not offering anything that people can take advantage of to better their lives. We don’t reasonably mass produce anything that anyone in general can use or has a fair chance of ever seeing. If we disappeared off the planet, no one would suffer the loss. Not one client or potential client would be worse off if we were gone.

What we do is sell advertising on informative guides for various areas of the country to small business owners for a nominal fee. We are not contacted by anyone to produce these. We’re not contracted to produce them. Many do not have a single viable distribution point other than the rare occasion an area Chamber Of Commerce or public entity agrees to let us send them copies, for free, for them to have “on hand.” So far, sounds OK, right?

Here’s the catch. While we do put our hearts in the Graphics Department into the creation of these, we only send out 2 per advertiser. We send 10 to any distribution points that are set up. That means a complete project will see about 100 produced. Right now, I’m working on one for Oklahoma City and the surrounding area. Out of those 100 that get sent out, how many of the general public do you suppose is going to find one of these? Seriously?

The bottom line is that this company exists for one reason, and one reason only; To make money for my boss. That’s it. My company exists so he can make money. Now I don’t begrudge him for that. Fine, he found a niche. And believe me, he makes a LOT of money. I know there is a fair overhead, but picture one project with an average of 25 ads @ an average of 250.00 each. Not too shabby, huh?? Now picture a total of about 50 projects being sold at any given time. Pretty good money. We have a guy in “collections” pulling in about 4000 – 6000 bucks a week, plus people who randomly send in their payments. It’s a good business, especially if you can keep overhead low.

Here’s my issue. My boss is not making this money. He’s not calling advertisers. He’s not producing he products. Hell, he’s rarely even in the office. WE make that money for him. WE do the work that provides him the extremely nice life he has. It’s certainly not US making the money. Everyone that works there is broke, because he pays right at or just above minimum wage. I actually make more money than almost anyone, at a paltry 11.00 an hour.

Here’s my question. With all of this that I’ve said, is it REALLY necessary to be treated like bitches?? Is it REALLY necessary to be constantly talked down to, disrespected, and looked upon as if we’re just robotic zombies or slaves with no feelings or needs? Because that’s how it works there. Constantly under the threat of being sent home for the lightest infraction, like looking at your cell phone for ANY reason. Pay cut a dollar an hour for the week, for missing over 3 hours of work for ANY reason in that week. Bona fide’ excuses can only be used 2 times… a YEAR! NO paid holidays. NO insurance. NO paid vacations, and then a 21 year old spoiled brat of a Barbie Doll that thinks she’s entitled to act like she’s the queen, when the truth is, she couldn’t hold a candle to what most of us have experienced in our lives.

I may not have been the most successful person at anything I’ve done, but I’ll be damned if some little girl that’s young enough to be my daughter, that’s never been out of Peoria is going to use the tone of voice that she uses with us.

I can feel an explosion coming on, and it’s not going to be pretty.

Filed under Anger, Life, Stress, Work.
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Sixty Five Dollars – Expanded

20 November 2011, 7:59 am

Wow, some people think I’m on the verge of suicide, so I want to explain the previous post.

I Cant Pay My Bills
I barely break even on each of them and I’ve cut out as much dead weight as I can. I’m even trying to lure a 2nd room mate in here, but I’ll have to give up the bedroom that’s supposed to be for my kids, meaning them doing over-nights could be jeopardized.

I’m Not Healthy
In the spring, I started doing P90X and I was killing it; for about a month. I could really feel a transformation too, but then, it just stopped and I haven’t been able to start it up again. In the mean time,  I can’t afford to eat healthy, so I live on frozen dinners, frozen pizza and junk food, trying to keep my weekly shopping budget to what I can afford; approximately 40.00 a week.

I Can’t Find Any Motivation
And that’s the truth. I just can’t seem to do anything.

I Procrastinate To A Fault
See above.

I Hate How My House Looks.
It’s not a mess, but it’s not clean. I struggle to just put the laundry away. The belt broke on my vacuum, 3 months ago. I haven’t fixed it. I started remodelling the bathroom. Can’t seem to get up enough to finish it. I’d KILL to rearrange the living room, and I can’t take 5 minutes to figure out how.

I Don’t Have A Single lose Friend
I actually do have a few good friends. Chef Kevin and Kevster are at the top of that list, but it’s not like a best, life long friend that I see so many people have. I don’t. Not one.

I Don’t Know Love
This is a tough one. I meet women I’m interested in, and not one, not one is interested back. In fact, they seem turned off by the idea. And any that ARE interested in me, are usually the lowest common denominator. I feel like I must be the least attractive person on he planet. I can’t even stand how I look, when I see pictures of myself. I just feel like no one loves me. No one.

I Hate My Job & I Hate My Boss
Those go together. I LOVE the work I do, but I hate where I do it. My boss is so self-righteous, treats everyone like shit. Like he’s better than us. And he sits there and watches all of us struggle to get by, all of us, and will NOT lift a finger to give any of us a single dime more. On top of that., we don’t get paid vacations. We don’t get paid holidays (Which will kill most of us over the next 6 weeks), we don’t get insurance. Miss 3 hours in a week, and he takes a dollar an hour away for that week. 8 hours means 2 dollars an hour, or down to minimum wage for most of the people there. He only allows 2 excused instances of missing time a year. a YEAR! That means every time I go to court now or anything related to that, I lose an extra 40 bucks for the week, on top of the time missed. I can’t even afford to get sick.

I Hate Most Of My Co-workers
Most of the people I work with have been in and out of jail, battled addictions, and are the shadiest people you’d ever want to meet. Note, some of my co-workers, I really like.

I Hate My Neighbors
They’re all either loud, filthy, nosy or live in one of the three crack houses on the block.

I Can’t Build My Website.
I started one, to turn into a personal portal and portfolio for my work, but I’m lost on the design, and I can’t find the inspiration to get it finished.

I Hate Peoria
I just do. I just… do. I miss home so much. I can’t believe how home sick I am, and I can’t even afford to go visit.

I Can’t Find A Better Job
I have looked and looked and looked. Until I moved here, I never, one time, didn’t get a job that I tried for, and I need to go back to my part time job, but the district manager, who I got along with fine, never returns my calls.

I Haven’t Seen My Kids In Months
Bridget does this. She just arbitrarily stops letting me see them for extended periods, and gets away with it, every single time. My kids and I had this awesome bond, and she has made it her mission to drive wedge between us, and that just kills me. And no body takes her to task for it. No body. She just gets away with whatever she wants. Out of all the things I listed that I hate, none come close to how much I hate her. If she would just die, my life would improve, vastly. Somehow she made it through child birth. Maybe she’ll go back to drinking herself to death, if I’m lucky.

I’m In A Dark Place I Can’t Get Out Of. & I’m So Lost
I just feel lost. So lost and empty. And I don’t see a light at the end of the tunnel.

I’m So Lonely
I can’t even find the words to cover that one. I am, so lonely.

I Feel Like I’m Dying, Slowly
Sometimes, I lay here and I swear I can fell the life slowly draining out of me.

I Don’t Understand How I Got Here.
Not to be confused with I don’t know how I got here. I know how. I made some very wrong decisions, and it all started when I let myself get involved with my kids mother. My life was so good before that and continually just gotten worse and worse and worse since. What I don’t understand is why did do that? Why?? I NEVER made stupid decisions like that before. I’d NEVER have let myself get involved with someone as chaotic and out of control. What the fuck was I thinking? And how do I ever recover? How the hell do I get out of this crux I’m in?

I Cry, A lot.
That is an understatement. I cry all the time. I see a movie where people fall in love and I cry. I see people’s losses, and I cry. I look at the ruins that my life has become and I cry like a little kid. Sobbing, tears streaming down my face and I wish I could disappear and pull the my whole life in behind me as I go.

 

Filed under Anger, Bridget, family, heartbreak, kids, Life, Loss, Memories, midlife, Motivation, People, Peoria, Stress, Work, World.
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Sixty Five Dollars

19 November 2011, 3:01 pm

I can’t pay my bills
I’m not healthy
I can’t find any motivation
I procrastinate to a fault
I hate how my house looks
I don’t have a single close friend
I don’t know love
I hate my job
I hate my boss
I hate most of my co-workers
I hate my neighbors
I can’t build my website
I hate Peoria
I can’t find a better job
I haven’t seen my kids in months and that doesn’t look to change any time soon
I’m a dark place I can’t get out of
I’m so lost
I’m so lonely
I feel like I’m dying, slowly
I don’t understand how I got here
I cry, a lot

I have sixty five dollars to my name….

Filed under Anger, Fitness & Health, heartbreak, Life, Loss, midlife, World.
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Bullying

16 September 2011, 7:05 pm

I’m watching a CBS news report about how the bullying that a 7th grade girl in Ohio has endured has to come light, and watching it takes me back to my high school days, because it’s so similar and familiar to me.

I don’t talk about it a lot, although I have, but I was bullied mercilessly in school. It started in 8th grade, but escalated when I was in my freshman year. The kids in my high school class, to this day, were an anomaly to me. It seemed like they were this pack of wolves that all ran together and took no hostages. If you weren’t in, you were very out. It’s hard to describe. To this day, I can’t really describe what they were like. Vicious, cruel, arrogant.

I think what made it so bad, and what made it elevate the way it did was that, for one, it caught me off guard. I didn’t know how to react to it, and instead of standing up, I wilted. I think most people know that wilting only makes it worse. In my case, I never saw anyone else in that school go through what I did.

By 10th grade, I started to become afraid. I remember specifically Mr Schmidt’s science class. It got so bad in that class that I would hide down the hall until just when class was starting, and then I’d rush in, so that the teacher would be in the room, because if he wasn’t, I was helpless. During class, the people at my table, boys and girls, would hurl non-stop insults and threats my way. It was impossible to concentrate on the class. It was impossible to do anything but sit there and crawl deeper and deeper inside myself, wishing it would just stop. Understand, this wasn’t just verbal abuse. I was constantly hit, pushed, tripped… I was stabbed in the back with a pencil one time. Another time, I was stabbed in the leg. If I came to school with a cold, I would be accused of crying and made fun of. Everyone took aim at me, and the other kids that would have been targets, stayed away from me, so they wouldn’t get caught up in the abuse I was enduring.

In 11th grade, I began to regress. I was a pretty good kid, academically, but it fell apart. I refused to go to the classes that were the worst. Eventually, I was afraid  to stay in school, because after 8 hours of being kicked around, the bus ride home would be unbearable, so I’d leave early, and walk home. I was labelled a trouble child, because of all the classes I was skipping. When I didn’t show up for detention, I was suspended. The thing is, I wasn’t a trouble child. I wasn’t a bad kid. I was scared.

At times, I’d let on to what was happening, but it was overlooked. By my mother, by the administration, the teachers. It was a “kids will be kids” thing. Of course, you never really want to let anyone know how bad it is, because even though you’re beaten down, you still have a shred of pride you want to hold onto. Only one person ever stood up for me, and it was recently that I told his sister about how much I still admire him for that. Even my own friends, at times, would get some jabs in, just to keep the wolves off of them.

When I was a senior, I was expelled for missing classes. I ended up at a school for kids that couldn’t adjust or were in trouble all the time, and I did graduate, with a diploma from my home high school, since each kid in the place I ended up was still sponsored by the school that they had been removed from, but the final nail was driven home. I never went to college. My transcripts were horrible. In 4 years I went from straight A’s to to failing. I’ve spent my entire adult life, maladjusted. Afraid to fight, backing down to physical confrontations. Giving up easily when faced with severe challenges that life just sends your way. My relationships have been failures and I’ve never really stuck to anything and it all goes back to what happened to me. I carried a big chip on my shoulder for many years, and even to this day, I still have a lot of resentment. I’ve always felt like the loser I was accused of being as a kid. Only during the time I was in the Army, did I finally find an escape from it. I think that, over the course of my adult life, I’ve known immense popularity at times. I’ve let myself be involved in as many things as I can, not just for the experience, but looking for acceptance, but it’s always just eluded me, and I think it’s sad, that I’m still affected by what I went through.

When bullying became a mainstream topic in the 90′s, I found myself sympathizing with the victims that deflected what they were going through into violent acts, like Columbine. Now, as I look at my kids, so young, I constantly worry about which crowd they’ll run with in school. How they’ll handle bullying, no matter which side of it they find themselves on. And I think that so many people I went to school with are on my Facebook friend’s list and will see this and I wonder, I just wonder… will they remember?

Filed under kids, Life, Memories.
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Days Of Tears

13 September 2011, 9:18 pm

Each year at this time, I repeat a routine I have in honor of the attacks of September 11th, 2001. I don’t watch any programming about that terrible day until after September 10th, and I do that for a reason. On September 10th, I was happy. The world was happy. It may have been the last happiest day I’ve known, outside of when my children were born, since.

I don’t remember much about September 10, 2010. I know it was a Monday. I worked. I probably spent some time dealing with my Booking and Promoting business. I may have spent time talking to my friends, and family, and i’m sure that night, like every night before, I went to sleep with very few worries on my mind. The next day…. was the worst day I can ever know.

I’m not from New York City. I’ve never lived there. I had been to New York City many times, but I wasn’t there when the city was attacked, yet in New York, it doesn’t matter what part of New York you’re from. Whether it’s Upstate, Down State, Plattsburg or Binghamton; Chautauqua County or Jefferson County, New Yorkers are bound together. It’s one of those states, like several others where you can meet someone else from New York, and you just know. You just feel the bind.

This year marks the significant tenth anniversary, and I’ve been watching a series about rebuilding  the 16 acres that were destroyed that day called Rising: Rebuilding New York. Each episode is about the reconstruction of  a different segment of the area known as Ground Zero and the amount of care, and technology and engineering… the thought put into the reconstruction is overwhelming.

One episode is about the new Tower One; 1776 feet tall. It’s not just a new tower, but every aspect of it it designed with a purpose. Be it tribute or structural integrity. Another episode is about the new Transit Hub, highlighted by an above ground structure that represents a large, steel spine, with structural ribs at angles, jutting out from the center. The designer took into account the angle of the sun when the first tower was hit and the angle again when the second tower collapsed and designed the piece to echo those angles so that when the sun gets to a certain point, the light shining down creates an aura of a welcoming, great place.

The trees planted at the Memorial Site are arranged so that if you walk North-South, it’ll resemble walking a random path the to the Waterfalls. East-West is reminiscent of  walking through the aisles in a sacred temple. The waterfalls themselves, are built in the foundations of where the original towers stood. The plumbing work beneath the towers is some of the most impressive ever conceived. The fountains themselves are surround by bronze plates, bearing the names of each person that died here. And not just listed in random order, but thoughtfully arranged so that people who had any type of relationship are cut into the plates near each other.

The tower is designed with incredible structural integrity making it one of, if not the strongest building in North America, along with being the tallest. The museum houses remnants of the World Trade Center and the people who died there. The famous tridents that surrounded the towers are some of the more memorable images, and two were salvaged and will be the center pieces of the new museum. Even the glass atrium surrounding the museum was designed with the glass etched to reflect the lines of the original towers, fading as they near the spot of the the tridents so that maximum viewing can be seen, unobstructed from the outside. Even the reflective quality of the glass is designed so that from the outside, your reflection will make you look as though you are inside, standing with the ghosts of the remains of the World Trade Center. Even the placement of the new towers was designed to allow an unfettered beam of light to shine down on the spot of the north tower at the exact moment of the first attack.

Each night for the last few days, I’ve immersed myself in remembrance of what happened that day. And I’ve spent most of that time in tears. It doesn’t take much; an image of a destroyed fire truck being lowered into the basement of the museum; A parent’s tale of the loss of a child in the attacks; an image of the damage; of someone that died. It rushes back and it takes over my soul and my emotions and I’m transported back to that day. To that minute when evil revealed itself to all of us, and tore a piece of every single American away, never to be recovered. I’ve cried a lot, needless to say, and it’s affected my overall mood, which has been sullen and angry

People may ultimately see this as a form of self torment. They may say it’s not necessary. But I believe that this sado-masochistic ritual is very important, because without it, I’m afraid of becoming complacent. I’m afraid that I may start to forget the way I was affected on 9/11, as I, along with the world, stood transfixed by the images of  the horror that was unleashed that morning. And I cannot allow myself to forget.

The attacks on the World Trade Center, on a city I love, New York, and on my country have affected me in way that nothing else in my life ever has, and I hate it that I had to see that. Nobody should have had to experience what we did that day, and I long for September 10th, 2001, when I was happy.

Filed under 9/11, Anger, heartbreak, Justice, Loss, Memories, World.
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10 Years Ago

11 September 2011, 7:28 am

10 years ago, this day, this hour, this minute, our lives were forever changed. I’ll never forget that day.

I was a truck Driver for Franklin Trucking, back home in Buffalo. One of our accounts was hauling parts from American Axle, and I was backed into one of their docks, waiting to get loaded.

It was a beautiful day, much like it is today. Sunny, warm, blue skies. The truck I drove, well, frankly it was a piece of junk. The radio didn’t even work, so I sat there with the windows down, reading the paper, when suddenly, my phone rang and it was my Mother.

She was crying, and asked me if I had heard what happened. She then proceeded to tell me that a plane had flown into The World trade Center. There was a huge fire there and another had just flown into The Pentagon. She said that she didn’t know what was going on, and I didn’t know how take this, so I told her that I’d go into the plant. There was a TV in the break room, and I hung up and ran into a deserted facility. Nobody was in sight, until i made my way to the break room, and there, surrounding the 2 TV’s mounted from the ceiling were about 75 somber people.

A live newscast showed a camera shot of black smoke and flames pouring out of Tower 1. Peter Jennings was somber as he reported on the event. There was no talk about the pentagon yet. As we watched, they turned to the Pentagon report with an inset view of the WTC when suddenly, another plane flew into the tower. Gasps of “Oh My God!” “Oh No!” and “What is happening?” resounded throughout the room as we saw the ensuing explosion, and we all knew at once that it was an attack.

In the confusion, and from the camera angle, we thought it was the same tower that had been hit and it was a good minute before it was confirmed that it had been Tower 2. The conversation then changed as we all began to guess at who it was, and even in that moment, we all knew it was Islamic Terrorists and Osama Bin Laden.

Most of us sat gathered around those televisions for hours, occasionally walking outside to have a cigarette, or to take a minute alone to try to maintain our composure. I remember that some people had drifted back to their work stations and were listening to the radio. At that time, Howard Stern was still on public radio, and most were listening to his show on the CBS News affiliate. Normally, his show ended at 10AM, but he stayed on the air that day until after noon. Several people on his cast had left, because of the fear that the tower they broadcast from in Midtown could be a target. News reports kept feeding us confusing information about other planes in the air that weren’t accounted for. At one point, there was a report that there could be up to 7 hijacked planes, all headed for major US Cities.

Sometime after 2 PM, I was fully loaded and headed back towards our yard, downtown. there’s a highway, Route 33 that runs into the city, and as I drove, remember feeling displaced into a surreal state of mind. Everything seemed so quiet and peaceful. Traffic was light and as I came into view of the city, I could see the HSBC Bank building, Buffalo’s tallest, standing there in the sun. My mind pictured a plane headed for that 38 story tower, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that had over-taken me. At many street corners, there was a single police car, lights on. The few people I saw were obviously shaken by the days events.

I got back to the shop, parked the truck and went inside and everyone seemed to be in the same ghost like state. Although it was early, my day was finished. There would be no more loads as most places had released their people or had not not gotten a load ready for anyone to pick up, so I walked outside, in the parking lot, under the shadow of the bank, and just stared. Several people had walked up and we had brief conversations but for the most part, I was alone, inside my own mind.

It took a long, long time before I could stop staring at that tower every time I saw it. It took longer for me to question whether every plane I saw was going up or coming down. Those images and the feelings of hat day are seared into my memory forever.

I will never forget.

Filed under 9/11, Buffalo, heartbreak, Life, Loss, Memories, Politics, World.
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Moving Day

31 August 2011, 8:56 pm

My friend Erica is moving.

To give a little back-story, Erica is about the sweetest, most beautiful person I’ve met in Peoria. The kind of woman i could have a real “thing” for. Actually, I once had myself convinced that I did have a “thing” for her, but as time has gone by I’ve watched her go through so many bad times, a bad relationship, the loss of her brother; i guess what I’m saying is that I’ve come to love and respect this person, not in an intimate way, but intimately.

Well, I saw on her Facebook that she’s moving and asking for help. Coincidentally, I have a pick-up truck. Granted, Sanford & Son would make fun of it, but it has an engine that runs, 4 wheels that turn and a bed that can carry things from one place to another, so I did the righteous thing and volunteered. Also, coincidentally, the heatwave is back on.

Dropping my kids off tonight, I called Erica and got directions to my house and was dismayed to learn that I was the only person that showed up. Not because it meant more work for me, for us, but because she deserves better. It really disgusts me that she has so many “friends” and not one other could help.

You know, I’ve made it a habit to point out everything bad about Peoria, but one glaring difference between here and New York; One thing that get’s drilled into your head back there is this: You can be a total screw up. You can make bad decisions, acquire bad habits, and be a perennial loser, but when it comes time to man up, you show up. When you give your word that you’ll be there, You show up.

I may not be a prime example of a great human being, but when the time comes, I will always show up.

Filed under Friends, Life.
2 Comments

On Being A “Dead Beat”

13 June 2011, 7:01 am

My children’s mother loves to refer to me as a “Dead Beat Dad” on her Facebook page quite often (And probably in a lot of other places, too). I hate it when people inform me of this, but in her sense of reality, I suppose she could be considered justified. The truth is, even in light of the fact that Child Support hasn’t been court ordered yet, I have only sent her 2 checks for $150.00 total in voluntary  support payments. Oddly, neither of those checks were ever cashed and she likes to say I haven’t sent a dime.

Now, there are some circumstances here, that I feel I must explain.

For one thing, I am struggling hard, financially. I try to cut as much fat as I can, but it seems like my bills aren’t going down at all. Right when I dropped my cell phone bill to as low as I could go, for example, I had to buy a car, so I could go pick my kids up every week, and, well, you know how gas prices have been. The thought that in the very near future, the child support and custody will finally be worked out, and the payments will come right out of my check every week terrifies me. Based on Illinois law, with 2 kids, she can collect up to 28% of my pay, which basically means that after Child Support payments, I’ll be getting paid on $7.73 an hour. That is an impossible amount to live on.

Having a car now, and a hair cut, I’ve started looking for a better paying job, but it’s hard. There’s not a lot out there, and one of my big complaints about Peoria is the low pay scale, across the board, that most companies are offering.

Bridget can take a lot of the blame for this too, although that’s not in her nature to accept blame for anything. I mean, let’s be real. We’re in this situation because, not just with her current husband, but 3 times prior to that over those last 2 years, she couldn’t be faithful. Also, and this is huge, we went to mediation last August, but instead of coming in with the kids’ best interests, and with the mind set of working everything out right away, she chose to use the time to make her usual round of false accusations about me, and create a scene. All of this could have been worked almost a year ago, and we wouldn’t be spending money on lawyers, losing time at work to court and, with her being married and pregnant and supposed happy, well, as happy as she can be, everything would probably be much more pleasant.

Also, and this is a big one too, several times, she has denied me the chance to see my kids. From December until Mid March, I never saw them once, even though there was a court order making it her responsibility to transport the kids to my house every week. Again, she’s defying a court order as, over the last 2 weeks, she has kept the kids from me and in both instances, she didn’t give me at least 24 hours notice, as required, on May 29th, she didn’t give me any reason, and yesterday, she used some excuse about a fishing trip, that in spite of what she claims, I was never informed of.
This is her thing. If she doesn’t get her way, she uses the kids to strike back. I know the reason she’s playing this game with me; it’s because she doesn’t want her parents to see the kids, and  when I have them, I let them come over so they can have time with my children, whom they’ve basically helped raise and done more for than almost anyone else.

And then, there is a bit of spite. I told her husband last month that I would do the best I can to give her what I can every week, if she would just stop talking about me on the internet. Instead, she’s accelerated her comments, insults and lies.

I had a dream the other night that Bridget had grown up, and things were amicable between us, as I truly wish they could be. But for now, according to her, I’m just a dead beat. I guess she would know. She’s the product of one….

Filed under Bridget, family, kids.
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