Today's thoughts... FORE! St. Jude's & a Catholic Night Club

For the record: yelling "fore" is stupid.
1 - if you're actually about to hit someone, you NEVER think of yelling "FORE" first. You think "Heads up!" or "Watch it!" or "INCOMING!"

2 - if you hear "fore", you don't think, "there's a ball coming. I'd better duck." you think, "Four what?" or "that guy is mad at his stroke count..."

3 - there really is no other game where you have one specific word for "WATCH OUT". it'd make more sense to yell the same thing you do at a baseball game when you need to watch out: "FOUL BALL!"

cuz... it is foul... it's out of bounds....

you don't yell something at hockey games, do you? "PUCK!" ? And if golf is a gentleperson's game, why have i heard more four-letter "F" words on a golf course....

Conversation w/Baker - St. Jude's & a Catholic Night Club:

Me: 

anybody else think of st. jude's not as "aww, they're helping sick kids for free" but "they're using sick kids as guinea pigs to see what fixes them and what kills them before we charge people for it"?

Chris:

I could absolutely see that. Quite disturbing but the reality of most situations like that is it's a necessary evil. How many people had to die from a heart attack until they got it right? lol

But the kid shit is pure marketing. I'm sure they make a fortune.

Me:

it reminds me of concentration camps.

the reason so many medical advances were made from the 1930s to the 1950s was because of the tests they did in the camps, and the sh*t they tried on soldiers

Chris:

Exactly. Progress typically comes in the name of doing some fucked up shit.

At least when it comes to medical experiments. Back then there was no good way to see what was going on on the inside without fileting someone alive.

Me:

it comes on the back of using some demographic for labor/testing at very low/no wages. however you want to identify them as "other"... color, religion, sex, native language...

Chris:

Sick stuff man...

Me:

they fileted people alive for entertainment (and punishment). but they considered the really good ones the guys who could cut someone's abdominal cavity open and keep them alive while they removed their intestines, stomach, and finally their heart - so they could hold it up in front of them while their brain still had oxygen

Chris:

Ooh how lovely!

LOL

Me:

a screwed up kind of talent, man.

Chris:

I'm sure they just practiced on animals or something, practice makes perfect!

Me:

oh, that makes it better then.

LOL

Chris:

Totally OK!

Hell, kill them all, God made them to eat.

LOL

Me:

life was a bit more expendable then - when they didn't have the option of whether to have kids or not, or to heal them when they're sick (antibiotics, money to pay for care, etc)....

it wasn't just "oh, well, we CAN have another one" it was "oh, well, we HAVE TO HAVE another one"

cuz celibacy... screw that, man.

Chris:

Duh that's a no-brainer. That's why aprons don't have a back on them.

Me:

apparently pope francis said the celibacy thing is up for debate in the catholic church. I think it's about time that falls. when the life expectancy was 35, being celibate is tough enough, but now that it's 85.... man, frustrating a natural system in the body for that long has lead to some screwed up urges in these locked-up priests, man.

Chris:

Yeah we all know what those kind of people are capable of. lol

Me:

"we're going to put you in a group of all men, make you wear dresses, large hats like british women wear to weddings, and beaded necklaces. Then you'll sing AT a group of people a few times per week, throw water at them, walk through the crowd and act as the smoke machine, and then sit in a little, dark cabinet and listen to them tell you all the darkest, most screwed-up things they did in the last week."

this sounds like a gay club. tell me it doesn't.

you get to educate young boys on the life and make them kneel for as long as you please .... duuuuuuuuuuude

Chris:

Oh boy...

That's what they say

LOL

Me:

and we're going to put a bunch of virgins next door, too.

LOL

Chris:

Sounds like a frat movie in the making.

I'd like some of that

Haha

Me:

hahaha omg you're right... candles, incense, oil, water, graphic nude murals, organ music....

LMAO

Chris:

LOTS of oil

Hahaha

Chris:

Pray, b*tch!

Me:

omg...

hilarious

Chris:

"OMG i'm praying so hard right now"

Me:

ROTFL

USE YOUR HANDS, TOO.

not just your lips!

Chris:

HAHAHAHA

It will make me pray harder

So I can spread my love of Jesus...

ALL OVER YOUR FACE

Me:

you have to eat part of him, take part of him into your body to truly love him and be blessed.

Chris:

I encourage you to eat all of it, though. Just to be safe.

Me:

and drink more wine

and bring your kids to watch!!

Chris:

Gotta save the chirren.

Me:

but don't worry, we'll take them aside and have an "adults only" time for just a little bit.

we wont' tell you waht we're doing with them or where they are, but it's probably the basement, and you won't know until it's too late.

Chris:

LOL

Definetly the basement

Me:

stained glass windows, uncomfortable chairs, creepy dolls and statues that seem to stare at you, smells funny, you're supposed to go there for easter and christmas... it's like your grandma's. without the pie.

Chris:

Oh there's pie!

LOL

Me:

you have to stay late and go into the basement.

and maybe help with some "projects"

and they call it something weird, just like grandma, too. grandma calls it "visiting". they call it "fellowship".

you're gossiping. admit it. you're talking about who's pregnant, who slept with whom, who wore what, how revealing something was, who swore, who was fired/drank too much...

US WEEKLY: Church version

Chris:

Church was the original gossip mag, people know where the money is and they follow. LOL but you're 100% right.

Me:

this is the most interesting conversation i've had in months.

Chris:

I'm a sick fuck, idk what to tell ya. lol

Me:

so am I. So am I.

isn't it FANTASTIC?!

AMAAAAAAAAAAAAZEEEEEBAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLS

Chris:

I love it. Haha!

Me:

or "testacular", if you prefer.

Chris:

LOL!!!

Me:

see? we need to hang out more.

Chris:

I know it

Here soon I won't have to work so many hours and that will help. Dylans schedule will be getting settled down too I hope.

Me:

good. cuz then we can golf more. or just ... i don't know, SOMETHING

Chris:

Something is always better than nothing.

well most of the time.

Me:

lol

Chris:

To use my buddie's term appropriately "Just the tip"

Me:
I like that game.

Chris:

LOL

Great way to get your "foot in the door"

Me:

I was talking to a guy who works with my mom, has known her for years.

he said, "Let me give you a tip..."

me, in a valley girl accent, "How come guys are always trying to give me just the tip?"

he LOST it.

Chris:

LOL

I could see that

I'm sure he didn't see that coming!

Me:

no. he looked at my mom, looked at me, tears in his eyes, and said "what happened here?! she's so sweet, and you're..." "cursed with my father's sense of humor?"

 

Chris:

Haha poisoned!

Spinning my wheels and faking it

Well, I'm back.

A few years and many hard-learned lessons later, I remember the joyous compulsion of writing and come back to it.

I'm currently struggling with the Sisyphusian challenges of life.  We need to learn to accept our efforts and what they bring us, learn to be happy in our skin.  We will always have goals and the fights of tomorrow, but we're to learn to accept that while we reap what we sow, the fruits of those labors can be frustratingly, devastatingly different from one toiling pleb to another.  For some, the good luck keeps rolling in.  For others, Sisyphus and Prometheus are our understanding neighbors.

What within Sisyphus gives him the drive, forgiveness, wherewithal, compassion, and tenacity to wake up each morning and try again?
Try again.
Try again.
Try again.
Try again.
Try again.

Einstein said the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.  By that token, Sisyphus was clearly nuts. (Honestly, who wouldn't be?!)  But what is it called when we keep trying different things, (or at least things that FEEL different to us) but keep getting the same result?  Are we insane or are they?  By definition, the same result would mean you're doing the same thing. (The stone winds up somewhat further up the hill, then rolls back down.)  you're still stuck in a dead-end position with no power or visibility to better your condition. But... You're not doing the same things.  You know you're not.  But... Is the reason new tricks aren't moving you forward, that the same old failures are holding you back?  You only have control over what you can control.  Some days, your brain isn't even on that list.  How can I expect others to forgive such a grievous oversight, such a nasty deficit, bridge such a inexplicable expanse between their experience and mine?  It's hard enough to live my experience; I hate trying to explain it to others.  Reliving it doesn't help. How can I convince someone I have the abilities to do the next step up when I'm crap at the current one?  Why am I crap? I don't have the power to change my position or influence my daily experience.
Yeah.  I can control when I get to work, what I eat, what I drink, and who I talk to.  But my brain seems to do what it wants while I'm there.  Trying to keep it from looking information up may be counterproductive. I can't control the onslaught of emails, and I don't know how to keep trying while I'm being drowned.  I can't control the fact that there is no end in sight, just more emails, more of the same problems to be solved, though we know how to fix them, they're "looking into" (read: stealing) your ideas on how to improve efficiency and productivity.  So... Can I change how I react to them?  Can you change how you react to being dragged behind a car?  I suppose, but what good could come from convincing myself I enjoy it? Can one actually ever fake it til they make it with activities they despise? I've learned some activities are there until you get good at them, then you no longer see them.  This is undoubtedly my inbox.  Perhaps it's time to invest in the getting things done course, after all...
A disheartening night, where I hope I uncover my last bit of fight, or a new reason to fight.  You put these challenges in front of me, but I don't understand what the challenge is. Everything I learn is a double-edged sword.  Learn to be alone, but not lonely, but don't enjoy it so much you don't want to be around people.  Get in shape, exercise, eat so you don't die or eat compulsively while missing vitamins, but don't eat too much, and don't exercise too hard, lest you get hurt, then get fat all over again.  Sisyphus.  Prepare your heart for marriage....but if it doesn't come, your heart with be shattered and you'll never trust again. So... Go balls-to-the-wall full speed at this brick wall and trust there will be an air bag before you reach it.  And if there isn't, is it because that was God's will, or because I failed to do something he asked of me? Is he laughing at us trying? I can't believe that.  But what am I (not) doing that is preventing me the simple grace of love? I was in a position where... I was happy with my friends, with my career, my family... And I guess I was life rafting.  (Own that.). Time away has taken away the life rafts and taught me to swim,  and to be much pickier about which rafts I choose. Build your own raft. He must have his own, too. Structure. How can I learn rigidity when to me it means lacking forgiveness? It means I have to berate myself for each inevitable screw up, rather than allow myself the humanity of erring.  Berating led to relapses.  That wasn't good.  Perhaps focus on one thing that you know you need to do but can't seem to manage. Getting to work on time.  You can control that. Because you can control your alarm. And you can control your body.  Maybe not always your brain, but your body will listen.  Perhaps each week you're on time every day, you get a massage.  If you miss 1 day, shorter massage.  2, you're out. But 2 weeks in a row and you get 90min massage. If you're on time, you get to play scrabble.  If not, no dice.

I'll keep pondering the impossible task of attempting to coalesce ideas for an adult sticker board.  GOLD STAR!!
- Sisyphus the disheartened potroast

Music ruined by memories - great song, then some douchbag guy got entangled in your enjoyment of it and memory of it.  that's crap!

Mom.... You were right. :)

SHORT VERSION: You were right, God is good, and it is essential to have something bigger than you on which to rely when things get tough. Thanks for dragging me to church and showing me the ropes.

LONG VERSION:

I had a dr appt this morning and was able to escape the office. It only took 5 mins, though so I had some extra time... and I did something I've never done before.... I stopped by church. I felt like He was calling me; I just HAD to go. The doors were even locked, so I just wound up sitting in a little garden area praying on a bench. But I forgot what it feels like to bare your sins, experience the disgrace and shame, (while you feel like He's holding your hand and hugging you at the same time despite all you're confessing), .... and then the feeling when you walk out of church knowing it's forgiven. You're just as loved, just as cherished. I feel like I was admitting the transgressions more to myself than to God, because He already knows. but that feeling of forgiveness, of filling your spiritual cup...I hadn't felt that in years.

Which brings me to the "you were right". You always said you didn't care what religion we were, just that we could have something to believe in, something to lean on in the tough times. He has gone out of His way in the last year to show me that I am not in control. He is. That He has a plan, and I need to trust it, even if I can't see it, predict it, or prepare for it (because He is preparing me for it). He's made it OBVIOUS that He's placed amazing people in my path to help me through and guide me (I am indescribably humbled and awed by that). You are ABSOLUTELY one of those people. You were right, Mom. Your insistence at dragging me to church allowed me to forge a personal relationship with God, and the confidence/ability to speak to Him directly. Knowing the rituals and rules and feeling you belong in a place of worship are indispensable. It centers you.

I know I fought you, I know I questioned, but you were right. I need God in my life. Mother really does know best!!! I love you so much!

To God:  Thanks for having my back, even when I forgot to 'return your call'.  Please open my eyes to what you're trying to show me so you can better mold me to be your instrument.  I love you.

"Patriotic" doesn't BEGIN to cover it.

Eric,
I NEED you to get word to me that you're ok. I can't handle another night of laying awake and worrying, not knowing where you are or if you're ok. I understand you're in transit. But please do what you can. I'm not handling this well. Kuba spent all night trying to talk about you coming back, trying to get me excited for it, and I can't do that yet. I can't get my hopes up yet, because if it doesn't happen, it will crush me. He's excited to get to see the ceremonies and welcome you guys home. He keeps saying "to show your support". Support of our troops doesn't mean hanging a flag on the 4th of july or clapping when someone is being recognized. People may think it's patriotic to show up and hug a veteran, make them feel like they've done a good deed. Where were these people when fathers missed the birth of their children, their first steps, first words? Supporting you has been my every day reality for a year and a half. I may not have a 50 foot american flag in my yard, but I have all the love in my heart saved for one soldier. I was faithful to a man halfway across the world and fighting for a cause neither of us believed in, but for a country we love. One day of parades and floats doesn't show your support of veterans. Shovel an injured soldier's walk, volunteer to babysit so he can have a night out with his wife.
I guess I'm just tired of people suddenly thinking I should be excited for you to come home, or grateful for what you do. I've been LIVING those things for the last year and a half. Because I stuck. I'm still here. I can't think about that day yet, because I know the military and the date will change. I won't let it crush me. I understand their desire for the spectacle, though. It's appreciation for those who don't want to ACTUALLY get their hands dirty. But we've been in the mud since day one. I don't want one day in red, white, and blue with you, Eric. I couldn't care less about the decorations or circumstances. I want forever in your arms. And I need to hear from you to know that I'm not hanging my hopes on a pipe dream. I need to know you're still coming back. Because I don't want to do this without you. You're the reason I'm here.
So please... Come home soon.
Keila

"Patriotic" doesn

Eric,
I NEED you to get word to me that you're ok. I can't handle another night of laying awake and worrying, not knowing where you are or if you're ok. I understand you're in transit. But please do what you can. I'm not handling this well. Kuba spent all night trying to talk about you coming back, trying to get me excited for it, and I can't do that yet. I can't get my hopes up yet, because if it doesn't happen, it will crush me. He's excited to get to see the ceremonies and welcome you guys home. He keeps saying "to show your support". Support of our troops doesn't mean hanging a flag on the 4th of july or clapping when someone is being recognized. People may think it's patriotic to show up and hug a veteran, make them feel like they've done a good deed. Where were these people when fathers missed the birth of their children, their first steps, first words? Supporting you has been my every day reality for a year and a half. I may not have a 50 foot american flag in my yard, but I have all the love in my heart saved for one soldier. I was faithful to a man halfway across the world and fighting for a cause neither of us believed in, but for a country we love. One day of parades and floats doesn't show your support of veterans. Shovel an injured soldier's walk, volunteer to babysit so he can have a night out with his wife.
I guess I'm just tired of people suddenly thinking I should be excited for you to come home, or grateful for what you do. I've been LIVING those things for the last year and a half. Because I stuck. I'm still here. I can't think about that day yet, because I know the military and the date will change. I won't let it crush me. I understand their desire for the spectacle, though. It's appreciation for those who don't want to ACTUALLY get their hands dirty. But we've been in the mud since day one. I don't want one day in red, white, and blue with you, Eric. I couldn't care less about the decorations or circumstances. I want forever in your arms. And I need to hear from you to know that I'm not hanging my hopes on a pipe dream. I need to know you're still coming back. Because I don't want to do this without you. You're the reason I'm here.
So please... Come home soon.
Keila

You want to kill me? You can't even kill your socks!

Ok, this newest version of the shoe bombing thing… I have to mention it. Not only was it ridiculous that the first guy tried to blow up his feet (which, I can tell you in the stupidest way of trying to kill yourself. They call it “shooting yourself in the foot” for a reason. YOU DON’T DIE. You’re just injured enough that you can’t escape. Which means you DON’T get your virgins, but your virginity will most definitely be threatened. There are 20 tattooed men in the shower waiting to take your ass cherry. FAIL.
But this new version, I’m not going to get into the semantics, we all know the gist of it – the people with the information about who may be dangerous to let into the country weren’t sharing that information with the people who LET PEOPLE IN THE COUNTRY. If you want to find something out about someone, just do what every college kid in America does. Facebook them. It should be part of standard airport security protocol. If their status is “Kaboom”, you may need to “randomly select” him for special screening. “HelGAAAAH! Weev got anozzah vun…” If you have a grown man in front of you with the status of “Mr. Tinkles is at it again! Hahaha What a stinker!” Then you may again need to fear for your ass cherry.