The Wraith

The Quickening

2009-03-25T14:30:00.003-05:00

Since my December 2003 graduation from college, I began to slip very slowly away from people emotionally and socially. More and more, I would chip away at the hard rocks in the recesses of my mind to create a small place to curl up and hide. Even with five years of me stepping on a stage to perform and be the social creature expected of a rock band’s front man, I still managed to slip further away from everyone. When I bought my house, my introverted nature increased at a faster rate. At times, all I wanted to do was sit around at home, read, and not be bothered. However, there was another part of me that was reflecting on the past and the comradery that I had when I was younger. I felt as though that companionship was a distant dream that could never be obtained again.

The friendships that I had so long ago were extremely close. We shared in just about everything that life had to offer. There is a certain comfort that comes with the knowledge that you can walk around a corner or pick up a phone and you will have someone there to join you without question. It is a powerful feeling and it is an honor to do the same for those you love. I long for that kind of unconditional connection. However, with time comes separation and it is no longer a simple matter of calling on someone, with whom you love, to join you in pain or in pleasure. To add, as most of you already know, faith and trust is not synonymous with my character. Those friends I had in those days took years and years to build. Thankfully, I still have some of those friends from my youth. As I mentioned before in previous log entries, I do not find lame excuse a settling reasons why friends don’t see each other for a long time. But, I try to be an understanding person and will admit that there are two sides to a relationship of any kind.

My active and adventurous side tends to pull me out of my shell once in a while. The hobbies and goals that I’ve set up have pulled me out of the comfortable world within my mind on many occasions. My recent activities in martial arts and in SCUBA have kept me in some social aspect of life. Without them, I would sit at home reading and playing my acoustic guitar falling deeper into my mind. Also, in an effort to counter my seclusion, I’ve decided to perform some kind friend search using the Web as my venue. This was not just for me but for Panky as well. He has also experience some kind of seclusion due to his move away from the city. It would seem that moving from city friends puts them in line with a test of dedication for which they usually fail miserably. I can honestly say from my own experiences, out of the large number of people I know who live in the city I can count on one hand those who stay in contact and visit.

After successfully taking my Advanced Open Water diving certification and my Kue test in martial arts, it was time to break out of my shell a bit. After about a month of talking with a few people online I decided to meet, or screen, them for possible development into a friendship. My goal is to create a network of friends close by with some of the same interests, caring personalities, active hearts, and maybe even instill some comfort inside of me. I know that I may never see the level of companionship I had when I was younger, but it would be really nice to have some faith and trust restored in my heart. So far, I have been lucky. I’ve met some of the most interesting and amazing people. It’s been a long time since I’ve had friends close by, mostly due to my constant moving around. I have also run into some friends I haven’t spoken with in quite some time. Turns out that some of these people actually know each other and have an existing friendship.

I know that some part of me will always remain the introvert. I require the comfort of my private time to keep myself grounded and sane. I believe that knowing me better is the key to a number of things in life. Without this knowledge, I’m no good to myself, any friends I may have, and the adventures that follow. But, we also learn more about ourselves through others. It creates a nice healthy balance. I’m trying to be open and honest with my new friends. I think most of them already understand that I’m a natural introvert and that I am a man with little to no faith and trust. I must say, they are very kind and understanding. They have all welcomed me with open arms. I hope my network will grow but I adore those I’ve met so far. Thank you to my local friends (some new) Jeff, Matt, Brent, Matt, and Mike for become a part of my life. May our adventures begin…

Cogitatus

2009-01-16T10:51:00.006-05:00

Another year has past and I feel everything, yet I feeling nothing. I’ve spent a lot of my time this year reflecting on my life. Perhaps it’s because of my age. I’ve seen a lot happen in the past 2 years, yet I feel like I haven’t accomplished enough. Although, another part of me believes that which has happened, has happened too fast. Its all quite a dichotomy. So, I suppose I will continue reflecting to see if anything inspirational comes out of it all. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t sit around at home doing nothing but thinking…if I can help it. I try to stay active and never let anything get me down. I have a lot I want to accomplish, which can be to a fault because I put a lot of pressure on myself.

So what has gone down in year 2008? Emotionally, I’ve become very inhibited. I keep to myself more than I ever have before. I’ve noticed that at times I just want to be left alone and I find it hard to talk to people. Truthfully, I’ve never been into small talk. I think most people are afraid of silence and just talk a bunch bull-shit so they don’t have to hear their own thoughts. I think a lot of people are afraid of themselves and the truth that is inside. It’s a shame actually. In addition, a lot people talk just to hear themselves. Boy, is that a joy to listen to!? Sometime, I just want to say, “Please, shut the fuck up.” But, I know that I have a tendency to go deep within myself and it probably bothers a lot of people. Don’t worry my friends; I’m not plotting your death or anything like that. If I had a problem with you, I would certainly tell you. I do apologize if my silence makes you uncomfortable. Although, silence can be a beautiful things and people can still touch one another a great deal in silence. I remember a dear friend once told me years ago that I was a very quiet person. But in that silence, he felt comfort and empowerment around me. He said he would miss those special times with me. He wrote this in a long letter to me before he left for the Army. The funny part is I probably miss him more. He was good friend. One thing that could help is proper chemistry between two people. True lovers and friends can find this ability and when it happens, it's beautiful.

Admittedly, a lot of my self-reflection has dug up some old thoughts and memories of times long gone. As a result, I’ve shed some tears and had a few laughs over it, but as I’ve said before I do not regret. I just miss the people, the way of thinking, the activities, and just the general time period or feeling I had. You begin to notice, sadly, that the magic fades with time, but the passion is still there. However, the results of that passion are not the same or its just not there anymore. Reality and the realization of our environment has a nasty habit of stumping out the magic in life. I can’t help but the feeling that some part of me has died with the death of that magic. I suppose a part of me is still hoping that some magic is still around...somewhere...out there in the world.

Last year saw the death of my band. Actually, it probably should have been killed off sooner but I did not want to let go for fear of loosing my love for the music. Sometimes you can love something and it can return that love just as well. But, that doesn’t mean its right and it doesn’t mean that it is healthy. Some times love can slowly kill the individual and therefore, love needs to be sacrificed for the very survival of the person and the chance to love again. I think this holds true with my band. It was poisonous in a lot of ways and my taste for music began to suffer. You might even say that the magic of music was fading. I haven’t really done anything musically in months. I miss it a lot but I don’t miss the band. However, I do miss the camaraderie of my band mates. Although, if I didn’t let go of the band, I know I would not feel the same for them. I may have even ended up hating them. Again, it was a healthy move. I do have an interest in continuing some work in music but I want it to be completely different, both musically and in business. Plus, a few offers have been presented to me so only time will tell.

The past year has also brought about new interests and hobbies. Despite some of the disapproval from some, due to my motorcycle accident, I will continue riding. I do miss my motorcycle. I will miss riding a lot more, now that Panky has sold his bike I have nothing to ride for a long time. Financially, I will not be able to swing a new motorcycle for quite a while. I don’t even think 2009 will find me back on a motorcycle. However, I still have other interests that I plan on continuing. My interest in SCUBA has really taken off. I’ve completed my Nitrox certification and I’m now studying for my Advanced Open Water certification, which I’m planning on completing in the third week of February. I will then move on to Rescue Diving and hopefully much more. Last year also saw my return into the martial art world. It has become another important part of my life again and brings me much peace. Naturally, this will continue into the New Year. In fact, I have a test coming up in February.

Looking forward into the New Year, I have a lot to look forward to and ideas I’d like to work on. For one, I’m looking for that inspiration that will help light the way to a new musical idea. Sometimes I feel like I’m on the edge of something really cool but most of the time I find it’s just gas and the tone released is sour. Unfortunately, art can’t be forced; at least not with me. But, I would really like to record again and maybe cut another CD. I would also like to touch on some art outside of music; drawing and perhaps some writing. I’m also looking forward to skydiving this year. I plan on putting something together when the weather warms up. Last year I went to Bonaire for a SCUBA diving trip. The year before that it was Australia for a real vacation. This year I would like to take another SCUBA diving trip for about a week, but I would also like to visit another country for a vacation; not to SCUBA diving. On the other hand, I am looking forward to furthering my knowledge and certifications in SCUBA. Just the same, I’m looking forward to furthering my knowledge in martial arts. I would also like to see my master bathroom finished. As soon as I get my tax return, I would like to get that project started and out of the way. The last thing I would really like to see happen in 2009 is my chance to be a father. This one may be a stretch, but I’m allowed to dream…right?

You are Exhausting…

2008-11-08T18:13:00.002-05:00

When I was about 15 to 20 years younger, I found muscle cars very thrilling. At one point I owned a Ford Mustang GT, 25th anniversary model. It was my baby! Hell, just sitting at a stop light listening to it idle was beautiful. It was as if the car was speaking some dark language, rhythmic in nature, yet smooth as velvet; bluda-blada-blada-blada bluda-bluda-blada-blada-blada bluda-blada-bluda-blada-blada. The rhythmic pulse was deep enough to reach into the core of your body and gently vibrated your soul. It was the sound of power that could be transformed into a burst of incredible acceleration with the slightest touch of the gas pedal. When pressing on the gas, it roared like a hungry lion that had been suddenly emancipated from a caged to go on its primal hunt. Maybe that’s why some would use the term “purrs like a kitten” when describing a muscle car during its idling.

Today, I still love the sound of a good muscle car. I love the idea of being behind the wheel of a powerful engine that is just waiting for my commanding foot on the accelerator. However, 11 years ago I went in a different direction when it comes to vehicles and have found a love in my Jeep Wrangle. It’s an old machine but it’s still a lot of fun. One of the big benefits to my Jeep is that it has been paid off a long time ago. In gas, it probably saves a little bit of money compared to the muscle car; but not much. Let’s face it cars are a big waste of money. And if I really need a kick in acceleration, there is always the motorcycle. No car can bet that… Ever!

I have to give credit to those people who restore, care, and improve muscle cars. It’s simple amazing how someone can do such work. It takes a special kind of person to perform such an art. However, there are those individuals who try to perform this art on vehicles that are just not made to be muscle cars. Look, there are certain things that just should not be tampered with. To start, if you have an old car with a 4 cylinder that had “pony power” (not deserving of the word horse powers) when it was new, don’t try and turn it into a muscle car! You are making a fucking fool of yourself. My grandmother use to have a saying that would be very appropriate in this case, “you can’t polish a turd.” Don’t waste your time and money. Speaking of money, I’ve seen some piece of shit cars that have had thousands of dollars dumped into them in a futile attempt make them more muscle like. That kind of money could have been a very large down payment on a real muscle car. What a fucking joke!!

To add to this craziness, is the amount of money that is dumped into an exhaust system for some of these shit cars. What is the matter with some of these people who replace the exhaust system to make their car sound like a broken lawn mower? I even told one man at a gas station that his car sounded like shit, after a few moments of him revving up his little 1.4 litter engine with one of those “special” exhaust systems. It was fucking annoying and obnoxious. The guy was obviously pissed off at my comment but did nothing. Perhaps, he knew deep down that it was true. Maybe it starts when these people are kids and their parents let them play with loud obnoxious toys. Perhaps that is something to think about for all you parents out there in the world. In most cases, we create our own demons. In any case, what happened to the sound of the “purring kitten?” It now sounds like you are shoving a two litter bottle up the cat’s ass. So for all you people out there who want to turn your old, Honda Civics, Volkswagen Jettas, Passats Golfs, Ford Pintos, Escorts, Festivas, Toyota Corrollas, Turcels, Geo Metros, and even Jeep Wranglers (these are but a few cars I’ve seen with attempted changes) into a muscle cars forget it you stupid fuck. Save your money and buy a real car.

Ok, Stop with the Ribbons

2008-10-15T15:15:00.006-05:00

I’m not one to get crazy about little things. I am a pretty calm individual who believes that people should do what they feel is right as long as they are not hurting themselves or others in the process. But, I also don’t usually follow trends and I will point out any absurdities. Some trends are just plan fucking stupid. I believe people should think about what they are doing and the purpose behind their actions. Simple questions to one's self may help in making decisions such as; will this work? Will I accomplish anything by doing so? When does one say “enough is enough?” One of the worst tends out today are ribbons. It started off harmless enough. But, then everyone had to have a ribbon for something. To add, everyone decided to plaster magnetic ribbons on their cars. Now the magnetic ribbons on cars are really fucking stupid. These little things are everywhere and for every little thing that comes to mind. Deep down, I thought this trend would not last very long. Kind of like those stupid crown air fresheners people had in their cars, usually in the window. But, the magnetic ribbon is still here and, I must say, it is still fucking stupid. In the end, they will only end up polluting the world, both physically and mentally.

Let’s think about this for a moment. Does anyone ever really read these things anymore? “Survey says” FUCK NO! I’ve ask a number of people if they pay any attention to what ribbons say and everyone has said no. One person with a magnetic ribbon on their car didn’t even know what it said. NO ONE gives a SHIT anymore! Especially, those dumb fuckers who have about 5 of them on the back of their car. It’s not clever, cute, supportive, or proving that you are a decent human being. It just shows you were stupid enough to buy the fucking thing. I know, some of you may be saying, “oh but I do it to support the troops.” Wake up people! When you purchased the fucking thing did any of the money go toward the troops? NO! The ribbon was made in some other fucking country in most cases. Guess where your money is going now. When a military personal comes home and sees cars littered with these ribbons do you really think they say, “Isn't it great that all these people have ribbons on their car supporting us.” NO! If you really want to show your support, have the balls to tell them to their face. Back in the day (or a long time ago), it was much more impressive to see yellow ribbons tied around trees in support of the troops because it took some time and effort to do so. Now, people just buy one, two, three or more, magnetic ribbons at the local 7-11. Wow, that’s a real fucking impressive effort you’ve made there people! But, that’s how things are in this fast-food world we live in now. Isn’t it? Sad…

If that isn’t bad enough, we have a ribbon for every issue there is in the United States. Everyone just had to jump on-board with the ribbon idea. Look people, if you need to prove to the world that you are a supporter (or a good person) of anything, this says a lot about your personality; “me, me, me, just look at me.” How narcissistic can you get? What ever it is you support, just spend some quality time volunteering for the organization or idea. Physically get out there and make a difference. Or, are you lazy fuckers too good to get your hands dirty; so much for your belief and support…huh. For those individuals, how about we make a big fat puck orange ribbon for lazy asses of America? Personally, I think I’ll side with one of my heroes, George Carlin, who came up with idea to have a brown ribbon that stood for “Eat Shit Mother Fucker.”

In the name of the Father Pt.2

2008-09-09T15:20:00.001-05:00

It has been some time since my last entry. I’ve been busy with the recovery of my motorcycle crash, work, birthday, research for a new martial art to study, and the general monkey wrenches that life loves to throw at you. During that time I have received a number of responses to my last entry, “In the name of the Father.” First of all let me say thank you for those of you who poured your heart out to me. I’m honored that my friends and family care to talk to me on such topics. In my opinion, that’s what we need in the world, less hiding and more openness. That kind of thinking will dissolve fears, which seems to be a great deal of our underlining issues.

Please know that my writing is my way of expression and release. I did not write “In the name of the Father” for attention, sympathy, or a way to shit on my father. I think the important message in that blog was forgiveness and going forward in life with whatever we are given. Despite any dark times, we have to look to the light for hope. Think about it. If we do not believe that there is a chance, some kind of hope, what use is there in trying? What is life worth? There is always some small bit of hope. For some, it may be really small; but it’s has to be there to go on in life. So, the journey moves on. And we can learn so much if we willing to open up ourselves to it.

What has my childhood experiences taught me? Well, I learned at a young age that we take a great deal with us on our journey of life. It is absolutely amazing how much we are affected by our up-bringing and our surrounding environment. Our experiences as children make us who we are as adults. The good and the bad are all present inside us no matter how much we try to deny it. For me, I try to look at the bad things in the same manner as I do the good things. Cherish it and learn from it. There will always be a dark side. What matters is how we deal with the dark side in life. This is nothing to be ashamed of, as it gives us balance. My dark side, as you may have learned from previous entries, is the fear of failure as a human being. There are many facets to this idea, most of which I try and use to my advantage. You might say this fear of failure helps drive me in life. Admittedly, it has also almost driven me to death.

There is another dark side that is bit harder to use as a positive; my lack of faith in anything or anybody. Faith was slowly burned from my mind and soul throughout the years of my youth. There is very little left inside of me to fall back on. Very few have a chance to really get close to me because of it. Most people, organizations, corporations, politicians, and religions are nothing more than a bunch of charlatans to me. As a positive, it has taught me to be self-reliant and a survivor. I knew that if I wanted something bad enough it would, most likely, come to fruition from my own doing. This lack of faith has also giving me the means to detect bullshit. I can usually tell when someone is pissing on my boots and telling me it’s a rain storm. In most case, I just stick to really close friends for safety and keep my back against the wall. I practice a great deal of Sun Tzu’s philosophy from the book The Art of War. This is a safe practice. Especially, when it comes to those I do not trust. Sun Tzu says, “Keep your friends close but keep your enemies closer.” Admittedly, this lack of faith does get in the way of relationships…most unfortunate. Perhaps that discussion is best left for another time.

Another very important thing that I’ve taken away from my childhood is that love, true love, is unconditional. It should be especially free from conditions of worth. Love does not stop just because one “of love” does not agree with other one “of love.” Too often I felt this way with my father. It seemed that if I didn’t do what he approved, I was not to be given attention, much less love. When I stepped out into the world with my friends and their families, I learned how love continued no matter the conditions that were placed. It was so beautiful to me and it set me on a new path of thinking. It would seem that I get involved, or have interests, in things that most people do not care to participate. I respect that. But, you learn who you’re true friends are if any of them judge you for your actions or interests. This especially goes for family members too. Unfortunately, we cannot choose our family but we can surly stay the fuck away from them if they place conditions of worth on us. Love me for me or fuck off! That’s what I say. I don’t buy into that whole “blood is thicker than water” bullshit. Anyone in life has the ability to fuck you over family or not.

I would like to bring up one last peace regarding the father topic. I would really like to have children of my own. For many years now I’ve been hoping to be a father myself. Admittedly, watching fathers with their children stirs up a great deal of emotion inside of me. There have been times that I would avoid those with children because I wasn’t sure I would be able to keep my feelings hidden. There have been times I would leave the area because I could feel my eyes watering. I want the same opportunity. I want to start a family! Now that I’m getting older, the desire is becoming greater. Sometimes the desire is so strong that it is emotionally painful. It has stirred up a fear that I may never have children. Time is important to me. I suppose I want to be young enough to participate in my child’s activities. I want to be the father that plays catch with his son, or attends a dance residual for his daughter. I could go on forever about the wishes of my life with my children. I want to give all that I can and all that I am to my children. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not into spoiling. But, I want my children to know that I’m behind them, supporting them, every step of the way through life. Yes, a Wraith can love too. And through my children, I can truly be immortal.

In the Name of the Father Pt.1

2008-08-06T17:45:00.005-05:00

Are you ready for this? This is a burning thought that I’ve choose to put away and pay no mind for many years. It’s something I haven’t shared with most people but it’s no secret. I know the score; I’ve seen the writing on the wall since I can remember. Therefore, it’s no surprise. Once you learn the nature of the beast, it can no longer hurt you. When you can look into your demon’s eyes and smile forgivingly, the battle is over. It can no longer bite you or take your life. You learn to grow from the experience and try your best to turn it into a positive and let it work as an advantage in the future. Still, the old days visit me from time to time. Usually, relive it all while I slumber. I hear the screams, I see the face turning into hate, I taste the anger pouring into me, I smell the breathe yelling in my face, and I feel punches. When I awake and look at myself in the mirror, I see the evidence, proving that it was not just a dream.

There are some things a child does not remember. The brain has not fully developed and therefore we see fragments of the past; like sifting through a stack of old photographs. I don’t remember a moment of peace with my father when I was a baby. However, it must have happened because I have pictures to prove it. There was a time when he held me in his arms and smiled. There was a time when he cuddled next to me and my mother. I wonder, was it just the photo opts? As I grew older, I do remember there were some playful times. The massive tickle attack that would drive me crazy with laughter. I also appreciated that fact that he spoke to me, for the most part, like a grown up. But the older I got, the more distant he became. He would never even touch me. It wasn’t until I graduated from the US Marine Corps boot camp that he touched me again by shaking my hand and congratulated me. Was it the stress of my parent’s relationship taking its toll? Or maybe it was the constant separations and moving that pulled us away from each other. Oh the questions of a child to his father… Never heard, and the fear to say… Did you realize that I questioned if I was the cause of the problems in the household? After all you did say I was a mistake once. Did you, or do you now, resent my successes in life? You celebrated my life so little. You left a hole in me that I wanted so badly to be filled; an emptiness that I could only try and fill through other people’s life.

As a teenager, I went on a quest to find the father of my dreams. Since neglect was high and any attention was through verbal and physical abuse, I adopted my best friend’s parents. I found in them love, comfort, and wisdom. Spending as much time as possible away from home was my way of survival. To add to the issue, my father decided to have his father move into the house. Now it was really important to stay away from home. I had already a number of events take place as a child with my grandfather. He was physically abusive toward me. Luckily, my grandmother walked in on him while he was using me as a punching bag. She snatched me from his grasp and warned him that if he ever touched me again she would kill him. He never did hit me again. Needless to say, my relationship with him was cold, while he was living with us in our house. But I was older and much too fast for his feeble body. One day I got tired of my father’s abuse and during one of his rampages I stood before him poised in defensive posture. He was bent to strike me and I looked him in the eyes waiting for his swing. In my mind, I was prepared to fight back and I wanted to hurt him; really bad. He never followed through with his aggression; only walked away mumbling something. I was 16 at the time and had been studying a great deal of martial arts. I think he knew I was prepared to fight. He never touched me again. Only, the distance seem to increased with age. I lived with him for about a year during one of my parent’s separations. He had his world and I had mine and very rarely did those worlds cross. When we did meet half way, between worlds, we were civil. By that time he had lost his father and perhaps his view on life was changing.

Once my parents divorced, things began to change between them. My mother and I became good friends. For the most part, she stayed out of the fighting between my father and me. She would, on the side, lend a helping hand but it would not to be obvious or talked about. I said nothing, of course. The divorce was tough for my mother but she began to blossom as the years passed. Our relationship grew and she is now a very important part of my life. We are best friends. My father seemed to go about his business and create a new life of his own. When I decided to go back to school, he stated that it was just a phase and I received no support from him at all. I wasn’t expecting money any money from him, just some encouragement. Since one of my major’s was Psychology, I decide to play a little psychological test with my father. I began to show him love…slowly. At times, it was a bit fun. The first time I hugged him he nearly jumped out of his skin. Once he became comfortable with that, I told him that I loved him once before leaving his house. He stumbled over his words and said something like, “ah.....ok………………I…Love you too.” Funny, yet sad at the same time, huh? Now, it’s to be expected when we talk or see each other. Did I train the beast? No, probably not. He is a strange man.

From what I can see, my father’s new life and quest for material things is much more important than his daughter or his son. If I ever want to see him, I must go to see him. I guess the hour and twenty minute drive is much to handle for a healthy man in his late 5o's. If I am to hear from him, I must call or email him. Maybe typing and talking is too strenuous. It seems I don’t exist unless I make an effort. So, I make sure he knows I’m alive by calling him two or three times a year. We see each other…maybe, once a year. Do I wish he was a part of my life more often? Yes, he is my father. No matter how dysfunctional our relationship is, he is my father. Can I do anything about it? No. I tried but you cannot force someone to do anything. In the end, it makes no difference. I could call him everyday, tell him I love him ‘till I’m blue in the face, buy him his dream car and tattoo his name on my arm. Maybe I could try for sympathy approach telling him how much I hurt, the pain I went through to get where I am now, how I starved myself to make it, the lonely nights I slept in my car because I had no where to go, that I was molested by a friend of the family’s when I was a child, the many times I held one of his guns in my mouth on the edge of blow my brains out all over my bedroom wall. Or, I could just go the angry route and scream at him, telling him what a shitty father he was; that I wrote a hateful song about him and put it on my CD; cut him off from my life; and report him for child abuse. Then what? I could go on and on…blah, blah, blah. But does it change things? What does it solve? Nothing. What is in the past, is in the past and we must learn from it. Not suffer from it. We can do nothing about the past. We can only hope to grow from it and learn the true meaning of forgiveness (how Christian of me). We should take it and embrace it; become stronger and wiser. We are responsible for our own peace. No one and no thing can give us peace. I can only hope my father finds his. I only want him to be happy.

Aftermath of a Motorcycle Crash

2008-07-22T19:54:00.002-05:00

So what happened after the crash? How are you doing? What is a scapula and where is it broken? What kind of drugs were you given? Are you done riding motorcycles? The questions go on and on…blah, blah, blah. No worries, I understand the interest. Actually, I think the aftermath is worse than the crash.

I have to admit one of the most ridiculous questions, is asking me if I’m done riding motorcycles. Have you lost you mind?! What kind of a question is that? Of course, I’m going to continue riding! I’m trying to figure out what I want for my next bike. Every time I see motorcycles go by, my heart breaks. I know some of you think I’m crazy. But, chew on this thought for a second. I would rather die doing the things I love, experiencing and experimenting with what life has to offer, than die at home one day wishing I could have done more. You only live once; you better make the best of it. If I die doing something that I loved to do, and/or something that I believed in, than it was a good death. And, it was a good life. I was living to the fullest when it happened.

Oh yes, those of you who sent me gifts and flowers; thank you so much. That was most kind of you. Those few who stopped by my house to visit me, you’re awesome!! This was especially nice since I have spent most of my time at home. For the first week, I was in serious pain. There was nothing I could do but take my medication, Oxycodone, Motrin, and Tylenol, and wait on the healing process. I was completely miserable. Taking deep breaths was kind of painful. I couldn’t sleep at all unless I was passing out from exhaustion. I needed help putting my clothes on, taking a shower, drying off, opening doors, and much more. I had to relearn how to do things with my left hand. One of the most challenging left handed acts was wiping my own ass. It’s simply amazing how much a slave you become to your dominate hand. Take away the use of your dominate hand for 24 hours and you’ll learn really quick how much you rely on it. By the way, a scapula is a shoulder blade. It’s something that cannot be put into a cast, so my arm was in a sling to help keep it immobilized. The slightest jar or movement was excruciating.

By the second week the pain started to become less intense and became more of a nuisance. My right arm actually began showing signs of life; instead of just a limp mass of bone and flesh. I started to type and was able to telecommute to work. But still, I was feeling quiet worthless and subhuman. Depression was sinking in and I found myself in tears a few times. I didn’t care about my bike or the fact that I couldn’t get to work. I was depressed at the fact that I was not capable of being a fully functional human being and independent. If there is one thing I am afraid of in this world, its failure. When I begin to feel like a failure as a human being I feel my time is a waste. As a result of this depression, I wanted no help and I wanted off the drugs. I began to rely less on the medication no matter how uncomfortable I was. I needed medication mostly during serious painful moments during the day, evenings before going to bed and in the mornings when I woke up. I also had a follow visit at University of Maryland Medical Center with the orthopedic doctor. The x-rays clearly showed that I still had serious multiple fractures. The doctor asked me if I needed anymore pain medication. He was shocked to hear me say no. He asked me if I was sure about the pain medication as I was leaving.

My third week showed signs of improvement! I was able to move my right arm a lot more and the pain only seemed to come in spikes around my shoulder blade and triceps. Compared to a constant throbbing, this was actually an improvement and it gave me a chance to relax and breathe once in a while. However, I was still very limited to what I could do and how much. The sharp spikes of pain felt like someone had just shoved a sword in my back. The spikes of pain always seem to happen at the most inconvenient times; such as during sleep. To add, I was starting to sleep a bit more horizontal now; as opposed sleeping sitting up. On average, I would wake up about every hour in severe pain and nothing seemed comfortable. At this point, if I took any pain medication it was due to evening pain. Just as well, my depression seemed to be getting worse and I had no drive to do anything. Not even blog. When I tried to use my arm it was like watching a toddler grabbing a toy. I had very little motor muscle control.

The fourth week, to the present day, seemed to show the greatest improvement and with incredible speed. The amount of use and capability I gained in my right arm seem to happen almost overnight. Around the same time, I started my physical therapy, which helped even more. I’m also completely off the painkillers! I know that I still need quite a bit of rehabilitation to go. Slowly, I’m coming back to life. The depression is still there. Of course it doesn’t help that I have dysthymia in the first place ( Dysthymia is a form of depression). I’m no longer…well…subhuman. I do not like the idea that I have to rely on others; to make it by in life. I hate that!! I’m also a man of action, or at least I like to know I can be a part of the action. Being broken and sitting at home with only my thoughts to keep me company is not a man capable of action. I will say this, if need a machine to support my life, pull the fucking plug! Having no ability to live my life as it should be lived is failing and I do not wish to live that way.

My Motorcycle Crash

2008-07-02T14:05:00.003-05:00

Recently, I’ve been asked by a dear friend if I would write about my motorcycle accident. For a second, I didn’t know how to respond. Splitting that second into two parts, I said to myself “no” for the first part but then I said “maybe I will” for the second part. To me, my crash was not that important. I suppose I feel that, “I am thankful I’m a live, now let’s move on do something else.” But, I think the feeling is different for everyone else. As I said before in a previous blog, people are tied to disastrous moments and it seems to bring people together. I also said that it’s sad that it takes some kind of disaster to bring people together. Perhaps, that’s another reason for not making my crash a big deal. If someone is really concerned and wants to contact me, let them contact/see me because they miss me; not because I was involved in an accident.

As for the motorcycle crash, well, … the crash itself was uneventful. I faced every second with my eyes open and had absolutely no fear. To me, it was like I was going through the motions of a dream and for some reason new that I would wake up. Ever action was played out as if it were well rehearsed. There was no teeth grinding, screeming, or struggle involved…well, not a serious struggle of life or death. At least, I did not think so in the moment. No fear; I was as calm as I am now, writing this blog.

It was a beautiful morning and I was simply commuting to work. Unfortunately, I must have misjudged my turn as I leaned into it. My wheels caught the grids on the side of the road that are used to keep people awake/on the road. Well, I must say, they really do not work for motorcycles. When my bike hit the grids during the lean, it jolted my bike to the point I felt I was going to loose control. Within a second, I brought my bike out of the lean, aimed it away from traffic into the grassy median, tried to stay on it as long as possible to gain any control and reduce speed until I had no choice but to jump off the bike. When dropping the bike was inevitable, I pushed myself off of it as it was going down and braced for my landing. When I stopped sliding, I sat up to see my motorcycle wedged under the guardrail. Tearing off my helmet in anger I shouted, “Fuck!” At that moment, I realized I was numb all over…I knew right away I was in shock. I laid back down and listened to the traffic pass me by.

Within moments a nervous man in an old style camouflage uniform baring US Air Force insignia, had come to my aid. I believe he mumbled “oh my God” a few time under his breath as he looked over my body and my motorcycle. I kind of chuckled thinking “God had no part in this man.” He then explained he didn’t have a cell phone. I found out quickly that my right arm was very weak as I opened my jacket and explained I had a cell phone in my pocket. He nervously reached in my jack to pull out my cell phone and then proceed to tell me he didn’t know how to use a cell phone. I thought to myself, “fucking Air Force, where do they find these people?” I said, “would you like me to make the call?” But, he insisted on calling, so I had to teach him how to use a cell phone. Once he made the emergency call, I thanked him and asked for my phone back to call Panky who was most likely close by on his way to work. Within moments, the authorities, the fire department, and EMT/first responders were there to rip my clothes off of me and ask an inordinate amount of questions. Using an incredible amount taped, they mummified me down to a nice hard board and put on an oversized white, hard plastic neck brace that would have made any African person with neck rings impressed. I was put into an ambulance to wait for a helicopter to take me to shock trauma. Panky arrived just before the helicopter to let me know he was there and to tell me he was going to call my mother. God no, I thought to myself. “Oh shit! Just don’t tell her I’m being flown to shock trauma,” I said. We both gave a smirk to one another.

Shock was slowly slipping away and was being replaced by pain in my weak right arm. “Oh no” I said, “shock is wearing off and I can tell my right arm is fucked up.” The men in the ambulance (Bob and Wesley) splinted the arm; which turned out to be a painful process. With the sound of the helicopter outside, the doors to the ambulance opened and I was greeted by a man named Mickey. He had a kind, boyish feature with a very calming quality; perfect to play the part of an airline attendant during an emergency air lift to a hospital. Bob, placing his hand on my shoulder, told Mickey that I was in good spirits and gave a breakdown of my present status. The three men took me out of the ambulance and were joined by a few others to roll me to the helicopter. Unfortunately, with the help of my neck brace, I was only given the seat with a view of the ceiling. Minutes into the flight, I opened my eyes up quickly and told Mickey, who was sitting next to me with a watchful eye, that we have arrived. He was shocked that I knew of our arrival only by the sounds and asked if I had been in the military.

I arrived at University of Maryland’s Shock Trauma Center only to be greeted by twice as many people who responded to my accident. Each person had a list of questions to ask, things to poke me with, items to stick on me, drugs to give me and all at the same time. It seemed to be pandemonium and very scary. I finally said, “look, you are all really freaking me out.” Suddenly, I felt a pair of hands, one on both sides of my face. Peering over me was an older, friendly looking gentlemen saying, “I will be hear with you Chris, don’t worry. My name is Harold.” He was most kind and did stick with me as much as he was able during my visit. The mad rush of people started to dissipate and I began feeling the pain medication that was injected into the catheter of my right arm by Harold. A happy go lucky guy by the name of Chuck wheeled in his x-ray machine to take pictures. “Be sure you take some pictures of my good side” I said jokingly. As he snapped away at various parts of my body, he asked me all sorts of questions; most of them where friendly chatter about life in general. He seemed to be a bit of a clown and helped lift my spirits. He visited me a number of times just to say hello during my short stay at the hospital.

My CAT scans were done by a young man named David who explained the procedure and said that all will be well. Harold wheeled me in and I believe he was around to be sure I was doing well. The CAT scan can be a very annoying procedure. It’s particularly crazy when they inject radioactive material into your body that makes you feel like every vain is about to combust. Panky, my mother, and aunt visited me while I was in shock trauma. They also brought life to those attending to me and all seemed to be well…except for the pain and the neck brace that I so dearly wanted off. For the pain, Harold decided to try Morphine instead of the synthetic painkiller I had been given a number of times. Something inside of me did not want to be put on this drug. It was administered in a small dosage through my catheter and within minutes I felt as though I was sinking into the bed. I had begun to loose my senses and my breathing became difficult. I felt lost, out of control, and as if I was being pulled away from everything; maybe even life. I began to cry. I did not like the feeling at all and it did very little for the pain. Later, Panky told me that my blood pressure had dropped dramatically while on the Morphine.

After hours of fluid being pumped into my body via IV, nature had another plan for me. Despite the moment, pain, those present, drugs, and/or attachments to my body, I had no choice but to listen and obey the calling. I new I had to urinate but I was trying to wait for the best moment; such as the removal of my neck brace so I can see what the fuck I’m doing. Another concern was that my body, for the most part, was numb from the drugs so I may not be able to feel the process. Finally, I broke down and told Panky I had to go. He flagged a nurse down who gave me plastic urinal with a smile. “Ok, this was going to be a challenge.” Panky pulled the curtains to give me at least a little privacy. With one working arm, I pulled my underwear down to my thighs. Painfully, leaning over to my left side and I used my left hand to guide my penis inside the hole of the urinal. Was it in? I wasn’t completely sure considering I couldn’t look down and I had very little feeling in my body other than the pain of my right side. Carefully, I gave a little squirt to see if I would felt anything wet and warm. I waited…nothing… “I think I’m in” I said to myself. So, I let loose. This is the time Panky said there was a class of high school students coming through and I believe they began to look through the glass of my section. “Great,” I said. “Too late now; I hope they enjoy the show.” I said to myself. After a few minutes, I wasn’t completely sure if I was done. Again, I had very little physical feeling. For safety, I remained in my position and tried to us my muscles to ensure I was empty. Keeping the urinal level I lifted it up to be taken away by Panky. Careful, it’s filled to the brim I’m sure.

Now, some anger was sitting in. I’m a patient man but I began to question why I was still in a neck brace. Hours ago, the results of the CAT scan and the x-rays showed nothing other than a multiple fractures of the scapula on the right side of my body. I wanted out of this evil contraption. I could see no reason for it at this point other than torture. After about 7 hours of the neck brace digging into my lower neck and shoulder, a lady with whom I’ve never seen, came into my section, checked my neck, and set me free. She said very little to me but smiled, asked a few questions, and gave directions while investigating my vertebra. Then, swiftly she was gone. Shortly after my emancipation from the neck torture device, I was moved to another section just hours before being released. A young man rushed into my new room with a full urinal and asked my name. When I gave him my name he smiled and said, lifting the urinal as if to say cheers to a toast, “this follows you were ever you go.” Hmmm…not such a good thought. I hope they didn’t expect me to take it home.

Finally, I was given paper scrubs and asked to go for a walk to ensure I was ready to leave. At this time, the pain medication had worn off for sometime and I was in excruciating pain. But, I was leaving and I didn’t want to say anything that would cause me to stay. I said my good-byes to as many of the staff member as I could; especially Harold. Then a rather handsome man was there to wheelchair me out of the building. Outside while waiting for Panky’s car to take me home, I learned that my escort was in pre-med at Johns Hopkins and wanted to be a doctor. I wished him the very and awkwardly shook his hand using my left. I painfully got into the car and within seconds was on my way home. I was in shock trauma for over 8 hours.

I would like to thank everyone who took part in helping me at the scene and who treating me at the hospital. What an amazing job! I know now why the University of Maryland has one of the best shock trauma centers! Thank you for being so kind to me and making feel…human. I’ve been to a lot of other medical facilities and not one could remotely compare to my experience at University of Maryland Medical Center. In addition, a big thanks to Panky for ensuring me that I’m not alone. Finally, thanks to my mother and my aunt for visiting me and not freaking out. Especially for not freaking out! Cheers!!

Blowing Bubbles in Bonaire

2008-06-15T11:47:00.002-05:00

Gently, I rolled over to look upward. The wavy surface above was distant and gave off a slight jewel like glistening from the sun on the other side. With a relaxed exhale, I watched the bubbles dance their way up toward the surface. They seem to take so long to go up. The sound of the regulator passing air into my lung is comfort and almost hypnotic. For a moment, it was frightening to acknowledge my depth. It’s as if I’m at some great height and fear that I may fall; but in reverse. Weightless as an astronaut, it took very little effort to roll back over. I take a moment to look over my gages to see I that have 2200 psi of air in my tank and I’m at 84 feet below the ocean surface. My body is absorbing much more nitrogen at this depth, so my time is limited. With that thought, I continue my exploration of the Hilma Hooker ship wreck. I check with the rest of my divers to be sure they are doing well; communicating through hand signals.

It is simply amazing how sea life has taken over this ship. Formation of coral and sponges are now growing everywhere. Fish are now using it, as if it is just another part of nature. Tarpon, almost the size of the average diver, wait for unsuspecting smaller fish to feed on were the starboard side of the ship meets the ocean floor. It is truly a remarkable sight to see. At this depth, colors are less vibrant. Everything is blue in this world; a deep shade of blue. To look over the interior of the ship, I have to use a night dive light which is strapped to my Buoyancy Control Device (BCD) vest. When the light hits the ships surface, colors of all sorts seem to pop out; most of which are of a rusty reddish color. In some ways, it’s now hard to imagine that this ship was fully functional. Even though the Hilma Hooker was sunk on purpose for SCUBA diver’s pleasure, it’s still an impressive sight to see; or at least for the novice such as myself. After investigating the bridge through a porthole, we moved forward and port of the ship slowly ascending to 65 feet. With slow exploring eyes, we watched the world carry on around the ship until finally we met with a wall of coral that slowly ascended upward.

A wall of coral is like an underwater metropolis for sea life. It is a city over crowded with more forms of life than any city we would find in the world. To add, life lives within other forms of life. It can be visually overwhelming. One could explore a 5-foot radius for an hour and not find all there is to see. As we follow the wall upward, it finally levels off slightly and begins a very gradual slop toward the shore. We were approximately 15 to 20 feet from the surface and stopped here for a few minutes to give our bodies a chance to release nitrogen and adjust to the pressure. At this depth, light is much brighter and therefore colors are brilliant. Life is slight different and tends to be fun and interesting to watch. Unfortunately, the current is a bit stronger and can cause drifting while hovering in a weightless state. Finally, with a few hand signals to my fellow divers we began our slow ascent to the surface by swimming along the ocean floor toward the shore line for a short bit. Looking up and watching the surface come closer is breathtaking if you really think about it. You can feel your body pressure change and you are literally breaking into another world. To me, I imagine it to be like an after death experience. It’s as if you have died and was told by some beautiful angle that your time has not yet come and you must go back.

When I reached the surface, I looked over at shore line of Bonaire. For the most part, Bonaire is a dessert island. Unless you are a SCUBA diver, there is really very little for the vacationer; at least for a week. There really is not beach because the shore is covered in rock and coral. Some are able to windsurf and kayak between Bonaire and Klein Bonaire; a smaller island about half a mile away. Bonaire is a pretty amazing place, even though there is very little to it. The people who live on the island are, for the most part, nice to deal with. However, sometimes you do get the feeling that they really don’t care for tourists, especially the Dutch. Bonaire is part of the Dutch Antilles, some refer to as the ABC Islands (Aruba, Bonaire, and Curacao). The islanders like a slower pace of life yet do not like rules being broken and disrespect. Some of the vacationers, namely the Dutch, tend to ignore what the islander’s prefer and can be rather pushy. This, of course, causes tension. But, the kind-hearted American that I am, I experienced very little of the annoyance. Patience, courtesy, and respect can go a long way. I believe a lot of people who travel should keep this in mind; especially Americans.

As for the diving, it was incredible! I became a certified Open Water Diver on May 4. For my certification, I went diving at the Millbrook Quarry in Virginia with Panky as my dive partner. I knew the water would be very cold, but I had no idea I would loose all control over my body due to my shaking so much. To add to the 42-degree water, visibility was about 6 to 7 feet. The water was incredibly murky. I did learn a lot during my certification. First, cold water is a serious weakness of mine. Second, I’m a warm water diver. Third, if you cannot see what you are diving into, what the fuck is the use? I prefer clear water. Visibility in Bonaire was around 70 to 80 feet in most places. Final lesson learned: urinating in your wetsuit can only keep you warm for a few minutes. Joy!!!!

A Moment to Feast

2008-05-14T10:06:00.003-05:00

I’m hungry! It’s a hunger that could probably never be satisfied. But I will let it out to see if I can come close. Excuse me while I press and pull the very thing that makes you uncomfortable. Maybe that’s what I’m hear for…the torture. I’ll give it to you and maybe you’ll see a piece of my death.

How do you feel about life…you know that day to day thing you wake-up to only feel… What? What is it? Is it that silence you can’t stand? Or how about those faces you see day in and day out? The words that are spoken, can they tell the truth about things, your surroundings, or yourself? How about this, do you even have the guts to know the answers? If not, how can you say you know yourself? Where the fuck are you and what the fuck do you want? You only have a moment on the earth to find out.

Speaking of knowing, what do you really know? Is it all a lie? I want to know the love! I want to know the adventure! I want to know is it true you only know life when you are close to death. Do I dare to risk? Do you dare? Would it matter to someone who is lifeless anyhow? So many lost souls I pass each day. So many of those without souls who keep walking through life, I pass everyday. Find your home lost ones and maybe you’ll find peace; for nothing else in this world can grant it.

Lick around the pain! Gather the debris of your past and tell me it doesn’t hurt. Go ahead…lie about it and tell me that it feels better now. Why not make love with a demon for the night and tell it you love it for all its unfortunate attributes. Embraces the fires of passion for its wrong doing with pride and recognize that you need to know. It’s all ok if you understand the animal and its purpose. We all have it.

What about me, my dearest love. I think about all those that have past before my eyes and my thighs with a sweetness that I could only know. Did you enjoy the show? Was it good for you or do you hate like most in the world? Have we not learned a lesson from all this? Remember, how you promised me… What was it that you promised? Tell me. I want to hear it from your lips as if it was yesterday. How about that kiss that dropped a heart through the earth into molting lava? Oh wait, did you not feel that? Thank you for the thick skin. I hope you got it in your eye. I’m no longer so fucking eager.

Still I love and try. Those in the know, know, but fight with me. They stand by my side from even beyond the grave. They love and try just the same. We fight for what’s left only to hate those in hate and burn those who have burnt others. However, trust is so few and wavering. Where are the eyes that don’t hide, but only reveal honor? Do you dare reveal yours? Bare your heart and soul in the name of faith. Or has faith left you as it has left so many those devout. I can no longer fall on my knees…

Honor among Friends

2008-05-01T14:11:00.004-05:00

In my youth, I remember my mother telling me she didn’t really have close friends anymore. There were only a small number of people my mother would spend time with outside of the family. She did have one friend, Lydia, with whom she trusted and would spend time with. As the years moved on, the time they spent together decreased. Once my mother divorced my father, she spent little time with anyone outside of the family. It was a sad thing to me because my friends meant the world to me.

I’m reminded of this because of a conversation I had with my dear Panky. Ever since he has moved out to Maryland, he has noticed a change with his friends. The number of friends has become smaller and the ones that do remain have very little interaction with him. Is this the mark of time and age? I ask because I have noticed the same with me years ago. My guitarist in the band mentioned this same thing briefly in a conversion. Why? I do ask because it’s really a painful thing for all. I look back at my previous days with my old friends and I begin to weep. We were inseparable. The level of loyalty and honor between us is unmatched with today’s world. My time in the US Marine Corps could not even compare. I would have given my life for my friends. To this day if my oldest friend, Rick, called on me and needed my help I would not think twice.

So tell me, why the change? What is going on? Is it age? Is it the sign of the times? I’ve been told a few reasons, or excuses, before that I really don’t believe. My favorite excuse is “I got married.” Look, if you got married to someone who has an issue with you living your life the way you want, you should not have gotten married to that person in the first place. Fuck you and your lame excuse. That goes for those who have been dating someone exclusively too. Major Fuck You for that excuse!!! Ok, if you have kids, I can understand your time being limited. However, you need to let them go once in a while to enjoy life. You are no good to anyone if you are not good to yourself. Also, distance is understandable to a certain extent. No, living in DC does not count. Leave the fucking city once in a while you fucking lazy ass! Look, I have friends in Australia (that’s the other side of the world) with whom I set up time to see during our travels. There really is no excuse for distance.

With the passing of time, we do tend to drift away from our loved ones and our closest friends. For me, it really hurts because it was my friends that help me through life. I suppose I feel some abandonment because of the growing distance or complete separation. The one thing that has really devastated me has been the loss of friends. When Connor passed away, I felt extremely alone. Actually, at times I still feel alone. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about him. He was always there for me; unconditionally. We can learn a lot from animals. I believe they are much more smarter than we think.

When one of my best friends passed away, Jennifer Juico, I was in shock for a year. After a year, I finally broke down in Cozumel, Mexico while on vacation. I had been holding it in for so long. It felt amazing to let it out but it was incredibly painful too. For the remaining portion of my trip I drank, and got pretty wasted. Shortly after, I had to deal with the anger of losing her. Her husband had shot and killed her, and then killed himself. Her son Christopher, at about age 3, found his parents covered in blood. A dear friend came to the door early morning for the routine carpool to work finding Jennifer’s son and daughter crying. She was told by Christopher that, “mommy won’t wake up and she’s all red.” Her death seemed meaningless and left everyone with no answers. I have lost a number of friends. Usually the cause of death was by suicide, car crashes, or drug overdose. Since she was like a sister to me, I took it very hard.

Now, do we let time, age, distance, significant others, and work take us away from the people that are important to us? Or, do we make the effort to stay in touch? Is it so easy to let it all slip away? We don’t know when it will all end. Can we not spare a few moments? This world has too much separation and isolation as it is. We don’t seem to want any ties to anyone anymore. It seems like the only way we can come together is through some kind of disaster or death. Why is that? Why does it take a horrible event to bring people together? Think of it, some friends and families never see each other unless someone dies. Communities become cohesive and bound when a natural disaster occurs. Where as normal circumstances may prove the opposite. Why can we not hold onto each other for the good of things? It’s really kind of interesting and really fucked up. Something to think about huh….

A Song for the Masses

2008-04-29T09:08:00.003-05:00

So many people need this song. Consider it some kind of prayer for those who are living life blindly and in denial. So many souls lost and so may people without a soul. To me it's a true sin not to find yourself and/or face the truth. No more games people, wake the fuck up and show yourself. This song was written about two years ago and was released on my band's first CD.

Misery

I am the fear that burns inside you
Striking your heart, I am the one you pray to.
Take a good look and find what defines you
Is it the truth or false hope guiding you.
Is it your faith that moves you onward?
Blindly it takes you, can you question it.
Do what they tell you without regard
And find that your life is a fucked up lie.

Being and Living in Misery

Is there a hope for your redemption?
Can you find a place of serenity?
Feel that your hurt is pushing you further,
This is the point you can’t escape from.
Hide if you want to in false security
Tied to the chains given by society
Deny what’s real if it brings you comfort
And live off the blood of broken souls.

Being and Living in Misery

Oh…can we pull through
Burning in our hearts
Find what will free you
Let go of Misery.

Bound to ideas you think are your own and
Troubled and tossed to bitter tides.
Torn sensations of love and hatred
Brought to the edge of lost beguiles.
Beating you down, on your knees again and
Bow to the words of the tragic souls.
Think what they tell you, see what’s inside you
Know that your life’s a fucked up lie

Being and Living in Misery

Oh…can we pull through
Burning in our hearts
Find what will free you
Let go of Misery.

Lyrics Written By: Wraith
Music By: SI

The Rules are Different Now...

2008-04-18T14:14:00.009-05:00

In our youth, at least for me, you think very little about life security and health. Death is there, but seems like a distant monster that rarely shows it's face. Of course, this changes with age. You become more aware of the endless possibilities of death, disease, serious injury and the limitation we face as humans. Yet, risk plays a beautiful part in that picture and can be a fun game. I cannot tell you how many times I've put my life on the line in the name of thrills; or as some may fondly refer to as stupidity. I'll agree to the stupidity part to a certain extent. I believe there has to be some level of risk in life or life just isn't worth living. I'm sure this will become apparent with my future entries.

With time things begin to change, naturally. Psychologically speaking, some may increase their risk with the increase of age in an attempt to recapture or hold onto youth. There are also some that play it really safe and don't want to even look at anything that could be remotely dangerous. Personally, I like a happy medium, or bit of calculated risk. What ever the case may be, we cannot deny time and the Reaper. With regards to time, there are physical aspects of age that are inevitable; much to my dismay. However I must state that I'm very thankful for the blessings of my physical state; but no one is perfect.

Due to my struggles of getting an education and basic life survival, I went many years without medical of any kind. Naturally, there were certain aspects of my life that had to be checked out regularly. For example, I would get tested for STD's at the Whitman Walker Clinic on certain days because it was free. Now that I've been in a stable position and out of debt, I've been able to take advantage of medical. Of course, I rushed out to get myself look at in every way as soon as I was able. The news from all my doctors was the same, "you are in great health but because of your age, the rules are different now." Yes, age.... sigh.... Perish the thought of getting old. I've already been informed by my mother and the person who cuts my hair that I now have grey hair. Now, this means an increased frequency of visits to the masochistic dentists who wants to ask me questions while there are 3 or 4 items in my mouth. More visits to the eye doctor who cannot hear what I'm saying so me telling him what the letters are on the wall is useless. To top it all off, more visits with Dr. jellyfingers. I just wish he would at least buy me dinner before he fingers me.

I suppose it could be worse. I am healthy after all! I still feel damn good. Compared to some of the men I went to high school with, I look fucking amazing! Sorry if I offended any of my high school mates....wait...no, I'm not sorry. Fuck you!! I never liked high school and most of the fucking people in it anyway. Oh yes, my pubic hair isn't turning grey yet and my balls don't touch the cold toilet water when I sit down to take-a-shit (you know you're old when this happens). I still have a small perky ass and I'm not suffering from erectile dysfunction. My pectorals are still firm too. Lastly, I still fit in the same size clothes I did back when I was in high school. Ok, ok, ok I've been blessed. But, still fear the Reaper and I know time is short. One day I will wake up and it'll all be gone. The rules are different now and I admit to feeling some of it. I can say that the Reaper has got one hell-of-a fight on his hands with me. I'm the Wraith...

Welcom back!

2008-04-11T14:14:00.009-05:00

It's hard to believe it's been almost three years since my last blog entiry. So much has happened since than; I don't know where to begin. To tell you the truth, I hardly begun the first time. What the hell is up with that? Long story...

I do know that I have felt the need to express myself again. Lately, I've spent a lot of time on self-reflection. To add, philosophy, ideas, people, my place in the world, the state of things and things to come have been swimming around in my mind for some time now. Kind of fucking nuts. So, I should pour it all out, right. I mean, a lot of people seem to want to know about my world and all the shit that goes down. So many people want to see the Wraith exposed. Be careful what you want...it just might come true.

I was looking back at my 5 blogs from 2005 and getting a kick out of it. I wanted to remove them and start fresh. Maybe have something fantastic to kick-off a new beginning. But that's not real life is it. We like to think so...but it's not. It just goes on with the past taking it's part in the future. Yes, those words are a part of my past and it is a part of who I am today. Before you can go forward, you most know and understand where you have been. Please read and get a good laugh; or not. I will say this, with age I have become more salty. This may not be pretty. I believe in some cases I was being nice with those blogs. I will give you something to read, if you dare. Life is a beautiful thing. But some of the details may not be so beautiful. Actually, very ugly.

So, what has happend? Because there is so much, I will be extremely brief. Plus, I'm sure this shit will come out in later entries. For the past 3 years I have gotten out of over $1800.00 of debt (in a little over a year), landed a job, had 2 major promotions, bought a house, renovated my house (still in the works), released a CD of original music with my band, received my motorcycle license, bought a motorcycle, vacation for weeks in Australia, met an incredible person (I like to call Panky), Scuba certification (almost done), and watched a very dear loved one pass away in my arms; Connor. Connor was, and still is, my world. I miss him more than anyone could probably image. I hope to see him when it's my turn to move on. I love you Connor McCloed.

OUTside Looking In

2005-06-28T21:21:00.001-05:00

I cannot begin to explain how lonely my world can get. Sometimes, it seems that I’m always on the OUTside looking into other environments and worlds. Why is that? Simply, I don’t fit into most places; or I just don't feel I fit. It seems I'm a man without a home. I know, I know…this does not explain much does it. All I can say is that there are many different aspects of me. There are so many parts that are housed in one location; me. Because of this, I usually find groups or communities to be too extreme, along with their actions and/or way of thinking.

For starters, let us begin with one aspect that is very important in today’s society; sex. I’m gay? Or, am I bisexual? What ever the case maybe, lets just say I'm of an alternative sexual orientation. Why do I not know if I’m gay or bisexual you ask? First of all, it’s because I never thought it was very important to classify myself. Sexual orientation does not define me; it’s just a part of my life. I still think women are extremely attractive and have had many relationships with them; however; in most cases I find myself with men. This is not to say I would never sleep with a woman again; it’s just the opportunities are usually no where to be found. If I was forced to pick my orientation, I would have to say I was gay because of the dominate factor of men in my life. Plus, there is a certain comfort that comes with being with a man. The sad thing about being gay is that I don’t fit into the common life style found in the community.

My life is so different from a lot of the gay men I meet. One thing that is really off center is that fact that I like rock music. Not only do I like rock music, but I’m the lead singer in a rock band. Gay men love music but their taste doesn’t often find its way into the genre of rock, much less performing it. In addition, I’m a little more on the rough edge of life. Meaning, I’m not so polished (as most gay men may think) nor do I care about such things. For example, clothing lines, TV shows, furniture, books, bars and events of choice by most gay men do not interest me in the slightest. Now, I do admit, this may be a possible issue with geographic location.

Most of my interaction with the gay community comes from Washington, DC and Baltimore, MD. Washington gay community is especially difficult to handle. I could go on and on about the negative aspects of this community but for now, let’s just say that I’d rather not waste my energy. One good thing I can say is that I have some very special friends who live in or around the DC area. The Baltimore gay community seems to be a bit friendlier. On occasion, when I’m out at a bar in Baltimore, someone may come up to me and just want to talk and buy me a drink. That’s it; nothing more to it. Things like that don’t happen in DC unless the person wanted something from me (sex). They also seem to be a bit more diverse in taste and life.

Now, I realize that these are implications that may not hold true to some, but these are the common experiences I usually find. As I may have mentioned, my friends are the best thing in my life. Whether they are gay or straight, they have been by my side through thick and thin. My gay friends are genuine (true to themselves) and most don’t involve themselves with the common gay community. They are individuals of growth and lovers of life. I love them very much. With that, I often wonder, why I can find excellent friends that are gay but cannot find a decent boyfriend? I'll have to think about this one...

The Show Must Go On

2005-06-05T18:22:00.001-05:00

The day was pretty comfortable. I was not nervous about the show that I would have to perform that evening. As usual, we had a long night ahead of us. I left for Upper Marlboro to help pack up our gear for the show. It’s a long process of packing and loading. We started loading our gear around 4 pm. By the time we got to the venue in Glen Burnie, MD it was 6 pm. We grabbed a quick bit to eat and then began to unload. Set up took us to nearly 9 pm. Our show was supposed to start at 9:30 pm.

My guitarist was in pain throughout the evening. I suppose we should consider ourselves lucky considering he had been on his back on week. Somehow, he had hurt his back the weekend before. Throughout the week the band was worried that he may not be able to perform. Two days before the show he had been given cortisone shot and a prescription of percocet. He was in a good amount of pain throughout the evening, but the man still rocked on.

As for me, I was dealing with some kind of sinus problem. Usually I deal with allergies for about 2 to 4 weeks in the spring. Sometime in the fall as well. I thought I was clear because I had my moment back in April but something else hit me a week before the gig. As a result I started taking 4 different medications for my problem. If I can help it, I usually don’t like to take drugs for anything. However, I need something to get me through the week and during the gig. The medicines that I was taking had driedme out really bad; not good for a singer. It caused some irritation and by the next morning I found myself coughing up mucus with traces of blood.

The evening was difficult but very rewarding. It was good to be back on stage with my friends. The venue loved us and word got back to Starleigh Entertainment. We are now a wanted band and are starting to get offers. I know there is still a lot of work but I’m sure we can do it. That evening (or morning) I didn’t get home until 4:45 am. We stopped playing around 1:30 am. Then we relaxed and talked to a few people. Around 2 am we started packing up the gear. We drove back to our practice space to unload, which took about 45 minutes. What a long evening. As crazy as it sounds I’m looking forward to more.

The Band Takes the Stage

2005-06-03T23:46:00.001-05:00

The band hasn’t set foot on stage to perform before an audience since September 4th of last year. Now we have a gig set for this Saturday, June 4th. In addition, there will be agents around to hear us play. Starleigh Entertainment has set up a showcase gig for us to show are stuff. It’s time for us to be heard after so much down time.

It all started with the firing of our old drummer. He was a bit of a disappointment in the area of personality, business, fan interaction, looks (he stuck out like a sore thumb) and hygiene. Yes, he was a slob in many ways. However, he was an ok drummer. In most cases, it takes more than talent or experience to be a part of a band. It’s much like a potential relationship or dating partner. Yes the sex maybe great, but you can’t build anything long-term on that one simple point.

The band started in February of 2004. It’s been a great road and we had played 2 gigs before firing the drummer. We were a big hit!! The amount of energy and time we put into it is staggering. In addition, we have become really close. Now with the new drummer, who we hired in November of 2004, we have big hopes of being heard. Now, on the eve of our performance, I’m just sitting around in my room thinking just how far we’ve come. I’m not really nervous about the show; I’m excited to be on stage again with my band. Let’s see what happens…

The Changing Tide

2005-05-30T08:22:00.001-05:00

It’s amazing how quickly the tides can change on the waters of life. One minute you could be resting quietly on a cozy raft upon gentile water, feeling the warm sun and a cool breeze on your body. If you are lucky, there may be someone special with you on this raft; caressing one another as you float along. However, within minutes your moment of peace can be whipped clean as an unexpected change in tide and/or weather can reveal disaster, maybe even certain death. For me, the change in tide is a constant thing. For me, there seems to be more rough waters in my life and as a result I have very little faith in peace. In some cases I’m tired of it all; fighting to keep myself a float.

Last week I found a writing of mine that I had stored on a computer disc. I remember it well because I wrote it a little over a year ago. It was in the form of a journal entry. I created it with the notion that I may soon start an online journal such as this. Obviously, I never got around to doing it. The writing was amazingly calm and sweet. I was referring to a high point in my life. At that time, I had put myself through college and graduated a couple of months ago. In addition to my prideful achievement, I had just got my own apartment, landed a job in my field of study, had a great roommate, met someone with whom I thought would be a love interest and joined a local rock band as the lead singer. I wrote that “this may very well be the highest point of my life.” This lasted through most of the year but was ripped away so easily and quickly. The tide had changed and whipped everything clean. Well…not everything. I actually held on to few things, I’m still the lead singer in kick ass rock band.

So you might say I’m recovering from another great fall. Yes another… You see, it’s been a crazy rollercoaster of a life. My experiences and friends I’ve made are the best things in my life. However, I would gladly change the situations. It’s incomprehensible. I’ve stayed up many nights pondering why I end up in some of the most fucked up situations. Believe me; it’s nice to look back at find clues leading up to the events. The frustration is when you see no reason for things to happen the way they do. In fact, the frustration can turn into anger when you’ve done everything right and all should have lead to positive results. I can accept that I have a 50/50 chance of things going wrong; but, when everything seems to lead to shit you begin to wonder. Well as my bass player says, “Sometimes shit just happens.”

I survive my falls mostly because of the generosity of my friends. They are always there for me. I owe them everything. If anything, I have been truly blessed with the greatest friends in the world. They are more then a lifesaver; they are my life. Without them I don’t think I’d be alive today.

The Introduction

2005-05-21T20:00:00.000-05:00

Lots of people, both family and friends, have asked many questions about what goes on in my life. At times, I find myself telling many stories about my life and what has gone on through the years. The idea about going public has intrigued me for quite a while; so, here it is. The door is open, dare you walk through it that's the question. You may find that it's not as exciting as you think. You may find out things you didn't really want to know about me. What ever the case may be here you may find love, hate, dangers, sex, fantasy, pain, happiness, humor, indulgence and more for your reading enjoyment. I'm going to pure my life to you all; so, that the story will be told from the source.

Of course this is a good for me as well. It's a form of catharsis, which is much needed. I want to get it out. Perhaps I'm screaming inside and I want to be heard. Let's see who really listens to what's being said. However, don't look to deep; you may get lost. There is also the chance of over analyzing the words that I write. I can tell you this much, misinterpretation can be a horrible thing. If you have any questions, ask and I will be sure to answer all.