Gobo Fraggle – An Alcoholic’s Savior

fuck cancer

So, I will admit this might appear to be all over the place.  It’s not.  Surprisingly this all fits together rather nicely.  Or horribly, depending on how fucked up you are.  If you are this thing called normal, you’ll find all of this to be rather insane and maybe even freak you out.  I guess I’ll just explain these items individually and then I think you’ll see how they fit together.

the alcoholic stuff

In case I haven’t mentioned this enough in my posts…  I was an out of control, seriously fucked up, practicing alcoholic for a very long time, pretty much from the first day I tasted the stuff until the last time I did, close to 7 years ago.  This post is about getting real.  A year ago, I went through the whole ‘alcoholic thing’.  Now it’s taken a year but I need to get out with stuff.  I didn’t stop being fucked up at that point, I just stopped drinking, but, hey, I’m still workin on it.  I loved the stuff at 17 when I tried it and I wanted more the very instant it started working.  More, more, more, more.  That’s me.  I don’t care if gin tastes like crap, I’ll take a gallon.  Towards the end there a handle of vodka would be gone in 24 hours.  I turned 30 in March of 2010.  For my birthday party in late March I got probably 10m bottles of vodka as presents (not a sign or anything).  All but the final one were left by April when ‘it’ happened.  That final bottle had maybe enough for one of your normal people to have a nightcap, whatever that is…. So, the world in which I lived was sad, lonely and filled with self-loathing, jealousy, anger and so much doubt.  It was filled with fear and anxiety.  You see, I gave all the power to alcohol and drugs.  I say drugs because first of all, it’s true, but secondly it wasn’t just alcohol.  But in the end, that WAS the drug of choice.

Nothing else gave me what I thought was control like it did.  I lived for drinking.  Even though I didn’t drink every day.  I didn’t drink most mornings.  However, everything I did was based around either drinking, thinking about or planning my next drinking or being so hungover from drinking that I became an extremely unreliable person.  It’s a world that some understand, some do not and some are in right now.  What is interesting is that you probably don’t know which category most people fall into.  If you want more details, perhaps I’ll make a post called ‘puking blood: my bachelor party in Vegas’, that ought to really entice people to read my shit.  The other interesting thing is that there are some people who read that title and are so shocked and in awe that they say things like, “I never knew, I can’t believe that, that’s crazy, must be an exaggeration.”  There are those that will say, “Ya, it can be like that.”  Perhaps the third group is so disgusted they stop reading, I don’t know.  Again, perhaps whatever normal people are, deny the existence of such things or think that is just “so sad”.  Well, you’re right, it is sad, it IS fucked up.  If you couldn’t handle that, stop reading, it gets worse before it gets better.

Oh, the last night…. people ask, it’s so dramatic, it’s such a story…. Ok so no one really asks, they don’t care, want to know or even know there is such a question to ask.  It’s not so fun though.  It involves a ton, and I mean a ton of vodka.  I’d put good money on the fact that you’ve never drank this much vodka in one night.  The blackout started probably 75% into the evening, as it did a lot.  Then, it involved a knife and an arm…  This is where I stop for the moment to rewind a bit.  I must dive into topic #2 – fuck cancer.

the disease I didn’t have

My sister’s former fiancé passed away in January of 2010 from cancer.  The battle was long and was fought very hard.  My sister was an inspiration due to her strength during the battle and after the end.  I’d rather not go into detail, but we were with him on his last day.  He was 26.  His name was Dave.  As a lot of alcoholics do, I used any and every reason to drink, but this was the most difficult thing I had to deal with, for the most part, in my life to that point.  It was so hard and it fueled my drinking like nothing ever had before.  It pushed me off the deep end and brought me into a world of not caring about much of anything anymore.  I drank because I was sad and I was sad and I drank a lot.  There were not many good days those few months after that event.  One never truly gets over it, we just thank God for each day we had with him and for every day we are still here we treasure.  So, out of respect for my sister and Dave, I’d rather not go into much more detail about the situation, but you get it and I hate the fucking disease.

the alcoholic’s savior part II

So…that plunge into the deep end.  That night.  I didn’t think of suicide, nor did I feel the option was one I considered.  I was too scared, I’d rather feel sorry for myself, hate myself and have more reasons to drink.  But it got to be where I no longer cared about anything and just to feel something, anything, I took a kitchen knife and began to cut my arm, my hand, just to feel something, but I couldn’t.  I even knocked over a glass stumbling around.  I used the shards of glass to make more damage.  I was lucky, my wonderful Bailey was still around and somehow knew to make enough commotion downstairs to my wife that she figured something must be wrong.  She found me, bloodied, delusional and out of my mind.  I had reach surrender mode.  Off to the hospital.  I was no longer in control.  This was the end of it.  Admit me, put me in the psych ward, my decision.  The end.  Well, so much more but for the story, drop almost 7 years down next.  Not 7 easy years.  Ups and downs but no alcohol, that one thing I can say with 100% truth.  I’m not perfect, not even close.  I just got lucky that I was able to get out of the life.  But I am here to tell you, that stuff can put its grip on you and sweep you away.  You have no idea the power it can have on some people.  If you are lucky to never know that feeling, cherish that fact.  I still have to take care of myself every day, fill my life with positive things and, of course, not fucking drink.  But I never think, not even for one day, that this is a given.  I cannot.

So, the savior.  I haven’t completely addressed that, nor the most confusing part of all, the main title, GOBO Fraggle.

GOBO FraggleGobo-fraggle

As I stated before, Dave’s passing created a world that was hard to navigate or understand for me.  I drank so much after that.  I used alcohol as such a way to escape but yet then as soon as I was loaded up, it was my way to cry and be sadder than ever.  When I quit drinking I realized that, I believe, on of, if not THE main reason I got so bad was because of his passing.  In this regard, I look at him as one of the people who eventually helped me in possibly direct or indirect ways.  For me, he was my savior in so many ways.

On the one year anniversary, my family and I visited Dave in Chicago.  I’ll never forget my father, crying and standing in front of Dave’s resting place.  Among other things, he said “thank you” and turned to me as if looking for affirmation that he was, indeed, a serious catalyst to my new life.  He was correct.  It was one of the life moments you never forget.

The rest of our trip, my sister, wife and my parents, traveled to Galena, a favorite place of Dave and my sister’s.  My wife was pregnant with our first son at the time.  One thing we did while shopping was to buy a handful of stuffed animals for the baby.  We found a store that carried a few Fraggle Rock characters, a show I grew up loving.  We found a terrific GOBO Fraggle doll and we knew immediately what to call him – Dave.  So, years later when my son, Finn, started to speak, we told him the stuffed animal’s name was Dave.  Well, now Finn is 5 and a half and enjoys Fraggle Rock and knows the character’s name is GOBO.  He asked me the other day why I keep calling him Dave and I told him about the special person in mommy and daddy’s life that the doll represents.  He represents so much more than I can tell him right now, but that, too, is for another day.

I’ve felt compelled to write this story for a while now and I hope you know it comes from the heart and a place of truth.  Life is a crazy ride and frankly, I am emotionally drained now from getting this all out.  If you read this whole thing, I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know.  Feel free to re-post or share with anyone who may be going through anything like this.  I’m here and it’s been 2547 days since I drank alcohol.  That’s at least a good start….

the day after christmas

Living in a constant state of anticipation would make a person go mad.  So, we have the long buildup to a holiday or celebration, then we have the payoff, the big finale!  But what’s that feeling after it happens.  That day after when we are standing in a pile of trash and the sun is coming up and we’re tired?  The same holds true for going on vacation or selling a house.  (I just so happen to have done all of these things within three months.)

For now, I’d like to focus on my recent move.  Let’s dissect the insanity, if you will journey with me down another road inside of my psyche, otherwise known as the scary place, mostly to me and anyone out there who may be actually paying attention to these riffs I project into the cosmos.

moving, what a dumb thing we do

Life is a constant state of moving on.  One grade to the next, one friend to the next (if you’re lucky you hang on to some) one house to the next.  We move from one year to the next.  That one goes a lot quicker than I realized when I was younger.  Let’s focus, a hard task for me.  Stay on point and understand we are trying to talk about moving from one house to the next right now.
Well, it took about a year from start to finish when I think back.  The conversations started about more space, better neighborhood and so on…  so let’s go for it.  What they forget to mention is that selling your first house isn’t like buying your first house.  (Ok, our wonderful real estate agent not only DID mention it, she stressed it and asked if we were certain we wanted to do this.)  So, you spend time and money and you make your house so nice that you question why you’re selling it in the first place, at least wondering why you didn’t live this way in the first place.  Then the ups and downs.  Then the offer and counter offer and counter offer and inspections and why the fuck are we doing this I’m losing my fucking mind part…

 

when you see a gun, and other emotions that are super!

I believe in signs and I try to listen to them when I believe I see them.  Before we moved I saw a sign that gave me pause.  I never felt in danger or scared where we lived, but I am also aware of the world around me.  As I was enjoying one of our last Sundays in our house with my children, I noticed a neighbor’s teenager in his car, outside my house, holding a gun.  He just had it.  Had nothing to do with me.  But that was it.  It scared me.  I’ve had a gun pointed at me before and it is not something I particularly prefer.  So, I walked outside, pretending to clean up or something, just to show them that I was aware of their presence, and these kids, mostly politely, decided to move on from that location.  But I decided in that moment that we had made the right decision.

Back to the sold sign on the door.  The date is set and now it’s time to hurry. Find a new place, pack it ALL up, everything.  Figure it all out, and oh don’t forget to, well, live your fucking life and take care of your everything else during this process too.  Kid starts kindergarten, sure, why not throw that in.  Then the date draws closer and you forgot you had other emotions besides frustration and anger and anxiety.  You have sadness. You see the spots where things happened.  You see the spots where kids learned to walk, talk. You see where you grew up and had late nights and fun days.  You see the summer projects you worked on together that you hope the next people appreciate on some level.  You see where you last said your goodbyes to your puppy.  (I still miss him so much.)  You begin to feel everything, maybe even question again, but for another reason…  but it’s time to move on, as we started this saying.  It is hard for me because I see the memories in the places they happened and, however crazy, fear that when I leave that place behind that the memories may stay too.  So we moved.  That last day I believe fate gave me the last moments alone in that house and I took them.  I walked the rooms and I wept like a baby.  Oh, it was an ugly cry for the ages.  But it was necessary.  I couldn’t have let go without it.  And that’s that.  Besides the redesigning your entire life in a new place.  But that’s moving for me.  I hope your tougher than I am if you take on this adventure.

the post for my son

your dad

As I sit here feeling compelled to write this letter to you, I also feel the need to tell you I love you more than you could ever know.  You are 5.    Someday you may read this.  You need to understand what an extraordinary person you are.  You have a perspective on life that I am in awe of, which I am blown away by.  You roll with the punches like I have never seen.  I’ve seen you deal with situations that would devastate my sense of self and yet, you focus on the one or two moments of enjoyment.  I don’t want you to lose that, ever.  It will take you places, places you’ve never dreamed of.  You have inspired me once again to finally get back to something I love to do and put my thoughts out into the world.  So, I want you to know some things about your dad as he is today, as I am today and who I was.

 

the awkward kid and meaningless phrases

I’ve lived my entire life knowing that I am awkward.  It’s incredible that I latched on to the friends I did in high school that I still talk to every day.  People say cherish each moment in life, hold on to them, hold on to time.  This phrase, this concept is meaningless to me.  I shouldn’t say meaningless because it certainly provides me with anxiety, stress and probably an over exaggerated sense of questioning and failure.  So maybe not meaningless, it is more so infuriating.  “Did I do today right?  Did I create the best day for myself and those around me?”  Excuse me if I ever say this bullshit to you, son, because I hate it.  I’m not going to fly to fucking Mars every second of the day.  (Sorry for cursing)  This concept of cherishing and maximizing each moment is unrealistic and, in my opinion, impossible.  So don’t say shit to people that you can’t even follow yourself.  (As a side note, I probably say this crap too….and here it comes)

The truth is you really won’t believe how quickly it goes.  But you need to enjoy the ride.  Perhaps that is just another way of saying cherish each moment, but I believe my point is that instead of trying to live up to the world’s expectations and posing for the cameras, make the whole picture something beautiful.  When you take on a task, you will mess up, you will fail, you will get frustrated, but stay with it, finish it.  In the end, the result should be something you’re proud of.  I believe life works this way too.  Whatever you do, do it with passion, integrity and respect for others.  You do not have to worry about how you will be perceived.

Be odd, be silly, be goofy and don’t ever stop.  You’re so amazing at it now, don’t ever stop.  Let someone else be normal.  I’m not going to be, I never have been.  I don’t even know what normal would be.  I don’t want to be normal; I want to be the least normal person you know.  I am not saying I wear it as a badge of honor, I am saying I am odd, I am goofy, I am silly and I am almost 37 years old and I am not going to ever stop.  Normal sounds like a fate worse than……well it just sounds boring.  People don’t stop and notice someone ‘being normal’ on the street and say, “Boy, that is one normal guy; I wish I was more like him.  He’s memorable.”  They don’t say that.  People, that is.  Anyway….

 

it’s not weird to be weird

As I have grown, the reality has stayed the same that I am still the awkward kid who doesn’t think he can talk to people or make new friends.  That hasn’t changed, I just know how to make myself look good for the cameras and I can typically fake it enough to get by.  Early on in life I found ways to combat my fears and turn them into positives.  I found an ability to make others laugh and I quickly latched on to this skill and used it often and to deal with just about everything.  Later on, when the self-imposed pressure to keep the façade going of being normal, outgoing and funny got worse, I realize my addiction to acceptance became greater.  Eventually alcohol and drugs became the go-to tools that would allow me to be the perceived life of the party that I desired so badly.  You see, what I hope you never have to truly understand is that while your dad has been addicted to a lot of bad things in his life, there has always been an underlying reason, perhaps the actual addiction.  Acceptance.  But not only acceptance, I require affirmation.  When I am faced with rejection and denial it’s very difficult to handle.  Let’s just say I am workin on it….But you see, this is where you come in……

 

your light

You aren’t like me when it comes to this stuff.  You don’t react with pain, sadness or being unhappy when the world might get you down.  There is such a beautiful light in your eyes, in your heart; it’s so incredible to me that I cry even thinking about it.  I pray that you hold onto that, that you keep that forever.  I thought I was pretty good at looking on the bright side, but you make me look like a grouch compared to you.  I know you will grow up, you will change, the world will hit you many times, but I know you will get back up.  You are the greatest person I have ever known and you are only 5 years old.  I want to be clear that I mean that last comment with the most sincerity and truth I can offer.

You need to know that you are special; you must know that you are a true gift from God.  I want you to know that it is ok to be different.  You don’t have to be what others tell you to be.  I am 36 years old and I am still awkward.  When I take you to school I say hi to other parents and teachers, but on the inside I still have fear and paranoia.  I want them to like me; I want them to want to talk to me.  I have always been an irrational, socially anxious person and yet I recognize it and know how ridiculous it is.  I can produce the pictures, proofread posts and filtered profile information for everyone so the circle sees me as person with everything, who does everything and is always in pure bliss.  But that just means I can make the fiction better than some others can.  It’s not real.  ‘The real’ is about fun and sad and happy and not-fun, it’s life with all the good and bad.  What makes me so happy is that you are so much better at that.  You are so much better than all of it.  Which brings me to my next point…

 

 

i learn from you more than you learn from me

All you want is to enjoy.  If life or the world gets in the way, you pass it off like it is no big deal and you tell me things like “hey, at least I got to play with that kid for a little bit, and a little is better than nothing.”  You do things at 5 that melt my heart.  You go out of your way to give your sister your favorite toy or stuffed animal because it makes her happy.  You care so much about her it is inspiring.  You spent your time outside cleaning up the leaves in the yard just for your mom because you thought she would like to come home and see a clean yard.  You were so quick to ask if you could make daddy’s friend who is in the hospital a card when I explained he was sick.  You believe in a world I wish I could tell you is waiting for you when you get older, but don’t lose that sense of happiness and wonder and an ability to see the good everywhere.

You are the book that I can’t wait to read each day, the movie that continues to get better each minute and I just know I will walk away from each scene with something else to try and implement in my own character.  I never dreamed 5+ years ago that you would change the world the way you have for me.  I said earlier people will throw phrases as you that don’t mean anything.  One that I actually do like is “You can change the world.”  A lot of people do this every day.  You do this for me every day. Changing the world doesn’t have to be monumental or something you read about in a book.  Change your world.

 

if I may just say a few last things…

Do something in life that makes you happy, but not something that does so at the expense of others in any way.

You are very intelligent and this can be a great strength.  Do not let this lead to arrogance or it can quickly become your weakness.  Use it to lead, use it to teach those who need guidance.

Forgive.

Recognize your weaknesses and don’t pretend to know that which you do not know.  There are other intelligent people out there and they can recognize when someone is bullshitting them.

Recognize a bullshitter.  They might be intelligent, but not wise.

In my opinion, at least in 2016, social media can be a tremendously dangerous outlet for our society.  The creation of fake realities is playing on everyone’s anxieties, fears and doubts on a daily basis.  The number of suicides among younger people has increased dramatically in the last 4 years.  Just remember the phrase now more than ever ‘don’t believe everything you read or everything you see.’  {This being said, sorry for all the picturesque photos of you and your sister that I posted.  Moving on from this tangent….}

Hold the door for the person near you.  Every time.

Don’t be mean.  When you are mean, apologize.   Own your mistakes and learn from them.

Relax.  It is going to be ok.  I promise.

Eliminate the idea of multitasking from your mind.  It does not exist.  Finish one task then move onto the next one.

Stress is in your mind, it is not something tangible that exists outside of your brain.  This one is very hard, but believe me, it’s true.

Be careful when you drink alcohol or try drugs, if you do.  I pray you don’t have my disease, but if you do I am always here.  Always.  You will never receive a judgment; you will only receive a hug and a hand.

Laugh at yourself and be awkward.  Be the beautiful person you are today.

personal life block

IMG_9662

we are all thinking the same shit

I’ve been wanting to get back to writing so badly but there has been such a mental block and such a personal life block that it has been difficult.  Personal life block should be the title of the book I’ll say I never have time to write because of my personal life block.  I’ve had some really amazing conversations recently with some incredible people.  I find so much inspiration and accomplishment around me.  Of course the anxiety sets in, but I need to push that away.  But the first thing I want to say is that it amazes me that people I highly respect, learn from and think of as people who “have their shit together” or “aren’t always an emotional mess or ball of stress like I am”, actually are just like me inside.  Obviously we are all vastly different human beings with our own everything.  However, when you put us in any given situation that may be out of our element, we all feel somewhat uncomfortable and have anxiety.  Take a class at the gym or some sort of workout program, for instance, a truly vulnerable experience for most of the population I’d suggest.  It doesn’t matter who you are, what you look like, we all walk in there hoping we don’t do something stupid or hoping someone won’t think we look ugly or inept.  These types of experiences are good for anyone’s mind and soul, in my opinion, and should be sought out.

keep moving, I’m trying to stand in my way

So that personal life block really likes to get in my way.  Exhaustion, disinterest, anger, laziness and many more like to creep into my world and they can turn into an excuse or rationale pretty quickly.  I can write out pages of reasons why I can’t or don’t have time to write pages of the non-sense I have been spitting out here for a bit.  I’ll spend the 30 minutes of time it would take to go for a run and tell you why it’s hard to find 30 minutes of time to go for a run.  This isn’t a very productive skill.  It doesn’t yield many positive results.  The best part is, when I just get up and do the thing that I am going back and forth over, 10 out of 10 times, I feel better.  So why do we do it?  Because it’s easier to complain than to improve.  It’s easier to find support when you bitch than it is when you succeed.  Because we all compare ourselves to each other, at least a lot do.  Having a benchmark is a good thing.  Having goals based on what you perceive as success is good too.  What I know I am guilty of is basing my level of success on what others are doing.  This is dangerous for me because no two people have identical skill sets, histories, families, friends, and brains, bodies on and on and on…..  So why do I do it, why do we do it?  I wish I had an answer.  Really I wish I had an opinion because none of what I write or put out into the glorious world of the internet is more than just my thoughts, ideas and opinions.  I make no secret that I have zero factual data in these blogs nor do I have any degree that gives me any sort of semblance of a professional take on any topic.  But if I had to say something to tie this portion up with a mediocre, halfway done old bow, I guess it is just that we are all thinking the same shit at some point.  We compare ourselves to one another, we judge one another but we also can be incredibly insecure and fear that those around us don’t accept us or perhaps they may think badly of us.  So I guess what I am working out now is, why would that even be a bad thing?  Or, perhaps, more importantly, why do I even care?

HELP might be easier

Let’s attempt to pretend that I follow this next line of thinking.  I actually do sometimes.  Maybe you’ll have better luck with it.  But just remember, it’s never too late to surprise yourself.  Become who you want or even try.  Consider for one second that you are not perfect and then be open to suggestions.  Know that so much love surrounds us (this one can be hard, but it’s true) and that everyone can work together to improve.  Remember love exists and it makes great things happen in a world dominated by stories of hatred.  Just because those stories clog our many flowing streams of information, there are always touching, inspiring stories out there.  Read those, watch those videos.

Be better.  Just be better.  Be what you want to be.  Be a better everything.  Don’t settle don’t give in to excuses, and then don’t give into anger.  Stop wasting energy on building up your potential change and just do it.  Believe you can help yourself.  BELIEVE YOU CAN FORGIVE YOURSELF.  Picture yourself after the task at hand is completed and make that come to life.  I don’t follow my own words well.  It took me weeks to finally get this stuff out at all.  We are all guilty of it.  We need to go easy on ourselves, slow down and just take on one of the fifty things you THINK you should be doing.  When you feel like you are on an island and you don’t know how to get off, try a different solution than you’re comfortable with, and try something you’ve never tried before.  It may be harder, it may be uncomfortable, but it may be the change you’re looking for.

 

finding love in the hatred of pride

pink is a girl’s color

The idea that one human being can be violent towards another human being just because of who they are is truly a concept that my mind cannot comprehend. Being mildly intelligent I can attempt to understand it. I’ve certainly been angry before for whatever reason at the time. Yet to loathe a human to their core just because you disagree, dislike or disapprove of their way of life confuses, upsets and scares the hell out of me. So why would I start off with the color pink? The level of hatred that hits the top of the charts has driven people to murder others because of who they are, whether that be skin color, sex, or even because of one’s choice of love.

-Digression- Love is the purest form of happiness for us humans. A feeling unmatched by any other. The positive of the positive. To feel love is the greatest gift we can have. The idea that someone could feel such disdain, such anger towards someone for loving someone else is just a fact that I really struggle to understand.

SO, that color pink. My son has been told pink is a girls color by another boy in his class. (Remember he is not quite 5). He was told he cannot like Frozen because it is a girls movie. During playtime at daycare they have dress up parties sometimes. My son and some other boys tend to enjoy putting dresses on occasionally. When catching wind of this the boy’s father brought up a few fireMAN and policeman outfits and instructed the school that his son was to dress up in those outfits from now on, no more dresses. Now I am not going to sit here and suggest that it is because of these things that kids grow up to hate or become violent adults. What I am suggesting is that these things paint a picture of the world at a young age where there are limitations and rules about who you can or cannot be and that is not right.

So when I ask my son what his favorite color is, now he says blue or maybe orange. That’s fine with me. But I ask him, “I thought pink was your favorite color (which it once was)” His response is that pink is a girls color. So I explain to him that he can pick any color he wants, but his reason cannot be “because it is a girls color”.

to protest another person’s pride

When I started this blog it was because of love. I believe in love and feel it wins out plenty of times. Those with such hatred in their blood sometimes speak louder, but they speak with empty, sad hearts. When I think of the energy invested for someone to actually protest an event with the word Pride in it, it just scares the hell out of me. What pride does a protester feel when they scream at a stranger? I honestly want to know the answer. I don’t really want to bring religion into my blog at any point, but the irony of using God as justification for your ignorant disgust of another person make me want throw up.

I feel as though my desire to put these words into the universe is so strong that I will be cutting this post shorter than most. But I want to say that I dedicate this post to all of those who lost their lives in Florida this weekend and that I love each and every one of them. We can never remove hatred or ignorance from our culture but we CAN strive to educate our younger generation on the benefits of acceptance and love. I know that my son and daughter will grow up in a household that is full of tolerance and love for others.  That love will live on forever and I hope you feel that in your heart as well.

clifford’s birthday party, the review of ignorance

clifford’s friends are assholes

CliffordsBday-CoverRead the story.  I’ve read it 217 times to my son.  I get angrier every time.  This is what I take from this story and then I’ll tell you how I arrive at this point.  Don’t be a prick and don’t be friends with ignorant assholes. 

I’ve read a ton of children’s books over the last few years, but this one plays on my deepest fears and anxieties more than any other.  But that fucking dog and, more importantly, his owner Emily Elizabeth have some seriously rude “friends”.

So here is how the story plays out.  This terrifying, deformed, freakishly massive red dog is having a birthday party.  I mean this fucking thing is planned.  Invitations sent out, decorations up, ice cream and cookies ready to go, the asinine dog has a ridiculous party hat on and his owner Emily has her head in the clouds.

So then the time comes for the party to start and who shows up?  No one.  Not a soul.  Zero people show up and Emily is the calmest 8 year old in the world who literally didn’t have one person show up to the damn birthday party, even for a dog.  She just “wonders” where everyone is.  She’s a moron too by the way, but we’ll get to that later.

So, they handle it in an incredibly humbling and embarrassing way.  But also a way only someone with serious balls would deal with it.  So they go to the park looking for these “friends” to find out why they aren’t at the party.  They head to the playground and everyone is there.  Together.  NOT at the party.  I imagine this scene in reality and it’s the most awkward, gut wrenchingly sad thing I can even imagine.  These pricks are playing baseball and when confronted by Emily and the gigantic red monster behind her the best thing they come up with is that ‘they didn’t have good enough presents, not good enough for such a special friend’.  You have got to be fucking kidding me.  I’ve heard bad excuses before, but that is the worst one of all time.  And please don’t throw that crap back on Emily with the “special friend” bologna.  You are mean kids being mean and Emily and the nuclear fallout K9 could do a lot better than you when it comes to friends.  But…. she tells them to stop being silly and he’d like whatever they got for him.  THEY DIDN’T ACTUALLY GET HIM ANYTHING, EMILY!

This scene gets sadder and sadder and you can’t stop the train wreck if you tried.  At this point I’m begging the dog to mass murder all these jerks to stop this nonsense.  So now, these shit for brains are not only completely caught in a lie, they now need to somehow produce these inferior, made-up gifts and actually attend the party they blew off in the first place.  So they go home (probably rush home) to find anything in their houses they can pawn off as a gift for a dog the size of a house.  These “friends” are pathetic and lower than the dirt they were playing baseball on at the park…

Except…..maybe, just maybe, I am wrong here.  Maybe it is possible there is something behind this animosity towards Emily and her pet that fuels nightmares….

 

 clifford and emily are assholes?

So the so called friends show up at what must be hours after the original start time of the party.  The ice cream is ruined for sure, the cookies stale.  I can’t imagine what this poor mother is thinking.  She must  work 3 jobs already to pay for enough food to feed this beast that she has allowed her daughter to own.  Now, no one shows up to this party?  She must be halfway into a bottle of wine at this point.

 

the gifts

Scott’s gift is a large ball.  Not too bad.  Everyone plays with it until Clifford pulls out the fucking stopper and ends the game immediately.  Ok, not a big deal, maybe he didn’t know that would happen, he;s just a dog.

The next kid brings a piñata.  Not an ideal present for a 10 ton dog, but they decide to let him take some swings.  It goes poorly.  He knocks down trees, a shed, the fence and so on.  Horrific fucking scene.  Luckily no one was hurt or killed, but the 8 year olds are probably mortified and scarred for the rest of their life seeing such a massive force destroy the yard around them.  Yet time for the next gift!

Jenny didn’t even try.  She gave Clifford one of her yellow sweaters.  An 8 year old girl gave a dog as tall as a high school football stadium one of her own sweaters.  Yet the infinite optimist Emily Elizabeth, says ‘it’s perfect for his nose’!  Gigantic backfire, Jenny, ya dumb idiot.  I’m sure she hoped this would be the final straw to end the relationship.  Not today.

Why the next kid would give Clifford a robot dog is beyond me.  Perhaps she figured a robot dog can’t judge or be terrified by a 3 story tall red dog or maybe she’s just a fucking idiot.  Clifford broke it immediately.  Shocking.  Assuming the narrator IS Emily Elizabeth, the line after he breaks the robot is ‘they don’t make toys the way they used to’.  So, to follow this logic, “they” used to make toys that were so indestructible that you could literally drop a house on them and they would not break.  No they didn’t.  They did NOT used to make toys like that.

Then Cynthia and her dog Basker arrive with an actual gift.  They bring a gift certificate to the groomer to get a free shampoo and haircut.  (Side Note: The Bow Wow Beauty Parlor will be adding a size provision to their future documents after the wash and cut of an entire yacht.)  But wait, the picture becomes a little clearer when we see Emily hand this gift off to Scott.  Emily likes Clifford the way he is.  This girl actually re-gifts the gift certificate right in front of Cynthia ala behind the back style that would be virtually impossible for Cynthia to not see.  That takes some serious balls.  Maybe now I am starting to see why some people didn’t feel compelled to make this party a priority.

 

the finale

So this whole disaster gets wrapped up when the cake shows up on a truck.  Clifford was surprised, but became even more surprised when his family pops out of the cake.  SO how fucking long were these poor dogs cooped up in this fake cake while all this non sense was going on?  How did they survive?  And how is Clifford smart enough to know his family and feel genuine happiness to see them yet not feel hurt and confused when they aren’t there for the hours of time prior to this moment?  That’s not fair to him.  The poor bastard has already had a rough go of it anyway being that he is a fucking GIGANTIC RED DOG!

I’ll tell you what should have happened.  Emily’s mom, when she immediately sensed no one was showing up to this thing, should have gotten that fucking cake out with Clifford’s family inside and made the best of things.  This mother was nonexistent after making the cookies and ice cream and that’s not right.  The whole party was mishandled from the get-go and it was a nightmare waiting to happen.

So what I am trying to say is that Clifford and Emily’s ‘friends’ are ignorant assholes, granted, and you shouldn’t surround yourself with that type of negativity, even if life has dealt you a bad hand, you still deserve better.  That being said Emily and her disfigured mutant could try a little harder to be nice to people, considering they know what it’s like to be shit on by crappy people.  Surround yourself with positivity and be positive yourself.  Don’t be a prick to people.  Life is just too short.  At least this is what I got out of the story……

 

if i had my life

normal is………20071204_normalpeopleBig

So.  I am 36 years old.  First of all, how the hell did that happen and second, whatever age you are, don’t tell me that 36 is young, I’m not bitching about the number, that’s not the point.  I am here and it is just another reminder that time is short.  So shut up and listen to me for a second (or don’t), but the ideal me has something to say right now.

Create something.  Resonate with someone.  Mean something to someone.  Have friends, have hobbies, have relationships.  Get happy, get angry, throw a chair once and a while.  Don’t sit back and be quiet, not anymore.  Need someone, need some thing or things, need feelings.  Forget embarrassed, forget uncomfortable unless that is who you are and need to be, let loose or don’t, but be who you are and try to feel pride in it.  Be weird, it’s ok.  Be really weird, a lot, that’s ok too.  Who’s the most normal person you know?  Ok, now see it from the other side.  Do you want anyone that knows you to answer that question with your name as the answer?  Believe that it is ok to be someone completely different from anyone else.  No one you know is the person they play in real life.

 

the you that you aren’t

If you find someone who is happy all the time, they aren’t, trust me.  I’ve had that title once or twice and while flattering, I guess, it’s laughable, but mostly because, and we’ve covered this before, I’m insane.  One thing I know for sure is that no one you know is the person they play online either.  I’m guilty too.  I share the best me of the day or week and play it off like that’s life…..like that’s my life……  We keep messing with people’s emotions and feelings when we do that and it IS serious.  Why can’t I be like them, why can’t I be happy all the time, why can’t I only go to great places everyday with all the best people and have the best time ever and always be doing, seeing, acting, feeling…..the best?  What have I done wrong?

But wait, maybe I AM the best?  I look at my accounts, my photos and I think maybe I am the best too.  Maybe even better than the best of all the bests?  Am I winning the competition here to see who can make up the best life?  It’s getting to the point where I have had more interaction with my friends through texting over the last few years than I did in person the ten years before that.

When was the last time you sent a sad photo?  Do you tell the world about the bad days?  You do still have bad days, right?  I have bad days and that’s ok.  Ah, but what would you become if you were honest?  You’d be branded the sad friend.  That all too important number would begin to drop, the ignore buttons, the unfollow clicks would come sooner and more often until there would be nothing left but your honesty and solitary social media account.  Then God help you because a social media account with no friends or followers is the saddest thing society can think of.  So don’t be honest.  Post that family portrait at the beach, wait two weeks until your next happy moment and post that too because I just can’t get enough of how perfect the world is when I get online and look at the people I know…

there is a reason to care

Perhaps every generation says this for whatever the reason is during that time period.  But at age 36 I honestly feel like we were the last people to grow up without full immersion into this other dimension where we can so easily be almost anything we want to be on paper, as long as we don’t have to prove it.  The thing is, this affects human being’s lives.  It affects their mental condition, it affects their ability to be happy, to feel satisfied.  If you are having a good day, you probably tend to disregard small annoyances.  On a really good day, you may even laugh at them.  “Oh look at Sally and Walter, they sure do love to go to the (input a location that, for you, can instantly invoke rage) I guess your kids have to be EXTRA smart or friends have to be EXTRA rich to go there and do that thing….Ha ha ha….go jump off a bridge with your hoosier or yuppie friends or whatever….ha ha.”

But what about the bad days?  What about the days when “go jump off a bridge” is where you are when your day starts?  When you wake up feeling down and even your one morning joy of coffee doesn’t work out right.  “Well, I can’t start over now!  I’m already at a caffeine level of 6 even though that cup of joe tasted like the inside of a dog’s stomach.  If I have more, even if it tastes good, I’ll probably feel too fast in my head and then feel sick.”  Now it’s 8:04 in the morning and you’re just like all the others waiting for Friday, except Friday right now, for you, could be anything as long as it isn’t this.  So, we already stated, this is a bad day jump started by your own swirling tornado of a mind and jolted into the orange, heightened alert status by Frank, the ‘I try so soft to be good at my job’ and make dog stomach coffee.  So let’s get to work, but probably not.  Where do we turn for comfort?  Where do look for guidance on how to wear a shirt or make a shirt or take a shirt and make it into a better shirt?  Where do we go for advice on making things out of other things and double checking that it’s all gluten free when we just don’t really know what that means?  And finally, for good measure because I could write essays on each of these, where do we go to feel comfort by looking at things we’ll never have, never be able to do, didn’t invent, design or create and see things we usually hate?  Well, you know.  So the bad day hits this moment head on and then we are greeted by Mr. Perfect and perfect doing perfect things and being perfect.  I need not go on as it doesn’t get any better……..

So, in conclusion, I really hope you got something out of my WordPress Blog that I just posted to Facebook and Twitter and REALLY hope you’ll give me a Like or even better, Share it with someone.