How does one respond? How does a broken entity react to a situation that feels “right”? Does it respond accordingly, fully aware of it skewed perception? Does it move on, in an attempt to conform, transform itself into what it is told should be right?

Is what feels right and what should be right the only two scenarios? They’re both wrong. They’re both right

Is it broken in the first place?

Let me start this off by saying that I just got two new hats. For a while now a lot of people have been telling me that I need to retire my old one. To be more accurate, they have been telling me to snatch it off my head and set it on fire.

Any way, so someone bought me two new hats. One of which I am wearing right now. They are both nice hats.

But this is not the point I want to make. So, this person that bought me these hats had mentioned that he would be out drinking the next evening.

So the next day I had supper with my family. Kind of a birthday/anniversary get together. As I was being dropped off by my brother at my apartment I told him that if I went out that night I would call him.

Going out that night had completely slipped my mind. So, for a good four or five hours I played video games until I got a call reminding me about my brother. I put on my shoes and headed down to meet him at Steve’s Old Time Tap. I bought the table a pitch of beer and we sat around and bullshitted until I was struck again with the memory that the guy from last night had said he would be out.

I pulled out my phone and gave him a call. He had said that he was at the bar down the street. I told him that I would finish up my drink and meet him there. I downed the beer and my brother and I headed to the Blue Cat. We found the guy and sat down with him at the bar and had a drink with him. After a while he asked if I wanted to play a game of pool with him. Later on into the game he told me that he had invited a lot of people out and that my brother and I were the only ones to show up. He didn’t tell any one but that night was his birthday.

Ouch.

Seeing as how I am in a exhausted state of being right now, it got me to thinking. Had I done the same thing on my birthday, who would show up?

The number isn’t that great. I’m not going to pretend that I am really surprised but it is, none the less and if nothing else, disheartening.

Now, I have been spreading myself pretty thin here recently. It has really started to take its toll on me. So, I am trying to decide to cut the fat from my life. Lose the dead weight. I say trying because I have never been that good at saying no. I just need to find it in myself to of what is dragging me down for the sake of myself and those that I still have hopes of helping.

I hope that this make a little sense.

I am looking for home. It is no great mystery that I am different. That I don’t much fit in most places. I know this. This has not past me by. I also know that I am feeling alone. it feels like I am the only one of me in the world sometimes. But I have to keep telling myself that this is an arrogant way to think. It’s obvious that, perhaps, I am unique or rare, but it is pompous of me to think I am the only one of me... ever. There has to be someone out there like me. Some place where I fit. If nothing else it gives me hope. The hope that I am not alone in the world. That there is someone else out there that thinks and feels the same way I do. That person. That other will be home.

Some people have questioned my “tendencies” to be secretive. That I keep myself bottled up. But I look at it like this. I could go around and just spill everything to someone. Give them my weaknesses and my fears my loves and joys. But as far as that goes it seems everybody in my life are just passing through. None of them are going to stay. I am none of their final destinations. I am just a tool, a stepping stone until they find their home. I believe that, like the rest of me, my secrets belong to my home.

I don’t know. I will write more on this later.

I just find this interesting.

Since I have been laid up I have been engaging in a multitude of activities. One of them being sitting on my expanding ass and playing video games. The funny thing about it is that I noticed how intrinsic we are in our nature. In this game you come to a part where you have to fight an army of robots. If memory serves, there were fifteen different types of robots. Each one serves a specific function and had its own duties to perform. The one that interested me the most was the nurse robot. You see, when “her” companions were injured she would heal them. But, as I found out, if she is the last one to die she will surrender and heal you instead. So I opted to skip my next turn and let her escape. As she left a window would pop up and read “Thanks.” And I repeated this pattern over and over. What’s funny is I am taking pity and showing mercy to something that’s not really. I could have easily killed all the other robots, have her surrender, heal me and bashed her metal shell in until she, like her brethren before her, exploded and still have a relatively clean conscience. I guess that’s just how we are. Good and bad. We are what we are without thought or reason.

For awhile now I have had this idea that I wanted to get down on paper. Either a short story or maybe a one act play. It’s about two brothers arguing over the nature of humanity. One brother believes that humanity is doomed by its own undertakings. Man has always been a destructive animal and as time evolves this destruction will eventually become all consuming. On the other hand, the second brother argues that man, over millenniums, has shed its unnecessary accoutrements. So, man’s unspoken love affair with death and war will one day fade. Joining the ancestral tail or coarse body hair in primordial history.

The problem is, well maybe not the problem but the catch is, there is no resolution in the end. Neither brother is proven wrong. Who do you believe in the end? I think I have a fairly strong ability to play devil’s advocate on both sides. So, I can argue for both sides, but personally I can’t say which one I truly believe in.

Humanities obsession with hate seems so overwhelming. Which, I think, is an immense basis for destruction. But is hate a psychological disease that will some day have a simple cure, or a cure at all, for that matter? Or, is it just a simple component of nature? Existing as natural ebb to recreation’s flow?

Now, if you will allow me, let me shift gears. I am going to give you two situations of discussions I have had with my friends. Let me start off by saying that I honestly can’t think of anyone I truly hate.

My first discussion was with a friend of mine as we were walk to an ATM so I could withdraw some money. As we walked down the street, we were heckled, for one reason or another, I don’t remember exactly why, by a group of black women. As we passed by my friends mentions how she hates black women. I had to ask her how she could say that. So, she told me that when she was in school she was constantly tormented by the black girls in her class. Naturally, I reprimanded her by saying that you can’t judge all black women by the few that attacked you. I honestly believe in that too.

My second took place with a friend of mine who is enlisted in the army. I don’t remember what started the conversation but it eventually worked its way around to him saying he hates Muslims. I rebuttal with the same philosophy as in the first discussion. He countered with all he had seen and been through. It seemed to me that in order to survive he had to hate. I could say any more. I couldn’t tell him in good conscience to take each man as an individual. In the time it would take for him to evaluate he could be shot or bombed.

Assume that both arguments I’ve told you about are true to nature. Now, I am going to offer this idea. A man alone can destroy a life. Men gathered together can destroy a nation. Both a sin, yet humanity as a whole can collectively perform the greatest of sins. But how do you fight that? Man, in his heart, longs for peace. Humanity’s nature thirst for war. The trouble, it seems, is group mentality. But can you justly punish the individually for the crimes of the group? In group mentality it seems the individual sacrifices his own personal being to be one with the group. The group itself becomes its own single entity. Man is never more evil then when he is cheered on by his peers. So, it almost seems fruitless to attack this segment by segment instead of battling this group beast in its entirety.

What is the answer? I have my theories. Not that they probably haven’t been tried before. Maybe it’s not my place, as an individual, to ask the questions of the majority. Maybe that’s all I can do.

For years, going on decades, I have been objectified. And I have hated every minuet of it. Shocking, I know. I couldn’t understand how one human being could do that to another. I just couldn’t make sense of it. But recently I have caught myself doing almost the exact same thing. I have become what I hate. Honestly, I don’t know how I got there either. I will have to look deeper into that. Retrace my steps. Find an answer to how or why I let it happen. But that’s not the point I am trying to make here. To this one person that I have been objectifying, and for what it’s worth now, I want to apologize. If you get to read this, I think you know who you are. I would tell them personally but I think that at this point trying to confront this one on one may be a little inappropriate. Maybe it has taken me too long to realize it and the damage I have done is too far-gone. Maybe this apology will never find its recipient and I will fade into the past as the oppressive asshole. But if I have learned nothing else it is to learn from my past mistakes and I will try to never let it happen again. But this person didn’t deserve it, I don’t deserve it, and nobody else should have to go through it.

Have any of you noticed? Everyone is retarded. Honestly. Everyone, everywhere has some form of retardation. Sure, some are mentally retarded but there are so many others forms to be considered. I am not an exception either. I too am retarded or more specifically I am socially retarded. My social skills leave much to be desired. I have lived in my own little world for so long that I sometimes have trouble when I am forced into the real world and I find that there are other people there that I have to deal with. Thankfully, I have realized this. So now all I have to do is cure myself of it. Sounds good on paper but it’s not as easy as you may think. I will try none the less though. But my question to you, my friends, is what type of retard are you?

Well, I got an appointment for my cat for Friday. Friday morning he will go into the Rock Island Animal Hospital for surgery. My poor little kitty. I know it sounds odd and I will try not to turn this weblog into a shine to my cat but he means a lot to me. I have had him for a good five years. He has never been an extremely affectionate cat but every time I am sick in bed or feeling down on myself he would spend the whole day in my lap. When a new person comes to visit he will most likely be found hiding under my bed but he can spend the day following me two steps behind just so he can sit in the chair next to me as I play solitaire and drink my coffee. For those that have lived with us both know but for those who haven’t trust me when I say he is exactly like me. Just having him around is very cathartic. But for a while now he has been getting sick. When I took him into the vet he was saying stuff like he had an immune system failure and that some of his blood vessels had burst. So now his ears have swollen and he has pus leaking out. I tried to give him his medicine today but his ears where so tender and bulging that it was impossible. I know I am probably over reacting but I have been so stressed out lately. So not only has he been sick but now I have to find a way to pay for his surgery. Just once I wish things could be easy. Anyway, get well soon kitty.

I have gone through many changes in my life. In the beginning I was a lonely child. From the second I was thrown into kindergarten and forced to join society I knew I was different. Inevitably, as kids often do, I was treated accordingly. An outcast from day one. I was on the outside looking in. so what else could I do but watch? And I will admit it. I wanted to be them so bad. So, I studied them. Made note of how they interacted with each other. Their laughter, tears, anger. After awhile I could, with some degree of confidence, tell what a person was thinking or how they might react to a specific situation. I did this all in the hopes that I could find a way to gain their acceptance. But in the end I was either to afraid of them to execute my plan or to proud to change just to have a moments peace from them. What ever it was, and in spite of all my work, I was still alone.

But round about sophomore year of high school I found out that I wasn’t the only freak in this world. Not only that but they were just as lonely as I was. So, the only next logical course of action was to, in one complete swoop, cure what ailed us both and become friends. I, at long last, belonged. The cruelty of life had turned us into bitter, cynical, smart-mouthed degenerates. We all hated the world that had thoughtlessly thrown us to the way side. But thanks to the pseudo-family unit we formed we came to an astonishing conclusion. Before, when each of us existed separately, the only thing our world told us was that we were worthless pieces of shit. We were rejected because, while everyone else lived full, happy lives, we were broken. We didn’t deserve the same care and respect as the rest of the world. But together we found, though we were different, we were still human beings. Just as entitled to the same joys and comforts as the next man. We also found that though we lacked the sparkling social skills, or the sculpted body, or the strong attractive facial features we made up for it in talent, quick wit and intelligence.

This was an extremely important discovery for me. Because of them I was no longer completely alone which figuratively, as well as literally, saved my life. What else could I do to thank them then to see to it what almost happened to me never happens to them. Their happiness was my number one concern. Their safety was my gift to them. I had to be strong when we were all tired. To be brave when we were all afraid. To be confident when we were all lost.

And as time passes we grew up.

Then it was time to leave the nest. We all went our separate ways. I looked around and I was alone again. I should have seen it coming. I was saddened but that’s how life goes. So, I wished them the best of luck and hoped that all my care would aid them when they found themselves alone. But now what was I to do. I put all my energy towards them to make sure they were as safe and happy as possible. But now I was a superman without his metropolis. And though I tried to avoid it the only person left to deal with was myself. So I forced myself into seclusion. If I was going to deal with my problems I had to face myself with nothing but the skills I was born with. I looked at it like this. I could go out and seek help from someone else, maybe even my friends. I know that they would be happy to do it but what would happen when they left again? I would wind up at the same place I was now and still not know what to do. No, if I wanted this done I would have to do it myself. But old habits die hard. Especially the bad ones. It was one of the scariest things I have ever done. I knew there was a possibility that I couldn’t solve my problems and that I couldn’t handle myself which could end up in total self-destruction. But I made up my mind that I had no other choice. If I couldn’t live with myself living at all wasn’t worth it and wasn’t in my future. So, I had to look into the eyes of that scared, lonely, sad child that I once was. Tend to his cuts and bruises, wipe away his tears and hold him and tell him he was loved. Wounds may bleed then heal but they will always leave a scar. So maybe I won’t become the well adjusted, carefree, loveable soul I always wished I was but complete and utter self-loathing was no longer an option.

Now, I am a packrat by nature. I can’t help it. You never know when a used Band-Aid from the late 80’s may come in handy. And no, I am not keeping boxes upon boxes of crap in the hopes that they will one day become retro and hip again. I keep them to remind me. I have collected many things over the years. Pictures, cards, slips of paper, clothes, toys, books. They all have a meaning. Both good and bad. All important. But I use to have a white T-shirt. It won the title of ‘The Death Fight 2000 Shirt’. (long story) But as time wore on the shirt yellowed and fell apart until I could no longer wear it. The same goes for memories. They too, over time, fade away but even though memories fade along with the items that hold them the experience never will. All the laughter, the tears, the frustrations. I wouldn’t give any of them up for the world. They formed the man I am today as perfect or as flawed as I may be.

My mother sent me a forward awhile back. It told a story about a woman who had died. On her gravestone it read ‘1936 – 2002’. It went on to say that the most important part was the dash. What that dash stood for was all her feelings, all her experiences, all the people her life had touched. The title of the forward was ‘ I am glad I am in your dash’. All of you are extremely important to me. With all of the ups and downs we have been through I still care. I can only hope that your lives are as full as mine. Just remember me, happy or sad, because even after the sound of your laugh becomes muffled and your face slowly fades away your impressions will live with me forever.

So what is next? I have become an old soul with a baby face. I wear the badges of observer, guardian, loner, collector of memories. I can’t say what the future holds for your friend and mine but if I have learned nothing I know it is going to be one crazy ass ride.

I have found myself in a bit of a tug of war. Is it better to openly speak your mind or is it better to save face and keep your emotions somewhat low key? I know it feels safer to keep feelings hidden away and I know that nothing is gained if you just sit on your hands and ignore your gut feelings. But I am standing in this fork in the road, staring at two different road signs and having no clue as to where I am going. And no this isn’t just something that has crossed my mind. I am having troubles right now as to how to handle something that has been eating away at my mind. My biggest problem is that I have found my feelings are completely inconsequential. Emotions have always had trouble standing it’s ground when it comes to the bully of the schoolyard, logic. And logic says that my feelings are completely null and void. Speaking them will have no relevancy in the out come of my life. If I feel sad because my dog dies my tears won’t bring lassie home again. If I am angry about a parking ticket the judge won’t throw out the case on the grounds of pouting. Emotions mean nothing. But still we have them. So what is one to do? Would I feel a whole lot better if I just let it out? If I cried on a sympathetic shoulder? If threw around my furniture I a fit of rage? Is the only reason we have emotions is so we can feel better about ourselves by just letting it out when life seems shitty? Do I even want to feel good about myself right now?

So does one live on logic or emotion? Can you do both? I don’t have an answer for these questions right now.

And all I ask is that, for now, you forget you read this when talking to me because I will deny its existence. I do know that I don’t need to be pitied by anyone else right now. It will only add insult to injury.

A long time ago, and for a 23 year old that is somewhere in late junior or early high school, I came to the conclusion that for the rest of my life I would be alone. And I know what you are all thinking. ‘Wow, that’s really sad.’ Maybe it was. I don’t really remember how I felt about it at the time of discovery. But it grows on you. Let me tell you how. Once you accept the fact that you are alone it is really easy to get used to it. It’s like moving to a new city. At first you don’t know what is going on or where to go but as time rolls on you start learning the twists and turns and it ultimately becomes home. So, once I made the realization and once I became comfortable with it the next step for me was to plan for the future. And you ask ‘how does one plan for such a grim future?’ Well, my first step was to get a cat. That’s right I am that crazy cat man that lives alone in a dilapidated house and yells at you when you step on the lawn. Next, you learn how to skillfully avoid people. It makes it a lot easier when one comes to see how stupid most of humanity is. I almost had my whole life planned out. From then to old age was pretty much planned out. The only thing I had missing was death. For example, who would bury me or who would get my worldly possessions and most importantly who would feed my many, many cats. Though I hate to impose for now I think my best bet is going to be my nieces and nephews. Which means an extra five bucks in their birthday cards for the next sixty or so years. I think I can swing that.

As with any good plan it has to be able to change at the drop of a hat. Life hates it when you forget that you are her bitch and she may smack you around at her leisure. So as a subtle reminder this unseen leather clad mistress throws you a huge ass monkey wrench right between the eyes. So, what I am saying is that when I get close to being perfectly and totally happy in my solitude someone will inevitably come along. And for that brief flash in time everything I built my life on starts to fall. Maybe I was wrong all along. Maybe I won’t be alone after all. Maybe poets don’t lie and the happy endings are true. But as quickly as they appear they are equally as quick to fall back into the shadows again. And time after time I am standing there alone again like the fool. Confused and slack jawed. I fall for it every damn time. And I start to pick up the shards of my decimated plan and with crazy glue and electrical tape I try to piece it back together. Afterwards I say to myself. ‘Ok. You made a mistake. Learn from it and it won’t happen again.’ But each meeting is more tricky and undetectable than the last. So it easily slips under my radar. Which really pisses me off. Life is one crafty bitch. I am afraid she is always one step ahead of me. But hopefully she either runs out of ideas or she just tires of tormenting me and takes a nap before I die.

I would just like to get something off my chest. Now I try not to think of myself as better than anyone else. I know there are a couple of you that would try to argue this point but just hear me out for a second. I try to keep myself humble and down to earth. I don’t believe that I have a higher quality of the human existence than the other man does but could someone explain this to me. How is it that I, who is reading books on thermodynamics and theoretical physics and I who can follow and understand the path of a philosophical discussion and I who not only strives to but who enjoys the pursuit of a sharp, well formed mind. How is it that I find myself forced into a job where all my fellow employees have a limited range of body gestures and their English vernacular? For 4 to 7 hours a day all I see are high fives and the middle finger. In the same amount of time all I hear are the words ‘dude’, ‘fuck’ and ‘pussy’. Did I miss something? I guess it is really all my fault but in the other hundred applications I turned in did the interviewers not pick up on my personal attitude or beliefs. At the bookstores or at the coffeehouses where I personally thought I would fit in perfectly I was passed over. I guess I ended up in a place were physical labor overrules my mind and personality. It’s just that I feel out of place. I guess I am getting paid six dollars an hour not only for the time I take out of my day to work for this company but for me to quietly accept my general feelings of confusion and misplacement. I just couldn’t keep it in any more. So I share it with you.

Well, I traveled to my hometown yesterday. That’s right, your friend and mine returned to Savanna. good ol' Savanna. The lion's den.

It seems no matter how much I learn or how much I grow I am thrust back into the role I have tried to leave behind. I have two comments I need to make on some oldies but goodies of the words of wisdom world.

The first, 'you can never return home.' bullshit. No matter where you are or what you have made of yourself you are still that dirt incrusted four year old in that small town getting ready for your first day of school. It’s unavoidable. Like it or not, home has shaped you into who you are today. Perhaps they should ad a tagline to the end of this. You may not be able to return home... but home will always find a way to return to you.

The second, 'you can't run from who you are.' ok. Fine. I can see where they were going with this. On the other hand, it is not exactly true. You most certainly can run. I have seen it done. People spending their whole lives avoiding their reflection in the mirror at all cost. For one reason or another they don’t want to be remembered for what they were. So, keeping in mind that they are the ones that know themselves the best, logic says if you forget who you were no one else will either. Leaving them with a clean slate. Right? The loophole is though you may be able to run you can't shake that mother for anything.

I do want to state that it is not impossible to leave behind the you that you once were. But the recipe always includes a lot of pain, a dash of conviction. A touch of bravery. Stubbornness and a brief period of loneliness. But just remember life has always been a Pandora’s box. Once you open the door it can’t be closed. You may find unspeakable treasures or you may find ghosts that will haunt you for the rest of your life.

Ultimately it is your call.