I'm Writing, But Having Trouble Finishing Anyth

...blog to be continued.

Steeping Up On The Soapbox

Posting about Election Day a day late is like talking about what you are planning to do Saturday night on a Sunday afternoon. It would make you a day late and a dollar short...whatever that's suppose to mean. I just reused the phrase, I didn't write it. Actually I know what it means - it's too little too late. Of course if you are only carrying around a buck in your wallet on a Saturday night, then you have far bigger problems that I can help you tackle at the moment. Anyway, before I get caught up rambling, let me try and make a point here. They say every vote counts and even though the ballots continue to trickle in, I can give you the current standings. The results? A whopping 18 of you think I'm the shiznit! Or rather voted "What isn't to love? I love him!" So for that, I thank you. I feel the love. As I type this, I'm virtually shaking your hand and kissing your baby.

The "I Voted" sticker is free to all voters.
However, I'm sorry to say that reverse jazz hands
are not included with absentee ballots.

I know it's not politically correct to ask someone who they voted for. However, I'm going to offer this info out. Yesterday, I voted for Pedro. My Grandma's best friend Bess (God rest her soul) shouldn't of been allowed to vote. Don't get me wrong, I'm not racist towards old ladies with canes. Nor do I discriminate against anyone who can pull off the Easy Spirits orthopedic shoe look and can eat for half price with a senior discount, because frankly, I'm jealous of that. I say this based on the fact that in the 90s, she casted a vote for Clinton because she thought he was "good looking" and no other reason. I don't know, perhaps I'm a little hard on politicians, but I think they should possess other things besides good looks. Clinton = good looking? Seriously Bess, I know your glasses were thick, but good lord woman.

I also feel those who have no clue who is even running, should not be allowed to vote. If you don't know what a canadate stands for, then how can you stand behind him/her with your vote? Think about it. It's like the blind leading the blind and even a blind, deaf and dumb man can tell you that's no way to run a country. Of course if you want to cast a vote for a canadate because his puffy nose and pasty cheeks turn you on, then who am I to stand in the way of an old woman who carries a big stick?

The point is (and yes believe it or not I have one) that you shouldn't vote just for the sake of voting. Don't do it for the free "I Voted" sticker. Although highly coveted, trying to re-stick your badge of honor after removing it from your fall fleece pullover isn't suggested. Just trust me on that. You are far better off just slapping that puppy on your forehead. And what is with the "I Voted" sticker? Do you want a cookie? Big deal, you voted, so did a billion other people. In the words of Napoleon - "gosh!"

I'm just happy I won't have to see anymore smear campaign ads on TV. No more phone calls from Rudolph Giuliani, Hillary Clinton and Rick Santorum just to name a few. And most importantly, no more obscene text and e-mail messages from Mark Foley! Now if I would of saved my "I Voted" sticker, I would stick it over Foley's mouth so he stops licking his lips at me. Politics are dirty and now I must conclude my soapbox speech because I have that not so fresh feeling.

Voidance

I'm an avoider. I avoid. It's what I do. I avoid what I can't stomach. What I can't face. Who I don't want to stand face to face with. Somehow the vacancy and emptiness fills me up...or so I try to convince myself that it makes me whole and not weird. I'm not a coward, but I don't care for confrontation. I don't look to fight, but I'll stand to fight if need be. Conflict is not a friend of mine, but it's a part of life that I'm aware I must deal with. I deal with emotional voidance when it comes to my family. If I ignore it, it will go away, eventually. It's that mentality. If I pretend it doesn't exist, it will cease to exist. If I will it not to be, my will will be stronger than it's being. The ugly will disappear if I close my eyes and count to 10. In the dark it will die and in the light, I shall escape.

It's a terrible trait. Perhaps it's the worst part of me. I know I'm made-up of many pieces, but this is one piece of me I loathe. It's my demeanor. It's cold and bare. I'm not welcoming. It's much like the black suit. This is not me. I'm not that guy. But to my Mother, she fails to see anything but this right now. And it's not her fault, it's mine. I won't allow her to see more of me. And for that, I blame myself. Things of me I openly could share with a girlfriend or even a perfect stranger, but with my Mom, I clam up. Why is that? My emotions go into lockdown. I brush it all off. I'm brave and unscathed from anything thrown at me. Or so my hard outer shell likes to proclaim. It's strong and resilient to pain. It's that mask. The protective shield. And I wear it well.

I'm usually cuddly and warm. Open and honest. In touch with my softer side and willing to share. Open to listening. Desiring the closeness and the connection. I'm the guy who goes in for the hug. Not the guy who's spine stiffened and who's body became ridged when she laid her hand on my shoulder. I feel awkward and uncomfortable. Disconnected and distant. Even nauseas and angry. The space is becoming greater and I fear one day I'll be in that dark room where I'll count to 10, wishing things will fade away, and that my wish will actually come true. I'll be alone and it will be too late. This is what I'll be granted. I need to open my eyes now.

RunForRuby.wordpress.com

On November 19th, Jessica from SassySuspect.com will running the Philadelphia Marathon. Completing a full 26.2 mile marathon is a goal in itself, but it's not just about crossing the finish line. The goal here is raising money for a little girl nicknamed "Ruby" (Jessica's niece) thru the MAGIC Foundation. Ruby was born with a chronic, life-threatening disorder called panhypopituitarism. If you've never heard of panhypopituitarism, then you aren't alone. Since panhypopituitarism is rare, it is often a struggle to find information about it...and especially to find adequate, informed medical care. That is where the MAGIC Foundation steps in. The MAGIC Foundation has had a dramatic and life-saving impact on Ruby's life. Now, Jessica is asking for your help to continue the ongoing support and care for Ruby and other kids like her from the MAGIC Foundation. To learn more about Ruby, the RunForRuby, panhypopituitarism and of course the MAGIC Foundation, check out www.runforruby.wordpress.com And while you're there, be a love and donate to the cause. If I still haven't convinced you, then take this into consideration...

If a heart warming tale doesn't move you emotionally, then perhaps I can move you visually. Yes, Jess is easy on the eyes. So you can donate a lil cash to help a good cause and in the process watch a cute girl run a marathon! It's a win-win situation all the way around. So you can't lose and neither will Ruby, even if Jess doesn't win the marathon.

Best of luck to you in Philly Jess. May your kind heart fuel your ruby red slippers/running shoes and carry you thru the 26.2 miles. You're a better man than me. I say that because I've never run a marathon and I should be running with you or at least running in this weeks NYC marathon. One of these days I'll do it. Like I told my sister when she ran the LA marathon...just remember, pain is only temporary and there's nothing you can't overcome.

Miss Me...Or Pretend You Do To Make Me Feel Good

It's time for a little pre-birthday party and post-congratulatory celebration. With the recent resigning of one of my biggest work contracts with the government, a proper celebration is called for, and one that is nearly 2 weeks overdue. If they want to give me a ridiculous amount of money for just a few months work, who am I to argue that they may be overpaying me? Instead I will drink to it! Yes, I'm worth every single penny, or at least I am going to keep letting them believe that. I'm feeling more confidant this time around. It was just a year ago that I was wringing my hands worrying that I wasn't living up to their expectations. That the pressure I was under had me on the verge of cracking. Now, I look back and wonder why I was so unsure of myself. Sometimes I think I invent insecurities in my head, when there is no reason for one to exist, I imagine one and bring it to life. Perhaps I'm not alone in that. Maybe that is how everyone's insecurities are born?

In case you were wondering, that isn't my baby picture.
I was waaay cuter! I know, hard to image, but true.
My Mom will confirm that as fact.
Basically, when your Mom said YOU were the cutest baby ever...
she was lying. Just thought you should know.

And in just a few days I will be turning another year older. I guess it's not too bad, if I was hitting my 30s, then that would be bad. Isn't there some law that states once you hit the big 3-0 that you have to act all grown-up and shit? However, I don't have to worry about that. I can keep using phrases like "I know you are but what am I." I'm still enjoying the 20something life and will continue to do so.

One thing that I won't continue doing is blogging. Well at least for a week. I'm going to be traveling out of state and away from cyberspace as well. So that means no new posts until November. I just wanted to let my one loyal reader be aware of that. I think SiteMeter pads my stats to make me feel good. It says I get 70-80 visitors a day, although I feel more like I have an audience of one - me, myself and I. Oops, there I go again...inventing an insecurity. Note to self, stop doing that. Also stop biting your lower lip when you are deep in concentration. It's beginning to hurt and one day when you are old and 30, your face will freeze like that!

"C" Is For Chat Room, Crazy & Oh Crap (because Oh Shit doesn't start with C)

On the web, nobody can hear you scream, but they will surely hear you if you arrive at their house with pickaxe handle! After a heated exchange in a chat room, one internet user has been found guilty of what London police are calling the first ever "web-rage" attack. 47-year-old Paul Gibbons hunted down John Jones (age unknown) using details obtained online after the pair exchanged insults and threats in a Yahoo chat room called "Islam 10". Their exchanges soured after Gibbons accused Jones of spreading rumors about him. It was then that Gibbons snapped and traveled 70 miles to the man's home where the plan was to beat him up with a pickaxe handle.

Gibbons arrived at Jones' home armed and accompanied by another man carrying a machete! Mr. Jones, whose partner and 3 children were in the house, opened the door holding a knife for protection. A fight broke out during which Jones was disarmed and beaten with the pickaxe handle and cut with the knife. Gibbons fled after the victim's partner called for help. Gibbons, who has a violent past, admitted to unlawful wounding and will be sentenced on November 7th.

Where are the sane people in this world? Seriously.

Related Post of Interest

• 01/16/06 Be Annoying Online And You'll Be Arrested Offline

I'm No Modern Day Shakespeare

I'm not a poet. I don't pretend to be. I don't even try to be. I just say what I'm thinking. Today, I said this. It doesn't rhyme, but it has reason.

"...and never say never, today is a good day to begin "never" and it just may end with happily ever after."

You just never know.