I haven't forgotten about you, dear reader.

Things have not been easy lately. I lost my beloved golden retriever, Gabriel, and the only thing that gets me through that thought without popping a vein is the idea of giving another little puppy a good home. Maybe I'll post more about that later, but I'm drained right now. The holiday was low-key, but decent once I finally got done with my family. A bit of aggravation there, and I'm not sure if it's over or not. I'm also without a gall bladder now.

Meh. The short version, dear reader, is that things have been rough here, and I needed a break. I think I'm ready to post again, though, and I got a better camera for Christmas, so I should be able to post more and better videos for ya. I've already got some that I will probably put up soon.

So thanks for your patience, or else thanks for rediscovering me over here.

Foul Language, Huh?

When did need become a four-letter word?

What's so awful about it?  We're all human.  We all do it.  In orphanages in Germany after World War II, babies who didn't have their emotional needs filled died, even though they had everything their bodies required.  It's biology, tied to psychology, tied to spirituality.

So much desperation, and all we can do is despise anyone who needs as much as we do.  Sometimes I wish I could turn it off, and leave the human race for a while.  God knows I'm not winning anyway.

Melodramatic?  Maybe.  But you know what?

Fuck you.

Fuck you all.

People and Places and Photos

Today I had lunch with my brother (the straight one) and my sister and her husband.  My aunt and my step mother were also there.

I like my step mother a lot, but we have such a different history with my father than she did.  Even my aunt doesn't share all of the same stories and memories as we do.  While I like being with them all, I wish my other brother had been there, and I wish it were just the four of us "kids," and maybe our partners.

Mostly we talked about what's going on in our lives now.  Craig's new job, what it's like living in Imperial, Greg's latest theatre enterprise.

It wasn't what I expected, but then is anything, really?

After lunch, we went to Dad's grave site.  On one side it has my mother's markings, and on the other my Dad's.  While it's good to have them both close to each other, it can't be easy for my step mother, who goes there quite often.

I probably won't go to my Dad's grave for quite some time.  I don't like graves.  Not because of issues dealing  with loss, or because of creepy ghost stories.  Mostly because I think they're a waste of space.  I don't need a plot of land to remember my mother and father.  I have my pictures, and I have my memories.

This is a picture of the house I grew up in.  I don't need that either, really.

What I need are my family and my friends.  (Is there really a difference between the two?  The older I get, the less I think so.)

So call me.  We'll do lunch.

And we'll take a picture.  I want to remember you, as you are today.  No excuses about your hair or your weight or the stain on your t-shirt.

Just let me take a picture.  I want to remember  you.

The Way We Were

Just thinking about who we are, who we were, and where we came from.

I found some old pictures, and decided to put the scanner we inherited to good use. Included were some pictures of my family before my brothers were born, some shots of all of my cousins and my sister and I one Christmas, and a couple of shots of my best friend from childhood.

I've bee thinking a lot about things from back then lately.  Ever since my father died, actually.  We had it pretty good, for the most part.  We had a good, emotionally healthy family, and good supportive neighbors and friends.  We didn't have that much money - less and less as time went on, actually, but we didn't know that at the time.  Not really, at least.

This is a picture of me and Christina, my best friend growing up.  We were inseparable as kids.  I have a long history of intense friendships, you see.

Oh, and as a kid, I loved that shirt.  I guess I never did have much taste.  I was so upset when it didn't fit anymore.  One day it just vanished.  I'm sure my mom had something to do with it, of course.

I was horrible to my father from about the time I hit puberty through about my early twenties.  That poor man couldn't even breathe right as far as I was concerned at that age.  It was less about him than it was about me.  I had a lot of things to work out back then.  Hell, who am I kidding?  I have a lot to work out even now. 

I was a pretty cute kid, though.