Angry Day

I had a very angry day yesterday.  I tormented myself over paranoid imaginings that I attributed to co-workers.  I wanted to escape and yet, indulge in senseless self pity.  There was no good reason other than fatigue from sleep apnea that suffocates me during the night.  I thought of driving into a tree or off an bridge on I-95 but It would only cause more pain.

I focus my anger at my memisis Gargantia, who is a fat deluded Jaimacan woman who dyes her filthy dreadlocks chicken yellow.  She considers herself a diet expert but gains weight weekly.  Her tacky clothes are unwashed and fit her like bursting sausage cassings.  She is selfish.  She demands gifts but rarely gives. She complains because the gifts are not exactly what she would have chosen for herself. She is glutonous while complaining because the food she stuffs herself with is not what she prefers.  She laughs in insane display and moans all day long as if she is involved in coitis.  She begins a series of personal phone calls the moment she walks in the office every morning and continues making personal phone calls through the day.  She brings in food that reeks of blood and goats heads.  She is so stupid at times that I am surprised that she doesn't forget how to breathe.  She is mean spirited and unforgiving but cries when she is in trouble.
I am not imagining or embellishing, she is all these things and more.

I wonder if I am seeing something of myself in her that disgusts me.

I sulked through the evening as I stripped old strings of light from our artifical Christmas Tree and then went to the home office to participate in the seminar for my online Ethics class.  I came back to the living room to sulk in front of the television, dreading having to go to work the next day.  John asked me what was wrong.  I told him my job is making me crazy then corrected myself, I said "I'm allowing my job to get to me".
John replied, "That's more like  it!".

I went to bed resolving to feel better when I woke up the next moring.

First Christmas Memory

Its a dream that holds a nebulous marker in my memory.  I don't know if it really happened.

My Uncle Bob leaned into the back seat of the car to wake me.  He carried me in his arms to the Christmas Parade route with my cousin Dave toddling along side. Uncle Bob's younger brother Babe reached down to scoop Dave up and put him up his shoulders.

Uncle Bob and Babe stood on a street corner in front of a red brick building with cement block keystones.  Dave was perched on his Uncle Babe's Shoulders and I rode above the crowd on Uncle Bob's shoulders, sleeping.  He shook me awake when Santa and his reindeers came by on his snowy float. Snow flakes drifted down from the night sky.

Uncle Bob is the first memory of a male figure in my life.  My eyes become misty when I think of how important he was in my life, from my first memories and today, sixty years later.  I think I told him how much I loved him once or twice but I don't know for sure.  I think he knew because even though it was just his nature, Uncle Bob gathered loved ones as he sowed his love in everyone he met.  I dont' remember him asking for anything in return.

Walk into the Wind

It's been hard to get this narrative about myself started. I have been thinking about my approach to the information that I want to make public. I want to tell about my memories from my first recollections, whether they are real memories or memories taken from old family photographs. I believe that each time we recall an event from the past that we change it by adding new emotions to those actual events. Sometimes memories rear their ugly heads like monsters that hide under beds or behind closed closet doors. They are the unwanted memories that bring storms of emotion to the most sunny of days. Our mission, if we are to survive and live fruitful lives is to keep our heads above those clouds.

I have escaped my life at times by making an alternate reality for myself, pretending that I have another family that embodies my needs. Each member of the family embodies a desire for something that I miss in my life or embodies a trait in myself that I hide from people. I build a wall around the real me with with alternate reality to protect myself. I pretend, hoping that no one will catch me weaving my web of fantasy or that they will know and understand the significance of that imaginary life and forgive me.

In his blog, I hope to expose the reality of my life experience from birth forward as I muddle through memories. I know that the pages will be filled with cold ugliness as well warmth and beauty. I hope that I will be able to separate my yesterdays from today so the transitions in thought will be meaningful. I also hope to purge myself of negativity and anger but not become a victim to it. I hope to forgive as I tell my stories and be forgiven for truths about myself that I hope I have he courage to reveal. My greatest hope is to help other people like me who are still trying to walk into the wind.