Dressed in Hats...Remembering

I woke up late today. I woke up at 7 a.m.
Shit, that is late (I wake up @ 5 a.m.).
It takes me an hour to get to work. It's cool. No reason to stress. There isn't anything pending.

The sun's blaring yellow spikes hid behind the dainty gray clouds today.
The weather is nice today.

As I reached the 15 minute mark (that is the 15 minutes left to get to work) in Jersey Village, I noticed a lot of men outside their homes. No women. Most of them young - between 35 to 50. They chatted with their neighbors. Two were smoking cigarettes, one of them was in short shorts. The others just hang about their yards - not doing any yard work. What brought them outside - the weather? Just an observation.

I saw School Bus # 720 for Cy-Fair School District. I have seen it many times before. Tears began to fill my eyes. My heart goes out to the family of the six or seven yeard old child that rides that bus.

Today, the boy's older brother helped him onto the bus. (Again, no women outside - what the??) He fixed his little brother's shirt, moved his helpless arms into what he thought would be a more comfortable position and watched as the bus driver lifted the service disc up to the bus. The boy sat in his chunky, mobile chair.

I watched this with love. It's pain and it's beauty.

The driver of the gray Mazda Tribute ES-V6 with license plates starting in 1 ending in P almost slammed his rear end into the front of my car. Why? Because he couldn't appreciate, he couldn't respect, he wouldn't allow himself to be patient.

He wanted to find another way out of Terrance Ln.

Did he notice the love? Why couldn't he take the few mintues that we sat in our cars to Thank God for our abilities?

Fortunately, he didn't hit my car. I almost let anger rise in my belly for his inability to see the beauty in that scene.

I didn't want to feed that monster today. I let my patience ride.

I thank God that I can see.

Escaping the Monster

The story of a fool and his money.

My debt started around either 2001 or 2002, when I was young, stupid, and in love. We moved out before either of us was financially, and let's face it, emotionally ready. I was working in a bookstore, and she worked at a fast food place. High rollers, obviously. She ended up getting a job in a movie theater due to her affinity for movies, while I stayed at the bookstore. We were both college students at the time. After not too long, one of us could not make rent, but that was no problem because I had recently acquired two shiny new credit cards. What a deal, to be able to pull out 500 dollars and pay it back in increments. After that, we started buying groceries and going out to eat on the credit cards. To her credit (ha! get it?), she did warn me against using my cards for everyday purchases. Being the amazing boyfriend that I was, I told her in so many words to mind her own business. More credit cards and more debt came with time. Once our lease was up, she was broke and I was up to my ears in debt. I also paid for school on the credit cards, mainly because I could not get a grant for some reason. I mean, my parents were poor, but proving that one of them made no money proved to be quite difficult. Being in the state that we were, we each moved back in with our parents so we could save up money and get me out of debt.

Neither of us ever wanted to be home, so I spent more money living with family than I ever did while living on my own. After the breakup, I moved back out. Needed my own space. More debt, but I didn't care. From just before moving back “home” to the present day, I have pretty much always had at least two jobs. At one point, I had two jobs, was in school full time, and had a girlfriend. Needless to say, my grades suffered.

Over the years, I basically just treaded water financially, just barely keeping my head above water. I would pay what I could (and that was often just the minimum payments), and once in a while I would get fed up and buy something that I really wanted, such as a camera or a computer – useful things, but not things I really needed. Even getting a well paying job did not help. The more I made, the more I spent, typically on quality food, music, and live shows. I once even got a debt consolidation, but foolishly did not cut up the credit cards. The gateway purchase was always some sort of emergency – a sick dog, a broken car, a relative in need – but then I would just spend more.

The foolishness stopped years ago. Years.

After a friend of mine broke his leg, I landed his job, which paid very well. In fact, it paid so well that I was able to quit my other two jobs. This time around, I was financially responsible. Then disaster struck once again. Without going into detail, I will say that the government shut this job down, so I was therefore unemployed. After four months of trying to find another job (without having to go back to the low paying jobs I had before) my debt was right back where it was.

At this point, I started questioning the city in which I lived, so I decided to pack up and try another. I won't call it a mistake, but it was certainly among the hardest of learning experiences in my life. Even though I had a job in the new city, I could not afford to eat, much less live. I thought I knew what it was to be broke before, but that time really showed me. At one of the low points, I was in the grocery store, trying to choose between either buying just deoderant or just ramen noodles, because I could not afford both. Even after selling most of the things that I owned, I was still making the minimum payments on my credit cards, because I needed my credit to be in good standing, right?

I moved back home (hometown) to find myself homeless and penniless. Due to the kindness of friends, I did not have to sleep in my car very often. After staying with a friend for a couple of months (I can never thank him enough) and getting another two jobs (one of which I like, and the other I'm sort of in charge), I came to realize that I still would not make enough to get and keep my own place, not with the debt in the way. That was the breaking point. I thought about it and came to realize that I don't need credit. The whole concept of it is total bullshit. Materialism (for most) feeds the habit, and we end up slaving away for the beasts – the credit card companies. They made more off of me in interest than I ever owed them, so I decided that they, and my credit, could kiss my ass.

It has only been about a month since I made my move (and moved into my own place – homeless no longer!), but already my life is much better than it has been in many, many years. I don't buy what I cannot afford, I don't have to worry about money as much, and I am finding so many doors open to me (such as finally getting out and seeing the world – I am heading to Croatia this Summer!) that I never thought could be. I have no kids, no girlfriend, so the only person I am responsible for is me, so walking away from my credit WAS an option for me. My life's ups and downs have been great learning experiences, and I have no regrets, but one thing I would change if I could would be to go back about seven years and stop playing the game then. I might have had more experiences and ended up with fewer gray hairs.

Money does not buy happiness. That is true, but it is not a complete statement. Debt, and the inability to live a quality life, certainly equals unhappiness. Financial stability is the precursor to freedom, and the freedom to do with our lives as we choose directly correlates to the possibility of happiness. With that weight gone from my shoulders, I am hopeful about the present and future, as opposed to dreading it like I used to, and that's fucking huge.

Review of the Old

I've been through a lot this year but not enough.

We are a few weeks shy of 2010 and I am still in my office chair. An office chair that doesn't belong to me. Grant it, the chair imprints its wheels on carpet laid over concrere in a new 37,000 sq. ft. building and I am now sheltered by 3 walls without a ceiling (a cubicle), but the fact remains it's not my chair.

I am not happy here yet I realize it's not because morale is at an all time low, there's terrible communication, there's no teamwork, value, or appreciation for what we do, and everyone is underpaid.

No, I am unhappy here because I haven't decided that I love what I do or what I am doing is the right thing for me.

Overall, my life has been a settlement. I settle for being good at things but not excellent.

My glory days consist of wining 1st place in a UIL Picture Memory Contest over (20) twenty years ago.

All else after that is a blur of confusion, anger, displacement, rebellion, and victimization.

My innate desire presses me to strive for excellence yet my ego resists. My ego resists.

"What fear do you have, love, in moving forward into a place with more light to shine?" I

n the past, this was fine. Yes, settlement was ok because I didn't know any better.

This is a perfect time (perhaps not the right place) for reflection of all that has come to pass.

Reflection - without it and another year would go by and I would remain uneducated; standing still with no glory or grace.

Can I pride myself in my own ignorance? I scoff at my avoidance, my tendency to withdraw into blankness and desire for self-victimization yet I can be thankful that I am awakening to a different world.

A world that I create and am responsible and accountable for 100%.

Will I live it?

I can review my life in a different light and perceive what may not have been harvested through my own avoidance; blindness.

In retrospect, the biggest step I made was leaving a married life that was not suitable for my peace of mind. It was not suitable...why?

Our growth was essential and our paths were stringed along without appreciation and respect for our differences, and resentments were nurtured. We were fulfulling the prophecy of an American Dream. Am I truly a non-conformist?

The conformity without bliss was poison. How could we love one another when we didn't have time to learn how to appreciate ourselves and our capabilties. We were being transformed into machines - day in and day out, doing, living in absent-mindedness of our creative souls; dying.

So, I pick up the spoon and eat.

Will my (30) thirty be a climatic turning point?

I have met whimisical love, despair and despondency, rejection, excessive indulgence but I haven't met myself yet.

Everyone in this world has something to share. Everyone in this world has a mark to make. The choice is to make it or to continue on settling for second rate.

This body, mind, and soul is not second rate. My past experience may have led me to conclude such folly but the past is history that does not need to repeat itself.

Maybe I Am

Maybe it's 15. Maybe it's now. Maybe I should quiet myself. Maybe I should shout it out loud.



In the middle. The middle. The grey. The gray.



The perfect balance seems always a few steps ahead of me.



No, I'm defectively settled into the comfort of my imaginary womb.



Safe. Warm. Tight.



I am a writer but I don't write. I am a musician but I don't play my instruments. I am an artist but I don't paint. I am a photographer but I don't photograph. I am. I am. I am.



I am self-defeat.



Pull! For crying out loud, pull me out of the womb so I can taste the bittersweet juice as it fills the air. Pull me out so that I can scream and cry with all my might so that I may know what it feels like to be frightened for the very first time. Place me into the arms of the ONE who carried me to LIFE so that I may once again know what it feels like to be loved. Pure. Innocent. White. Love. Then take it away so that I can be humbled. And then give it back. And then take away. Give back - like the newborn's profuse breathing - inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.



Just breathe.



Five. I scream, I kick, and run. Run to my room, to my pillow and forcefully abstract every square inch of oxygen from my lungs as I scream in hopes that the bags of air will flake away like the lawn chair left out in the rain - slowly crumbling to return to the ground from which it came. Cry until the memory of pain has faded into short, inconsistent breaths, abrupt whimpers, and a salty face.



Breathe.



Ten. Twelve. Thirteen.



Maybe.



Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen.



I am selfish. I am disgusting. I am not worth loving. I don't care. I am seperate. I am nothing. I am weak. I can not be seen!