The Old Stuff, The Good Stuff and Friends in Low Places

I had a crush on a redhead girl back in 1991 and wanted to learn more about her – one time when we were talking she mentioned liking Garth Brooks. I had no idea who this guy was but I wanted to figure it out so I asked around.

“Country crap” is what they told me. Country wasn’t cool (no matter what Barbara Mandrell sang) and most of my friends didn’t want anything to do with an up and coming new artist if he wore a cowboy hat and boots. But I was hoping to impress this girl so I kept searching.┬áI finally heard that song “Friends In Low Places” and I liked that quite a lot – many people at the bars would sing along with that one even if it was country. I was slowly introduced to a few others and I guess he wasn’t that bad. That red headed girl and I didn’t ever end up going out – she probably saw in me what I was afraid to look at myself. Continue reading

Can’t Teach An Old Dog…

During high school, well probably even as far back as elementary school – I had no desire to learn anything they wanted to teach me. It was boring. Time would have been better spent reading a comic book, watching tv or day dreaming about anything. I wasn’t engaged and didn’t see the purpose of learning. I loved reading stories though, loved my comics and the books I managed to get my hands on and thought deep down that someday I would be a writer.

When I graduated high school with the bare minimum requirements everyone said “You have to go to college”. As a poor foster child there were many grants and available loans for me to choose from. I managed to get into the local college and signed up for astronomy, philosophy and some kind of statistics class as I think it was a mandatory class and I wanted to get it out-of-the-way. I didn’t want to be there at all and barely went to class on sober days, rarely on days when booze was available.┬áNeedless to say, I didn’t do well in 1989 in college and soon I was academic probation – so I left, not worth my time.

Factory jobs for a few years and writing stories on an old Apple computer in my free time when I was stoned or drunk (made for some interesting plot holes). This was, I thought, what life was all about – a factory job, beer and not a care in the world. I was aiming pretty low at the time, but I would have been content at some level to just do that for the rest of my life – but alcoholism got in the way. Continue reading