Book of Jamez

55 y/o malcontent, something of a writer

Author: Jamez

  • Twenty-Seven

    Twenty-Seven

    If everything goes according to plan, this Saturday, May 8th 2021 I will celebrate 27 years of continuous sobriety.

    I spent 22 of those years in the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous (AA), attending a meeting at least once a week. Raising my hand to volunteer, reaching out my hand to newcomers and reading the literature. I would even pray at least once a day, usually I’d recite the 3rd Step and 7th Step prayers each day, and as the day would progress I might say an extra prayer here or there. At night I might thank the sky for the day and ask for certain people to be watched over. I was a Big Book Thumper! I quoted the book, practiced the book and preached the book. I was a hawker or the 12 Traditions and their importance to making meetings and AA work.

    As an atheist I struggled with the concept of a “higher power” and or “god” and despite what the book or the traditions say, most meetings I went to pushed a need to believe in something greater than you to achieve and keep sobriety. I did as I was told, I ‘faked it til you make it’ til I was blue in the face, but I seemed to get sobriety without ever achieving a belief in a higher power. Made me kind of a hypocrite when I would preach the steps and not believe key parts were necessary.

    In 2016 I had a bad depression cycle and was in a dark place for several months. Nothing AA had taught me was helping, I was stuck. I didn’t know how to get out of it and didn’t know if I wanted to get out of it, it became comfortable and the new normal. I was actively planning my own death and looking forward to it.

    My primary care physician listened to me and prescribed some medications that helped me. I got out of the dark place and started to feel better and started to think that I didn’t want to go to AA any longer. I don’t know that they were connected thoughts I just know they happened around the same time. So I came to a decision to leave meetings. I’ve been to two meetings since and they didn’t inspire me to come back to the groups or give my heart aches.

    It’s interesting, my sponsor at the time noticed I was moving away from AA before I did. He mentioned one night after we met that it seemed like I was pulling away. I was having issues with the service structure of AA and not enjoying any part of meetings, not the people, the time or the activities. I was moving away and didn’t know it. When I told him I was leaving he wasn’t surprised and thankfully he didn’t cut me out of his life or anything, I still chat with him on occasion and count him as a friend.

    So what’s different if you don’t go to AA meetings any longer Jamez? – well not a lot. I still believe getting out of self and helping others is a key role in sanity and sobriety. I still meditate on occasion. I still don’t drink or do drugs. Basically I took the meetings and readings out… and doing ok, as far as I can tell.

    AA gave me a great foundation, tools to live a normal life and now I’m living it. AA is a great resource if you’re looking to find a new life and they can help you get there. I appreciate what AA gave me and how far it got me, changed me for life I hope.

    So Saturday, I’ll be 27. I’ll be spending time with an old friend for the weekend in Philadelphia, I don’t anticipate attending a meeting, just doing normal things that normal people do. Hope you have a great weekend too.

    Organizations that help you find sobriety:

    Alcoholics Anonymous

    Narcotics Anonymous

    LifeRing – Secular Recovery

    SMART Recovery – non deity based recovery

  • The Dreaded Beast – Meetings

    The Dreaded Beast – Meetings

    Have I ever mentioned how much I hate meetings. Hate is a strong word, I know… I’m pretty sure it’s hate. Can’t stand them, go out of my way to prevent them from happening if at all possible. I haven’t pulled a fire alarm or called in a bomb threat, but maybe it’s worth the risk. Chances are we’d then have to have a meeting about safety and irresponsibility.

    I’m a worker. I want to get to the office sit in front of my computer and crank out work. There is always plenty of work. This hasn’t been true at many of my jobs in the past… Job after job after job I would find myself bored, playing on Facebook, playing solitaire or surfing the web when my work was finished… I did my job now I have free time to goof off. I even had a job where I could play World of Warcraft and still be productive.. not a lot to do so lots of time to be creative.

    My current job, in the insurance industry doesn’t allow me to play around… oh, I’m sure I could find a way to do nothing, but I don’t have to. I have so much work to do and the team that works with me does too… so there is no need to find other things to do to occupy my time… I have work that needs doing and I can do it so therefore I’m not bored… boredom is the day killer.

    A meeting, regardless of purpose (purpose is a rare quality in any meeting I’ve been to) is generally boring. There is no work being done. No one is being active… or perhaps one person is being active and the rest of the group is staring at their screen. One person will ask a dumb question and the rest of the meeting will groan to themselves and wonder why that person keeps being asked back to the meeting, secretly they’ve been planning his murder.

    Generally meetings consist of one of the following:

    • This work isn’t being done.
    • This work is being done incorrectly.
    • How can we get more work done.
    • We should schedule a meeting to talk about having a meeting.
    • Let me ramble on and on about a plan I would like to put in motion that will fix nothing but mandates you pay attention to me for an hour or more.  (generally a consultant)

    I try to stay open minded. I try to be helpful and input good information, if I have it. I try to take notes that make sense to me…. but generally, I’m bored.

    It isn’t just the boredom that gets me… it’s the frustration of knowing I could be at my desk at that moment doing ACTUAL work. Putting dents into large projects, finishing small projects, helping customers and generally … well working.

    One meeting a week… ok I can do it. Two – three meetings four days of the week… omg… help me… do I want to have another meeting… do you really have to ask me that question?

  • Happiness

    Happiness

    I started a new job in June, a call center. My first time at a call center and I wasn’t sure how I’d do but I think I do ok. I like it as it keeps me busy most of the time and I love being busy, the days seem to fly by when you’re busy more than when you’re bored. There was a job not to long ago that I had where I just sat there for about 7 hours a day, hated that.

    I’ve had three people at my new job comment on how I always seem to be happy and never let anything bother me. Alan said “Dude,” he says dude, who am I to argue “how do you just stay so upbeat all the time, you never let this stuff get to you.”. Brandon commented “Jamez you’re always in a good mood, I don’t know how you do it” and Farrah came out and said “You scare me, people who are happy all the time scare me. Like I wonder what you’re hiding.” Farrah and I talked a bit and I assured her I don’t have any corpses stashed under my crawlspace or in an attic somewhere and that I do have my moments where I’m not so cheery, she said she was less scared after. 

    These folks don’t sit next to me and hear me swear under my breath when I come across a record that wasn’t properly documented or cancelled…. and sometimes I swear not so under my breath. Nor do they ride home with me and see how mad I get at people who can’t do the speed limit as a minimum.. what’s wrong with those people and why do they even have a license? 

    At work I try to greet everyone with a “good morning” or a “hello” as they walk past and I happen to sit at a high traffic zone so I see a lot of folks. I also tell them good night and for some folks I say “thanks for being wonderful today” when they leave. Gives me something to do and it’s nice networking, I get to know people over time and can chat with them about other things if they run into me. Like today with Farrah, she and I chatted for a bit during a break but had I not be overly nice who knows if we would have. 

    I honestly am usually just ok with things. I swear, at home and on my own I’m just ok. I do suffer from anxiety and depression and take medications for those, so it might all be that I guess. It’s also some indoctrination I received from 20 odd years in Alcoholics Anonymous where they preach “fake it til you make it” and where I was taught to greet everyone before the meeting and shake hands with every single person there. After 20 years of doing something it kind of sticks.

    At the new job I frequently remind myself – “I’m not a manager now”. Which seems silly I guess, but I managed a team for a good 5 years and it’s in my bones now and I can’t help but get a little frustrated when I see inefficiency or people, literally, sleeping on the job then I start to steam internally and have to stay focused on making calls. Since there are so many calls to make this keeps me occupied.

    When I get home I sometimes fret/resent/repeat the day in my head and it keeps me up at night. My own errors is a big thing that bothers me, when I screw up my anxiety shoots through me and I get all uncomfortable and want to crawl in a hole. I try to not make mistakes but sometimes I get sloppy and fast and one gets made, I’m just not good on fixing it once its been done. I don’t like the feeling of failure and that just beats me up real bad in my head. So while outside I may be greeting folks and smiling – inside I’m fighting a demon of self-doubt and condemnation. It’s awful. It makes me feel like I can’t move. I can’t describe it other than that, it’s overwhelming. So I do try ever so hard not to mess up. 

    I do work with a good group of people and have good managers on the floor. I’m usually very busy making calls and only once in a while do I get anxious about making one and its not for a good reason, its random. Being nice and smiling helps to keep that at bay so I do it. 

    When I was newly sober I was called a malcontent and “that angry guy” but over the years “faking it til you make it” and just doing the next right thing helped make that image go away. My friends that have known me for decades know I’m not the happiest of guys but they love me anyway and find other qualities in me (I guess) to treasure. 

    I am not one to dwell on and fret about things over and over… usually. I’m not one to gush over things either. I’m kind of in the middle and just do things that seem to be the right thing to do… and at work, saying hi and trying to keep a positive attitude doesn’t hurt either.

  • Physical Therapy

    Physical Therapy

    So earlier this year I managed to hurt my shoulder. I didn’t think much of it at the time, I was moving lots of things at work and one day lifted and felt my arm and shoulder hurt a bit. The next day my shoulder hurt to move and sent pins and needles down my arm if I moved it certain ways. Again, I figured it would get better on its own so didn’t pay it much attention. 

    Several months later it wasn’t getting better, in fact it got worse. I had limited motion in my right arm and couldn’t do things that I normally do – like reach for things with my right arm, sleep on my right side or keep my wallet in my right pocket. I couldn’t even yank on the cord to start the lawn mower. Reaching for the seatbelt with my right arm going across my body hurt, reaching across to the right hurt too. It wasn’t very fun… 

    I didn’t have insurance for a good while, but it finally kicked in at my new job in September so I scheduled an appointment with Ortho (got a referral from my GP) for September 2nd. 

    They tested my range of motion, pulled and poked me and took an X-ray and then said “Oh, you have frozen shoulder.” My best friend, Suzanne, had suggested it might be frozen shoulder a month or two before as symptoms sounded like what her mother had. Sure enough she was right. The doctor injected me with cortisone and prescribed intensive physical therapy/stretching and asked me to come back in eight weeks. He also said lots of Aleve, as much as four a day, so I’ve been doing that too. 

    So that day I found a PT place close to the house and booked my first appointment. At the first appointment they did measurements, asked me to stretch and reach and gauge my pain threshold for them and I did all that. Took about 35 minutes that first visit and they based my continuing care on those tests. 

    So for the past four weeks I’ve been going to physical therapy twice a week, where they have me stretch, lift, pull and push my way through a bunch of different exercises. 

    I do pulley pulls, finger ladder, shoulder shrugs, bicep curls and more. Lots of simple things I can, and do, do at home, like wall scrubs (take a towel in your arm and scrub the wall up and down, side to side and in circles 20 times each way), pulling my arm behind my back with a rope held in my left arm, reach forward and hold a stretch for 10 seconds 10 times… among other things. I’m not a fan of a particular stretch called “the doorway stretch” where I hold my arms on the side of the door and lean in, hurts pretty bad and I only hold it for 30 seconds but it’s a bitch. I use a “body blade” that I hold and punch out, the punch side to side and move side to side… that one I always get tired and want to grab with my left hand, kind of funny how I want to compensate when I’m doing PT. 

    I like my trainers, no eye candy as they’re both women, but they keep me going and motivated. They also stretch and rub on my shoulder when I’ve done all my exercises and offer me an ice pack each day for a few minutes after I’m done. 

    Anyway, I’m getting better – my range of motion has improved. I was at about 30% motion but now I’m about 60% motion and a lot less pain. No more pins and needles going down my arm and that makes me a very happy boy. I go back to Ortho on the 21st of October and they may take another X-ray, we’ll see but I think between what I’m doing at PT and home I’m making solid progress.

    I have to say I’m glad it’s only this and not something more serious, some of the other patients I see in there working on themselves are struggling to walk straight and that seems pretty hard. They too are making progress that I can see so that’s nice. 

    When I first started, lots of folks on Facebook shared that they had been in PT and how important it was to do the home exercises. Lots of good support from social media and at home. While I keep trying to help move or do things Suzanne won’t let me. 

    I’m hoping by the time my birthday comes around, if not sooner, I’ll be all better. But if not I know to keep working and stretching my way to success.

  • The Robbery – A Short Story

    The Robbery – A Short Story

    The 7-11 was crowded for a Friday night, lots of people in and out. Jordan was waiting for the right person and the right pause in traffic to make a move. No couples, no kids, only a solo target was going to be easy enough. It had been too long since he’s had to rob anyone and he was feeling rusty.

    Jordan was an average sized man, standing 6 feet tall and weighing about 250. He had a shaved head and wore a closely trimmed beard. 

    It was approaching ten o’clock and he was getting hungrier, his stomach grumbled a few times too often and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could wait it out. Finally he saw a younger looking guy go into the store by himself, he had parked near the end of the parking spaces and would be shrouded in the dark, perfect… now if only the other customers would cooperate. 

    The guy was taking a long time in the store and Jordan started to get antsy. “Breathe Jordan, breathe, patience, this will be fast and easy.” He unsheathed his knife and gave it the once over, still looked pretty menacing in the dark and should be all he needs to pull this off. He skulked closer to the parked car and found a shadow to hide in. 

    He’d been out of work now for four weeks and the kitchen at home was bare, he was only doing what he had to to survive. Due to his work record he wasn’t able to collect the full amount of unemployment and he found it hard to survive on just $138 a week. Food was an essential need at this point and he needed extra money to make it. This poor sap was about to help him whether he wanted to or not.

    He had asked his parents for help, but they couldn’t help being in the assisted living facility was expensive enough they said. His dad even suggested he pull himself up by his bootstraps and get a real job, like he hadn’t tried to find a new job, but the economy was crashed and only the millionaires and billionaires seemed to be doing ok, though to hear them talk they too were feeling the pinch. Jordan would take their kind of suffering over his any day.

    He grabbed the medal of Saint Christopher that hung around his neck and prayed for forgiveness and strength as the man approached. 

    ——————————————————————————————————————

    Ed, 5’9” tall, about 210 slim built and wearing glasses was out on a Friday night just to pick up some snacks and buy a lottery ticket. The jackpot for Saturday night was $350,000,000 and he was already planning how to spend it all. In the 7-11 he grabbed a bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos, a pack of Twizzlers and two cans of Rockstar Pure Zero Punched, his favorites. He approached the counter and stood in line waiting for his turn and thought to himself maybe a scratcher or two would be in order as well, what the hell.

    Finally at the counter he placed his stuff down, grabbed his wallet and asked “Can I get 5 Powerball tickets for tomorrow and two of these scratchers” pointing to $10 tickets in the display. 

    “These?” the teller, a middle aged middle-eastern man with a bushy mustache, asked pointing to the right ones “Yeah, those” 

    Ed paid for his items with cash, stuck his Powerball ticket into his wallet and headed out the door.

    “You forgot your scratchers” the clerk called 

    Ed slapped himself on his forehead and walked back in. “Lucky you caught me, maybe it means these are winners.” 

    “Good luck” said the clerk smiling. 

    Ed smiled at him and thought to himself how lucky that was and maybe these would be winners after all. A couple extra dollars would be nice. As he approached his car he hit the key fob to unlock it and moved his bag to his right hand. 

    He just saw Jordan step out of the shadows as his hand reached the door handle. Thinking it must just be another customer he didn’t think anything of it.

    “Give me your wallet.” Jordan said loudly with as deep a voice he could manage, he was hoping it would be harder for him to be identified if he were caught. He had slipped a bandanna over his mouth and nose to obscure his features and hoped that would be enough. He held the knife firmly and hoped his target couldn’t see how much his hand was shaking.

    Ed felt adrenaline surge through his body and his fight or flight reactions came to the forefront, this was one time he wouldn’t lie down and take it. He wasn’t planning to hand over anything to this thug. He looked over his shoulder and saw the man and thought – I can take him, I know I can. He slowly turned around and faced his attacker.

    “Slow buddy, slow, just hand me your wallet and no one will get hurt” Jordan said twisting the knife and hoping the distant lights would make it glint and look more menacing. 

    “I’m not giving you my wallet” Ed exclaimed “scram, get out of here” he said and tried to shove Jordan away. 

    “Not messing around here buddy, give me your wallet.” He backed out of Ed’s reach and held his knife up.

    Ed hadn’t seen the knife earlier and now was a bit more cautious yet still determined not to get mugged and give up his money. He tensed up his body and got ready to make a grab for the knife – he swung his bag out at Jordan’s head and went to grab the knife with his left hand. 

    Jordan panicked and ducked. When he came up his struck with his knife welding hand and stuck Ed in the belly. He couldn’t believe he had just done that and yanked the knife out – blood gushed and Ed fell to the ground with a gasp. 

    “Dude, why didn’t you just give me your wallet. What the fuck” Jordan said. He had to get out of here, but he had waited too long for this. He reached down and found Ed’s wallet and grabbed it and then seeing the Doritos in the bag he grabbed that too and he ran.

    “FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK” Jordan thought as he ran for his car. This was bad, bad. What was he going to do. “Just run”, he thought “get home and we’ll figure this out” he pulled his bandana down and ran for his car and hoped he wouldn’t run into anyone. 

  • Got Trust?

    Got Trust?

    A few years back a psychologist helped me come to a conclusion on love – it has to be earned. No one gets a default feeling of love just because they are related to you, know you or were nice to you once in passing.

    I loved the idea of my mother – a woman who cared for me, loved me, made sure my needs were met. I didn’t really have that, but was stuck on an idea of obligation of loving her because she birthed me. Truthfully, she only loved me when she needed something – attention, pity, affection or my social security number when her credit wore through.

    Loving someone who doesn’t love you back, is using or manipulating you… not really a winning game. The same is true of trust and respect.

    I like to give people the benefit of the doubt in the beginning – I’ll trust you unless you give me a reason not to. Tell me you’re going to be somewhere at a certain time and I believe you. Tell me you’ll work on a project, call me, change or whatever – I’m gullible enough to think you’re telling me the truth.

    It’s the part of me that’s an optimist (it’s a very small part, most of me is a realist who thinks that people are designed to fail one another and that they like it), this idea that people are fundamentally good and want to help one another. I’ve always wanted to believe in the good in people, even though it’s seems to be the exception to the norm.

    There are acceptable excuses for lying – surprise birthday parties or gifts, if you’ll hurt someone’s feeling (ex. “Honey, do these pants make me look fat?” – that could be self preservation as well) or if telling the truth would cause harm to others. I think that’s about it.

    What really gets on my nerves is when someone says one thing one day but a completely different thing the next. When you try to bring up the old thing they look at you like you’ve gone nuts and it’s never happened (I guess it’s reasonable that I’ve gone nuts, not something I’ve considered on the matter… I’ll consider it). Changing your tune when the evidence is there in front of you just to get something accomplished – this should not be how it’s done.

    Yesterday “this is because of this” but tomorrow “this is because of that”… maybe I just need to surround myself with better liars who can keep track of which story to tell.

    Or manipulating a person to get what you want – that usually involves lying and deception as well.

    I’ve always found it best to be upfront about those things. If you want a particular result and I can help you get there – tell me. Don’t fuck around with my trust, belief and respect in you… just say it. I don’t do subtle well either… just spit it out. I’m a goal oriented, hard working person who gets a certain satisfaction out of doing the job… why would you fuck with that?

    So you trust and respect someone – in life or business and they start to lie or manipulate you… why wouldn’t you stop believing in their dreams, goals and the very words that come out of their mouth?

    If that person is a part of your own goals, say a linchpin in the plans you’ve made for yourself and they start lying… well then you need to consider your future and look at what you’ve started to build and if it’s worth continuing or not.

    It’s hard to think I invested so much in a future that isn’t solid.

  • Alone – Short Story

    Alone – Short Story

    This is the start of a Sci-Fi story I’m writing. We’ll see how it turns out.

    Chapter 1

    A group of scientists had finally accomplished what we long hoped for – the ability to travel through the universe and back home without losing our most prized commodity – time. The media were calling it warp drive when it was first announced but it wasn’t really akin to what we had seen on old Star Trek episodes at all. I don’t understand all the techno speak on it I just knew it worked and we were going to be able to save everyone after all. The tech guys called it Ushering – as it wasn’t so much a piloted or driven program but one that we directed to the precise place in space we wanted to go. 

    The Earth was doomed. Resources on planet had dwindled, despite the decades of warnings that it was likely to happen we just kept consuming as fast as possible. You couldn’t convince the majority that their every action had consequences; they always assumed it was the other guy. I’m guilty myself: two showers a day, leaving my electronics plugged in and taking the Betram two blocks to the store when I could have walked. 

    Trying to make up for my own selfishness, I was one of the first volunteers for early missions on the newly enabled star ships. After months of grueling testing, not just our fitness but also the new ships with the capabilities to get us where we were going, the first mission to find habitable worlds was ready. 

    The Jump, that’s what we’ve been calling the seemingly instant move from our orbit to another point in space, always left a person with the feeling of your stomach being left behind. The first time was the worst – knowing from the others what to expect didn’t seem to calm my nerves or lower my shoulders from around my ears. But from the moment the ship came to a stop the only way I knew we had moved at all was the sudden lack of sounds with the notable exception of tech beeping. 

    Our unmanned ships had located a few planets we thought to be habitable – our journey was to the closest one – though nearness seemed to not matter anymore. Our ship, Usher I, had the capacity for 150 people and 5 metric tons of supplies. 

    We wanted to be prepared for just about anything – so certain factions of the population insisted we have weapons aboard as well. The ship was outfitted with various rockets bearing nuclear components as well as the latest laser tech that science had stumbled onto. There were those who thought equipping for violence would beget violence but their voices were drowned out by the fear mongering politicians. Reflecting on the imminent destruction of the planet you’d think we’d outgrow political and religious maneuvering but it doesn’t seem to fade. 

    Usher I carried supplies to start terra forming planets to meet the needs of our race. We brought with us not just seeds and soil but also certain chemicals that we believed would transform the alien landscape to enable growth at an accelerated rate. The chemical companies that were so despises in the early 2000s were more than happy to manipulate the soil and seeds that the human race would depend upon.. but not without caring about their profit margin first. Raising prices and taking advantage of the doom approaching many conglomerates grew to epic proportions before the first manned flight, their logos were all over the ship – maybe they thought to be the first advertisers in space, in case anyone was watching. 

    Shuttles were detached from the main ship and we made our way to the planet surface – Keppler was the first planet discovered back in the 2000s that would have the potential for life like Earth so naturally that was our destination. Entering orbit seemed similar to doing so back home, rough g-forces and reentry shaking almost comforted me as transcended. The sudden pop of silence and realization that we had arrived within the atmosphere was a revelation. I leaned forward to peer out the windows at what might be home. 

    The new world erupted in colors and shapes, there appeared to be vast oceans and land masses that were not dissimilar to home. Their suns light glittered on the waters, clouds drifted in the skies – a hope filled me that maybe we’d be saved after all. 

    Modular pods were assembled on flat terrain; these were as large as a football field and 4 stories tall. Inside we prepared soil for planting and terraforming, built dwellings and places for the lab folks to do what they do. It wasn’t long before the initial buildings were completed and we prepared to explore the rest of the planet. 

    Betrams, the propulsion vehicles that replaced automobiles on Earth, were capable of long distance travel over almost any terrain. Equipped with oxygen generators and enough water and sustenance to ensure a long trip. Outside sensors monitored air quality, tools could be extended to sample soil and plant life that we might encounter. 

    I had hope that we would discover new life – a first encounter with another species in the universe overwhelmed my thoughts. Maybe intelligent life could help us to better understand the self-imposed destruction of our own world. How did they avoid the pitfalls of greed and apathy that seemed to overtake humanity?

    We weren’t that fortunate – we did find some plant life and soil that seemed capable of working with the chemicals formulated to grow genetically modified food from the seeds we brought with us. That was enough hope to keep us going – and would be met with such excitement back at base. 

    We explored for three weeks before heading back, loaded up with various samples. We did not find breathable air nor drinkable water but some of the more scientific crew said that modifying what was there would take a little effort on their part but could certainly be accomplished – in time. 

    Reaching the base we encountered many changes – several more shuttle trips from Usher I to the planet surface had occurred. A bustling group of people greeted us at the airlock. They had been busy and new life had sprouted in the soil, people were busy in all parts of the base with a hundred different tasks. Though dismayed at the lack of promising air and water – the scientists got to work right way examining the samples we returned with. 

    Communication with Earth had been established – folks back home were excited to learn we had successfully arrived. The news empires had insisted a few of their reporters accompany the first journey so everything was being documented and scrutinized by folks back home – not just the governments of the world but every day Joes as well. Someone had taken the time to “check-in” on Facebook so the reporters wanted to know her life story and how she was so forward thinking. The media hadn’t changed, play to the lowest common denominator and feed them just enough to keep them watching. The science of it was boring to the folks back home I guess – strange to think that our hope for survival had less interest than someone clicking a button on their mobile device. 

    The Dormitories with hot showers and soft beds called my name. I escaped the turmoil of the city and found a place of solitude. Sleep came quickly and my dreams of other worldly creatures comforted me rather than startled me.

    Chapter 2

    They’re calling it Kandor – this city on another planet that we’ve created. A few of the people with us are old Superman fans after many people referred to our bustling little civilization as a bottled city they shared about the bottled city of Kandor that Superman saved from certain doom. The name is sticking – even the media uses the name when the broadcast back home.

    Large connected bubbles overwhelm the otherwise barren landscape. Most aren’t opaque but rather a dull white. Everyone wanted to peer at the sky – it’s unfamiliar stars and sun held a certain fascination with most of us. To accommodate this need several large domes were constructed where people could observe the night sky without the need of our pressurized suits or departing the seeming safety of Kandor. 

    Most of the time we haven’t had time for stargazing – we were busy making sure everything was sealed and safe and journeying around the planet in Betrams – using auto cartography apps that would soon provide an entire 3D map of our new world. Nothing but planet that we could see – no signs of life now or previously could be found. That’s considered a good thing as we didn’t want any angry neighbors upset that we might have ruffled their lawn. 

    We did have some excitement a few weeks ago – a few folks were certain they had found signs of life. A bug had been seen in one of the cargo holds and days were spent trying to locate the little bugger. Unfortunately it was just an earth born cockroach that had found its way into our supplies – makes many of us wonder what else might have taken a space trip with us. 

  • Max – a short story

    Max – a short story


    It was the night of the school’s annual letterman ceremony and banquet, where kids in sports and art throughout the year were awarded letters and accolades for participation and excellence in extracurricular activities. Many families were in attendance, in addition to all the team members from Basketball, Football, Track and Field as well as Chorus and Drama Club members. Coaches and teachers were sprinkled amongst the tables, proud of their student’s successes. The many tables at the banquet were filled with the different clicks and groups. No one really sat outside of their comfort zone, with the exception of 

    Max Thompson, the team captain and quarterback of the football team sat next to his parents. He was to be the main speaker tonight after all the awards were presented. He had led his team this year to the state championship and they won, he was voted MVP and was admired by many. He was dressed in a shirt and tie that was very uncomfortable around his thick neck. He, once again, stuck a finger into his collar and tried to stretch it out… his mother admonished him for this “Stop it” she said. He smiled at her and gave an extra tug on the collar to irk her. 

    Cheryl Thompson was proud of her son, following in the footsteps of his father and being his spitting image as well. Her only child, she doted on him but was careful to not do so too much, no need for him to be dependent on Momma, especially when there was such a good daddy to look up to. She was dressed to the nines, wearing a dress that accentuated her breasts and lined her hips sleekly.

    John Thompson, a stoic massive man with bulging biceps and a square jaw, loved his son. He had raised the boy to be a continuation of his own great legacy in the town. While he was proud of his own trophies and accolades from high school and beyond, his goal with his son was for him to surpass him on all fronts and show everyone the merit of a Thompson.

    Across from the Thompsons sat Max’s best friend James and his family the Moore’s. The Moore’s, in comparison, were rather plain. Fred Moore was a skinny man in a plain suit and Sarah Moore wore a blouse and slacks. James too would receive accolades tonight and letter for the second year in a row.   

    Max and James had been best friends since elementary school, neither far from the others side. If Max signed up for an extracurricular activity, it was certain James would as well. They lived just houses apart and spent many evenings passing the ball around or talking on one another’s porch. Sleep overs were just a regular part of the week, many a night they’d be studying into the wee hours and just fall asleep at the other’s house. Vacations, sports, classes… they did everything together. Known throughout school as the dynamic duo – Max’s favorite person to pass to on the field was James, and they seemed unbeatable.  

    The basketball, baseball and chorus teams had all received their letters and accolades, football was up next. A good portion of the team lettered this year including two freshmen who were exceptional on the field. Max and James would be last to be awarded letters as was the usual for the stars, they like to build up to the excitement of it. As their teammates received letters Max looked over at James and smiled his wide smile. James looked back and winked. 

    As the night went on and dinner was served, the time of Max’s speech was quickly approaching.

    “Know what you’re going to say right?” asked his dad. 

    “Don’t be silly John, he’s wrote out a speech and worked on it all week. He’s been very nervous about it” his mother stated.

    Max turned red just thinking about getting up there and speaking to the crowd of people. He was getting more and more nervous as the hour approached. He filled his mouth with a fork full of prime rib and chewed slowly. Most of the time his parents didn’t need his input to have conversations around him, this was probably one of those times. James smiled at him, having been around Max’s parents enough to see this type of thing before. 

    As dinner was finishing up and dessert about to be served Max made his way to the main stage where he would be speaking. His mother was right, he had worked very hard on his speech and was certain it was perfect. He was nervous though about how it would go and what would be said after. He felt right about it, knew it had to be as he couldn’t contain himself anymore. 

    The emcee clinked on his glass to get the rooms attention and then coughed before introducing Max. 

    “As you all know, Max Thompson is one hell of a football player” the emcee said to a roar of applause. “He’s also in the top five of his class this year academically and an upstanding member of the community, volunteering at several good will institutions. Voted MVP this year for his exemplary work on and off the field with his team, please help me in welcoming Max Thompson!”

    The people clapped and stood in ovation as Max approached the dais. Max felt sweat roll down his back and hoped he wouldn’t feel it collect on his forehead as well. He took a sip of water and surveyed the room – his eyes focused on James and felt himself relax. 

    His prepared speech already on the podium, he began talking. He’d memorized what he was going to say so the speech was just a crutch in case he needed it or got lost. Teams, togetherness, hard work, and dedication were key points of his talk. He touched on certain teammates that went the extra mile, coaches who inspired and motivated and his own continued strivings through the team. He really felt at ease, he knew this stuff and knew what the crowd expected of him. 

    As he was getting close to wrapping up he grew more and more nervous. His hands began to sweat and he chided himself – here you are captain of the football team scared to death of some words. Scared to death of the truth. Scared to death to finally be himself. 

    “In closing,” he began “I want to thank the most important person in my life. The one person who keeps me going each day and makes it all worth it.”

    His father straightened in his chair and beamed, his mother placed her hand on his shoulder, tears filling her eyes. A few of his coaches sat a little straighter too. 

    Max paused to take a drink of water, his hand trembling a bit. 

    “My partner not just on the field but in my life, my boyfriend James. James,” he said turning to face him directly “thank you for all you do for me and for always being there with me on this journey, I love you.”

    The room was silent. The star QB was gay and in love with his receiver. This was stunning.

    Then there was applause, from the most unlikely source ever. Max’s dad. And he stood. Giving his son a standing ovation, slowly others joined in and then most of the room was standing and applauding. Max was shocked, he was in awe of the acceptance of his town, his school, his teammates and especially his dad. He looked out again for James and found him.

    His father and mother had their coats on and were dragging James out of the room. James looked back at Max, eyes wide mouth agape. Not a look of condemnation but one of love and fear. 

    Max, who moments ago was feeling elated at the support he seemed to receive was now crushed as he watched James get taken away. He hadn’t thought about consequences for James as much as he did for himself, he was the one who had opened himself up, it wasn’t James’s fault at all. He beat himself up, how could he not have foreseen this. 

    After the banquet and tons of people coming to him to say how this didn’t change how they felt or how proud they were of him. He did get a few that advised it was probably a phase he was going through and he might want to wait until he’s older. Overall though he felt he was received well. All through that he was anxiously waiting calling James or hearing from him to see what happened and if he was alright. 

    As soon as he was able he texted James “R U ok? Where r u?”

    James was usually pretty good about texting back right away, but nothing came after five minutes.

    He was worried and he expressed his fears with his parents, they tried to reassure him that everything would be fine. That this was just a big shock to James’s parents and they may need time to adjust. Max’s dad said, “Let it sit until morning, you can survive that long without hearing from him”. Max headed to his room to try to sleep, sent another message or two to James, but again heard nothing.

    He tossed and turned all night, kept checking his phone every hour or so for updates or word, but nothing was there. He woke up at dawn and decided enough was enough and headed over to James’s house. 

    He creeped as quietly as he could over to James’s bedroom window along the side of the house. He tapped on the window. 

    Nothing.

    He tapped again, a little louder.

    Nothing.

    Not giving up, he tapped one more time, still a little louder.

    A figure moved to the window and raised the blinds. James was on the other side of the window, the darkness in his room kept Max from seeing him clearly.

    “James,” Max said desperately “I’m so sorry, I thought it would be alright. Are you ok? Are you mad at me?”

    James mumbled something Max couldn’t hear. “What was that?” Max begged, “please talk to me.”

    James reached over and turned on his bedroom lamp and raised the window. What Max saw was outrageous. James had been beaten black and blue and had a bloody lip and what appeared to be a broken nose. His eyes were red from tears and maybe beating there too. 

    “James, honey, what happened” Max pleaded.

    “My dad, he couldn’t handle it, he lost it last night when we got back. He’s sending me away to boarding school and I’m forbidden to see you, he took my phone.” 

    Max grabbed James’s hand “Babe, I’m sorry this happened to you, let’s get you out of here to a doctor”

    “No, I’m going to be fine, no need for a doctor.” James explained “Let’s just let him settle down for a few days and get used to this, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” 

    Max wasn’t sure this was the best idea but didn’t want to push it. He squeezed James’s hand and leaned in to give him a kiss. James kissed back gently, not wanting to push his injured face farther than he had to. 

    Max was about to go when he saw a police car pull up outside the house. Thinking James’s parents had called the cops on him he glanced at James, who had also seen the cop and they silently agreed it was time to go. Max headed for home.

    When he arrived home his mother was waiting for him and gave him a big hug after hearing what had happened to James. She made him breakfast and said “all we can do now is just wait”.

    The knock on the front door came about twenty minutes later, James and his mother were standing at the front door. It had been his mom who had called the cops on James’s dad. He had been arrested for child abuse and was currently in the town jail awaiting trial.

    James’s mom hugged Max and apologized for everything, and assured him they would get through this together. Max grabbed James’s hand and held it tightly, not daring to believe it was all going to work out. 

  • Revisiting Depression

    Revisiting Depression

    I have severe depression. It is usually maintained with medications (I take 2: Aripiprazole  and Escitalopram) that keep me level. I still get spikes of depression that come in and cloud up everything and almost always include thoughts of ending it all. 

    A previous primary care physician suggested I may experience these in cycles, it’s an interesting theory and I’ve noticed that it does seem to ebb and flow. There doesn’t seem to be a given time, it’s not like every three months like clockwork it pops up it just comes. My cycle that led me to take medicine to combat this is described well here: LOST  It was a very dark time and I’m fearful of it ever returning. 

    I have found that since I’ve been taking medications for depression my need to write has diminished considerably. It used to be that I would get an idea for a blog post/story and it would roll around in my head, almost obsessively, until I got it out on paper. That has stopped, nothing really becomes such a solid focus as it used to, so there is very little need to write anything as it doesn’t need to come out. This is a good or a bad thing, depending on your point of view. 

    My prescriptions from my time in Phoenix finally ran out and I needed to find a new primary care provider anyway, so I scheduled an appointment at a place recommended by a friend. New doctor, cute as all get out, but at this facility the PCPs don’t prescribe mood altering chemicals, they insist you see a psychiatrist/specialist to get them filled. The new Doc did refill for me, which was good, but only the one time before I have to see the head shrink. I’ve scheduled that for end of October (earliest I could get in).

    I recently had a depression spike, not a really bad one but more of a foreboding one where everything seemed like it was about to go to hell. Part of that is brought on by my job where I have about 6 hours of down time a day… I’m not exaggerating, really every day I have about 6 hours of nothing to do… it’s causing me some stress. As a matter of fact, I’m writing this during one of my down times… down as nothing to do, not down as in depressed. 

    The spike, didn’t last long and may actually have been the result of a new medication the doc (did I mention he’s cute) gave me for a pain I was having in my elbow that wouldn’t go away. That medication is called “Mobic” and fixed my elbow up right good it did, no pain at all there and it had been hurting for a few months… actually about half a year, previous PCP thought it was tennis elbow but didn’t have a solution, this PCP (the cute one) called it arthritis, or at least that was his theory. I’m just glad the pain went away. 

    Today at the office the guy that hired me let me know most of what I’ve been doing isn’t what I should be doing at all, which would increase my down time at work tenfold. But he did have hope that I should have more to do, so we’ll see if that comes or not. 

    This was kind of a rambling all over the place post, but I wanted to get something out there and also needed something to do with my time. 😉 

  • Hit Hard

    Hit Hard

    Hit hard
    Can’t stop the tears
    Started with self doubt
    Then came the fear

    There’s a point somewhere 
    A cause of the scare
    An underlying reason
    Some kind of demon

    Want to run away and hide
    Wish I’d already died
    Don’t want to search for clues 
    As to why I’m feeling the blues

    Does it ever stop
    Ever get better
    Climb my way on top
    Only to have it remember

    Been here before
    Doesn’t get better
    Time becomes a chore
    Helps me get sadder

    Darkness closes in
    Comforts me within
    Doesn’t stop the tears
    Just feeds the fears

    Don’t see a way out right now
    Find it hard to want to somehow
    The fear feeds the sadness
    Then comes the madness