It's the Journey, not the Destination

Lame? Lame? Well I never!

2005-04-16T06:03:00.000-05:00

This from someone who has not picked up a phone is HOW long. From someone who has yet to return a certain cable. My blog is not lame. It is in hybernation until the disaster I like to call my life straightens out.

I have just checked in to my blog after a couple of months of a much needed retreat from this venue. I was glad to see a couple of people still checking in on ocasion to see if I have returned to regular posting. To those, I greatly apreciate the dedication.

I do not know if I have permanently returned to the blog world yet. I still have some major issues in my life to resolve. I can only try to check in and add a snippet of the life of brian....I mean me. to the saga unfolding within these posts.

TTFN

My Apologies

2005-02-07T05:37:00.000-06:00

I am truly sorry to my readers who have been patiently waiting for my next post. I am still wrapped up in straightening things out in my now. I have no muse to write about my past. I just wanted to let you folks know that I still intend to continue this blog. I just have to get some shit together before I can procede.

Thank you

2005-01-27T03:11:00.000-06:00

Just a quick thank you to all the new visitors to my blog. It ain't pretty, but it IS me. FYI...There is a link just below my picture on the right. It will take you to my story which has been put in proper order.
For my regular Readers...I should have a new post up by Sat. evening.

Sorry folks

2005-01-26T13:25:00.000-06:00

I have been pre occupied with things of the now.
I will return to retelling the past very soon.

There's No Place Like Home

2005-01-19T10:59:00.000-06:00

Just prior to our leaving town, I phoned and let my mom know that I was heading home. I told her that I would need a place to stay for a bit.
We jumped into the truck and headed out, Lyle, Shane, myself, and two kittens that Lyle had brought for the ride. I have no idea why. I just assumed that the kittens were his and there was no one to look after them in Gimli (Hometown). The trip was fairly uneventful. We did get stopped about half way through Sask. Fortunately we weren’t going that much over the speed limit. Saskatchewan, for those who are not familiar with it, is a prairie province with very few trees. The standing joke is that you need to bring a magazine when you travel through Sask. Just point the car and read. We never saw the RCMP until it was too late. They had parked on the right side of East bound traffic while facing West. This allowed them to sit and wait for speeders without their headlights reflecting off their license plates. At that time a front plate was not required.
We pulled over and tried to clean up the cab as best as possible. It was a mess with luggage, cats, and empty food and drink containers everywhere. The officer at the driver window asked us to get out. I had forgotten about a package of rolling papers sitting on the dash. The officer asks what they were for and I had to explain and show him that we had a baggie of tobacco which was the reason for the papers. We were also reprimanded about the two kittens hiding in Lyle’s coat. The little guys should have been in a proper animal carrier. All in all, an uneventful experience other than the strange looks that we and our cargo received.

When we arrived at my parents place, it was around midday. I was grapping my stuff when my dad came out onto the porch. He started laughing. My look of confusion prompted him to explain. It appears that my appearance resemble that of a hermit that just crawled down form the mountains. After looking back, he was correct. I had not gotten a haircut since before I left for Calgary. I hadn’t shaved in six months, and the clothes I was wearing were three weeks dirty. I was definitely a site. He also teased me about leaving home with a fully furnished apartment, four suitcases of clothes, and a shit load of tools. Their I stood with an army duffle bag full of clothes and a drawer from one of three dressers that I had left home with.

Dad made me strip in the back yard and wash up a bit before I was allowed to enter the house and take a shower. He said that I was allowed in the house, but not the bugs I was probably carrying. E actually burned the clothes I arrived home in.
When I got out of an 80 minute shower, mom had a couple of pork chops and a mess of fried mashed potatoes waiting for me. I was glad to be home. I did nothing but sleep and eat for the first four days that I was there. Nothing was ever asked or mentioned of my time in Calgary. By that time dad had been in A.A. for a number of years and mom had been in Alanon for about the same time. They knew there was no point in knowing. I think back and was grateful for that. It was very humiliating and embarrassing

End of an Era

2005-01-18T10:54:00.000-06:00

When Lyle and Shane arrived in Calgary, I still hadn’t decided what I was going to do. We went to the bar and had a great old time. It had been quite a while since I tied one on. Money wasn’t easily obtainable any more. I was getting a reputation in the establishments frequented. Lyle and Shane flipped the bill. I really enjoy that evening. I woke the next morning in a grey funk. My mind was racing. What to do, where to go, and the regular visitation of the past with Bev. We went for breakfast at the truck stop. Lyle asked me what I was going to do. I could catch a ride back with them if I want. I informed them that I had made no decisions as of yet. Our employer told me that I could go to Edmonton with him if I wanted. And do what? He may hire me, but he was working for his old man when he returned to Edmonton.

Lyle and Shane headed off to the storage facility to load Lyle’s stuff. I returned to the motel room with our employer. When the truck was loaded we started to head across the city. As we neared the outskirts of Calgary I told him that I WASN’T SURE ABOUT THIS. He said that if I wanted he could drive me to the storage facility. He also told me that once he was settled, I could go there and he would help me get set up somewhere. I asked him to take me to the guys. Upon arriving at the facility, I grabbed my duffle with my clothes in it. I was about to unload my tools and he said that I could leave them there if I was coming to Edmonton anyway. I thought for a moment and decided to do just that. He drove off and I headed into the building. I found the guys loading up the truck Lyle had a very Pissed off look about him. I asked him what was up. He told me that all of his stuff he kept from pawning was gone. His stereo, Air tools, and such were missing. He accused me of stealing them. I had no idea what the fuck he was talking about. Our employer had cleaned out anything of value. He had even pawned or sol some of my more expensive furniture. That is when I realized that he had just driven off with about 1500 dollars worth of my tools. We had been fucked over big time. And no flowers or a kiss. I looked at the piece of paper he had handed me with his address and phone number in Edmonton on it. Upon unfolding it I found the paper to be blank.

My furious rants and temper tantrum joined Lyle’s. After about ten minutes of cursing and venting we returned to loading up the truck. I had to leave a lot of the stuff that wouldn’t fit into the truck. That wasn’t really important anyway. I just needed to get the hell out of Dodge. After going through the pile of possessions remaining I ended up filling a dresser drawer with my more precious keepsakes. I loaded up my duffle with what was able to fit. The rest would be lefty behind. He had absconded with the valuable thins anyway. We hopped into the overloaded pickup and headed east. The Manitoba redneck was returning to his home town. Again.

Can't Win For Losing

2005-01-16T07:58:00.000-06:00

I was absolutely useless at work for about as week. I couldn’t concentrate on anything. I would lose my hammer two seconds after setting it down. I would cut the wrong angle on a shake. I even walked off the peak of the roof once. To this day I swear there was an extra three feet on the roof. That particular incident was a result of overdoing the coke in my joint, as well as, not eating for three days. I was more harm then good. My employer had me doing BS jobs like carrying bundles of shakes up onto the roof and cleaning up the ground around the site.

I thought more and more about the mistakes I had made in my life and I continually returned to the memories of Bev. I couldn’t keep her out of my head. I finally got up the nerve to call her one day. I had to call her back three times because when she answered the phone, I would chicken out and hang up. Finally, I responded to her hello. There was a long silence on the phone and I expected the dial tone to appear any moment. I finally heard her quiet hi there on the other end. I went to speak and realized Ii had been holding my breath. I gasped for a breath and rushed out a desperate I am so sorry Bev. We ended up talking for about half an hour. I explained how my life was collapsing around me and all I could think of was how much I loved her. She was quietly responding in a very cautious manner. I didn’t blame her. I explained to hr that I was thinking about getting help and cleaning myself up. She sounded a little more relaxed, but there was a stand off nature to her end of the phone conversation. I asked her if she would ever consider giving me another chance. She replied with a willingness to discuss it if I ever return to Manitoba. I hung up the phone a little stronger from the comfort of those words. Maybe I haven’t completely fucked things up.

About two weeks after my attempts to end my life, we heard back from Lyle. He was returning to Calgary with a mutual friend. He was coming to pick up his stuff. He was moving back to our home town. I figured that was going to happen. He never seems to hang around anywhere for long. Our employer seemed a little unsettled. The night before Lyle arrived he informed me that Hew would have to move back to Edmonton. The construction company was terminating his contracts. I asked what he would do and he said he probably would go and work for his dad. My heart stopped. Now what am I going to do. Not a dime in my pocket and no job prospects anywhere. Who the fuck would hire me in the state that I was in?

FYI

2005-01-11T01:52:00.000-06:00

For those interested, I have posted my story in the proper order. You can find the link just below my profile

Oooh, This is Gonna Leave a Mark

2005-01-11T01:06:00.000-06:00

When you are standing on the edge of a cliff, you have no control of where you look. You automatically look down. The depth of despair overtakes you and you cannot look away. I refer to this stage as Quicksand. Everything I do just makes it harder to get out. Our employer began pushing up the deadlines. We began to be fined for overdue deadlines which he pushed up. New contracts were revoked. The money began to become less and less frequent. The pay wasn’t going as far as it used to. I didn’t have enough to support my bar hopping. My boss wasn’t getting the grass we were accustomed to. The quality and quantity was greatly reduced. This resulted in a more aggressive state of mind for me. I was angry more and more. When I did get enough to get drunk on, it ended in a fight or me being ejected from the bar. I would then wander around town in a funk. I would spend the rest of the evening looking down from that great height. I finally came to the conclusion that it wasn’t worth it anymore.

I ended up at a particularly high overpass not far from the motel we were staying at. I spend a great deal of time figuring out how to do this. First I was going to jump when there were no cars. I waited until there was a major gap in the stream of traffic. I then came to the conclusion that I would probably just break both my legs and live. I decided to jump when there was traffic. What if a person with there kids in the car hit me? I could do that to the children. I would then wait for a semi truck. Of course I had to wait for some time. My luck. I finally chickened out after constantly convincing myself of the consequences of jumping off an overpass. Several more days of these self destructive thoughts hammering away at me forced me to make another attempt. I was coming out of a convenience store about three in the morning. I looked at the Avenue in front of the store and decided. I would ACCIDENTLY step out into traffic. This would then lessen the shock the driver would experience from hitting me. I went to the intersection nearest me and waited until there was a large volume of vehicle heading for the intersection. I stepped out and closed my eyes. I guess I had blacked out at that moment, because the next thing I remember was sitting in the back of a police car in hand cuffs. I cannot really remember what was said or the circumstance of my release, but I was released into the custody of my boss at the motel. I passed out shortly after this. The next day I was even harder on myself. You fuckin idiot, you can’t even kill yourself properly. Fuck you are useless”.

That afternoon Bev, The ex< jumped into my thoughts. I spent the rest of that day thinking of her and remembering how content I was with her. It was painful, yet it remained manageable.
I sometimes think she saved my life that day.

The Abyss Approaches

2005-01-06T03:28:00.000-06:00

The pressures started to build. Work deadlines were catching up. Finances were diminishing. Self esteem was fading. All these factors contributed to a growing cliff I was standing on. My friend Lyle made a decision to go back to Manitoba for a short break. This only added to the responsibilities I had. The construction company was hounding us to complete certain projects. They needed roofing completed in order to send in drywallers to enter. We had to turn away new jobs. Advances on these jobs would have been greatly needed.

We were able to hold on to the jobs we had, but quality was not their. Small errors were occurring. Not to the point that the houses leaked. The errors were cosmetic. The valleys were crooked. The edging was uneven. Call backs reduced our income.

I was losing all confidence in my abilities. I was finding fault in everything I did. I was even having trouble running the scams in the bars. My self esteem was at an all time low. I began questioning my survival in Calgary. I started looking for ways out of this hell. My mind ran through possibilities. I was running out of options. I hated who I had become. I hated what I was doing. I wanted out, at any cost. Why the fuck am I here. Why go on. All these questions plagued me on an hourly basis. My mind was reeling from the onslaught. I started losing sleep, confidence, and control. What now.

Hell is Also For Adults

2005-01-04T19:22:00.000-06:00

This is where my life began to really pick up speed, downhill. I started smoking more and more grass. The alcohol was not as available as pot. My employer seemed to have an unending supply of the stuff. I wasn’t enjoying life as a result. My emotions weren’t being suppressed. I had to deal with them on an hourly basis. I was not accustomed to this, resulting in confusion, uncertainty, and aggravation. I would fly off the handle at the drop of a hat. I would drop into a severe depression when there was no reason. I just spun the wheel and a new emotion came up. I started looking for stronger medication. I should say sedative. I began to start dusting my grass with cocaine. It was easy to obtain from patrons of the bars I frequented. I wasn’t sedated emotionally, but I was in a world where the emotions didn’t interfere as seriously.

We lived in motels around Calgary. We would book in and request a months lodgings and pay for the first two weeks. We would then stretch our stay to three weeks and skip in the middle of the night. There were many motels in Calgary so this was a practice we could continue for some time. Our money situation was difficult. What with eating in restaurants, Motel expenses, and fuel to and from the job sites. Our money was dwindling before the booze and pot. The remainder of the money went to cigarettes. We began pawning off the contents of our storage lockers. Stereos, VCRs, and other pieces slowly migrated from cold storage to shop windows.

I slowly became very introverted and hard to tolerate. My friend and my employer spent less and less time with me. The only time I rememberthem with mewas either in the motel room or on the job. The rest of the time I was alone, wandering from bar t bar, playing the game. I would look for suckers to milk and pool players to hustle. I was a bottom feeder, living off the naïve and manipulated citizens just trying to enjoy their lives.

Out To Lunch

2004-12-22T13:11:00.000-06:00

Just a quick note to my readers.

I will not be posting until the new year.

Have a very Merry Christmas
And an
Alcoholic New Year

Here We Go Again

2004-12-15T14:11:00.000-06:00

The next couple of weeks were hell. I spent a great deal of time at the truck stop. Whenever I was at the house, Mel was bitching about something. We weren’t helping, we weren’t paying our share. We weren’t looking for work. I don’t recall her ever looking for work. I believe she was a Coker and had to settle for pot. This definitely decreases the joy level of the user. It is a survival tactic at its very lowest form. I was reading the want ads regular, but it was November and the construction business was very slow. This flooded the market with unemployed wood butchers. Lyle found a job with a man who installed cedar shingles. This put Mel into a tizzy. She started demanding more money from him. She expected him to fully support her now. One evening she demanded money and Lyle told her where to go. She freaked and told us both to get the fuck out. Lyle called his boss and he came over with his truck. Mel refused to let us have any of our stuff. She said that it was hers until we paid her the money she demanded of us. Lyle went and called the police to help us retrieve our property. They hung around until we had it all loaded into the truck. She was absolutely insane. She was screaming and throwing things. At one point the police had to put her in the cruiser to keep her from breaking more of our stuff. She had realized that she was completely fucked at that point. Who would pay the rent now?

We went to Motel village and rented a room for the three of us. Lyle’s boss was staying in a small room there and just had to increase the size and add our names. And then there were three. The next morning we went to a cold storage facility and store our possessions. I then began working with the guys. We install cedar shake roofing to new houses in the rich quarter of Calgary. The employment wasn’t too hard and the boss was easy to get along with. Then the other hand was laid o the table….

Forum Friday

2004-12-10T22:31:00.000-06:00

I will no longer be posting about myself on the weekends.

Instead I will be giving you, the readers, an apportunity to ask any questions you may have.

Ask and I shal answer.

Please use the email when ever possible to reduce the size of the comments on haloscan

Orateknight

Two quick questions:
Have you always lived in Manitoba (where were you born)? and how did you and Lovisa become friends?

I was born in Winnipeg and we moved to Gimli when I was two. I consider myself Born and raised a Gimli boy though. I lived in Iqaluit, Baffin island for about four months, and Calgary about four months. I have lived in Winnipeg for the last 13 years but will always be a country boy. I have to get out of the city whenever possible. I can't stand the city.

Lovisa and I became friends by way of a long meaningfull one night relationship.

No actually I am very good friends with her Aunt and Uncle. Her Mom's sister married my best fiend. We were in the wedding party together. I did not see her for several years after that. I still get together with her parents and my friend's family regularly. It wasn't until several years later, we started doin the lunch thing. I have considered her a very good friend for the last two years.

2004-12-09T21:29:00.000-06:00

I am going to have to start writing longer posts before I run out of damn titles

Go West Young Man

2004-12-09T21:28:00.000-06:00

We moved at around two in the morning as Lyle was a month late with his rent. We loaded everything up into and on top of a pickup with a shell. We had to tie the couch on top of the shell. My hand made mahogany coffee table was on the couch. Because we were in a hurry to leave, we tied these with extension cord. About the middle of Sask. we found out that extension cord can stretch a great deal. I was riding in the back of the truck and saw/felt the couch leave the truck. I looked back to see the couch body slam my table onto the Trans Canada Highway. We were able save the couch, but we couldn’t seem to find the coffee table. I wonder why.

We arrived in Calgary the next morning and spent the next couple of days at an acquaintance of Lyle and myself. We proceeded to go on Welfare, and look for a place to live. We ended up finding a house the three of us could afford and moved in. That is when the problems started. The stripper, Melanie, Began a power trip that would overshadow Caesar. An example of this was at the end of the first month she presented the two of us with a grocery bill which came to $250 each. That seemed to be a HELL of a lot of money considering we ate at the truck stop, save for dinner. Turned out that she ran up a bill with the local pot dealer and expected us to pay her debts. The heat was on and she had blood on her mind.

You Might Live In Manitoba

2004-12-07T11:53:00.000-06:00

If you consider it a sport to gather your food by drilling through 36 inches of ice and sitting there all day hoping that the food will swim by, you might live in Manitoba

If you are proud that your region makes the national news 200 nights each year because Winnipeg is the coldest spot in the nation, you might live in Manitoba.

If your local Dairy Queen is closed from September through May, you might live in Manitoba.

If you instinctively walk like a penguin for six months out of the year, you might live in Manitoba.

If your dad's suntan stops at a line around the middle of his forehead, you might live in Manitoba.

If you have worn a pair of shorts and a parka the same day, you might live in Manitoba.

If you've had a lengthy telephone conversation with someone who dialed a wrong number, you might live in Manitoba.

Vacation means going South past Emerson for the weekend.

You measure distance in hours, not miles or kms.

You know several people who've hit a deer more than once.

You often switch from Heat to A/C in the same day.

You can drive at 100 km ph through two feet of snow during a raging blizzard, without flinching.

You kid's Halloween costume is made to fit over a snowsuit.

Driving's better in the winter because then the potholes are filled with ice and snow.

Your Four Seasons are: almost winter, winter, still winter, and road construction.

Creative landscaping is deer statue next to your blue spruce.

Down South means Grand Forks.

Your July 1st picnic was moved indoors due to frost.

You have more miles on your snow blower than your car.

Instant Asshole, Just Add Alcohol

2004-12-06T20:41:00.000-06:00

Now everything should be good and at ease. Yeh right. I was spending my free time with my girlfriend and her son. Unfortunately I was also touching base with the old crowd. I hooked up with Lyle and started smoking hash. This caused the old ways to burst into flames again. Bev, my girlfriend, had issues with this. The father of her son was a drunk and she did not want to go through the pain of breakup again. Her heart wasn't healed yet and it would kill her. I made an attempt at accommodating her request. I lasted about three months. Bev always found me over at Lyle’s place. I was running out of money and wasn’t looking for work. I was less and less sober. We would hide the hot knives when she came over but the air was thick of the smoke. We weren’t hiding anything. Finally she gave me an ultimatum. It was either her or the bottle. I chose the bottle. I thought I could always find another woman. I tore what was left of her heart out of her, A week later Lyle, myself, and a stripper friend of ours loaded up a half ton with our stuff and skipped on his rent. We were off to Calgary. The geographical cure was calling to us again.

The Flame Flickers

2004-12-05T22:51:00.000-06:00

Well let’s see. Where did I leave off?

I found the bad times starting to out number the good times. I was spending more and more time thinking about what I did not have and the loneliness which was always with me. I never really fit into the crowds as others did. So I thought. I was different in my eyes. I started having more and more fights. I was ending friendships for some reason or another. My depression became alive. I fed it dissatisfaction and misery. It preyed on the low self esteem and isolation I felt. The dragon had awakened, and it turned my life into ashes. I slowly reduced my circle of friends to three. I even fought with one of them regularly. About once every six months we went at it for some stupid reason. I started getting into more trouble with the law and the local establishments. Drunk and disorderly, open liquor, and public disturbance were frequent charges I incurred.
I went up North to Baffin Island for four months to escape the problems of my life. Who would have guess they were up there waiting for me. The first person I befriended up there was the bootlegger.
I had a girlfriend that summer and kept in close touch with her during my stay in Frobisher Bay. She found a place for me for when I returned and I sent her the deposit and money required to secure the residence. It turned out to be a nice basement apartment in a home. It even had a private entrance. My home coming was very quit and personal. My girlfriend met me at the airport and we spent the evening ion each other’s company.
We spent a great deal of time together. Her and her infant soon virtually lived at my place. I had a pretty substantial bank account from my time up North. This allowed me time to settle in before I started working again. One problem still remained. Alcoholism. This would lead to further problems which stared three months after I returned from up North.

And We Are Off

2004-11-16T02:39:00.000-06:00

Now here’s where it starts getting interesting. I spend the next few years drinkin and partying. I build a pretty good reputation in the party circuit. It is here where problems start in my head.

I find that my thoughts start turning to settling down with a significant other. The problem is I am not appealing to women in that way. I always come across as the guy who is great to have at a party. I am a great brother type. You know, someone to talk to, someone who listens and has a large shoulder to cry on. I do not come across as a possible intimate partner.

I start getting a little melancholy near the end of the night. This is because of the pairing off that happens around that time. I am not out to get laid, but I seem to be one of the few who goes home alone. This starts preying on my mind as the time passes. I start getting a little moody and aggressive at the end of the night. This is not a formula for evenings free of conflict. I am usually approached by some drunken little shit who wants to prove something to his associates. Before I usually tried to calm the situation through humor or non-responsive defiance. What I mean is that I usually tried to let the person know that it is a mistake to pick me to try and prove his manhood. I do not want to waste my time or the buzz I have on by proving that fact to him. This usually is enough for the average mouth. The barking dog cannot bite.
Now I am finding myself accommodating their request for a dance. I found myself doing the parking lot polka more and more frequent. This was really cutting into my money I invest in alcohol to achieve that level of intoxication I like. I now get annoyed when I fight because now I have wasted all that money and have burned off the booze by fighting.
Catch 22. I drink, I get annoyed, which makes me get into a fight and that annoys me. What a hell of a circle. And this merry go round has just started.

Momma

2004-11-14T19:52:00.000-06:00

Now let’s see… What can I say about my mother? I guess I can start out by telling you that she has the biggest heart that I have ever known. I wish that was all good, but it wasn’t. I find that she worries way too much. I have never known her to just consider the good things. She has always got to consider the possibility that bad will happen and that she is the one that has to expect it and be there to console or comfort the injured party.

There was always tension in my family. I was the middle child and the only son. I was stuck between two sisters. My mother did not want me to be like my father. Unfortunately she tried toning down the testosterone levels. This resulted in the added conflicts in my life. She always preached turn the other cheek, never fight and similar statements. You are better than that. Do not lower yourself to their level. Man that really helped Mom……

To this day I have to refrain from completely informing her of the trials and tribulations I have in my life. She would never get any sleep from worrying about my life. I love her, but man, just $*%@#en relax Ma.

I believe that the one thing that she taught me was to always consider both sides of the story. If you desire the positive you have to make plans to overcome any negatives that ay arise.

I have lived with this most of my life. My motto is
Hope for the best, but expect the worst. You are never caught off guard.

Lessons From Both Sides

2004-11-03T15:30:00.000-06:00

I explained a bit about my father in my last post. I said some things which affected me in a very negative way. Now to explain some things about him that affected me in a very positive way. I always had an admiration towards him for his determination. When he set his mind to something, he accomplished it come hell or high water. He also taught me that pain doesn’t hurt. Pain’s directly proportional to the amount of attention you give it. He worked at the distillery for over twenty years with a bad back, He should have had three vertebrae fused together but he didn’t. It would have kept him from doing his job and providing for his family. Every night I could hear his moans of pain as he slept. That was the only time you knew he was in constant agony. I have always admired his strength of will. He also gave me values such as trust and respect being earned. Once they were earned they can never be disregarded.
I would have to say that I am proud of my father. I can also say that I will never make him proud of me. That has been accepted long ago. In realizing this I have learned another very important life lesson. Other people’s opinions mean shit. The only person who should be proud of their accomplishments is you. He showed me as much being a bad father as he did being a strong proud man.

Word of Warning

2004-11-02T06:10:00.000-06:00

I apologize to my readers for the quality of the following post. My ability to put into words what I have in my head has stagnated. This is a result of the computer crisis I have been lving. I truly hope the problems with my system have been resolve. I will try and post again tonite.

Son of a son of a......

2004-11-02T06:06:00.000-06:00

I guess I should talk a bit about my folks. My father was a practicing alcoholic until I was eighteen. Most of the activities dad participated in with me usually involved alcohol. I would spend hours with him at his friends place. I would amuse myself while they drank. I always wanted to go with him because he was my dad. I was the only boy of three children. This did not impress my mother. She always wanted me to stay at home, isolated from him. I didn’t want to stay at home with a bunch of girls.
I have always had the impression that he was disappointed in me. I am not saying that he didn’t want me. I just get the impression that my visual impairment seriously dampened his trust or faith in me to accomplish any tasks. I had some trouble with accidents that reinforced his opinion of my abilities. To his day he still anticipates my failure in everything I do. I have accepted this fact and do not hold it against him.
He is a very stubborn and prideful man who was raised by a father with a drinking problem as well. Dad grew up on a farm and never really had any comforts or luxury items. His family was always broke because of my grandfather’s drinking and inability to do anything more that the absolute minimum. My grandfather was not a good farmer, and he always seemed to do things the hard way right up till the day he died. I was pretty much raised my grandpa, we called him Papa. Dad’s parents lived right next door to us. I spent most of my home time either playing make believe by myself, or over at papa’s helping him in the workshop. I guess that is where I got the love of carpentry.
The older I got the less I had in common I had with my father. It wasn’t until about four years ago that I had a lengthy conversation with him. I was even pissed off at him for joining A.A. He picked my eighteenth year to quit. The drinking age is eighteen.

I shall continue with the history of my family next time.

Sorry Everyone

2004-10-31T11:54:00.000-06:00

My system is giving me troubles again. I am in the middle of replacing parts and for some reason the new parts are giving me conflicts. I am up for now but I do not know for how long. I am extremely sorry for the delays in my posting. I am hoping that will be resolved in the near future.

Wood Butcher

2004-10-26T07:08:00.000-05:00

I guess I should spend a moment or two on my vocation history during this period of my life. There wasn’t a great lot of choice in employment in the small town where I grew up. When I was fifteen I got my first job. My father’s friend was lowering the floor in his basement. This consisted of busting out the old floor, digging out some dirt and the pour a new floor. My job was to shovel the broken concrete and dirt into the back of a grain truck. I was handed a snow shovel and proceeded to keep up with three men tossing this material out one of the basement windows. I must say it was definitely hard on the yet developed muscles. I perked up when I received my first paycheck. I had been paid five dollars an hour. Back then I believe minimum wage was around $2.75. At fifteen, I was rich.
I had always been interested in carpentry and proceeded to enter the world of the wood butcher. I worked during the summer as a carpenter’s assistant with several of the local handymen. I would usually get on part time in the winter with e local lumber yard. I would be called in if they had a large order to place. My job was usually to load and unload the truck. It wasn’t paying the bills, but at that time, my parents were.
This level of employment left a great deal of time for the many endeavors which enticed my need for alcohol consumption.

It's The Pits

2004-10-25T04:16:00.000-05:00

The Summer was an enjoyable experience filled with the usual parties, booze cruising, and pit parties. I guess I should explain a pit party for those unaware of the joyous exuberance.
A pit party by its name takes place in a pit. In my neck of the woods there are many gravel pits. If you looked at a map, Manitoba is divided by the ancient shoreline of a giant lake. The BEACH comes down between Lake Winnipeg and Lake Manitoba. The ground is covered with four to twenty four inches of topsoil. Beneath that is nothing but gravel. The area is littered with gravel pits. Several of these pits are privately owned.
The locals were able to use two of these pits as places to have a bon fire and get completely out of hand. Our definition of bonfire is when you take anything that burns and pile it up whereupon you pour gasoline or diesel fuel. This then ignites in a horrendous fury of flame and smoke. It takes about twenty minutes for the fuel to burn off leaving a fire which could be used to signal the space shuttle. around this would gather the usual suspects, I mean friends. The fire would be constantly fed with timber, building material, or anything else some could fit into the back of a pickup. The experience would last until there was no more fuel for the fire or the sun came up. The sun usual arrived before we ran out of wood. We did live in bush country. I would have to say some of my best times were spent in the pits, LOL. I lived for the party and this was THE PARTY. There was around ten of these celebrations throughout the summer. I would experience friendship, fights, and fun. and the great thing about this was that there was no cover charge

2004-10-22T05:51:00.000-05:00

Front yard taken from the crossing.

2004-10-22T05:49:00.000-05:00

The back yard (The cut part) of my parents home. . A couple more trees have been planted between the driveway and the house

The First Time Toned down

2004-10-21T23:56:00.000-05:00

The summer was very much of the same joviality and alcohol abuse. I spent a great deal of time shooting pool with Keith and partying with both Keith and Danny.

I had the occasion to go into the city and spend time with cousin and a friend he grew up with in Stonewall. Gigi was a girl of a bit of a broken home. Her mother and father separated and she now lived in Vancouver with her mother. Her father was a pilot for a major airline which enabled her to travel for free within Canada until she was eighteen. She leaned very much to the rebel wild side of humanity. She partied with the best of them and she was able to get her hands on some of the best weed I have ever smoked. She also had a very active appetite for the opposite sex.

I had crushed on her for a number of years and was always openly expressing my desire to her. One day I was over at my cousin’s place. Sean, my cousin, was over at his girlfriend’s place and my Aunt was out shopping. Gigi and I were in the apartment watching TV. A show came on which starred the hunk of the period. His name escapes me at the moment. I guess she became aroused by the show because the next thing I know we were heading for the bedroom. I wish I could say it was an earth shaking experience, but I cannot. We were interrupted by my Aunt coming up the stairs of the townhouse. I guess she was the one who owns my Virginity. I still keep in touch with her, but it never grew beyond the friendship we had before the incident. I never regretted the action and found out many years later she also had no regrets other than the interruption by my Aunt.

I was now more than I was and closer to who I would become….. After a long and rocky journey down the path I chose.

You don't know Jack Schitt

2004-10-20T23:31:00.000-05:00

Who is Jack Schitt? The Lineage Revealed.

Many people are at a loss for a response when someone says, "You
don't know Jack Schitt". Now, You can handle the situation.

Jack is the only son of Awe Schitt and O. Schitt. Awe Schitt,
the fertilizer magnate, married O. Schitt, the owner of
Knee-deep Schitt, Inc.

In turn, Jack Schitt married Noe Schitt and the deeply religious
couple produced 6 children: Holie Schitt, The twins; Deep Schitt
and Dip Schitt, Fulla Schitt, Giva Schitt and Bull Schitt, a
high school dropout.

After being married for 15 years Jack and Noe divorced. Noe
later married Mr. Sherlock and because her kids were living with
them, she wanted to keep her previous name. She was known as Noe
Schitt-Sherlock.

Dip Schitt married Loda Schitt and they produced a cowardly son,
Chicken Schitt. Fulla Schitt and Giva Schitt were inseparable
throughout childhood and consequently, married the Happens
brothers in a dual ceremony.

The Schitt-Happens children are Dawg, Byrd and Horse. Bull
Schitt the prodigal son, left home to tour the world. He
recently returned with his new bride, Pisa Schitt.

Now, when someone say's you don't know Jack Schitt, you can
correct them.

Missing Tasykakes

2004-10-20T21:27:00.000-05:00

Be on the look out for Mr and Mrs Tastykakes.

Last seen starting out on there excursion to Canada. It has been determined that their arrival is overdue.

The couple can be described as MMMMMMM.

If you have knowledge of their whereabouts or change of itinerary, please contact this publication. A reward has been posted.

Anyone with RELEVENT information will be rewarded with a proportional compensation.

Our hearts and thoughts go out to the person who has such concern for the Tastykakes

2004-10-19T18:11:00.000-05:00

This is my angelic niece Lacey when she was two. About three years ago.

And yes this is me.

She is more of a hulligan now.

I'm Back

2004-10-18T06:04:00.001-05:00

Sorry All.

I had a cascade failure of my computer. I have been having gliches for a while now. I ended up loading an older version of Windows just to keep going. My system did not like it very much. Windows ME does not work well on a 1.8 gig system. At least it worked better than what was there before. It turns out that there is a problem with where I plug in the ribbon cable for my hard drives. In simplest terms, my motherboard is a real MOTHER. I have reloaded Windows ME and am hoping that it lasts long enough for me to obtain new parts. I gained a new hard drive out of this experience, so all was not lost.

If I disappear again, I'll let Lovisa know to leave another comment to let you good folks know

And He's Off

2004-10-18T06:04:00.000-05:00

I spent the next couple of days on the couch at home. For some reason, I didn’t feel like doing anything. My Graduation was not what I was expecting. I had asked this girl from school to be my escort. She was my age and had graduated last year. I wasn’t even able to dance with her. I took her home after the reception. We were supposed to go to a Post grad party at a farm outside of town. Wasn’t into more drinking.

I went up to receive my diploma and was presented with an award for my work in the Drama Club. This was very painful. I had taken y sling off to help hide my injuries. I had to hold the diploma, trophy and shake the principle’s hand. OUCH!!!!. Yet again I survived the experience.

I went into town about a week later. I was losing my mind and had to do something. I was able to move around pretty good. I went to the pool Hall and sat and had coffee. I had become very well known because of the accident. Everyone came up to me and asked how I was doing. I felt better knowing at the very least, people knew who I was now. They may not care about me, but they wanted to know about MY accident.

I had resolved to quit drinking as a result of the accident. That lasted about five weeks. I spent those five weeks recovering my health and getting the dirt out of my skin. I occasionally went and shot some pool at the Scumhole, or went and did coffee at Niakwa Pizza. Keith’s parents owned and operated the place. I got to become pretty good friends with Keith that summer. I had met him when I first started hanging with Danny. After school I would stay in town and hang at Niakwa or the pool hall. Keith worked most days at the restaurant. We would go shoot a game of snooker, or I would just visit him at work. I didn’t spend a lot of time with Danny because I wasn’t into the partying as I was before.

Every August there is a festival in my home town. It is held on the first weekend of August. The long weekend is filled with tourists, festivities, and tourists. The population of Gimli was about 2600 back then. During the summer months the population at least triples. On this weekend we can easily expect 40000visiters over the weekend.

About two days before this festival I fell off the wagon. I was over at a regular party house helping a friend work on his car. For some reason I grabbed a beer and had it down before I knew it was gone. And I was off. I was back in the game. I partied withy them that day and night. The next day I went home to rest and eat. The weekend was filled with great times and women chasing. Of course with no results. I didn’t care, I was just out to have a ball. I teased tourists, belittled the city boys who thought they were masters of their domain. On one occasion I saw a friend of mine being hit on by a couple of BOYS from the city. She was enjoying the torment she was putting them through. They tried their hardest to get her to go out with one of them. I watched for a while and then walked up to my friend. She saw me coming and never let on to the city boys that she knew me. I asked her name and she gave it right away. The boys were amazed. They couldn’t get even that. I introduced myself and the asked her if she wanted to go somewhere and have sex with me. She looked at me then she looked over at the guys that had followed her around for about an hour. She turned back to me and said “hell, why not, I haven’t been offered anything better so far.” We walked away with our arms wrapped around each other. The two guys just stood there staring after us with a lost look in their eyes. Later she told be they asked her to go for a swim, a walk, coffee, and dinner. I have always wondered if they ever tried my approach on some other girl after that. The whole weekend was an absolute riot, as always.

Is Anyone Out There???

2004-10-12T23:28:00.001-05:00

Sorry for the long pause in my blogging. Fall waits for no one. I headed out to the folks place to partake in the yearly ritual of relishing the changing of the season. I'm back now and will have the next instalment of my life up tomorrow. That is if there is anyone out there that actually cares??? I care and that is all that is required for me to continue. I do appreciate the comments I do get and hope you all continue to read on. I found my life educational and hope my experiences and life lessons will help others avoid the pitfalls which occurred in my life .

The Morning After

2004-10-02T20:21:00.000-05:00

Sometime in the morning I awoke to the sound of people talking in my room. I stirred enough for the people to notice I was awake. It hurt too much to do anything else. Todd was there with his parents. I assume it was his parents. I couldn’t roll over enough to see who it was. They sounded quite a bit older than him. He was asking if I was okay and apologizing repetitively. I just off handedly said don’t worry about it. I didn’t want to talk, move, or think at that particular moment.

Dad had taken all my things home with him. He is an early riser and had gotten up early as usual. While he had his morning coffee he went through my clothes to remove any articles that may be saved. Surprisingly, my sunglasses were undamaged. They had been in the leg pocket of my pants. This is where my sister found dad when she climbed the stairs from her basement bedroom. Dad sitting there going through my “personal effects”

She flipped out. I don’t know if she ever completely recovered from that experience. To this day she still sees red every time she lays eyes on Danny. Somehow she blames him for what happened.

Mom came to the hospital later that morning. She entered the room just after I finished breakfast. She took one look at me and started crying again. I say again because you could tell she had been doing a lot of crying by the way her eyes were red and swollen. She came over to me and could just manage to call me a ”Fuckin’ Ass”. I have put her through so much of this sort of thing, being accident prone and all. I managed a quiet laugh and told her I was “sorry, again.” We talked about what was wrong with me, physically, and what the suggested recovery time would be.

Mom helped me to the lounge so I could have a cigarette. It took a bit of work. I couldn’t stand up straight, or move my arms very much. As I sat in the chair, I leaned over so I could take a drag of my smoke without having to lift it. We were there for about twenty minutes smoking and talking when someone stuck his head into the room, looked around then preceded down the hall. He returned moments later. I recognized him this time. It was Keith. A friend of Danny’s that I had met a couple of times. His parents owned the local pizza place. He recognized me that time and entered the room. He was checking on me for Danny. Danny was scared to come to the hospital. He didn’t want to be admitted.

Mom and I returned to the room just as the nurse came in. She had set up the Jacuzzi bath for me. Mom helped me and I spent two hours soaking in the tub trying to get the dirt off of me. First off, you cannot rub dirt off if your body feels like it is on fire, and second, dirt will not come off easily if it has been ground in that deep. It would be about two weeks before I felt clean again. I was allowed to go home later that day.

That evening, so I was later informed, Danny went to a social in town. He wasn’t moving very good, but he needed painkillers. Someone told me that he had dislocated a couple of limbs in the accident as well.

I told my family about the accident and also told them about the angelic voice I heard. I told them that all I wanted to do was thank that person for being there for me.

The worst was over. I should mention though that the accident occurred on June 22. On June 27 was my High School Graduation was taking place. Murphy sure likes enforcing his law on us Celtic folk.

Sorry for the repeat of the last blog.

2004-10-02T06:15:00.000-05:00

I had no idea I had published the last blog twice until now. Sorry for the confusion to my readers. Shit happens

I Lived,,,Really

2004-10-01T18:27:00.000-05:00

I was lying on my back in the dark, covered in blood. They should have been more pain. I guess my vast experience with pain helped. I was so accident prone when I was younger; my pain sensors flip a breaker. I do not feel the pain until a later time. This has helped me many times to deal with the shock before I have to deal with the pain.

I found out later that a friend’s little brother had been holding my hand while I was unconscious. I hand woke up momentarily and flexed from the pain. I hand crushed his hand. He had three sprained fingers and a sprained wrist. I am not saying I am that strong, a person has extreme strength in periods of adreniline and shock.

The ambulance driver also was friend of mine who was in drama the year before. E constantly returned to by position to tell be that the other passengers were in worse shape. He continually reassured me that I was okay. I told him not to worry and do what had to be done. I wasn’t in much pain until I tried to move.

I was finally lifted and placed in the ambulance. All the way in Carl, The driver, called back to check on me. He told me later that at one point I gave him shit for hitting every pothole on the road. Even in a moment of crisis, I am a smart ass.

Upon arriving at the hospital, a second nurse had to be called in to deal with the ants that were swarming all over me. Carl asked if he could do anything for me and I asked him to call home and let someone know what happened. The nurses started taking and cutting off my clothes to expose my injuries. I started fighting with them as they went for my cowboy boots. I was saying, “Not the boots, not the boots”. The nurses restrained me as I attempted to remove the boots by putting one toe under the other boot’s heel. I was finally able to get my boots off even with two nurses trying to stop me. Hey a man’s boots,,,Come on!!!!

I had a cut above the left eye which received three stitches. My right elbow received fifty two stitches and the fork in the joint was factored slightly. A large portion of hair was torn out on the right hairline. I dislocated my right shoulder, left elbow, and right hip. I was messed up, but I’d live. My Dad showed up just as they were wheeling me out of ER. He asked if I was going to be okay and told me he had to get back home to let mom know. I told him I would live and to get my shit from the nurse. I was still concerned about my boots. Before he left dad told me mom would be back in the morning. I told him I would still be here.

They took me to a room and hooked up an IV and one of the nurses stuck around. I guess she left right after I passed out from the sedative/pain killer they put in the I.

It wasn’t over yet for the family….stay tuned

2004-09-30T04:16:00.000-05:00

Quick note to say I added TWO posts today. don't read out of order.

Shit Happens

2004-09-30T04:14:00.000-05:00

I never really figured out how we did it, but Danny and I always seemed to end up at the parties. We start out one place and end up at one of the more popular parties around. June 21, 1985 we ended up at a great party about fifteen miles from our home town. It was in a neighboring cottage community on the lake shore. When the party started to become a little boring (around 2:00 AM) Danny and I got a ride back to town with a couple of city boys who had a cottage in the area. Toddd and Frank rode in a hopped up 76’ firebird. It had an unbelievable mural on the hood. We went and had a couple of more drinks at their cottage/trailer and then proceeded home. The road that runs from Matlock to Gimli is a very curved filled strip. It follows the lake shore. The posted limits on most of the curves are about 50 MPH. During the ride home we had the tunes cranked and Todd was showing off the poser of his baby. We came to a straight away on the road and Todd floored the firebird. Danny and I both yelled profanely at him to slow down as we were quite familiar with this particular stretch of highway. Of course he knew better. His driving was beyond reproach, so he thought.

I was sitting in the front passenger seat, Frank was behind me and Danny was behind Todd, the driver. The straight away runs for about 1/3 of a mile and then takes quite a drastic curve to the right. I wouldn’t call it a hairpin, but it definitely was hairy. We were about three quarters of the way through the curve when the front tires lost their grip. A combination of the intensity of the curve and the speed we were traveling (106mh) resulted in the front end of the car to rise up and remove the weight of the car from the gripping action. We left the curve, planed through a shallow ditch and hit a culvert of a crossing head on. On impact Frank went through me and through the windshield. I was driven down and to the left. My forehead took out the stereo. They never did find any remains of the stereo. The car end fro ended about six times. The car took a chunk out of the top of a hydro pole during its journey through the early morning calm. The driver, Todd, was next to be tossed out. The police believed that this occurred around flip three or four. I was the last to be thrown from the vehicle. It was determined that I was thrown out the side window on the last end over and the car landed on its roof on my legs.

I do not recall any of this do to the fact that I was knocked unconscious on impact. This accident occurred in the middle of cottage country and two gentlemen very closed by heard the crash and rushed from their home to see what went on. The arrived to find me under the vehicle. They pulled me from the wreck for fear of the car catching fire. I am grateful to them for that. I wish they had chosen a better resting place for me. The laid me down in and red army ant hill.
Danny remained in the car. He ended up in the front seat with his leg between the steering column and the dash. Upon exiting the vehicle he saw me laying in the ditch and thought I was dead. His first instinct was to go after the driving. When the police arrived they had to forcibly remove Danny from atop the driver. He was pounding him into the ground screaming at him incoherently.

The first thing I remember was waking in a daze. Trying to orient myself as to where I was. It clicked that I was in a wreck. The first thing I thought of was the car. It was a hell of a nice piece of machinery. In a flash I thought of Danny. I yelled his name and tried to get up. Someone was holding me down. I began to freak and struggle with my restrainer. All of a sudden I heard this voice from the heavens. An angel was speaking to me. I could not see who or what it was. This was because of my bad night vision and the fact that I was covered in blood. That voice reached down deep inside me and found a calm I didn’t know existed. She kept on assuring me that Danny was okay and I was going to be fine. I truly think that voice kept me in control away from lapsing into a concussion state. My injuries definitely dictated that physical reaction.

Suffisive to say I lived. Ore to come

2004-09-30T04:13:00.000-05:00

Car in police compound

A Change of Attitude

2004-09-30T01:23:00.000-05:00

Now let’s see…. The last couple of months were a little different. I was noticed more by my fellow students. I didn’t really do anything different. I still hung out by the washrooms. I still had no friends. The only difference was that I hung around with Danny.

Danny was a unique one as well. A lot of what I am about to say is hindsight. He was a loner who craved attention. He came across as a rude independent, and he stood out in a crowd, yet didn’t right fit in. He was always included in idle conversations in the smoking area. He was always at the parties, although I do not actually know if anyone invited him. He was a jokester, an entertainer. He always had a smart ass come back for any insult or rude remark directed at him. I envied his ability to say what he wanted. He gave me the courage to say what I was always insecure about saying. He removed the shackles of self esteem and lack of confidence.

We attended many parties over the last two months of school. We also spend many a midday at the local watering hole when our spares lined up together. We began to leave a reputation of being the ones to party with. There were always good times at the parties we attended. His favorite song was Free Bird. I guess he showed me what being truly free was like. I haven’t hung with him for years. Couple of weeks ago I saw him at Keith’s university party. It was like old times. We fell into our old roles of the crew. Keith, by the way, is the third member of the club crew. We were called that because we only drank Club Beer when beer was consumed. I will introduce Keith in my next blog when I tell about the car accident.

THE CLIFF HANGER APPEARS……sorry.

2004-09-29T01:55:00.000-05:00

Just added Haloscan So I will be continuing with my story tomorrow

The Club Crew Begins

2004-09-25T01:58:00.000-05:00

I finally collapsed from partying around four-thirty on Saturday night. Around five-thirty I was awaken by someone calling my name. I tried to ignore it, but the man was persistent. I finally arose and went out to find out what the hell was going on. Danny was sitting by the fire next to my trailer. He was looking for someone to party with. I sat and started yet another day of substance abuse.

Danny was someone I new of, yet never really met. He was a student in my school many years ago. He returned from the city school last year. He seemed to be a good shit. If you happened to like shit. Everyone seemed to like him. I came to the conclusion several years later, that he befriended me after I proved myself in battle. He also was a solitude person. He never seemed to hang with any of the crowds at school. Another lone wolf. We sat around the fire for a couple of hours shooting the breeze before life began to return to the campground.

We spent the day drinking and tossing the football back and forth to the beat of AC/DC, Sabbath and other classic tunes. I made a friend that weekend and I wasn’t looking for one.

The last month and a half of school consisted of classes, grad preparation, and drinking with Danny. Now there was TWO

First Blood

2004-09-24T16:23:00.000-05:00

Grad camp out is a tradition, or should I say was, of our school. Every year on the May long Weekend, the graduating class rents a campground. This is in order to completely poison our bodies with alcohol consumption.

My grad campout was the first Safe Grad function of my school. We had to ship in all supplies for the entire weekend and turn in our car keys upon arrival to the site. This resulted in mountains of beer cases turning the serenity of a park like atmosphere, into the resemblance of a dockyard.

The campground that was selected was just off the highway north of town. You had to navigate through a long winding trail through thick bush to gain access to the grounds. The trail opened up into a large clearing overlooking Lake Winnipeg. This lake is a little larger than the typical American lakes. It measures about 13 miles wide and 100 miles long. It is easily found on any map of Manitoba. We had a great place to party without passersby seeing our activities.

The party was un-friggen-believable. Nonstop music,laughter, and inebriation. Friday night spend priming up for the rest of the weekend. I spent most of the evening near the fire. As I mentioned before I am unable to see properly in the dark. Vince, a former opponent of mine, spent a great deal of time and effort trying to convince me that he was a god, a force to be subservient to. I basically agreed with him to avoid confrontation on his terms.

Saturday was intense. Football games, swimming, and of course, drinking. Sometime around midday I retreated into the camper I was staying in for a well needed nap. Tracy and her brother were the owners of the tent trailer. Tracy was a very large woman. She had many friends, but she was constantly the brunt of some ignorant jokes. I say this to explain the forthcoming incident.

Dennis, a annoying pain in the ass, began to yell less than respectable remarks at me as he circled the camper. I ignored the remarks directed at a non existent encounter going on between Tracy and myself. She wasn’t even on the grounds yet. This badgering continued for quite a long time. All I wanted to do was sleep and this Jerk was keeping me from fulfilling my objective. The anger grew within me. I began to grow tense and my mind raced with hatred and contempt for not only him, but everyone who belittle people. The rage finally exploded in a volcano of fury. I blasted out of the trailer with such intensity that the door attached to the trailer landed about ten feet for the trailer. I spotted Dennis sitting in the back of a nearby pickup truck. I grabbed him and dragged him form the truck. I proceeded to give him an attitude adjustment. I remember hitting him three or four times and them all went black. I cannot say if it was the alcohol or the anger which provoked the blackout. The next thing I remember I was laying on my belly growling and snapping at the dirt with several guys holding me down. I was later informed that the number of restraining bodies was five. Vince was one of them. When I calmed down to a manageable level, they let me go. Every muscle in my body was taut. My body vibrated with a feeling of unbelievable power and strength. I was invincible. This feeling began to be replaced with a rush of emotion. I cannot describe which emotion it was. I walked to the edge of the campground and proceeded to start crying. I wasn’t sad, I just couldn’t control the flood of tears and sobbing coming from deep within me. I later found out that I was coming down from a high from the THC and adrenaline my body had produced to cope with the situation.

Vince came over and started befriending me and comforting me in a manner that would put best fiends to shame. Guess his opinion of my weakness and his superiority had changed.

I was wearing cowboy boots, a sterling silver Dog tag, Warn and faded jeans, and a green headband. I was given a new nickname that weekend. Rambo. I had literally gone Rambo on Dennis and my appearance had changed for the people in that campground. It would never be the same again.

Blog to come…. The Club Crew begins.

Another year, ,,DAMN

2004-09-23T01:30:00.000-05:00

First off, sorry for the long pause between these two posts. I was out of town enjoying country scenery and good friends.

Okay, Grade Twelve. I guess you could say I was a tad on the wild side. I was lunching at the bar, living in the smoking area, and sleeping at my spot by the washrooms. I spent bout as much time getting into trouble as I was spending in class.

I had slowly gained a reputation from the younger students. They looked at me as the Lone Wolf. I could travel with the pack, but I preferred to travel solo. I gained a couple of coffee buddies over the last few years, yet still had not made a strong bond with anyone.

I ended up missing out on graduating that year due to a shortage of credits, go figure. I returned the following year and spent both semesters wit half a day of classes. This allowed me a great deal of time to hang in the pool hall and the bar.

The pool hall was lovingly referred to as The Scum Hole. I was a nice place with lots of room between the tables. There were plenty of Pinball and Arcade games to choose from. The establishment gained its name as a result of the owner/operator. Joe was a little lenient on the maintenance and janitorial duties required. His main responsibility was to suck as much money out of his patrons with the least amount of effort. This hole in the wall was to be my third home for the next several years.

I began to hang around with a guy who traveled the bus to school with me. We would due the coffee thing together when our spares corresponded. I also got to know the new wood shop teacher quite well. I was always in there making sets for drama or some personal project. On occasion I would help him with the grade seven and eight students.

The friendship situation made a drastic change during grad camp out. But that’s another blog

Off The Beaten Path

2004-08-28T19:20:00.000-05:00

By the start of grade ten, I had become so resentful and desensitized about social acceptance, I headed down my own path. No longer cared if I was accepted by the standard crowds. I did what I wanted, dressed how I liked, and talked to whomever I wished.

This had a strange effect on my fellow students. They seemed to start becoming aware of me. That is not to say they wished to associate with me. They began acknowledging my existence. I had persons from many of the social groups saying hello to me as I leaned against the heater by the restrooms. This ended up my favorite spot to kill time. I could usually be found leaning against the heater or out in the smoking area. Nerds, brainiacs, head bangers, the social snobs, and the cool people all began to see me.

I spent the first two years in high school either by myself or working in the drama club. The drama parties began to draw me into a level of friendship with the other people. I could not say it was a constructive friendship, yet I did have people who were willing to talk to me outside of the drama club.

Many of the staff members of the school talked to me in a manner I would consider outside of common courtesy. If I had to call anyone a friend, it would be the Librarian, The lady who ran the cafeteria, and the custodian. They would actually come up to me and strike up a conversation with me outside of school. I was no longer alone, I was just different.

The Nerd is dead. Long live the Lone Wolf

2004-08-19T04:52:00.001-05:00

Grade nine, weird doesn’t describe it. I began the year reinventing myself. I no longer allowed people to dictate how I felt. I started repressing those emotions that made me weak. I should add, the emotions I thought made me weak. I started dressing the way I wanted. This didn’t bother me as I never was in fashion. I also began not trying to belong.

My list of friends became non existent. I gained a couple of acquaintances who didn’t fit into the class structure of the halls. They weren’t the so called freaks of nature but they definitely were people who were different. I had people I could go for a smoke with, or skip out with. I didn’t have to trust them or relinquish personal information or feelings to these people. I was still alone but I was no ;longer isolated.

Sometime in the first half of the year my sister suggested I get into the drama club. I decided that it may be a way to meet some people. I may actually find a group I could fit into. This was the juxtaposition where all hell broke loose.

The drama club definitely was something to occupy my time, but I didn’t fit in there either. I had nothing in common with these people. They were extraverted. They loved the attention, the recognition. I went into the tech crew. I was hiding again. This time it was doing set and stage construction, and light and sound for plays. I found a great satisfaction in performing these duties. I was hooked. I did my job, answered questions and got answers, but that was all the interaction with the other members. I first had social interaction at the end of the first drama production. It turned out that after every drama production there was a rap party (Rap up party). My first party ended in my sister having to drive me home early. I was introduced to alcohol. Several of the older boys began pouring drinks down me, with little resistance from me. I began to feel a relaxation and a release from the misery of isolation. I had found a social lubricant. Drunken people would talk with me and still let me hang with them. That is, as long as I was drinking also. Looking back this was the exact moment that I crossed the line from being different to being an alcoholic. My life began to change dramatically after that day. I began to travel a path I would not change for the world. I also would not wish it upon my worst enemy.

2004-08-16T11:29:00.000-05:00

A tapestry of the teacher / the magician

We begin our journey up shit creek in search of the mysterious lone wolf

2004-08-16T07:01:00.000-05:00

The first year in the new school began as usual. I got beat up, usually by lunchtime. At after lunch roll call I was usually absent due to the fact that I was in the office.

About two months into grade seven I made a decision which started my journey down a different path. I still do not know if it was the right path. All I know is that it was better than where I was heading. I started fighting back. I no longer cared what my mother said about turning the other cheek. I was sick of getting both cheeks hit.

My first battle was with Vince. He was the regular bully who came after me. It was a great battle honour to regularly pommel a boy who was a foot taller than yourself. This time the outcome was different. No matter how much he hurt me, no matter how tired I was, I refused to quit, cry, or be defeated. I had beaten my first assailant. The feeling that rushed through me was something that I would become addicted to years later when I was alcoholic. Natural THC. The sensation was similar to fear, shock, euphoria, and intense energy rushing through every nerve ending and muscle in my body. The crowd aided in the feeling of accomplishment by congratulating me and commenting on how long the battle took. Days later Vince became my first so called friend.

Over the year I conquered many of my former antagonists. They all became my friends. Or so I thought.

Grade eight started with my so called friends and I forming a pact which consisted of the rule that if any one of us got caught, we would take the blame and never narc on our comrades. Throughout the year it was standard practice to have myself and four other boys being called to the office during morning roll call. I was constantly being punished. I spent most of my lunch hours in detention writing lines or doing extra school work. Close to the end of the school year I found out through clues here and there that my FRIENDS would narc on me when they went into the principle's office and then when I was asked if I did it, I would confess to the whole thing. They very rarely got punishment. From that point on Trust was never given by me freely. To this day it takes a great deal before I will trust anyone.

During these first two years I spent a great deal of my time in the math teacher’s class after school. I lived five miles out of town and had to take a bus to school. Unfortunately my moher worked in town and gave them permission to keep me in if needed. I would constantly get 100% on one test and then fail the next. I had the opinion that I was still averaging out in the top 30% of the class. My math teacher was always trying to get me to do my work and explain how I found answers without doing the work. I had to show him my methods on the board and explain my formulas because I occasionally used a formula that was not tought in class. Years later my mother told me of his frustration with me. At every parent teacher day he informed my mother of my impressive math skills and how I was wasting such ability by just doing what was the minimum.

In two years I had completely confused most of my teachers. They had no idea how to deal with me. Was I a trouble maker or a potential honour student. I believe this did not aid me in the journey through my teen age years. Students on one side and teachers on the other. HELL I WAS SURROUNDED. The Alamo had nothing onme.

Birth of a non-conformist

2004-08-14T02:13:00.000-05:00

Let's see. I guess it started in grade school. I was always tall for my age. I also started school with coke bottle glasses. This resulted in a daily hazing ritual by my fellow students. I usually came home bruised, bloody, or cryng.

Grade three began with a teacher who demanded that I conform to the norm of her students. I found out years later that I have a fairly high IQ. She felt that I never paid attention in class. I was a doodler, a daydreamer, and a trouble maker. My mother was constantly called in to hear the complaints . Her response was "how is he doing with the work". The teacher would alwas say very good but that wasn't the problem. Her son was not like the other children and that he would not follow the rules or her instruction. Nowadays I would have been drugged and labeled ADD. My mother eventually had me transfered to another teacher.

Grade seven started in a new building. In my home town junior high and high school were in the same building. I was six foot two when I entered grade seven I had grown so fast that I left my co ordination far behind. So now I was clumsy, I bumped into things because of my poor eyesight, and now I was taller than the grade twelve students. Perfect target for the bullies of the hall. Hell part two had begun.

The best place to start is at the beginning

2004-08-12T04:30:00.000-05:00

Well, I was introduced to the blog world by a wonderful person. She showed me a place where I can share my thoughts and opinions without discrimination. I started this blog quite a while ago and have yet to start using it. I found typing what I think and how I feel a lot harder than talking about it. How can someone put into words something that can only be said once and then the wording disapears. I have a vision of the world that I consider rare.

How do I explain it to people who may not see what I do. I have a visual impairment that restricts what I see with my eyes. I consider it a gift because it allows me to see things many people miss because they are looking with their eyes instead of their souls.

I have always had very bad vision. I was two when I first got my first set of Coke bottle glasses. I am now blind in my right eye and 20/80 in my left eye. I am also was is called night blind. My eyes do not adjust to dimly lit areas and the night like other people.

I have spent my whole life having to fill in the blanks with my mind and memory. I can tell you where every washroom is in every dimly lit eatery and bar in Winnipeg. What usually happens is that I have to get someone to take me right to the door once. After that I can find it again whenever needed. I draw pictures in my mind of places and people I have seen in daylight and then fill in the blanks when I can no longer see them. This has granted me a very unique gift. I do not need to see beauty to know it exists.

I was an alcoholic when I was 16 and quit when I was 22. I have now gained a perspective on the so called shit that happens in other people's lives. When I experience similiar problems, they are trivial. All I have to do is remember that I used to have to deal with that sit as well as a drinking problem, Debts coming out of an unmentioninable opening, and suicidal tendancies due to NO self esteem.

I learned that no matter who you are SHIT is gonna happen. You can do one of two things: Cry because you are covered in shit, or come to the realization that shit makes the best fertilizer and you now have the perfect medium to grow from.

As a result of these and many other live experiences I have gained a vision which allows me to see the world in a way that is difficult to put into words that people would be able to understand. In the upcoming blogs I will attempt to enlighten the masses.

This is just a taste of my life and vision. I hope to expand on how I see the world and how my mind works (or doesn't work) in the coming blogs. Stay tuned because this SHIT is definatly different.

Why can't we just get along

2004-06-10T08:20:00.000-05:00

Sorry folks, this just has to be said

To the citizens of Ireland. I beseech thee to set aside your disdain for fellow countrymen. We at our hearts are Ireland. We are one people belonging to a strong and powerful country. Our race has endured hardships our whole existence, yet we still are a people known the world round as full of pride and confidence.
I myself am Canadian, but I share the pride for our beloved country. I have researched my clan and found an inner strength that helps me overcome adversity. I cannot in good contience agree with the conflicts going on in my ancestral homeland. Catholics are killing Protestants. Protestants are killing Catholics and Christians are killing people who follow the ways of the ancients. All you are doing is killing proud Irish folk you want to live free in a manner they feel is positive. THE RED HAND FOREVER, used to represent a force to be feared. Now that battle cry is a whisper beside the image of a people so wrapped up in views and opinions to enjoy life and that which makes us free. Unity of the people.

I say lay down your arms, set aside your stubborn pride and embrace ithe heritage and history of our people. We were and have been controlled by the power and the greed of those who went before us. Our power is who we are not what we have. Our fathers and mothers told us to hate people who do not follow our ways. What has happened because of these teachings? Death, destruction, betrayal. Stop looking for reasons to hate your fellow countrymen. Look for ways to embrace them. They are brothers and sisters who want to live free and happy without discrimination or disdain. We all want one thing, An Ireland that is as strong and united as it was in the old days. Filled with prosperity and a future of continued hope.

THE RED HAND FOREVER
Once brought fear to the world.

Let that cry be heard the world over and let the world know we a re strong and peace will reign once again on our ancestor's precious land

Red Hand Forever

KISS

2004-06-02T07:55:00.000-05:00

This is my opinion. Take it or leave it. The choice is always yours. All I ask is that you read it

Well it seems that there are more and more people out there have forgotten the rules of the game. The number one rule is to keep it simple stupid, K.I.S.S.
Humankind has become so rapped up in their daily routine that the tend to over analyze, over-examine, and pretty much tear apart everything they say, do, or see. The only way to enjoy life is to accept it for what it is. Life is a journey filled with experiences, life lessons, and encounters. These events occur to provide us with growth stimulus. There is nothing in this universe that can continue to exist without growth.
People have forgotten that. They go about there business staring emptily into space. Their thoughts are on the destination. The spend their days planning and saving for retirement, They are so wrapped up in the destination that they have forgotten the journey. The simple things in life are the most important parts. The sound of a bird, the smell after a rain storm, and the sight of a friend laughing are but a few things which make living so worth while.

We need to spend more time living and less time planning. There is nothing wrong with preparing for the future. We just need to stop living for it.

Yesterday is a memory, tomorrow is but a dream, Live for today.