There comes a time in one’s life when you really start to realize things about yourself.  I’m not talking about objective things like I’m a good person or a bad person.  I’m talking about more in depth thoughts of one’s self.  The things that when you sit down and think about them you really start to get a sense of who you are as a person; ponder all of your life experiences and try to figure out how you got to where you are today.  Of all the paths and goals that you could have followed, what are those few defining events, actions, and thoughts that took you down the winding, straight, narrow, wide, enlightening, and confusing paths of your life?

While going to counseling sessions, one of these events has become clear to me that I was not totally aware of prior.  For a long time I was in such despair and my life had been overtaken by emotions that I could not control.  I was angry, I was bitter and most importantly I was fearful.  Fearful of losing important people around me just like I lost my dad.  The byproduct of this fear was a barrier that I put up to “protect” me from being vulnerable and to “protect” those around me from pulling away from me. What a joke this so-called “protective” barrier that I created for my self actually was.  It was nothing more than a reaction concocted out of fear in order to hide my vulnerability.  In fact, this barrier was doing the opposite of what my subconscious wanted it to do. It was actually pushing people away.  I was on the outside looking in at this person doing these things and I knew wasn’t the true me, which is a very scary thing.

Counseling: Self-realization  #1

What I realized during one particular section, talking about religion and the supernatural, is that I have become a part of death.  Before you think I’m just being morbid and depressing listen to the explanation.  First of all, my religious views are pretty plain and simple.  I believe that there is a god(s) and there have been many saviors that walk(ed) this Earth.  A place called “Heaven” doesn’t necessarily exist but a place where souls go after they pass certainly exists.  I believe that souls either live on to help us from the Otherside or become a part of the Earth to help it.  Now, for anyone who wonders what death feels like, you may or may not already know the feeling.  When you lose someone who’s very close, whether you realize it or not, you have a connection with the Otherside.  You know what it’s like to die.  As that person is lying on the hospital bed, they are going through the same pain and suffering that you are going through because we don’t want to let go.   Since my dad died I have always felt something that I haven’t been able to put my finger on until now.  I feel as if I have one foot in the natural world and one in the supernatural.  That connection with my dad passing is a part of me that I neglected for far to long.  This is a part of who I am, as well as my vulnerabilities due to that event.  Realizing this totally dissolved that “protective” barrier.  This was something based on fear and I no longer have reason to fear loss. I’m allowed to be vulnerable, allowed to break down and cry, allowed to confess my emotions, and allowed to be a person unrestricted by death.

Now when I sit alone, I don’t feel alone at all.  This realization has brought me closer to my dad and his advice even from the Otherside.  I can feel his presence all the time, all around me.  When I sit in solace and ask him for help, I can hear him and I know what to do.  This connection was neglected for so long, it makes me ashamed that I couldn’t hear him clearly because of my own insecurities and fear.  I wanted him back so bad I was willing to cut him off subconsciously.  That same fear almost took me down a path where I had no control over my emotions and actions, which certainly would have shoved the ones I loved away.  I have now come to a huge turning point in my life where I know who I am.  My eyes are open and I’m finally happy again.  This lost sheep is finding his way with great success.

Life is not unlike the thrill we seek in the outdoors.  We are all given a starting point on flat ground and we begin to climb.  Sometimes the path we choose is flat and scenic and other times we choose the winding paths through sharp jagged rocks and thickets.  Like most paths there isn’t always a choice of terrain and skill level and we are forced to adapt immediately.  We aren’t always able to make it on our first try and need to return to rest gather the necessary skills to continue to the next level.  The glory of reaching the peak walks hand and hand with our doom.  To reach the top means the end of life.  No mountain is the same height for any given person.  Lessons learned and achievements gained along the way open new heights to places never imagined. The people we take with us as guides will sometimes be left behind or taken for the ride based upon how useful they can be along the journey and whether or not their journey is riding the same trail at that moment or at least in a parallel.

These are the thoughts I had while climbing yesterday.  Though I reached a peak, it was only a small one in which I gained a small amount of insight into myself.

side note: i’m a vegan sitting on the side of a mountain in the wilderness eating a granola bar that contains hemp wearing a rambo bandana. how much more cliche can i get?

side note 2: and the fattest man i have ever seen just walked in here.

1st I called the apple store in search of my friggin’ keyboard so I can finally get this computer fixed and the verdict was that they attempted to call me and I never answered/returned their message.  That wasn’t a great start.  Since I neither picked up my phone or returned a message they part was returned?  Not sure why that happened, but in either case I was told I needed to return to the apple store so they could re-diagnose the problem and order the part.  This confused me.  They found the repair request in their system with all the previous notations and need parts, but still required me to come in for formalities sake.  Just seems like a giant waste of everyone’s time really.  The poor bastard behind could have gotten the virus erased from his computer from all the kiddie porn his downloading, but instead they needed to be as redundant as possible.  Luckily, they were able to schedule an appointment for me via telephone.

The rest of the day I spent playing some video games and outlining my next piece for Minus the Beats which is entitled Dr. L’ling.  Should be released Saturday afternoon for those of you following along.  At night I got some dinner with D at Moe’s.  I ate an entire Homewrecker burrito, which sits like a cinder block in your stomach and consequently forces any remaining matter in your lower intestines out…usually without much warning, I digress.  We spent a good amount of time laughing to one another about the people passing by, nothing vulgar, but nothing you’d probably talk about at the dinner table with your grandparents if you catch my drift.  We may be catching the express train to hell nevertheless.  We ended our charade at Starbucks over a coffee and Americano, which i spilled right off the bat.  It was a fun day all and all, but as you have read, slightly uneventful.

Tomorrow I return to work and hopefully the general public with help stimulate my brain stem a little more.

side note:  i hate to say it, but fur coats aren’t in style anymore and honestly, not sure they ever were, moreover, a fake fur coat is even more of an abomination, they should be lit on fire.

I had arrived at work at 9 am and steady all day long.  We went on small waits for both lunch and dinner.  It was great to see so many faces, but then came the evening.  L requested that she be able to leave early and M would close the dining room, but that meant I would have to stay and close the restaurant.  How could I say no?  She stared at me with the sad puppy eyes with the need to return home as quickly as possible to finish a couple mid term papers.  After much debate with myself, in my head, I finally conceded and allowed her to leave.  When the question was posed to me, “Why are you still here,” I froze.  I looked at him and searched quickly for the wittiest answer I could find.  I responded, “Work is my life.”  He just smiled and nodded back at him as if, on some level, feeling bad for me maybe?  I live by myself, so there is no excuse that someone needs me at home.  My girlfriend, for 8 months of the year, lives 4 hours away.  Seeing as how I don’t usually get 2 days off in a row, it is very difficult for me to see her on “the regular.”  I’m paid salary, so no matter if I work 40 hours or 70 hours, I am still making the same amount of money.

It’s a sad day when you realize that you are okay with working 15 hour days.  I actually found myself, around hour 12, doing dishing in the back.  What the hell was I thinking?  Any normal person would be looking for any reason to be sitting on their ass trying to get out of there or making someone else do the work.  Something had come over, I don’t know what.  Then, suddenly, I was in a motivational mood and talked to my staff about being ready for the next shift and “setting up the next guy.”  I checked my pulse at some point to make sure I was still alive, and pinched myself to see if I’d wake up.  It was all real.  I was able to use my Olympic Race analogy from Day 67 to help educate my servers on running a successful restaurant/business.

I realized today, you can’t be real with anyone anymore.  People say they want the truth, but all they really want is to be lied to and be told everything is okay, when the world is falling apart around them.  The world should not work like that.  Professional and Personal opinions are like apples and oranges, one says nothing about the other.

side note: I hate finding out that cool people you know are addicted to drugs.

The times of endless working should always be followed up with a time of seemingly endless play.  If not, then you are doing something wrong.  Bring a friend along, or perhaps two, three is sometimes best.  While Thursday night was occupied with a movie, Friday marked the beginning of one the most eventful weekends in months.  Friday night, “J” arrives to kick of the weekend with some beers at the local pub around the corner from my house.  They offer many different kinds of beer here, THANK GOD, so I order the Harpoon Oyster Stout, and mini burgers.  Dinner, check, beer number one, check, good people, check.  “B” decided to come out with us as well.  I haven’t seen him in some time either.  The hostess at this local pub, “D,”  is one of the coolest people I know.  Some number of beers later she joined our little shindig in the corner and contributed to the mindless banter that was our Friday night.  We couldn’t help, but laugh our asses off at all the ridiculous things we all had in common.  It was like old times, back in high school even, when life just wasn’t that important yet.  D left at a time that is now easily forgettable and it was at that point I spotted a good friend of mine that couldn’t walk from her seat at the bar to the front door without falling over.  Her plan was to drive home.  So being the good Samaritan that I am, I tell her that I will be driving her home because I didn’t feel like finding her name in the obituaries the next day.  After a little hassle she turned over the keys to me. She owned a mini cooper, score! It was automatic though…..pussy.  We made our way across town to the lovely home that she lived in, it was now around 2 am.  The roads we needed to travel were all 30 mph roads with cops placed at every corner.

Long story short, 2 hours later we found ourselves back at my apartment with our sanity barely intact.  There is always a benefit to being the only sober person within miles of the party.  1) You get to report back to everyone in the morning and verify that they did in fact throw up all over that waitress.  2) Everyone arrives safely on that trip from point A to point B.  No one ever said it was easy though.  Sometimes the details in the middle can be hard to take.  I found that all those years I spent at the bottom of a bottle of Jack Daniels were a fucking joke.  Some of the shit that must of come out of my mouth and thinking that I smooth about it all.  Makes me laugh and cry all at the same time.

The morning after is always the toughest for everyone.  The sober ones just want to get the day moving and the hung over ones just want to prolong the day as much as possible.  I was guilty as the next guy when it came to pushing off the beginning of my days in college.  We eventually started the day around 1030 am or so and made our way to breakfast, B, J and myself.  The rest of the day we spent playing the waiting game.  Tonight was the night that we sunk to our lowest.  We were going to the Gold Club.  For those of you who are not familiar with the Gold Club, it is a Gentleman’s Club near where I live.  The place was wall to wall dude sweat, with dragon tee’s for as far as the eye could see and also a hand full of pedophiles to boot.  Now, I’m thinking that once you cross the threshold of a place like this, you are no longer a normal individual, but if I were to create a standard of normal, it would be J and I sitting relatively quite at the stage with a Guinness and Sam Boston Lager in hand with a handful of singles.  Tonight must have been a special night because two of the girls, they were a pair, spun from the poles on center stage like something of the NC-17 Barnum and Bailey’s act.  at one point they spun around the pole holding on by ONLY their crotch.  And with a tattoo like Ride or Die above their belly button I know she meant business.  Unlike the other girl who made small talk with us about stuffy and dirty it felt inside.  I quickly responded back by saying, “Yea your right, normally it feels so clean in here!”  She didn’t get it unfortunately.

Sunday I spent time reflecting.  All the times spent with these guys, even after high school and all the crazy shit we’d pull.  This weekend was a sign that it didn’t have to end because we had become “adults.”  On the contrary, we had just found new ways to entertain ourselves.  Friendships come and they go, fleeting sometimes, but no matter what we learn from all the people we meet and situations we are in.  All the assholes from our high school class that we are so glad we never see anymore, I can’t help but thank them.  Thank you for making me who I am.  The host or hostess that we see and are friends with for only a day or two, thank you for making see who I really am inside.  How about the poor man at the bus stop that asks for money because he has none, but then answers his cell phone.  Live and learn.

side note: the truth is, you could slit my throat..and with my one last gasping breath I’d apologize for bleeding on your shirt.

Now I don’t want anyone to get too excited.  I am not talking about a black out filled with endless amounts of booze and women that ended praying to the porcelain gods.  No, no, It absolutely amazed me the things that were taking place this weekend.  The massive flow of people seeking a discount, but also out to discover a brand new place they never knew existed.  Perhaps they just needed one more incentive to get them out the door.  Either way, it was a mad house.

People flowing like the endless tides of the ocean.  Emotions as hot as a summers bonfire and cold as the north Atlantic in January all mixed together.  Missing people here, extra people there and just not enough to ever catch up with what you need to finish.  What happened to the days where everything just fell into place?  Oh yea, they never existed.

Friday, Saturday are a blur.  They feel like the same day.  Do you remember the last time you worked so hard at work that had to black everything.  Whether good because you accomplished so much or bad because you nearly jammed a Dixon Ticonderoga No. 2 pencil into the annoying fat woman in the cubical next to you who likes to talk about her grand kids for hours on end.  From the moment I arrived at work on Friday until I left work on Saturday it felt like the same day.  The feeling in my feet on Saturday was enough pain for both Friday and Saturday.  I can’t fully describe what happened on those two days, because to be quite honest, I’m not 100% sure what did happen.

Whats so good about a weekend like that? Well, generally, especially in the restaurant business, so many people come in to explore a new place you hope to hold onto some of those gracious customers that, hopefully, just found the new cool place to hang out.  It’s great to come out on top in a weekend like that and say, fuck yea, I just made that weekend my bitch.  Everyone happy, check, made money, check, ready for next week, check.  Because even though you envisioned yourself ripping off the customers head, who tried telling you they’d been waiting for 30 minutes when you have written your sheet that they’ve been there 10 minutes, you swallowed hard and kept a smile and kindly seated them next and all were happy.  Not to mention the good laugh you and the rest of the crowd had at the expense of your sanity.

The only left to do at the end of such a day is to finally to take that well earned seat.  Your butt sinks into every inch of the fabric and you let out a sigh of relief.  A few co-workers walk by, some that you practically tried to drown in the fry-o-lator, and you slap hands with them all.  Closing time.

side note: remember all those things we used to do as a kid that were so cool and now that we are older we have lost interest in those tasks…..sad.

Yup, I’m that idiot, who on occasion, will berate the competition on an online match of Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2.  Sometimes it is the occasional jab at their player name or something they may have said.  The number one obscenity used online is “gay.”  People will kill that term and it bothers the shit out of me.  Constantly, they call each other gay and how gay their “clan” is and all the gay ways they fondle themselves.  There is no originality left.  I hate being the guy who “talks shit on the Internet,” but I have to be sometimes.  I usually will only comment on how ridiculously stupid someones comments are.  Alright, I’ve made myself look like enough of an asshole.

Tuesday, this is my Monday unfortunately.  A fun filled, busy day that never seemed to catch up with itself.  Now that is 9:11 pm I have missed the first half of the premiere of The Final Season of Lost and now have to wait until tomorrow to watch it.  I am not a happy camper.  I have spent countless hours watching the series and learning these characters inside and out and trying to guess what is going to happen only to be let down in the final moments before it all begins.

I’m also pretty sure that I have gained some unwanted poundage in the mid-section and I am going to need to get rid of that pretty quick.  Anyone have the P90X they want to lend me for an extended period of time.  I was also contemplating the 300 diet?  Maybe? Anyone who thinks I’m serious has seriously under estimated my “extra curricular” work ethic.  I’m the asshole who buys the ab-doer and really believes that it works.

I can only imagine what tomorrow will bring.

side note: Fuck any of you who ruins Lost for me.

Marcia sat in the middle of the table diagonally across the time from myself and Sally.  It was a sad sight to see.  It was as if she thought she needed to act this way to get our attention.  We could care less.  She was loud and she told stories about her home.  She always got on the subject of her parents.

Sally and I picked slowly at our food.

Her parents were very successful in their respective fields. Her voice, always slightly more elevated than the rest, was a clear indication of insecurity.  Often times, I believe, that she thought she wasn’t being heard.  She was right.  No one wanted to hear her.  The constant reminder of how successful her father or mother are, was not something we really cared to hear.

We were all psychology majors and to not psychoanalyze each other would be illogical.  Some were a little more balanced than others for  the most part.  I could see myself as a little off-kilter, but at least I have identified it and am making a conscious to improve myself.  I was having a lot of trouble finding something I was enjoying here at this party.  For someone who never really associated herself with her classmates she really was taking over like we were all regular friends. This did not go over well with me and I could see from the faces of my other friends and those whom we didn’t all know that they were thinking the same thing.

Marcia became louder and more obnoxious.  Drawing more attention to herself. The girls rolled their eyes and snickered to each other as they pretended to put on their make-up.  She remained totally oblivious.  All she needed was attention.

I sat in my room after the party.  I lay awake in bed and think of people.  How could one person be so fixated on themselves and not care about the effect they have on everyone around them.  Could someone really exist that thinks nothing of constantly alienating themselves from others because they believe to be above them all?  Not only that, but also judge a person on something they have yet to become and who they are in the moment.  I’m not even finished.  This person would also judge by a person by the color of their skin and be expected to be taken seriously in a professional environment? We are supposed to feel for them?  I could not possibly imagine such a person to call my friend or my peer.

I clicked off the light.

I curled up in bed alone.  The sheets were cold.  The room was dark except for a strand of light the peered through the curtains for the street.  A tear comes to my eye.  That is one horrible person.  My eyes began to swell as the tears fell faster.  It is only when we see ourselves through the eyes of others that we see who we really are.  It was I that could not stand myself.  I hated myself and made everyone else pay for it.  It’s a long fall from the top of our ego.

A man, about 70 years old, is standing in line waiting to make his purchase.  He was about 70 years old, but he looked older.  Now this guy is just standing there silent, not making a sound.  I am casually looking about at the different cheeses pretending that I know anything about Boar’s Head products.  Out of no where a man in his mid 30′s approaches the older man and practically hip checks the guy and tells him flat out that he’s lucky he doesn’t fight him right then and there.  The old man is quickly embarrassed at this point and doesn’t really seem to understand what he’s done.  It’s clear to me that this guy is thinking about all the World War II battles he’s bled in and the freedoms he’s kept safe for us, while this guy releases a bunch of hot air from his lungs. After a moment nothing seemed to phase the old man, even with a giant finger pointed in his face.  I’m sure if he had it his way the old man would have broken that finger off and put in a place it would have been hard to recover.

Now without even blinking an eye this younger man turns tail and continues shopping, not before showing off his bravado.  He stares down myself and the old man one last time.   Luckily, I didn’t have all the details of this situation otherwise I would have been in the middle of it all tell this younger man to “eff” off.  For all I knew, the old man practically ran over his son.

Now the second encounter I had in the deli line was a bit more comical in my eyes.  I did not have any interaction with this woman, I just observed “from afar.”  No doubt it took a while to get out orders filled, but it doesn’t really make this any less funny.  I have a pretty positive outlook on life most of the time, but this woman had it out for the world.  It did not help that the staff on the slicers were all talking about some party they were going to, or that so-and-so was picking them up at the 7/11, etc.  The worst parts of this suburban town began to shine through as I realized she was passing judgment on every single one of them.  I could only imagine the things that she was thinking, but I can’t even begin to mention them.  She was just a walking pile of ignorance.  The comedy came from watching her roll her eyes and her face turning a darker shade of red every two minutes or so. When they finally came to her she began ordering the staff around and asking for the most ridiculous requests.  She actually orders a 1/3 lb. of roast beef.  Who the hell does that?  Luckily, my order was filled and I no longer had to watch this slave driver in action.

What get’s me the most is the total lack of appreciation for the blue collar worker.  When in all actuality this country relies on the job security of said class.  The white collar community often can’t stand blue collar’s and look down on them for the “dirty” jobs we do, but yet you hire us to do everything you don’t want to do.  Without the deli workers or ditch diggers or lawn care-givers many people would be left to fend for themselves…God Forbid.