These past few months

These past few months, I've traded away a piece of my soul to do and be a part of something, which, in the end, may only amount to being only slightly greater than myself. I've sacrificed aspects of my life, my mental, emotional, and physical health and well being; precious sleep- I've done and said things and crossed some lines to accomplish acts in an unwinnable and, forgettable war. Some things were mistakes and failures, some things were successes, and some were, I don't know, serendipitous? I do have regrets and, maybe all my decisions weren't all necessary, maybe there were better decisions to be made, but overall, I think I'm unapologetic and resolute, and stand ready to deal with the problems that are no one else's but my own.

But me! -A God damn brooder. Over and over again, I interrogate myself - "What are you doing? Now you're a mess. Is it worth it? Was it worth it? What now? Why do you push so hard? Why do you punish yourself? Why even bother? This will all be over in a few months anyway. No one will remember what you do here, what does it matter?" [Summon combat drone, cast Overload ability, empty shotgun in general direction of Marauder's head, run away, take cover, repeat.]

In the face of futility, the American thing to do is to go out, stoically, with your guns blazing, while being less needy than a martyr. Everyone hopes for a Rorke's Drift, but more often than not, you get something like an Alamo or a Thermopylae, except no one gives a shit 'cause it's you and you're a drama queen. -It matters to me. -Because I care. I care about doing a good job. And, although it doesn't bother me, I do care what people think. People will associate your name with the work that you do and judge you for it - I do it all the time. I judge people for fun, even when I don't have a leg to stand on to do so. I can also probably safely proclaim that, “I ain’t runnin’” and, “I ain’t no quitter.” And so I continue to strive, to continue to learn; to get better; to progress.

As I find comfort in the intangible, to try to rationalize my actions away ('cause that's what we do as people to make ourselves feel better about... ourselves), I am reminded of the stories of people who have said and did questionable things against their beliefs and moral integrity to gain the respect of their men; to inspire them to perform to the best of their abilities in the face of adversity - not because it's their job, but because they don't want to let their boss down. I also look to the method actors that prepare for a role, doing things that inflict harm to themselves for the sake of falling so far into their craft, to give commanding performances, left only to clean up a devastating aftermath they believe is so worth it. I think it's incredible and challenging and noble; not everybody can do what these people do; what these people are willing to do. Some people cannot even comprehend these "doers'" line of thinking, maybe because they can't imagine living their lives that way, probably because they're a religious zealot -but not me; I get it. I don't even have to give it a second thought about these people; they're pros, and that's what a pro does. I'm a fucking pro.

A trail of bread crumbs; A light on the porch

Each night, in the solitude of dark, dedicated silence, I recluse deep within the depths of my breast and unearth the shards of my heart that still belong to you, purposely anchored there by the empty hopes of our happily ever after; Carefully tended to and cherished as relics of a golden age. These smoldering embers are all that remain of a once mighty edifice.  The shards bring pain to the touch as fresh stab wounds; it's a wonder why anyone would keep such wretched things.  The waves of pain envolop me until it seems I am submerged in a soothingly warm ocean-It is here where I will pacify the painful withdrawals of my addiction, and escape reality for a while.  Sadistically, I wrap myself in these dead hopes and dreams, as they provide warmth and comfort, and rock me to sleep. They're not shards, I wish to myself; They're a beacon.

-Well, maybe the Rapture DID happen and we're just the folks that have to hang out with Kirk Cameron...

Yeah... I'm pretty sure it's supposed to come "like a thief in the night." That tells me no one's supposed to know when it's gonna go down. I also found that at times like this, it's best to wait for someone building an Ark - THAT GUY oughtta know something for sure - and YOU BEST believe me and T-Payne will be on THAT boat.

You stupid, stupid, naive, little girl - You and your kind are pussifying America!

I have a few things. That argument about the statistic of 200 babies a year die from a circumcision gone wrong is asinine, and doesn’t hold a lot of water with me. Really? 200 kids - Out of the millions of babies born each day, you’re saying 200 infants die a year. You know how many people die in car accidents every year, yet we’re still permitted by Big Brother to force our children to ride in the car with us – mind you, riding in a car isn’t necessary either– people got along without riding in one for thousands of years. -I mean, how far do you wanna go with this? I have to tell you, I’m cut and I don’t ever remember it being done to me – I’m not traumatized, and all my sons, who were “victims of this unjust procedure,” are all normal, happy, easy to clean, nether region odor-free, aerodynamic mofos . One might say that one child dying is one too many, but lemme tell ya, there's always going to be risk, and You can’t prevent everything – and if you’re tryin’, you’re wasting your life.

Better orgasms? Are you serious? Through circumcision we’re robbing our sons of better orgasms? Better orgasms vs hygienically sound and cosmetically appealing. Lemme tell ya, an orgasm is an orgasm and even a bad one still feels pretty good. Also, if you don’t know what you don’t’ have, then you don’t miss it. Believe me, there's still plenty feelin' down there. If sensitivity is the issue, then I just prepared my boys to last a helluva lot longer in a fire fight. That argument is grasping at straws to me. Please, if you’re making that argument, then this debate isn’t about traumatizing babies anymore. If we’re gonna get ridiculous here, then the only thing I’ve robbed my boys of are the missed opportunities to get a blowjay from some hot, shallow girl who thinks uncut fellers are icky. Screw that, man.

Go and try to market increased sexual pleasure and a musty smelling membrane to a circumcised man who's girlfriend, or spouse suffers from his premature ejaculation, to which, I'm sure he'll reply, "Great. 'just what I need; 20,000 MORE nerve endings."

People get their infant daughters’ ears pierced all the time, and that is the same in the terms of unnecessary and cosmetic– Another thing, ear piercing isn’t usually done by a doctor, not all doctors offices do it. Most women take their kid into some back alley (and I do say "back alley," lightly) tattoo/piercing place and strap ‘em down with no pain medicine– so it can be the same in sense of trauma- I know, I’ve heard the blood curdling scream of a baby girl crying her head off, while getting her ears pierced – so don’t tell me that it’s not. So if you’re looking to rob people of their rights, look in your own backyard first. Before you go condemning circumcision, claiming the best thing to do is outlaw circumcision - Go ask a man about it first. I'm sure you'll find some things quite contrary to your research. And your rant about children's rights and physical intergrity is noble, but very dangerous thinking, and I'll tell you why in the last two sentences of my blog. Children have no rights – well, not in the sense that you might think. If they did have the rights that you and I share, you could not “correct” them when they did – anything you didn’t like them doing. My children’s rights, more or less, belong to me. We carry these rights, making decisions we feel are in the best interest of them, until they are legally old enough to make decisions for themselves. We as parents have the right to bring up our children according to our own, let’s say, traditions and culture. We make decisions for and in the best interest of our children, free of government interference. In regards to circumcision, parents don’t circumcise their children with the INTENT to hurt or abuse their children. People have their children circumcised because they feel, in some way or another it is in the best interest of them. Physical integrity? Physical integrity laws were written to keep Big Brother out of your business. And lastly, I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again - it is not the government’s job to control legal choice behaviors of Americans. It’s not even about whether people should or should not do the things that they do, it’s about your liberty and freedoms as an American.

Who wouldn't wanna be a spy...?

Would you turn down a sure thing, six-figure job that you don't mind doing for the rest of your life for a chance to be a spy? ...Like a no-shit, Michael Westin-style spy. What if you were married with children?

Time to get back in shape.

I just finished running 3 miles on the mountainous terrain of San Diego at 11:30 p.m. last night; the long city streets are kinda scary in the dark - I actually thought about breaking out the reflective belt! But I opted against it... -just in case it wasn't cool. I was also concerned that I could possibly get raped and killed running at that hour, but then I thought, "a pudgy spearchucker with back fat is never anybody's fantasy," so I turned up the volume on my MP3 player and rocked out to "My Life," by Billy Joel.

Hakuna Matata to all you Atheists out there...

So, who's more detrimental to the christian faith - an Atheist? ...or a person who's already whimsically accepted that he's going to hell?

Ode To A Fruitless Job Well Done (part one) - by Ryan Bagwell

I feel it wet, it’s gotten dim
In the end, we’re made of tin
It’s getting done, but where’s the pride
Existing, we dissolve inside
Toys of disposal; toys with no face
Toys to be put back in a lil’ glass case
A room made of windows and very lil’ else
A bitter and petty shell of myself
Repulsed by the thought of a life that is pure
Blindly addicted to the sweet taste of failure
Screamin’ and whalin’ ‘cause everyone’s bailin’
Time, it a’ticks, and that ship is a’sailin’
Desperate for answers, I’m following suit
Could be I’m just too lazy to look
Over and over and over again
Hoping monotony will come to an end
Tired of losing, tired of waiting
My wits, they are wasted on constantly waiting
Waiting and waiting and waiting on what
For a time when good fortune stops being a slut
To everyone else, who seems to excel
While I have to wait to create for myself
My own happiness out of nothing; it’s true
While everything just seems to happen for you

Take your name... off your phone.

Ya know, I think what happened was that one of these chicks told his wife that she was bangin' out her man... or even better, sent his wife pictures of them - proud as can be. Then, after the kids had gone to bed, his wife confronted him about the ugly girl who probably treated him better. He probably tried to get up and leave, while saying, "Oh, no, thank you. I-I don't wanna be in this situation; we'll talk later through my attorney." -that's when the crazy bitch lost it and tried to run him down with a golf club. While trying not to run her over, he ran into a tree. Ignorant men say the darndest things, such as, "how do you cheat on a super model - Tiger is so stupid!" She's probably crazy, or is not a good person, or, most commonly, A BITCH. It just goes to show you, looks aren't everything. Good looks aren't a free pass to just lay there. It doesn't matter how fine she is, if she's not good inside and out, there's always gonna be some dude, somewhere, who's tired of her shit. What's more important here, is that people all of a sudden have a moral compass - Ya know, what you do for a living doesn't necessarily reflect who you are and vice versa. You can be an amazing dad, who's... also a contract killer. What he does in his personal life has nothing to do with how well he plays golf. The fact that he cheats on his wife doesn't mean he isn't one of the greatest golfers to ever play the game. Look how people are treating Vick. His crimes have nothing to do with football and HE HAS PAID HIS DEBT TO SOCIETY, yet people wanted to ban him from the league... might I remind you, Ray Lewis killed a guy.... where's the press on that?! "-What?! Ray Lewis killed a guy???" - Exactly. Maybe 'cause the guy wasn't warm and fuzzy is the reason we're more desensitized to it. Has anyone else noticed that Poke'mon is just glorified dog fighting? Don't blame Vick, blame society and our hypocrisies. I'm a parent, myself - and I feel that you can't shield your children from society; the role models your children choose to idolize should be based on the morals and values you instill in them. I told my son, it's okay to like Michael Vick or Tiger woods because they're good athletes, but what they do in their personal lives is a separate matter. These people get paid to do a job, whether they're entertainers, or athletes, and their lives are their own and they're not perfect. Everyone does bad stuff, either intentionally or accidentally, but because of who these people are, you're more likeley to find out what they do bad on tv. People hate Green Day because of their political views... I could give a chicken-flavored shit about who they are; if they're cool people, then they're cool people - if they're not - I still like their music. Famous people, technically, have no moral obligation to society, nor is it right for us to expect any social responsibility from them - People may think they do, because being famous puts you in the public's eye. All that matters is how well they do their job-unless we want be judged at work, not only based on our performance, but on who we are as a person - NO, THANK YOU! Sounds like discrimination to me... We, as a people, choose who we make famous and whether we care about them or not. It's up to me as a parent to instill in my children the ability to discern, on their own, what is right and wrong and make good choices based on what I've taught them.

I wonder if I'll die...?

I just ate four large rolls of week-old sweet bread that may or may not've been covered completely in mold. I thought about throwing it out, but it seemed best to just power through it. I wonder if I'll get sick... I'll let you know in a bit. But for now, I'm just feelin' fat, dumb, and happy.