Life is Changing and Changing

November 14, 2010

Life is changing and changing. I heard that if your not changing and growing then you are dying. If you are a creative person and you are not creating then you are dying. The past few months have been different to say the least. The past few years have been unusually different to say the most. Some days I’m so focused on  my goals and dreams and other days I’m off the races in my mind and can’t function. I don’t know f I am growing but I am changing.

It seems like I keep waking up and everything that has happened in my life was a dream. Good dream and bad dream. One day I’m living in an apartment I can’t afford even though I had a job and I was whacked out on pain meds, psych meds and life in general the next day I’m clean and sober with less Psych meds living with my parents helping my sick father who eventually died. Then I’m in house with my mother and I lose my job but I have money in the bank and a little unemployment coming my way so it was comfortable.

I published not just one novel but three books within a moth. I felt great creatively and spiritually. I believe those are connected. Life is rolling along one day at a time. Then the pressure starts hitting me to think about a career. A job. Something. My mother and my friends think it’s time I go to work. I secretly disagreed.

What I thought was an epiphany turned out to be a fantasy and an unrealistic reality. I thought that I wanted ot get into Drug and Alcohol counseling. I talked to some people and researched half assedly. I found out I needed two years of recovery to get into the particular places I was looking for. I used it as an excuse not ot look for anything else.

I woke up one day and I am suddenly renting a house from a friend and out of my mom’s house. I still have no job and my savings are dwindling. No muney and more bills. I have a house mate. We started a business venture that may or may not pay off but we at least started it.

I went form no job plenty of money living with mom creating every day to sharing a house with a friend and business partner with no job and no money and less motivation to write and create. My energies are in the business. No income is expected for a while but I refuse to work. Sure I do a little part time work for an uncle but nothing serious.

My anxiety levels and agoraphobia keep me house ridden for days sometimes. I hate socializing. What happened to “good time Charlie” as an old friend once called me?

It seems I went from mr social guy to hermit overnight. It did take years. Some say it’s part of me growing up. Some say it’s my mental problems. Some say “get a job, ya bum”. Some say nothing at all. What can they say?

It’s not easy being human. I was going ot say me but I know everyone has problems. They just don’t wear them on their sleeves or like merit badges on their chest like I do sometimes.

I never thought that I’d be at a place in my life where I refused to look for a job. I’m not sure if it’s stubbornness, fear, my determination to succeed in other areas, or my mental illness and anxiety.

I went from having a job and lots of money living with my mother to no job, no money, paying rent etc. I keep waking up everyday in a different state of mind with a different focus and different awareness. I wonder who am I? Where am I going? What am I doing? Then I run away and hide in other thoughts that either thrill me or upset me fro the day.

The only thing I know is that tomorrow is another day. I never know what is around the corner and if I at least try at life I will feel a live. I hope. I always have hope.


AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

September 27, 2010

AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! That’s how I fucking feel right now. Panic. Stress. Anxiety. My un comfortable comfort zone. My thoughts race far beyond my own comprehension. Trouble thinking yet alone typing. Writing. Blogging. Shitting or whatever this precious intimate open hearted garbage is that I’m puking all over you the reader. The black letters on the white word docment page on the shiny screen. Mind going. Going. Gon . .nope. Not gone but cracked a bit. I feel it buzz down my spine as I try to get some of these thoughts out …

It started last Friday. No it started 2 weeks ago today I think. A Sunday definitively. I called Brian about the meeting we got to Sundays in Phila. H e said he couldn’t go. He couldn’t. Well he chose not to . Ya see he said he was busy. He said he was busy ficing the house he owned next door to him. His tenant moved out and he was getting it ready to rent. I asked. I had to ask. So I did it. I asked. Yes I did. I asked Brian. I asked Brian “ how much are you renting it for?” He told me a price I couldn’t. No wait it was I price I wouldn’t refuse. “how many bedrooms?” I asked I did. 2. 2? Yes 2. I told him I want it and I have aroomamate in mind already.  I did. I knew Seth was looking ot get out too. I wasn’t looking ot get out but I knew that living with my mother at my age with my habits was wearing on her and she was going ot be moving on and out and something. Biscuit? Pancakes.

Whew… Breathing is easier when I do it I did.

So. So Seth said yes let’s do it. Move in together. Wednesday we checked it out and told Brian yes we wanted it. We will take it. He was happy Seth was happy. My mom was happy. Everyone’s happy except for me. I like where I am at in life believe it or not. Change is a stressful thing for me. I have been nothing but productive since I lost my job the end of May. I finished my novel and published it along with the Best of  the Serial Killer Coloring book that I was thinking of doing for over 5 years. I write every day even if it’s trash or ramblings like this one or not.  I don’t know

Oh yeah. SO I am happy living with my mom. She’s a great roommate or house mate except she wants me to work. She understood me wanting ot get my book finished and out because she is a writer too. Now it’s time to move on. I decided that before I was pushed out. She’s leaving anyway in the next year or t2. Did I say that already. I can’t keep track. I’m even to wired and lazy at the same time to spell check or proof read. Can barely move. Except to the bathroom and tha’ts another problem I ha’ve been getting the shits almost every day or every other day for a 3 weeks .

Stress? Maybe I don’t know.

Yeha, My Dad died last year in July, <My adopted dad. Mu adopted Grandmom died in January this year. Death… Family. It brought me closer to my mom and the rest of the family but it fucked me in the head so I repressed it. I do that. I’m good at that repressing

SO I am totally unmotivated and paralyzed with fear, anxiety, depression, and  motivated with diarrhea. That’s it. I’ve barely packed. 4 fuckign days I have to be out of her eand in the new place by Pctoer 1st and I have to hace to to/ to clean thehouse and clear my dead dad’s stuff ourt of one of the rooms I live in. 10 bookshelves worth of giant books, cds some records and whatever else… Get that shit done my shit done. I’m throwing out my bed tomorrow so I sleep on a couch for a few days. Who cares ?   I’ve done that beforooore.

OFund out the other night my friend died. My old employer. Jana banana. I jope toget my head toghteher enough to write somethingnice about her eventually. She was great. I am also good friends wit her brother. We haven’t talked for years and we did finally the other night. I went to the wake. It was fun. She was the owner of the Singing Banana Telegram company . tha’ts why we called her Jana Banana. They had a singing banana come out and sing to the dead Jana. It was more like a comedy roast than a viewing or wake or wahtaever. I don’t evenknwo the difference.

My ex-wife showed up. Weird… I called her and invited her but didn’t expect her to show up. I went years hating her and we’ve been pretty civil that past few years and she was friends with Dave the brother and we were at Jana’a last wedding and Jana was at ours. It was weird to see that she looked good. I neverthought I would think or feel that about her ever again. She had plastic surgery before I left her and I hated it. I talked to her and we had a good time at the viewing. Weird. Wird for me and .

ok. My head won’t stop. Whish there was a button I could push on my forehead to stop my thoughts.

I also remembered an old friend of Jana’s that no one got in touch with. I remembered that she goes to a coffe eshop on Sunday nights for a sewing or knitting circle thingy . I called her after the viewing and mademy friend and future house mate Seth waiting bored in my car while I told Jana’s friend and my old friend that Jana died over the coffee shop phone. We talked and caught up. Now we’re re-connected.

All of these reconnections are overwhelming me with the pressures and anxieties I already had and I was am are is. . .  confused about it all. Dave. Myex-wife Cindy, My old friend Cindy, …Jana. RIP

Then I came home to the wonder ful facebook and was friend requested by some guy I didn’t know and I haven’t been that picky so I accepted him and immediately received a facebook invite to my High School reunion. Then he came back to me and and. . I sort o remembered him. My 3 yeaars on facebook I was only requested by one person I knew from high school. Now more memories… good and bad. I started looking at his friend list and saw all of these people I sort of remembered but not quite. Weired weird … freaky weird. Shut up. Ok yeah then I saw someone that has always hated me but was friends with one of my old friends and we used to tolerate each other. I got upset and thrown off by that too. He spread the rumor that I was gay years after high school because my friends and I messed with his homophobia. I hate homophics. Most of them. Not you. Or you. But him. Yeah

Then I started this paranoic rampage of the mind about me going to the high school reunion and having people come p to me and I don’t remember who they are. It’s been a lot of years since I’ve seen or heard these people. It’s not til November so fuck it. I guess. But it was just one more thing..

Oh yeah then one of my facebook “friends” that I don’t even know left a comment that my friend that died is going ot hell. That was just another thing to add to my overwhelming anxiety and racing speeeding thoughts and stress and blah blah blah. . . etc ya know…

He followed it with a “you’re going to hell” directed at me. So I deleted, blocked and reported him as a fake profile because he had not info and only cartoon pics of himself.

Today facebook took me off and signed me out and said my account was suspended for suspicious activity and to prove it was really me I had to identify my “friends” pictures. Luckily most were people I know personally. They have a real hang up about it being a friends and family site but what if I want to make new friends? Fuck it. Least of my worries.. Just one more thing to make my head throb and speed.

I’m also talking to a girl who I know is fake because she has one picture of herself and 34 pictures of her friends and I recognize some of them as porn stars. Not that I look at pron or anything.. haha. Ok . you know already..vShe doesn’t bother me I just go along wither talk about liking me etc.. Any female attentio is good right? Even it’s a fake girl. Probably a dude or one of my friends. Haha.

I think that sums me up . my mind up.. my anxiety stress etc blah bluck poo faa haa gaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sirll there . Here. Might not stop butIknow it will eventuallllyy Next weekI’ll be crying over something different. Maybe tomorrow, who knows? All I know is that I will survivie. Isn’t that right Gloria Gaynor?


Leading You Nowhere . . .

September 4, 2010

I’ve been slacking lately on the writing. When I do write I want to have something to say or talk about and there are no events that have been happening that stand out to talk about. There’s a lot going on in my head but I haven’t felt like writing about it. That’s why I’m writing right now. Sometimes I have to write just for the sake of writing. Clear my head a little bit, ya know? Who knows maybe this will lead somewhere. Maybe what I am writing now will lead to something to write about or maybe it already has. Do you write?

Do you ever get writer’s block as they call it? I think I’ve been getting that lately. Either that or laziness of the mind. The one thing that has always unblocked me as a writer is to just start writing. Hey. That’s what I’m doing now, isn’t it? Are you still reading? Good. Then we have something going between us. I write and you read. A fair deal.

A family friend is an artist. He told me a long time ago that the art isn’t complete until someone sees it and shares the experience. Otherwise its not art to him. I didn’t question him. I believed that. Like what’s going on right now between you and I. This writing isn’t complete unless you read it, right?

Last week my cousin who is also a talented artist was visiting and I decided to share this great wisdom with him. I told him that the art isn’t complete without someone seeing it. Do know what he had the audacity to do. You won’t believe this. He asked why. What nerve? He expected an explanation for my undeniable wisdom that was passed down to me from a more experienced artist then both of us. I couldn’t believe he was questioning me. Do you want to know what really bothered me about his question? I’m assuming you said yes. If not I’m going to tell you anyway. What bothered me the most about his question was that I did not have an answer. My jaw dropped and I tried my hardest to explain to him but my final answer was “I don’t know”. We had a similar discussion about God later but I won’t get into that one.

Here, what I so blindly accepted years ago as the holy word, the truth, solid information, my cousin questioned. He questioned it because he had not heard that before and he is more of a free thinker than I am. He has questions and wants answers as opposed to me accepting things at face value. I guess my faith extends beyond God. I have faith in people and what I hear as truth and simply accept it. This is good and bad for me.

I don’t always fight for things. I accept a no as meaning no. I also hate people that won’t take no for an answer. It annoys me. It could be jealousy or envy but I doubt it. Don’t get me wrong, I fight for something that I feel I deserve or something I believe in but I save my battles for something important. Usually I accept it. You tell me it’s snowing outside in New Jersey in July I might believe you. I’ll have my doubts. I think I’m off track again.

Coincidentally, the night my cousin was over my family’s artist friend came by as well. So I took the opportunity to bring up the question my cousin asked. Why? He explained it and went back and forth with my cousin about what art is. My cousin believes it’s art if you are just doing it for you. We all agreed that we create for ourselves first. My cousin believes the art is art in the process and getting your emotions out not the end result. Earlier, I referred to my art and writing as products. The word product had a negative connotation to him. Product is a word used commercially. To me it means something that I produced. It’s a product. The point of whether art is still art if no one sees it was never made clear that night. I still blindly accept that the art process or my case the writing process is complete when someone or many people are reading it. Are you still reading this. I’m assuming you are. This piece was written for me and I just assume that you will read it. You did. Right?

This piece of writing is complete art now. Now go tell your friends to read this and see if it becomes better writing because more people read it and the process is even more complete.

I knew when I started writing this it would eventually lead somewhere. You are that somewhere. Thank you.


I Can’t Run Away From My Mind

August 15, 2010

The past 2 days have been a living hell. This week has been pretty bad but I’m not feeling so great. Earlier in the week it was the weather that was killing me. That and the pressure of either finding a job or figuring out the hoops to jump through at the Unemployment office to get money for an education for my new desired “career”. I put career in brackets because it’s not what I want to do. It’s my “settle for”  “career”. I want to be a professional writer. I am technically but I mean make a decent living on my writing. My next choice is Drug and Alcohol counseling because it seems like the most rewarding and something that I have enthusiasm and confidence to do well. You know, a feeling of contributing to society. But this pressure and anxiety is getting bad and makes it difficult to go outside. I’m not kidding.

I moved in with my adopted parents in March of 2009 to help take care of my sick father who died in June 2009. We’ve been through and I guess my mother and I are still going through mourning. His Birthday was a couple of days ago. Also my mother and I make great living companions. We didn’t see much of each other because she was going out and I was working and going to AA meetings all of the time. When we did get together and eat or go out and hang out we enjoy each other’s company. Back in April of this year we decided to up my rent at the end of the summer and I that I would stay here for at least another year. She is eventually selling the house and moving into a senior type housing project. We were happy about the decision etc. Then came the unemployment.

I was fired from my Job of almost 6 years for bullshit reasons on May 26th of this year. It’s along story and I already wrote about that. I jumped right into unemployment and I had money away believe it or not and moved onto my creative endeavors with full force. At the time I believed that unemployment would provide free health care. It doesn’t. I had planned on enjoying the time off and getting writing done and creating and promoting. I was going to casually look for a part time under the table job to supplement the little amount of unemployment money. The halthcare situation put a damper on things and my mother has been on me about getting a job or going to school. I feel like a little kid again. The passive-aggressive behaviors have returned. “Yes, mother. You are right. Etc”,

I was really enjoying my summer besides the heat. I finished editing my long awaited novel. I self published another 2 books while I am waiting for my friend to do the final cover design of my novel. I’ve been writing almost daily and making short videos for YouTube. I’ve been forcing myself to go out and socialize because I’ve become extremely anti-social in real life. It still exhausts me even though I enjoy it. I gave no thought to a job or career until a few weeks ago.

I was at an AA meeting and I saw someone that worked at a Drug and Alcohol Rehabilitation Center. The thought hit me that I would like to do that. I asked her what I need to do to get into her field. She said that the place she worked would hire me and are looking for people. The train you and help you get your proper credentials. The only problem is that you have to be 2 years sober and I am a few months short. She gave me a number and name to call and told me to try anyway.

I called the next day and the woman told me to call back in October. So, at first I put it in my mind that I would get that job in October and I wanted to ride it out on my savings and my unemployment checks. My mother disagreed. She wants me actively doing something. After 2 months of writing and getting my books together she feels it’s time to get a move on. She’s a great mom that asks very little of me around the house so when she wants me to do something I feel obligated to do it. The pressure is on me and I keep repressing it.

I went through the motions slowly by going to different orientations at the Unemployment office. It’s been helpful and confusing. Their web site is tough for me to navigate properly for some reason. I found out that certification is costly and so is the education needed. To top it off  the job site of unemployment has a “in demand” career section and your choice has to be in demand. Drug and Alcohol counseling is not. I’m wondering if I should just forget about it until October or just get a job and say fuck it for now. Maybe get a job until October. It’s definitely causing friction in the house now.

My mom  has one daily rule. My car has to be out of the driveway by 1-{30 am unless otherwise noted. On Friday she needed me out by 9:30 am and I didn’t get up on time and she was going away for a week. She left in a bad mood and it set me off in a bad mood. There’s nothing like the feeling of disappointing your mom. Well, my mom. The panic attacks and isolation has hit what feels like an all time high ever since she left. I thought I would feel free once she left but I feel the opposite. Ever since I was adopted at age 11 I have had my adopted mother’s voice in my head reminding me of the right thing even stupid shit like putting down the toilet seat. You can probably imagine the things I hear her saying now.

There was one point where she thought that I wanted to be mentally ill and collect social security and disability. She has no time for dealing with the mentally ill. Physically ill she can handle it and has pity and understanding but not mental illness or addictions. Maybe she’s right. Maybe not.

The problem is that you can’t see my Bipolar disorder or my anxiety. It just looks like I’m lazy or super motivated. I’m not lazy. I’m ill. I have to remind myself of that because I have no defense. The medication isn’t perfect. Even God can only do so much. I have to deal with it and live in my skin as best as I can moment to moment. One day at a time.

I feel a little better but I’m still anxious.


Last Day by Cam MacDonald

August 13, 2010

I’m a little too sick or anxious to write today so I am posting a poem from my friend Cam MacDonald. It’s about . . .you figure it out.

Last Day?

What will happen tomorrow
Will it be tomorrow or some other day
After waiting 159 days it doesn’t feel real
Caught up in a Sweep
profiled for being the best
punished for 14 year old sins
Here I await fiending like a junkie
scanning the headlights for the Man
keys jingle and doors slam

So many days morphed into right now
So much pain and boredom
distilled into to each into each moment
The small hope of small freedom
is all that feeds me
My cell is real in its filthy haphazardness
and in its protection from the outside

Its more real than but no less restricting
than all the other imposed by me
and those I let imposed on me
the Clinic with its liquid handcuffs
the junk with its sickness and never ending hunger
the promise of riches tomorrow but never today
the women who I won’t let love me
the son who I love and loves me
the darkside who always wins
the people I hate for being human
but most of all myself for being so selfish

So right so wrong but always doomed
Soon some shitbag will crack my cell
and tell me to pack it up
and then the real sentence starts
but will the small hope
still lingering in the smell of spring earth
and a girls perfume and…….

Art by Rich Hillen Jr 2000


Frustrated – digital art

August 13, 2010


How to Avoid Life Through Self Absorbtion

July 20, 2010

I used to wish that I was one of those artists that was so self- absorbed that he didn’t give a shit about anything else. Dedicated his every waking minute to his art regardless of the outcome or what anyone thinks. No social life. Not many friends. The one that stayed in and did his craft day after day.

I’ve gone through periods of my life where I’ve been able to do that. I was able to focus on my art and that was it but there was always an inherent need to be loved and liked especially by women. There was a time that my entire identity was based on how much I was loved in a relationship. As I got older and more confident in myself I started to go through periods of working and caring only about my art, writing or music. It’s when I feel my best. Alone and creating.

I think that’s why I have been so anti-social lately. All I want to do is write, edit, create and promote. I hardly want to leave the house or look for a job or date or have sex or anything except write, write and write. Create, create and create. What’s really odd is that the loneliness is there. My need to be loved is there. I want to fall in love and date but instead of allowing myself to feel it I repress it and keep moving on my projects. My projects are my self-absorbed escape from my true feelings. I’ve turned my fear of rejection and loneliness into productive creativity.

Almost everyday I force myself out to a meeting so I maintain some sort of connection with the world besides the online community that only aids my anti-social behavior. It also keeps me grounded, spiritual and away from a drink or drugs. I try and keep as close as I can to my God as I can even when I am alone creating. Especially when I am alone creating.

Despite my fears of rejection, abandonment, loneliness and looking for employment I am quite happy with my life because I am using them to fuel my creativity. Hmmm. I guess I’m not entirely avoiding these feelings. I know that they are there. I’ve just taken the wasted energy worrying and put it into something positive. Life is good even when it’s bad.


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