Dating on Facebook

WARNING: What you’re about to read contains adult situations, conversation, details, and what some would consider rude, obnoxious, vulgar or down right unpleasant to read.

So, if you are of a weak disposition, in fear of losing your faith due to the detailed descriptions below causing you to sin or are prone to wetting yourself when you hear or see profanity, DO NOT continue to read any further. Consider this fair warning. If you continue reading it’s on you.

Don’t message me later about how disappointed you are with me or thought better of me, etc. It will fall on deaf ears. Love it or hate it, I could care less. (I am also well aware of what reading this blog will do for my chances with “quality” women and I’m fine with that too.)

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In. To. Me. See.

Every once in a while I come across something that I think is unique. Stands out to me as different and catches my attention. I’ve never personally met Jay Cookingham or his wife Christine; but she recently passed away, and he has been sharing their story on FaceBook.

I’ve been on FaceBook a long time now. Seen many posts of people who have passed away. Few that I’ve known. Some are a shock. Others are an extended reminder of the pain this life holds at times. People offer their condolences then generally it’s put out of mind. But this has been different. This has been anything but ordinary. And after following the posts over the last few weeks, it became increasingly clear why.

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Now we are free

I’m a bit weird. Admittedly so. Especially when it comes to music. I’m not specific in the genres of music I listen to, per se, but I have to feel the music, or my mind simply rejects it. From the beat, to the vocals, etc. the person singing it has to be committed for it to be good, imo. For instance, I once saw a band up on stage singing a sad song, yet they were all smiles; and I thought, these people are just glad to be here; but I could hear it in the music, it was a sad song, the lyrics were sad, but they weren’t, and it came across in their music.

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What a shit year. 2019 suuuuucked! Seriously. Based on what I’ve seen, I’m not the only one who felt that way. This was just a flat out hard year for many people.

Lies, manipulations, deaths, lost jobs, vehicle breakdowns, health problems, natural disasters, you name it, this year included it all. The stress involved with this year seemed unprecedented. I’m sure that’s not the case. I’m sure there have been much worse years for people. But for me, this is one that’ll go down as one of the worst.

It started out that way. And though I had high hopes at the start of it, as I always do at the beginning of a New Year, it quickly proved its determination to just be a year of total suck. Try as I may, I couldn’t convince it otherwise. It was hell bent on its destination. Like sand slipping effortlessly through fingers, the tighter I’d grip to hold on, the more I’d lose. It was surreal. An unbelievable culmination of endings that was beyond prediction. You just. Can’t. Make. This. Shit. Up.

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How to avoid the holidays and save money

It’s the same every year. Every year as the holidays approach people are inundated with holiday cheer, dinner plans, and that incessant need to buy someone a gift. Lights, packages, and bows, trees to find an adorn, stockings to be hung, the impending weight that family members you haven’t seen in nearly a year will be present at dinner watching you eat. It can be a bit overwhelming at times. And if by chance, you are a part of that unlucky group that’s actually suffered a loss during this time, then you can just add those emotions on top of all of it, to complete the long, slow, growing feeling of dread as the date approaches.

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Aces and Eights

The dead mans hand. Most of the time you’ll know it when you’re dealt it. Other times, it will elude you until at last it reveals itself and the sharp prick of what it means will pierce your heart, like ice.

Takes the wind out of you.

Hold your breath, hoping the cards will change. Whisper a prayer in an effort to curb the outcome. Try as you may, the results are the same. Only one thing to do once those cards been dealt.

Play them.

You know what they mean. Everyone knows. The death cards. End game. It’s over. Time to pay your due and cash in.

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Wine Night

Thanksgiving is in nine days. Nine days from now people will be gathering together with their families, eating food, and talking about the things they’re thankful for. Happens every year here in the U.S. .

I say in the U.S., because for some reason this was the first year it occurred to me that not everyone celebrates Thanksgiving. I know, I know. I judged me too. As well as, gave myself all sorts of internal smacks in the head for not thinking. It was a Scooby. Totally got me to thinking….wait, so other countries don’t take a moment to be thankful for anything? Other places on the globe don’t have a national holiday dedicated to the thoughtfulness and appreciation of their life and the people that are in it? How sad.

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The Weather Changed

He sat in my chair fiddling with his keys as he went on about how he didn’t understand what he had done wrong, why she was upset, and what he could do. As he talked, I just listened. Then he looked up at me and said, “I just don’t get it”.

I looked at him, and said matter of factly, “The weather changed”.

His face was the look of confusion as I could see his mind attempt to process what I had just said. “What does the weather have to do with anything I just said”, he asked.

Nothing. And everything.

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Don’t fear the Reaper

1976, the American rock band, Blue Oyster Cult released an album called, “Agents of fortune”. (Don’t fear) the Reaper, immediately became a huge hit. Although the lyrics were up for debate, the writer and singer, Donald “Buck Dharma” Roeser, claims the song is about eternal love and the inevitability of death. When I first heard the song years ago, I can’t honestly say as I gave it much thought. I liked it the moment I heard it but there wasn’t anything that resonated with me.

Until now.

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The Factory Reset

The man who raised me was handicapped. So when it came to doing outdoor stuff my opportunities were limited. Until I met Kurt Riemer. Kurt was my boss at a place I worked at. I was 16 when I started working for him part time. A few years passed and I was hired on at that place full time. We became good friends and he invited me Elk hunting with him and his boy, Keenan. I had never been Elk hunting before, let alone been taken into the type of woods he had taken us. He took us high up into the Cascade mountain range to a place with a name I could barely pronounce. I’d never seen anything like it. Never experienced anything like it; and Kurt had a way about hunting that I learned later was a bit unique.

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