Insidious Adaptation

The last drink has been drunk. The final call has been made. The work day is over. The dessert bowl has been all scooped, and re-scooped, and there is simply, no more left. What happens when it's all gone? Well, "it" as we use it, has to be defined, which for each of us, could really be anything. IT could be pleasurable, IT could be an achievement, IT could be love, IT could be hate, IT could be pain, IT really could be anything we give it power to be, but IT will come to an end, for anything as we know it to be, will cease to be.   Like a blank piece of paper after all the work initially torn away, discarded, a part of ourselves, never to be seen again, however, built on, better.  A sad and disgruntling thought as I ponder what I can then rely on. Can I rely on my daughter, no, for she will either grow and move on as I want her to, or she will  suffer  from the debilitating effects of the conclusion of the human condition, the diagnosis we all must face. C...

Context, it's all about context my friends. In the right context, you can say anything, literally. Yea, I said it, owning the words once they've been dropped. I just liked how I looked.  "Honestly, I think that you are too feeble a person to tell the truth." If said with empathy, with an understanding within the relationship that the intent is to show compassion, care that the person gets better, then love is all it is. "Yea, you're right." As the initial sting of reality penetrated the core self, leaving a naked version, exposed, for at least someone saw the truth, someone saw what they tried to hide. Someone also cared enough to say it, putting the words out there, bringing them into the light, for shame manifests in the darkest shadows of our own selves. Why don't we say these things more? Like, why else does communication exist, if not to convey truth? Do we not get upset when we find out the media has fed us propaganda that lacks truth...

In college, living in the dorms was a stimulus overload. Not only was there now access to people 24/7, the access to women, fine women, women of all types. In my high school graduating class of 50 plus, half to 2/3rds were dudes, minus the girls in relationships, really only left a handful to choose from. Not here however, there were plenty, and in the idea of college and newly sanctioned freedom, it seemed as though possibilities lingered around every corner.  What I thought college would be like.  What college was really like.  In my mind, I had to be prepared for interaction at all times, look cool, calm, casual, despite the fact I was anything but those things. Luckily, I had regular attendance at the gym that summer, along with eating food excessively and strictly to enhance my size, enhanced my confidence. After all, the guys in the magazines were big and not all that, “good-looking” so I figured that was a route that would use m...

I am cancer free, well, at least the lump in my leg isn’t cancerous, or should I say, it wasn't felt to be cancerous. The best part of this all, was that for a few minutes today as I drove to the doctor’s office to pull down my pants for two nurse practitioners, yes, all before 9AM, I had a glimpse of what life could be like if I were to be stricken with a disease that kills its hosts.  Not to be dramatic, but that’s what I do, that’s what anxiety does, for worst case scenarios are the only way my mind knows what to do with information. It happens without effort, like slipping down a slide, for I typically recognize the thought, and move on. This time however, I decided to stay. I stayed on the thought process of what life would look like if I were to truly have cancer and the treatment options and the lifestyle that would then be my lifestyle. My first thought, was, my daughter. For I love her so, however, as much as I love her, and as much as I think I can contribute...

In a former life, telling people what to do, or not to do, wasn't the question, however it was who they gave credit to which meant more. I was consumed by being the one to help, with the right answers, for it is what I needed and was the THING that drove me to be the guy you would go to for those answers. I would read material, the argument to that material, and worse of all, I would find "sales tactics" to entice people that I was the ONE and not "THAT OTHER PLACE." "The other place," was anyone, anywhere, that wasn't me, for I was the one who could present the material in THAT unique way, so therefore if you didn't get the results, I was hurt, worthless, for nobody should ever talk to me again. If you can relate to this mindset, I thank you, and hopefully you are willing, at least in secret, to admit these thoughts, for they do not sound good when they come out. The reason I write them, again, is validation, and to let people in on a few...

Seeing and feeling the hurt in one's eyes is a gift some say, an empath is what I have read, the ability to connect and feel what another person feels at a heightened level. This, something I have done since childhood, without awareness that other people don't naturally do this, or understand other people in that way. I can look back over the foundation of my own perspective in life and see that I was always adapting to what I perceived other people felt or wanted and therefore led me to being "liked" in many ways. The problem was and still is, is that people only like what is presented without actually liking me. The hardest thing one can do is to understand that other people think and perceive differently than they do. I was always influenced by why certain people did things, why they were able just to be, "cool," and it wasn't something I could just mimic. In high school, I had a friend named Eric, he was popular, and good at sports, and well, ju...

Michael:  Wait. You forgetting something? Oscar:  What? Michael:  This chat. Two men, one white, one latina. A boss and a money cruncher. I could fire you. Oscar:  What's your point. Michael:  My point is... that as long as people like you and me don't stop talking, nobody can stop the USA. The other day I was in the gas station and overheard a couple arguing over by the fountain soda station about something unrelated to soda, however they were still together and both seemed to agree on one thing, to drink a soda. If a robber were to come into the gas station and threaten the lives of its customers, would whatever the couple had a disagreement on still exist? Would the once large instance of disagreement, more than likely a miscommunication, be a memory in the face of losing the life of a partner? In this instance, the opposition from which the couple had toward one another, a differing of opinions, would switch to the opposition against them, no longer mak...