I'm movin' on...

I'm Moving On
RASCAL FLATTS

I've dealt with my ghosts and I've faced all my demons
Finally content with a past I regret
I've found you find strength in your moments of weakness
For once I'm at peace with myself
I've been burdened with blame,
trapped in the past for too long
I'm movin' on

I've lived in this place and I know all the faces
Each one is different but they're always the same
They mean me no harm but it's time that I face it
They'll never allow me to change
But I never dreamed home would end up where I don't belong
I'm movin' on

I'm movin' on
At last I can see life has been patiently waiting for me
And I know there's no guarantees, but I'm not alone
There comes a time in everyone's life
When all you can see are the years passing by
And I have made up my mind that those days are gone

I sold what I could and packed what I couldn't
Stopped to fill up on my way out of town
I've loved like I should but lived like I shouldn't
I had to lose everything to find out
Maybe forgiveness will find me somewhere down this road
I'm movin' on

I'm movin' on
I'm movin' on

Everybody's broken...

It is rare that words fail me. Seldom am I speechless. Often, when I cannot find my own words, I find that someone has already penned my every thought, my deepest feelings, my darkest fears and my greatest triumphs. For every situation in life, there is a song, a lyric that fits. Better than Hallmark, I can always say what I want with the words of some poet.

I'm rambling on so, of course, I don't have the words to express myself today. I've been feeling anxious and grumpy and discontent overall lately. Sometimes, when you think you're at the end of your rope and just barely hanging on, someone unties the other end.

If you read this and it makes no sense to you, it's OK, it wasn't really meant for you. There are maybe 2 or 3 people who will understand a majority of this post. Some people may identify with something in here on a personal level, unrelated to my own struggles. That is the power of a good lyric or poem I think.

For those few who know...

Hey God - Tell me what the hell is going on
It seems like all the good shit's gone
It keeps on getting harder hanging on
Hey God, there's nights you know I want to scream
These days you're even harder to believe
I know how busy you must be, but Hey God...
Do you ever think about me
-- Bon Jovi, "Hey God"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I lost all faith in my God, in his religion too
I told the angels they could sing their songs to someone new
I lost all trust in my friends
I watched my heart turn to stone
I thought that I was left to walk this wicked world alone

Tonight I'll dust myself off
Tonight I'll suck my gut in
I'll face the night and I'll pretend
I got something to believe in...
-- Bon Jovi, "Something to Believe In"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It's OK, to be a little broken
Everybody's broken, in this life
It's OK, to feel a little broken
Everybody's broken, you're alright
It's just life

Step into the deep end
Make yourself at home
When you wonder why you're breathing
Know you're not alone
It's so hard to believe
It's easier to doubt
You're trying to hold in
But you're dying to scream out
-- Bon Jovi, "Everybody's Broken"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

See I bleed & I bruise, oh, but what's it to you
I'm only human on the inside
And if looks could deceive,
Make it hard to believe
I'm only human on the inside

I crash & I burn, maybe some day you will learn
I'm only human on the inside
I stumble & fall, baby, under it all
I'm only human on the inside
-- The Pretenders, "Human"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I've built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
It's laughter and it's loving I disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

Don't talk of love,
But I've heard the words before;
It's sleeping in my memory.
I won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.
If I never loved I never would have cried.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.
-- Simon & Garfunkel, "I Am a Rock"

I'm sure I could sit here and find a few dozen more that fit the turmoil inside my head but I must at least feign sleep before I struggle to play nice at Kindergarten tomorrow (oops, later today).
If you read something here that you feel like it was meant for you, maybe it was... or maybe we are going through something similar. Maybe we aren't so different. Maybe we aren't so alone.

Like Seven Inches From The Midday Sun

Well, it's August in the South... On a good day, it's 96º with only 70% humidity. Most days, though, it's more like 101º+ with 80% or better. Either way it's hot enough to make the devil sweat.

It's been a while since I've written. It seems I only write when I'm down, frustrated, or mad. Not that I haven't been all of those things a few times since I wrote last but, sometimes I just drink instead.

This is one of those times that I dread each year... It is the month of Woulda...
The 6th woulda been my grandfather's birthday - this year he woulda been 89. The 8th woulda been my 23rd anniversary. The 24th marks 6 years since I went back to school after 18 years. I guess if I woulda done better in high school, it wouldn't have taken so long. I guess if I woulda gone to a better college, I woulda had better job by now. Speaking of the job, this month also marks my anniversary on the job. The pay is not bad for a puppet but I just never was the puppet type. I keep hanging on because the economy is in the toilet and jobs are scarce as hens' teeth. It can suck the life right out of you, going to a job that requires no actual thought, and mine prohibits it actually.

I don't want to get into a long diatribe about my job because it already makes me want to run headlong into traffic. So, suffice it t say that despite my belief that my degree isn't worth the paper it's printed on, I am convinced that it is still a waste. I spent 2½ years working full-time and taking a full-load of courses at Churnemout¹ Community College and walked away with an AAS that nobody will hire for. The job I have isn't actually the job I do, nor is it the job I went to CCC ^ for.

For the record, I am an overpaid typist² with a degree in Computer Programming who wanted to be in Web Development but works in the Internet Marketing Dept. Don't get me wrong, I love most aspects of Internet marketing, but most of what I do is upkeep and maintenance of a decrepit old e-commerce site that still functions better and is more user-friendly than the brand-spanking new one that is in development (for a year now). I could probably teach a fifth grader to do much of my job if either of us were so inclined. But I'm not bitter, no.

I want to wrap this up so it actually gets posted in the month of Woulda...

As you can tell, I don't actually have much to say (at least of great import)... maybe why I haven't written in a few months and why this post took three weeks to build. Still, my aimless meandering on here is at least as entertaining as most of the crap on television ... particularly late at night when I am most apt to be writing.

1. Pronounced churn-em-out.
2. According to my boss.

Sometimes I feel I've got to... Run away...

It's been a while since I've posted on here. It's funny, I think fairly often during the course of a week, "Wow, this would make a good blog" or "I should blog about that". Inevitably, life takes its toll and time slips away and my procrastination chalks another mark in the win column.

It seems the only time I actually do stop to write here, is when something makes me mad or I'm feeling a bit bluesy. This week has been like that. Actually, I've had a couple of rough weeks.

At the beginning of last week, I had a problem with my brakes on the truck, so I parked it until I could get it in the shop and decided to drive the old green beast that inexplicably keeps on ticking, barely. I drive to work and I even drive it to Burger King for lunch, but when it's time to finally go home about ten hours after I got there, I get in and the tire is flat. Not low, not slack, the tire is completely devoid of air. I call a friend to come get me and take me home and to follow me to the shop the next morning to drop off the truck and take me to work. (Thanks, buddy.) Two rear calipers, two rotors, two pads and $560 later, I'm self-sufficient again. Sort of.

That was Tuesday. Wednesday and Thursday pass without incident. I failed to mention that, not only was the tire on the beast flat, but the "donut" spare in the trunk was also. So, my first priority was to get the truck fixed and then worry about the beast.

On Friday, I'm called into the office where I am scolded for leaving my car and told that it took security all week to figure out whose car it was. Interesting, since I told the guard the night I left it what was happening. I explained that I had used up all my friends and favors for the week and had to wait until I could make new friends or save up a favor to get someone to help me get my car home. I had plans to do this on Saturday, my first day off since this all happened.

There is a law that governs my life and my cars... it is known as Murphy's law. If anything can go wrong - it will. On Saturday, My same poor friend who has come on a minutes notice one night to get me, then got up bright and early the next morning to take me to work and again picked me up that evening, goes with me to get the beast. We go prepared with not one but two "Fix-A-Flat" type sealer/inflaters in a can. Now, I have used these great inventions to excess since they were first introduced. I could not get this tire to inflate. Not even a little. So, in desperation, I used the last half of the second can to inflate the stupid little "Barbie" spare in the trunk and I change the tire. Ha! Can't beat me, I think to myself.

WRONG!

As I drive off, the most horrific grinding, scraping, screeching noise ever, emanates from my newly tightened, yet minuscule, tire. I think perhaps that the spare is not the original and is compressing the brake. Fabulous!

Determined to get the beast off the property of my caring and sympathetic employer, I "limp" a mile or so down the road to a Wal*Mart. Not because I can afford to have them fix it, but because their large parking lot will afford me an extra week (hopefully) to work on that part of the problem.

OK. I said I usually only write when I am mad or down. I decided to end this post on a positive (albeit completely random and unrelated) note...

Over the weekend, I went to see the movie From Paris with Love and I must say, it was more than I expected. I saw Edge of Darkness with Mel Gibson and it was a very good movie, I thought. This one smokes it and leaves you wanting more. This is NOT a family film. One entire scene has Travolta discussing the finer grammatical nuances of the phrase Mother F_cker. It has drugs, sex, violence, blood, language... everything you look for in a good action movie done to the extreme plus a pretty good story. I'll admit, it starts out a bit slow. The first 15 minutes (before Travolta is ever seen), I was beginning to question my decision to be there. However, from the moment, Travolta comes on screen, until the credits roll, it is a joyride in a Toyota. Breakneck pace and non-stop.
Get a babysitter and go see this movie.

Gotta sign off. My bedbugs are calling me.