Midnight: the ancient father

When I first moved back to texas in 2005, there was this crazy, stubborn, suicidal cat that would lay in the drive way. He never moved unless you got out and tried to pet him. You couldn’t shoo him away, you actually had to get down and try to pet him to be able to park without killing him.

I’ve taken to calling him midnight since no one ever saw him during the day for years.  Now he’s old, sick, and adores attention.

We don’t know who he belongs to. Hell come around from time to time, sometimes hanging around every night for weeks on end, only to disappear for a few months, then randomly stop in for dinner.

This has been one of those months where he seems to come by every night after not being around for a few months.  He has a few more scars he seems t have traded for his teeth.  We do know someone was taking care of him at some point since he looks to have been hit by a car, then taken to a vet.

His fur is matted. He doesn’t breathe well. But he still comes up to be petted in his greasy, dirty head.

It makes me sad that this sweet cat doesn’t have someone to cuddle up with. It makes me angry someone would just let him run around matted and malnourished. Why bother having the cat taken care of after running it over if you aren’t going to care for it yourself?

Midnight is a testament to things I think we’ve lost as humans, wallowing in our technology. We expect everything to be handed to us. We expect our cars to run, our air conditioners to cool us in summer, our meals to be simple. We’ve forgotten that it’s only from perseverance we’ve managed to accomplish so much. We’re not entitled to anything, from anywhere, for any reason.


Take a tip from Midnight. He knows how easily life can be taken.

Get off your ass and do something.

What do you people do on the weekends?


There are people EVERYWHERE!!!

It’s so strange…

I’ve become so accustomed to doing things during the week when there’s no one out and about because they’re all professionals and working and the like that being out and about while everyone is off is strange.  I feel awkward, like I don’t fit in anywhere.  Really, really awkward.  Like, that southern baptist kid at the school dance who’s not allowed to dance so they just stand against the wall awkward.

I don’t know where I’m supposed to be, when, or anything.  It’s like trying to do the Electric Slide while everyone else is doing the Boot Scoot & Boogy.


Day 2 (okay, it’s day three, but I was busy on day two…)

So I previously posted about this new “getting healthy” plan from my insurance company and how I’m supposed to answer these stupid questions everyday for a week or so.  Today’s question:

Day 2:
My relationship to my body
“If my body could talk to me, what would it say?”

I think my body would say, “Damn stupid mother-fucker!  What the fuck have you been doing to us?  Is there some kind of reason you’ve been putting us through this horrible abuse for the past 20-something years?  You don’t eat right.  You smoke like a blown radiator on a cold day.  You don’t sleep nearly enough to keep me even slightly happy.  What gives?  What did I ever do to you?

“Oh, that’s right, I only make sure you’re lungs work (even though you treat them like shit…what kind of asthmatic smokes a pack or two EVERY FUCKING DAY?) and your heart beats and your food gets digested… Oh… Wait…  Are you pissed off because I refuse to be happy with eggs and milk products again?  Well too fucking bad you little shithead!  Daddy’s gotta get his revenge somehow, right?  You treat me like shit, I’m gonna make you feel like you’re gonna shit your pants every time you eat something that tastes even remotely good.  Don’t like it?  TREAT ME BETTER!

“Remember that ex you wish you’d treated better?  That one you wish had never gotten away?  I’m gonna be like that.  Now our spine’s fucked up.  You may or may not have had a myocardial infarction AT TWENTYFUCKINGTHREEYEARSOLD!  Haven’t you learned anything?  SLOW DOWN!  CALM DOWN!  Enjoy the ride we’re on.  Take care of us!  Eat better and exercise!  And for the love of all that is clean and fresh QUIT FUCKING SMOKING!”

At least, that’s what I think the world wants me to think my body would tell me.  I think it would simply say, “DUDE!  REALLY?  GET US FUCKING LAID ALREADY!”

Book Review from Insomnialand: The Vision by Dean Koonts

Yes, this book was written and published before half of my DNA was shot into the other half of my DNA, but here are my thoughts on it, anyway.

The VisionThe Vision by Dean Koontz

My rating: 2 of 5 stars

Mary is a talented clairvoyant who’s found her calling in helping police across the country solve cases despite having no leads. Aided and guided by her devoted husband and doting brother, she’s led a seemingly simple life. Until her visions change, and a dark, preternatural force seems to enter her life. Where are these visions coming from? Will she be able to solve this new case and find her answers before it’s too late for her and those she loves?

Far from one of Koontz’s best works, this is still a fun read. It has an easy, flowing rhythm to it, along with fabulous dialogue. Mystery fans be forewarned, as the killer is easily distinguished by the end of the second chapter. It’s the brother. This was most likely the height of the disappointment for me, especially considering just how hard Koontz seems to try and steer the reader towards believing the killer is the husband.

Let’s be realistic, here, for a second. If you trip and fall and obtain a small cut upon your finger, your entire sleeve will not be ruined by copious amounts of blood unless you have some type of medical disorder, at which point you will be going to see a doctor. When you trip and fall again, and reopen the two day old wound and it ruins your shirt and jacket from even more blood, and then you get stabbed three or four times and shot, you’re likely going to bleed out extremely quickly from these massive, gaping wounds you’ve sustained, rather than being able to walk across a 60 yard room, down a corridor, force open a heavy oak and glass window, climb out of the window, fall six feet, and then climb to your feet to greet police officers…unless, of course, you’re batman, which this character most certainly is not.

I also failed to get an emotional connection to the characters, something I’ve grown accustomed to in other works by Koontz. I shed a tear at the end of Odd Thomas, grew frustrated at the failed attempts and lack of connection in Lightning, and was out of breath from fear, anticipation, and shear flabbergastedness in both Fear Nothing and Seize the Night. When someone died in this book, I honestly didn’t care other than to think, “Hm, I wonder who the killer could possibly be” in overly sarcastic tones to myself while turning the page.

All in all, while it’s not overly terrible, it’s not a fantastic work, or even up to par by Koontz standards. That being said, if you are a die hard fan of Dean Koontz or are simply looking for a quick read, pick it up, but don’t feel bad about skimming through it. Otherwise, skip it.

View all my reviews

Also, I don’t care if YOU don’t think it’s a word, I think it’s a word, it makes sense in that sentence, and I’m keeping it there.

Were we poor?

I remember growing up there were a bunch of things I wanted I wouldn’t let my parents get me because we were “poor”.  This came to mind when I bought two boxes of Pillsbury Toaster Strudels, something I, honestly, had never tried before my mom was demoing them at her store last week.  I remember seeing the commercials on television as a kid, and how they were billed as being so much better than PopTarts (my favorite food group as a kid), but being told we couldn’t afford them.  I bought the two boxes of them, not because I wanted to try them and have a tasty breakfast, but because they were on sale.

Still have that poor mindset, I guess.  I don’t think it will ever go away.  I don’t think I’ll ever forget being homeless.  I had money, and ate well, I just couldn’t afford to have a roof over my head other than the one provided by Denny’s, Waffle House, or anything else open in the dead of night.

I was never homeless as a kid, though, only as an adult.  As a kid I never had to skip a meal, or put water on my cereal (Mom was much too proud for that.  No milk?  Eat it dry!), or sleep in a shelter.  But there were many things we didn’t have.  Conversations with others about growing up poor have yielded mixed results.  Some people grew up like I did, where they weren’t deprived of a home or basic nutrients, but beans & rice were a normal meal, and Mom (or Dad, or Gramma or whoever) would cook Depression Era meals that were meant to last for a few days, if not the entire week.  Hell, one town we lived in, many people only used the car on Sundays, even when gas was less than $1/gal.  I remember kids I went to school with who’s only meal was the free lunch they got.

But I didn’t really know we were poor.  I’m still not sure.  I’m fairly certain we were, but not like those other people I spoke to who had to go catch their dinner.  A friends mom grew up cleaning and cooking the squirrels her brothers brought home.  Someone else I know, who’s maybe 21 at the time of this writing, grew up catching chickens and pigs.  I don’t know where he caught him, and if you had a farm in Florida and were missing chickens and pigs on a regular basis, I have not idea where they went, sorry.

So I’ve wondered now, for years, if we were really poor.  My dad was never paid in potatoes, although he did work for a company for almost two years that never paid him.  I didn’t go hungry.  I had a home.  So, even if I did grow up poor, I grew up right.  I guess that’s all that matters.

The Top 10 Reasons I Got Out Of Bed Today

If you follow me on Twitter you probably know I hate being an adult.  There’s errands, bills, friends you don’t see everyday and actually have to work to maintain the relationship, and, of course, work.  What happened to all the FUN we had growing up, getting to run around all willy-nilly, ride bikes, play games, and have Mom cook dinner so you didn’t have to because, well, it wasn’t expected of you?

Yeah, talk about an idealized childhood, right?

So why, then, do we still get out of bed in the morning when we could just sleep in and enjoy the time cuddling with our pillows/loved ones/pets?  Thus, I give you

The Top Ten Reasons I Got Out Of Bed


  1. I had to be 100% certain I remembered to put the recycling at the curb.
  2. The early bird may get the worm, but the early bird of prey gets the grub eating bird…or so I tell myself as I drive to work as a retail drone peon.
  3. If life is a dream then I need to buy that Powerball ticket.
  4. I may have missed something witty/cool/funny on Twitter.
  5. The cat was hungry.
  6. I forgot (again) to schedule that blog post to post.
  7. If I don’t go to work I’ll never have enough money to buy <insert nerdy item here>
  8. Wednesday is Pint Night at my favorite local pub.
  9. The hooker from last night was snoring too loud.
  10. Dammit, I have to pee again!?!?!?!

Why did YOU get out of bed this morning?

A Letter to 2010

Dear 2010,

I feel our relationship was a hard one, and set to fail from the start.  I do not put all of the blame on you, as situations came about beyond the control of either of us.  I am certain you did not intentionally set out to destroy me and, in fact, I have come to the conclusion you simply intended to teach me, and for that, I am grateful.

You taught me that just because you have been beaten repeatedly doesn’t mean you can’t still fight.  That sometimes, 出る杭は打たれる being the hammered nail is a good thing.  It’s how you learn to pick yourself back up and be strong again.  And that is what I’ve done.  Over.  And Over.  And. Over. Again.

This entire year has been one thing after another.  I have learned I have strength I never knew I had.  I can handle life, and everything it throws at me.  I can stand strong, on my own two feet, without anyone to hold me up but G-d and myself.  I never knew that before, so thank you for teaching me that.

I learned that making excuses is inexcusable.  That everything that comes must go.  Time is an ocean, and life is the tide.  It comes in, stays for a while, and leaves again.  We are nothing more than brine shrimp, spending our time building our houses wherever the tide takes us, only to have them swept away when the tide changes, and have to build them again.

I see this now, 2010, thanks to you.  I see that, now that I know how strong I am, that I know I can overcome whatever obstacles I’m thrown, I can still succeed.  I can show a tenacity and resolve I have always been told I lack.  I can face outstanding odds and still succeed.

So here’s to you, 2010.  As everyone spends this time welcoming 2011 and wondering what will come, I reflect upon your teachings.