June 2015

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  • Base style: Drifting by Jennie Griner
  • Theme: Heart of Darkness by nornoriel
  • Resources: OSWD design

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Friday, June 12th, 2015 01:21 pm

The days are unusually cold and gray. They tick along like the gears of some giant clock that exists behind the everything. I’d like to think that there is some ghost in the machine, but it’s just too hard to believe. It seems more likely that my life exists on a razor edge of being and not being. In any moment it could all go very wrong, but even that would only be for a little while.


One has to get up in the morning and that kind of thinking makes one want to hide under the bed instead of getting out of it. It’s best just to push those nasty thoughts to the basement of one’s mind where the monster of reality lives, well chained.

My girl and I have been working. We have a handyman business that we are slowly lifting off the ground. I am not the handy side of this; my girl and I are the business end. We have a 1099 that swings the hammer.

The Florida side of things are ever present. It’s where I make my real living and involves mostly collecting rent and pissing people off. It seems that no one wants to pay rent; and when they flush a diaper, it’s my fault the sewage backs up. I am the “owner”, which means; I am “the man”. “The Man” is never cool.

We also started a web management company, when a friend of ours agreed to a proposal I sent her. We are going to build, migrate, market, and manage her web presence. It’s been fun so far. We are doing the same thing for the Handyman and Web Management businesses.

We haven’t slowed down much lately. I like it this way. My previous life was rather restrictive. I woke up in a box, drove to a box, worked in the box, and went home to a box. Thinking outside the box was not an option.

If I were to talk to some younger version of myself, I would tell him to live in the box for a while. You have to live in the box to know the rules everyone else lives by. Plus the larger the box, the easier it is to slack off. The key is to make sure no one really knows what you do.

The divorce, while ongoing, has been pretty quiet. My youngest daughter seems a little less angry. The ex-wife has not been heaping on the drama yet. Time is flowing ever onward to the day when I write her the last check. I count the days. It does annoy me that my daughter is so infatuated with my ex-wife’s boyfriend. Everything about him is so cool, while everything about me is stupid. Why am I the dork, when this guy was homeless when my ex found him on facebook? He and everyone else over there are supported by my alimony and child support. After three years of living off of me, he finally has a job chasing squirrels out of attics. He wears a funny hat, loves animals, and buys my daughter booty shorts, so he gets to be the cool one. I remember when I was cool, because I took her to Chucky Cheese and bought her Beanie Babies. I miss the kids I had when they were kids. Sure they left the back seat full of cereal and spoiled milk sippy cups, but they were fun too.

I’ve been reading Terry Pratchett’s “A slip of the Keyboard”. He is one of my favorite authors. Perhaps the favorite, if it wasn’t for Stanislaw Lem. I suppose you could call the race a tie. It annoys me that they both had to die. It’s like drinking from a fountain, watching the water slowly trickle away, knowing they will never fill it. Writers should be able to pass their worlds on, like a king passes power to his heirs. This way I could still read new Disc World, Middle Earth, and The Cyberiad novels. If Harold and the Pirates, ever becomes big; I will find a young heir to carry the torch.

Mirrored from Theater of JP's Mind.

jps: (pic#897548)
Saturday, April 25th, 2015 03:27 pm

Relationship Counselors all seem to be undiagnosed hoarders. Their offices are full of crap designed to make you feel more at ease, while you pour your thoughts out into their bank account.

I’ve sought out two in my life. One was for marriage counseling, prior to my divorce and the other was to try and fix the alienation of my youngest daughter. I don’t recommend it, lots of wasted time and money.

The marriage was lame from the time it started. It needed to be put down. A quick death would have been nice.

My daughter was different. I needed that to work.

When she said that Mike was more of a father to her than I was, it hit somewhere deep. Maybe that was what she wanted. The divorce has been so ugly.

The anger has settled to a dull roar. It has moved in, brought its friends, and they are never leaving. There are days that I want to call my ex and tell her how I really feel with a liberal sprinkling of foul language. I don’t. In the twenty years I was married, the one thing I have learned is that you can get very little satisfaction from my ex.

I was replaced before I even knew the marriage was over; and that’s fine, good even. I moved on as well. I just didn’t think that my role as a father would be so easily replaced. My ex worked her magic, and the parental alienation was set. In the black and white world of a teenager’s mind, I am black, and they are white.

My girl seems tired of watching me torture myself every other weekend, which is filled with a lot of teen girl eye rolling, sighing, and rude retorts. My daughter is sixteen now and really doesn’t want to see me most of the time.

Maybe one day she will see that I am just some dumb idiot who is no different than all the other people out there in the world. Maybe I will be human instead of the flat one sided caricature her mother painted in her head.


And that’s all I get

Mirrored from Theater of JP's Mind.