Full Scuba Gear and a Mac Truck

From what I can tell, our security team is here in the building for a limited number of reasons:
1. to sleep
2. to wave at us when we're coming into or going out of the building, if they aren't sleeping or flirting
3. to tell us when it's raining so we can roll up our windows

I sure am glad they're wearing guns for their jobs.  Guns are needed for sleeping, waving, flirting, and making announcements about rain and windows.

In the spirit of Useless Tools, I wonder if The Government will issue me full scuba gear and a Mac truck.  You know, as tools for my job.  When asked why my job would require full scuba gear and a Mac truck, I will tell them that I am in as dire need of full scuba gear and a Mac truck as our security officers are in need of their guns.  Then I will time how long it takes for the smoke to stop rising out of The Government's ears.

cry

today is the second day in a row that i've gotten to work and just want to break down crying.

i don't know why.

i don't like it at all.

i just wanna be home.  under covers.  with wife.  hidden.  without responsibility.  with all the bad gone.

Wife Kisses

I don't have a release for my anger right now.
I used to do the "happy corner" with my band.  I used to scream and rail and get it all out.  Public emo-vomit. 
I think that was my release.  I did that once a week.
Maybe I didn't need a release then. 
But now, I have been beaten, repeatedly, by the mediocrity of humanity.
I have been beaten by how dumb, insensitive, morally bankrupt people are.
I have been soothed by few, and repeatedly beaten by most.
I can't seem to rest enough to heal from the beatings.
And so I keep compounding my hurt.

I don't know what it is that I want.
I don't think I want to perform.
But that may just be because I'm so terribly dissatisfied with people in my state.  I'm convinced they won't understand, or that they are too stupid or ignorant to know that it's not okay to be a racist. 
Maybe I'm just scared that I wasn't really what I thought I was.
I'm not very eager to analyze it.  But I don't think I want to perform.
I sing wrong notes.  I don't sing with confidence anymore.

When I think about what I want to do, I think of filmed sketch comedy. 
Something short.  Minimal cast to screw things up with schedules that conflict.
No audience to throw in racist or stupid suggestions. 
Control over where I show it, which kinda allows control over the people I show it to.  Control over the edit.  Control over the filming. 
More seclusion.  More control over who can and cannot voice their negative opinions.

I want my 18-year-old to feel celebrated.  I don't really know how to do that well.
He wants to shoot guns.  I really don't believe in guns... even though I had fun shooting guns when I was younger.
He wants to smoke cigars.  I really don't want him to smoke.  I was a smoker.  My mother worried about me smoking.  I worry about him smoking.
I used to fantasize about getting a beer with him someday. 
Now I'm starting to feel protective, like maybe I could drink a beer and he could drink a milk.  With calcium.  And vitamin D.  To stay healthy.  Stupid, huh? 

Why am I feeling like keeping him safe?  And my wife, too?  I just want to protect them both.  Like Marlon in Finding Nemo.  And what's the lesson behind Nemo?  "Go have an adventure!" Marlon shouts to his son as he leaves for school. 

I want my kid and wife to have adventures.
I want them to stay safe, too.
My mother wanted to go para-sailing once.
I was scared she was going to die and it would be my fault.

Jesus, I probably am a prime candidate for psychotropic medications.
Maybe a little therapy where a professional can help me to fucking relax a little.

I am resistant to letting my roots grow where I am, because I'm fairly certain that, within the next 6 or so years, I'm going to want to move.  Far, far away.  Forever.
There has been so much hurt here.
And I'm just coming to it on the back end.
My wife and kids have been living it for 18 years.

My mother used to get frustrated with me when she would ask me what I wanted for Christmas or birthdays, and I would say "a movie contract".  My wife gets frustrated with me when she asks what I want for birthdays or Christmas and I say something like, "a job I don't hate".  I know they're not frustrated at my answer, they're frustrated because they want to get me what I want, and that isn't something they can give.  Nobody can.  I gotta go out and get it myself.

I recently sent out an email.  The subject was "German Shepherd/Lab puppy".  I got a response today.  "I've looked at so many dogs recently, I have forgotten what breed(s) your dog is??"  I wanted to punch that person in her punch hole.  Really hard. 

Someday, somebody's gonna punch me in my punch hole, and I'm not gonna know why, and I'm gonna look around and I won't see my little piece of idiocy that caused me to get punched by the puncher at the end of his wits.

I'm not keen on being at the end of my wits.




Here's what I like:
my wife has lovely, soft lips and kisses really, really, really good.
Really good kisses.

Maybe that's all I like right now.
But that's pretty good.
Honestly.
Just thinking about wife kisses right now kinda makes everything drip and melt away.
That's kinda nice.
That hasn't happened in a while.
Cool.
Wife kisses are medicinal.

I also like the Mexican style lasagna we ate last night.
I like wife kisses much, much, much, much more.
Nerver.

Yeah.
Wife kisses.
That thought might actually get me through my day today.
Thank you, wife, for having wife kisses that rock.
Mmmmmm.
Wife kisses.

Sickly Wife Tum

Last night, we found out that my wife will need to go with me to court tomorrow. 
We weren't planning on that.
Then she ate dinner.  Mac and cheese.
She asked me if the milk was good, because her stomach was feeling horrible.
I told her the milk was still good.
We went to bed.
Today, her stomach was still feeling horrible.  She called in sick to work and went back to bed.
These are just the facts without embellishment or emotion.
Coincidence?
Probably not.

I hate this stuff. 
This endless court stuff.
Even the easy stuff is really, really hard.
I hope tomorrow goes well.

Your Honor...

...I'm pretty sure we can solve this quickly.  The child in question is currently enrolled in home schooling, which his mother and father both signed off on legally and agreed to.  Were he not enrolled in this home school program, he would be attending public high school going into his senior year right now.  He is not out of school yet.  There is no material change in this situation, as is being suggested, your honor.


Ideas That I'm Fantasizing About As To How I Could Punctuate This Argument Which I Don't Believe Actually Needs Punctuating But Would Be Cool If I Said It After Winning This Stupid Fucking Thing:

Now, what's under that robe, Your Honor?
Can we be done here now?
Peace out, yo.
Fuckin' A, Judge.

I Feel Sad

Right now, in this moment, I am profoundly sad.  I don't really have one reason for feeling this way.

I am sad that my dog peed on my friend.  My dog has never actually peed ON somebody until last night, and it makes me sad that she behaves that way and that she behaved that way on my friend.  I don't have many friends.  I can't really afford to have them peed on by my misbehaving puppy.

I am sad that there are no attorneys in the state that will work pro bono for my wife and me.  This means my choice is to allow those who have continually abused my wife and her children to do whatever they want to now, or to stand up to them on my own.  That doesn't really even feel like a choice.  I don't let bullies beat up on my friends unless they get through me.  I have been asked to play a supporting role in this fight long enough.  It's time for them to beat me up.  And if they do, they get to keep beating up on my family.  And I'm nervous they're gonna beat me up and continue to beat up on my family.  And that thought makes me sad.

I am sad that my weekends have become something profoundly sacred to the point that I am sad when I don't get the full two days to do nothing. 

I am sad that my 13-year-old shoots a concerned look to my wife and gets nervous when I say "I'm out!" because nobody wants to watch my skateboarding movies.  I am saddened that my reactions to people not being as interested as I am in a movie about a past-time that is not super popular would generate such concerned looks and worried feelings.  I am saddened that he 1) doesn't know I'm playing, and 2) if he doesn't know I'm playing, puts enough stock in my reaction to a movie selection that he feels the need to become anxious.

I am sad that I hear my 13-year-old's depression when his mother asks him about Instagram.  A while ago, my wife and her 13-year-old had a good time with Instagram.  He took some pictures or video of something they were doing together, like making a fire or pouring soda on a teddy bear.  I can't remember specifically what it was, meaning that it wasn't something huge like killing a duck or molesting a fern.  It was something fun, something they were having a good time with, and something age-appropriate.  After posting it to Instagram, less that one minute later, our 13-year-old received a barrage of text messages from his father and step-mother.  Then he erased his previous Instagram posts.  When asked why he had taken down his Instagram posts, he told his mother that his dad and step-mom thought they were inappropriate.  That was a big downer for both of them.  And I hadn't thought about that at all until last night when our 13-year-old was telling us about Facebook and Instagram, and he mentioned that he was on Instagram a lot.  My wife said that she followed him on Instagram, and she noticed he hadn't posted in a while.  He said yeah, and she asked him why not.  I could hear the bottom drop out of him when he replied that he "didn't feel like it".  My wife prompted him to continue with the conversation, and he picked up talking about other people's Instagram posts.  I am saddened that she provides him the opportunity to talk with her, and he doesn't.  I am saddened that he continues to make choices that make his life more difficult and sad.  I am saddened that I feel powerless to help either my wife or her 13-year-old.

I am saddened that I don't make more money so that we could've taken my friends out for a beer last night when they brought over their furniture.  I am saddened that I have no money.

I am saddened that my job makes me sick.

I feel sad.  Very, very sad.  And I don't like it at all.

Court on Friday, August 1st

I am scared.

I am an actor, and not a very widely known one.  I achieved enough success in that field to support myself independently for about 12 years.  Which, according to many and me, is an accomplishment worth note.

I am a government employee, semi-skilled in adjudicating disability claims. 

I am a computer technician.  I ran a computer repair room for two years with some success.

I am a waiter.  I think all successful actors are.

I am a box office clerk.

I am a cook.

I am a drive-through attendant.

I am a nuclear waste disposer.

The closest I came to being an attorney was when I played Clarence Darrow in a one-man play called "Clarence Darrow".  I think, even by the further stretch, I was still an actor then.

On Friday, August 1st, I will go before a judge and make some kind of legal statement.  It may be a short legal statement.  It may be a long legal statement.  It may require me to make more legal statements in the future.  I will be making this legal statement regarding my wife and our son.  They are two of the most important people in my life right now.  I will be making this legal statement in a room with a man who has proven that he wants to hurt me, my wife, and our son, and also proven that his client wants to hurt me, my wife, and our son.  I will be making this/these legal statements knowing that I am not now, nor have I every been, a member of the Bar Association in any United States.  I have never been an attorney.  I don't know what it takes.  My wife has told me that I have never been an attorney and I don't know what it takes.  Our attorney has told me that I am not an attorney and I don't know what it takes.  He went on to tell me that my wife and I were being "penny wise and pound foolish" in regards to this matter, even though we have repeatedly told him that we have no more cash to give him.  He told me that I don't know the first thing about procedures of producing evidence, or court rules, and that we might "win the battle but lose the war" over the amount of money in our "pocketbooks".  I told him that we didn't have any money, and he told me that we would have even less if I decided to represent my wife.  I told him that I hoped everything would go well for us, and he told me "I don't see how it can, but good luck," and then hung up the phone.  I was about to tell him that I am rubber and he is glue, but he was too quick on hanging up the phone.  And while my joking nature helped give my stress some relief in the moment, and is giving me some relief now, it doesn't change the fact that I will be going into a hostile environment on Friday, unprepared for what might happen, as I represent some of my most cherished people.

This would be a really good time for a little confidence booster.  Except there isn't one.

This could be a very, very long week. 

And I'm scared I'm gonna make things worse.