Tag Archives: Loss

It’s Cliche Monday

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One door closes another one opens.IMG_0947
Know you like the back of my hand.
This will only end badly.

All pretty cliche in one sense or the other. Let me tell you about my weekend. It was pretty laid back and normal for the most part. In an earlier post I mentioned how one of my friends recently lost her mother and Sunday there was a small memorial service for her which I attended.

After the service a handful of us went to a local restaurant for brunch. In any event we make our way from the funeral home to the restaurant and a couple of friends and myself get there first and ask for a suitable table to accommodate the party. Others were taking flowers back home, changing clothes. etc. Its a Key West, outdoorsy, Tiki, old Florida type restaurant. Waitresses in sneakers, shorts, tank tops.

Chapter 2. The Waitress.

I have been in love exactly two times in my life. Once was before I knew what love really was and got involved with a woman whom I didnt really love at all. It was more like, this must be love because this is what I am supposed to do. Buy a ring, get engaged, get married make babies live happily ever after. Got past the engaged part and learned a valuable lesson. It wasn’t love at all but expectation. We’ll call her girl number one.

The next time, I met this woman. Beautiful girl, incredibly sexy, great sense of humor, compatible in every way. Everything came naturally, I could make her laugh, she made me laugh. Same interests, similar backgrounds. Finally I had what I wanted in every single way. This was LOVE. There was no wondering or second guessing. Family and friends loved her. Family and friends who have known me all my life coming up to me commenting, how happy I seemed and have changed, this is it marry this girl. Except there was one small little problem. This girl was and still is to this day the text book example of pathological liar. I dated the girl for many months. She’s fucking married the entire time. When I find out, it was one lie after another which essentially lasted for years afterward. For years I tried to make sense of it and come to terms with how this all happened and basically all I can figure out is if there is a God, Jesus, Mary, Joseph, or any other Hocky Cocky supreme being that surely that SOB has one sick sense of humor. In the end though I just go with Karma and imagine I was a real bastard in a past life and have a hell of debt to pay. Anyway we’ll call her girl number two.

So back to yesterdays brunch and the “Waitress”. I start counting on my fingers how many people are coming, she teases me about counting on my fingers I chuckle and she leads us to a table. Now I can tell you at this point I have only interacted and physically saw this girl for all of maybe 120 seconds at this point and I pretended like nothing was happening or my mind wasn’t racing a million miles an hour, but I wont. It probably took me about all of 25 seconds to realize this was in my mind at least an exact clone to girl number two described above. Facial features, mannerisms, body type, hair, eyes, ass, legs, hands.

We had about a twenty minute wait for the rest of the group to show up, and I was literally forcing myself to pay attention to what the others at the table were saying. Internally I was in the midst of my very own panic attack. While watching the waitress help others and not become a drooling idiot or become some leering creep, the voices in my head were on a constant repeat of “keep your shit together schmuck”. It was full on World War 18 in my head and my heart was twisting in such a goddamn knot it was ridiculous on so many levels. This was a simple waitress. Nothing more. She was nice, not flirting. Just a normal everyday encounter with a stranger on the street of gastrointestinal commerce. What the hell?

The rest of the party shows up and sits down. Waitress comes over to help them with drink orders. I try and not stare. I surely fail. I haven’t said anything to anyone at the table at this point. I am half heartedly following along in conversation. In my head I am nearing the end stages of the mental battle of how this waitress has my full attention. I decide I am not going to bring anything up about waitress and girl number two above. It was long ago, I have moved on and at this point all it will look like is insanity. But I cant.

I have to rationalize this or I am going to face being ostracized by my friends. How do I explain this in a way that doesn’t make me look like some love sick weirdo who cant seem to let go of the past? If I say one goddamn thing to my friends at the table about this infatuation I have with the waitress they are going to see right through me. How do I frame this turmoil in my head and heart that doesn’t make me look like some kook?

My close friends know me. I love beautiful women. The reality is, to me and what I consider beautiful comes in may shapes and sizes. While on the outside this all may seem very shallow, I can in fact see beauty in many ways depending on how a woman looks and carries herself. Sure there are such things as nice boobs or legs, or butts, but really its the whole package. Having one good attribute and nothing else doesn’t necessarily make a girl beautiful to me. Its everything combined.

Now I will admit my thoughts on attraction go both ways and I live by the same sword I yield around my head.

However for me when it comes to physical attraction, this waitress was right in my wheelhouse. Oh and by this stage in the brunch with my friends, the gig was F’ing up.

I had to say something. I slowly and deliberately start off with “I have something to say and let me just start off like this…” I attempt to explain beauty and what I find attractive. I essentially get out about half a sentence about looks and whole package blah blah blah and get one look and grin from my friend Amy who I sometimes forget knows me much better then I give her credit for.  Amy cuts me off at the knees with, “That waitress is all you Brocky she looks exactly like girl number two.”

The table laughs, and it was like a ton of bricks lifted from my back. I was busted and there was no more rationalizations or denying it. I slapped my hand on the table and simply say, “I would right this minute burn this goddamn restaurant down to the ground for that waitress.” Someone at the table asks, “the waitresses what? To go out with you?” I very simply reply, “nope, just for her telephone number.” Some more laughter from friends. I half heartedly laugh too, if only to ease their minds and not show them how serious I was.

I didn’t get her number. I didn’t commit a felonious crime and burn the place to the ground.  My other friend Debbie who does work for the state taxing authority is going to lien the restaurant out of business until she finds out the waitresses marital status and contact information. Ok that parts a joke, but I did swear I’d paint her house and cut her grass all summer if she did find out.

The irony and silliness of all this is, I don’t have game to approach this girl. Chances are I’ll never see this girl again. I used to be confident in my younger days but now I am like pft. I could have asked any one of my four lady friends at the table to approach her and I am sure they would have. Heck they offered. I denied. I think in my mind because of all the emotional upheaval I experienced from girl number two above, I don’t want to know the truth about this waitress. In my mind she is perfection she is everything girl number two was without the horrible pathological liar part. In my mind this one will stay pure. This one will be forever framed in my mind of her awesomeness for that one great meal with my friends. I wont look back at the wasted time and lost trust with this waitress.

Don’t get me wrong, I Facebook stalked the restaurants page trying to find her two blocks after leaving the place yesterday. No luck. If I run into her again somewhere, somehow, I’ll make my move if favorable conditions exist. But I know what reality is, and generally theres that Karma thing too. I accept everything and live by my choices. Sure there is the what if’s and I may never knows but no matter what yesterday and today perfect waitress girl proves to me again, you just never know what may happen. Until it does thank you waitress girl.

Well that was my weekend. Emotionally it was busy, experiencing loss and love but in the end no matter what happens with friends and family by your side, there is always, hope.

Let ‘er rip, tater chips,
Semper Fi.

Oh hello Monday. Its nice to see you this time.

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Hello faithful blog readers. Anything new? I know, I know, this unfortunately is probably a Monday we are all happy to see arrive.

As most of you are fully aware of the horrendous tragedy that took place this past Friday in Connecticut, what is the most ugly of these events is how our media exploits the situation.

We know nothing about the young man that committed these horrible crimes. We know nothing about the young mans family or upbringing. Yet the media is running wild with speculation as to means and motive. The media feeds the knee jerk reaction of every simple minded talking head to pontificate on personal opinion regarding the second amendment, further gun control, mental illness all the way down to what video games and tv the accused may have watched in his life. Of course the simpletons among us see the only solution to the problem is to eliminate all those listed things. Idiots.

Gun control does not fix this problem. Banning assault weapons does not eliminate school, movie theater, or mall shootings. Psychiatric hospitals and mental health doctors do not prevent these horrible things from happening. Purple magical unicorns and school prayers do not prevent these things from happening. Grandstanding moronic legislators promising new bills outlawing every single behavior or device prevent these horrible acts from occurring.

Understand this and repeat it a million times. Personal responsibility.

Personal responsibility comes in all shapes and sizes of life. From a mother with a mentally unstable kid living in her home deciding that while it may be lawful to own and collect an assortment of weapons, that its probably in her and the local populations best interest that she not have a fucking arsenal in her garage/basement. Thats personal responsibility.

Personal responsibility comes in the shape of a mother, father, brother, sister, family member, police, doctor, lawyer, judge, fireman, priest saying to someone, “look your sister, brother, son, daughter, is a fucking lunatic who needs mental health treatment”. It’s nothing to be ashamed of and no different then if you’re sick with the flu, cancer, or a broken leg. Until we let go of the stigma of mental health being a big no no talk and dirty little secret to ignore, then someone in the chain of life is failing at personal responsibility for that sick members condition and possible life experiences.

Personal responsibility comes in the forms of our school administrators and local elected government protecting our children. Before we bitch and moan about the teachers unions and their shitty pay, we need to know do we have any level of security? Is there the simplest form of a security plan about who the hell can walk into or get access into a full school of kindergarten children? How about a security plan or access control for a fucking kid armed to the teeth with assault rifles and pistols dressed in tactical or threatening clothing? Its not hard to spot these mass shooting perpetrators for god sake. Maybe we should lock a door. Maybe we should install a camera. Maybe we should pay at least someone to watch the locked fucking door or camera. Thats personal responsibility, whether its from a school principal, security guard, or Mr. Smith the science teacher.

Until we as a society start taking a look at ourselves for our problems instead of pointing blame at others, we will continue the downward spiral. We are each responsible for our own happiness and survival. No one is going to effectively legislate responsibility, happiness, safety, or morality. Only you the individual can do any of those things. What needs to be understood however is while there are those that refuse to take personal responsibility for their own lives and actions the simpletons whom we the lazy have elected to represent those that refuse to take personal responsibility, will only take away the freedoms from the few of us that try to live in a responsible way.

  • Drugs are bad. Take them away. How has that worked?
  • Alcohol is bad. Take it away. How has that worked?
  • Cigarettes are bad. Take them away. How has that worked?
  • Speeding in a car is bad. Take it away. How has that worked?
  • Guns are bad. Take them away. How has that worked?

Do you see a trend here? Look at the list of bad things that this nation and world has over time tried to legislate away because of the peoples lack of personal responsibility. Look at the consequences people historically have paid over time due to this legislation. When you don’t take responsibility for your actions, it doesn’t affect you. Eventually it only effects those that are responsible. The history books are full of prime examples of how people, citizens, countries, civilizations have failed for nothing more then lack of responsibility that more times then not can easily be traced back to an individual.

We’re all going to fail at something or things in life. It’s nature to fail. Without failure we don’t learn. Its when we fail that we don’t own the failure or blame someone else for the failure that the problem really takes root. Failure is a tough lesson in life to accept and take ownership of in this day and age. Its easy to dismiss or shift the blame of failure to others for the current state of affairs we find ourselves living in. I know I am no different. I have failed, I have shifted blame too. I can say and I guess I am fortunate that I have realized that in life, it hasn’t worked. I believe real freedom is when you accept your failures, learn and move on, trying not to fail in a similar way again. Sometimes the lessons are easy, sometimes hard.

I have soapboxed this subject enough so I’ll close with the following. Don’t allow the mainstream media to dictate to you how to feel. There are no hero’s in this so don’t look for any. Hollywood movie stars and entertainers having nothing of significance to say about this and if they claim they do then you should know immediately they’re full of shit and don’t truly care. There was and still is lots of failure of personal responsibility that led to and allowed this to happen. It wasn’t a singular item. Not a gun, an unlocked door, or a mother in denial of her mentally broken son. A lot of people passed the buck and didn’t accept responsibility that lead up to these events. This will happen again. No amount of new laws will prevent bad things from happening. Be responsible, and be ready for bad things to happen in a way that makes you comfortable. Not what some idiot on TV or the Internet tells you. This blog included.

 

When tragedy befalls you, don’t let it drag you down

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Love can cure your problems,
You’re so lucky I am around. 

I havent been fortunate enough to have any children of my own yet so the closest comparison I can relate to are my dogs. They have been as much my children to me as a kid is to a parent I venture to guess. Its with that understanding I relate this story.

Recently I got news of an old friend of mine whom tragedy of the worst kind has befallen. The hows and whys are not important but I’ll tell you when I say the worst kind, yea worst kind. A parent having to burry a child. Even though in this case it was a step child, but knowing this person it hardly would have mattered to her. This person was always an open hearted type woman that seemed to like or at least give everyone a fair chance so biological or step child probably had no real distinction to her anyway.

When I heard the news, of course you go through the emotions of loss and heartache for that person. I couldn’t help but think about my Golden Retriever, Lucille whom I lost this summer to cancer/tumor at only four and a half years old.

I can’t remember my parents or brothers birthdays without looking it up somewhere. I cant remember anniversaries, valentines day (any wonder I dont have kids?). I know my own birthday and the Marine Corps birthday. I also know June 11, 2012.

On June 11th of this year, after dropping my sick dog off to a veterinarian for emergency surgery I got “That” call.

Mr. Kingston we got her on the table and opened her up and it was bad. I worked as fast as I could to fix her up, the mass on her spleen was large. I got it all out, but due to the blood loss and anemia her heart was going a million miles an hour. She arrested just as I was finishing up. We got some meds into her and I got her heart re-started once. Five minutes later she arrested again and nothing I could do would get her going again. I’m so sorry.

That was it. That was all I had left of Lucille. I think I held it together long enough to thank the doctor for trying and hung up the phone. I ah, yea, I collapsed after that and the rest of the day is gone from my memory.

Parenthetically sure Lucille was my “child”. What the hell was I going to do now? I know those deep horrible feelings of loss. I felt horrible for my friend Gabrielle. This wasn’t a pet for her, this was a child. If I felt that way over a dog, a pet, how can you quantify that when its another person? Its not so hard for me. My pets have always been my kids. Maybe if I have a kid one day I’ll see the difference, but I somehow doubt it. So in a way, I know where my friend Gabrielle and her family is right, now. It’s shit.

But I also know something else. Something else I am certain Gabrielle will later get to feel too.

You see after an amount of time, that only you know the amount of, “love” comes back through your door. Love from your family, friends, your pets you lost, and the people you may have lost. That love and time, fixes everything and shines the light of perspective back into your life. All you have to do is let it in.

I volunteer a few hours a week at an animal shelter for an obligation for me and for Lucille. I rescued a dog from that shelter that I connected with. This is how the love I had for Lucille has manifested itself back into my life. The work is sometimes gross and a pain, but I come home and see Lucas jump on a particular couch and look out the window, just like a certain Golden Retriever did her entire life and I know what I am doing and the path I am on is the right one. That is my love.

I have cursed god, cursed doctors, cursed luck, cursed myself, cursed everything over the loss of Lucille. I needed to curse all those things. I needed the time to curse all those things. Now, I am done.

I got plenty of love back in my life and thats good enough. When i see Lucille and Jasper again with Lucas and whatever other four legged children I may have in my life, I’ll be a bigger baller that that bastard Cesar Millan, and I wont be whispering shit with my pack. We’ll be running and swimming with War Pigs turned up to fucking 11.

Gabrielle, If you read this, I miss you and I love you. Be strong and you got this!