my careless contagion

Been a while. Let's catch up.  I read Where the Crawdads Sing, starting in late July and ending early August. It's not rare that I read books, so why am I posting? All I wanted was a mindless book to read so searched for popular books and went to the public library. This one I found interesting. Normally, I check out at a kiosk, but this time it didn't work properly so took it to the counter. The woman looked it over a bit longer than necessary but didn't say anything. Maybe she knew I was in for something. Maybe she thought it an odd book for a man to read. Maybe she wondered if crawdads actually sing.  Where the Crawdads Sing refers to a place far away from civilization, was published in 2018, and was made into a movie, released in 2022. I had no knowledge of any of it, just wanted a book to occupy my mind. Checked out a Bret Easton Ellis book before this but returned it after two chapters because it wasn't sparking joy, so to speak. Normally, I enjoy his writing ...

The Cranberries' singer passed away a few years ago. I believe alcohol was involved but don't know enough to comment further. Is it just me or do the Irish drink a lot? Everyone I've known of Irish descent was that way, but it's let's not generalize. In any case, that's a sad outcome. She wasn't very old. The song Dreams, which seems to have multiple "official" videos, is quite nice. The lyrics agree with that sentiment. It's a lovingly-stated love song, or a beginning-of-love song. Sometimes when we fall for someone, they seem unreal. They take on a rosy hue, and some might say we are wearing rose-tinted glasses when we are in the beginning stages of infatuation. It's a nice feeling, but it doesn't last long. (It can lead to exhaustion and a pushing away. Then a decision is made to either continue the relationship or step away.) One can get addicted to the feeling of infatuation, which leads to relationship hopping and eventually depre...

I said it before, but I love The Monkees. They were one of my original musical fixations, plus they came packaged with a silly TV show which was right up my alley. All kids have a silly heart. (Yes, I realize they were a fabricated band and some of their songs were actual downers.) I watched them a lot, usually by myself in the loft since no one else wanted to watch. They were mine, all mine. I have a whimsical soul, and they plugged into that. And "Cheer up, sleepy Jean. Oh what can it mean to a daydream believer and a homecoming queen?" is one of the best lines in all of songdom. It is simply sublime. Crank up the orchestra and come along.  Why am I posting this song now? Because Saturday and Sunday mornings are for daydreaming. Sure, get all your stuff done, but don't forget to daydream. The lyrics could mean a variety of things. I personally think he daydreamed up a girlfriend and even gave her a name. (Even easier to do these days, with thirst traps proliferating. L...

Though I realize this blog is long in the tooth and probably isn't read much anymore, I still use it as a space to discuss and heal. It is a very personal journey. If I invited you into this space, I hope you realize I did not do so lightly. You may not understand everything I write, but I hope it gives you an accurate picture of my struggles and triumphs.  I used to think we all had weird families. That was my honest belief. The more I looked around, the more I realized, no, we do not all have an odd upbringing. We certainly did not all have abusive childhoods. Then I started to get upset. I started to really dislike those "normal" families and their picture-perfect lives. I used to keep photos of some on my walls. Now that's weird . But, it's true. There was a congressman from a town I lived in years ago. I kept photos of his family on my walls. His wife wasn't very nice to me when I interacted with her at my job. Their children are doubtless grown and beaut...

This post was generated from reading this article on child abuse/trauma . Before I start talking about that, let me say this, speaking of Jesus Chris: " But he  was  wounded for our transgressions,  he was  bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace  was  upon him; and with his stripes we are healed." (Isaiah 53:5) Victims of child abuse often feel they are to blame. Eventually, they may concede they were not to blame for being abused. If you still wonder, let me reiterate: you are not to blame. But the last part is what I want to focus on. Healing is possible through what Jesus Christ did at Calvary. Healing is part of the package that includes salvation and deliverance that was bought with a precious price. God wants us all to heal.  I read the above article (perhaps I've posted it here previously, too) on Jan. 6. I felt God told me something that night about my situation. Without going into detail, I'm still praying about that and tru...

It feels good to close the door on this year. Holy crap. It was a decidedly horrid year. And now it is in its waning moments. This was the year I ran out of everything. It was like the world stopped. A lot of people know what I'm talking about. Suicides went off the charts. Drug and alcohol abuse soared. People lost hope. And we got to see what the new world order looks like.  Will next year be better? We can only hope. And pray. And pray some more. Heads up: this is a long post. Kinda hard to sum up this disastrous year with few words.   I close this year with a confession of error. I was wrong about something very important to me, something which I sought God about literally thousands of times (or, it is possible I was simply unable to do what God told me to do, but the outcome is the same). I am beyond humbled. My consolation is everything was submitted to God long ago. This thing needs more prayer because I'm not settled in my understanding. I have an easier time accepting...

With this post, I wrap up my photo memories (and, soon, this blog). I was originally going to share this photo with my Christmas memories. However, something caught my eye. And I'm not talking about whatever is on the surface of the photo. It's a great shot, probably taken by either my grandmother or a family friend. I was very young, and this was taken at our first house. I've ruined my fair share of family photos. I was always the one making faces or putting bunny ears on someone. It was typical lastborn stuff, though not always appreciated. No one cares anymore. But this photo is darn near perfect. Except I'm looking at my mom while everyone else is looking at the camera. I was enjoying the fact that everyone was happy for a moment. And that's what we forget: photographs are just moments. They don't always tell us the whole truth. But I can tell those smiles are genuine.  What I like about this photo, and this is why I chose to close with it, is it sho...

Herein lies some random memories in no particular order. These are some of my earliest memories, so they took place at our first house in Hot Springs.  The above photo (why am I always half-naked?) shows me and Jon picking some beans at our neighbor's house. I recall they went on vacation or something and we picked some of their produce. This really made an impression on me, as I still recall the strange feeling of being somewhere we normally weren't allowed to go. That was probably my first experience with a garden. I was the only one in my family who had a garden growing up. I was very responsible and took care of it, watering it every day and weeding when necessary. This is something I've come to realize about myself: I've always taken care of things. Had my life been a little different, I probably would have been an even more nurturing person, but I still do take care of things.   A lot of old pictures, I am marching to the beat of my own drummer. The abo...