my careless contagion

This is not a joke, though some may laugh. My blog feels like a joke, but it is a place to pause and reflect or, in this case, examine. And maybe find a solution. Betty and Veronica are characters in the Archie comics universe, which I grew up with. Archie is a ginger buffoon, forever caught between competing love interests of two girls. I use the names Betty and Veronica because the girls in question have the same name. I cannot, for the life of me, choose one. It's distressing. I pushed both away at different times, and with the same result. They are unshakable, and I like them both.  Who cares, right? Bro is cooking. Here's why this matters. There is some weird, perverse voodoo with this blog, where, if I write about a woman, she often disappears. So, in order to solve the problem of having two girls interested in me (first time for everything), I will write about them and see who disappears. Call it a test. At this point, I don't care how it is resolved. I go back and f...

This is a goodbye, and a hello. This will likely be my last post containing certain themes. It's not that I haven't let go. It's that some things still affect me. In all these things, my choice was to make things work. It was only with great reluctance that I was made to let go. I approached every relationship with kindness and patience. This isn't about healing. I will heal the rest of my life. Letting go is different. I had to try everything — and fail — first. It's a story that repeated. I was more than intentional. I showed up. I loved, was pushed away, and died over and over. Finally, I let go.  They say if a writer falls in love with you, you never die.  The last thing I remember was her small frame standing in the doorway crying. Fade Into You was playing from the turntable. The blonde girl walking on the dark street was so drunk, but when she saw me standing in the Ohio drizzle that night with nothing but the sodium lights illuminating us, she said something...

January 28, 2018, I started this blog. I was alone and the divorce was nearly final (February 8). With no one to talk to about what I was feeling, I wrote here, originally transcribing from a notebook. What began as a form of therapy evolved into a journey of faith. What started in a very bad place ended in a much better place, though I am still alone. This blog garnered 34,000 hits over six years, which is a big surprise. (Also surprised attempts to create a new blog failed, but the love letters written to a certain woman were likely the reason anyone read here anyway.) Thank you to everyone who read here at some point. I prayed you got something out of it. Learned a lot about myself and am a lot humbler at its closing than at its beginning. Honesty, facing problems, and working toward solutions paid off, but it was God who did a work.  I cut my teeth on gospel songs. Win Worley's song sermons were my favorite and listened to them on cassette over and over. Such joy in that man...

Now for some real music! Haha, okay, what is a guy who grew up on hardcore posting a euro-dance hit from the 90s? Because it's awesome!  (The kids say it slaps.) I would flip back and forth on the radio between alternative and dance in the 90s. A lot of kids were into one or the other, but I craved all of it. I love music, and this song is still a favorite. It may not be the best Real McCoy had to offer, but we all heard this back in the day and danced a little in our econobox cars on our way to the future. And here we are in the future. Some of us still remember what life was like back then. Are we where we thought we'd be all these years later?  Honestly, I didn't think I'd make it this far. Thought I would be dead. No joke. Having the opinion of a foreshortened future is a symptom of PTSD gained from childhood trauma/abuse, which I endured. Common with everyone who endured longterm trauma. So, I can't complain. Pay stubs and bandaids. Paying bills and doing dishe...

Ah, Depeche Mode. I used to listen to this band a lot when traveling. The sound was conducive to flying over pavement of various vibrations through the shifting American landscapes, one moment surrounded by concrete and skyscrapers and the next cornfields and pastures. I could chose several songs by this band, but this one saw a resurgence in popularity because it was featured on HBO's The Last of Us, which I tried to watch but realized it was yet another soap opera masquerading as an adventure in zombie land. The action got less and less and the talking got to be too much and after the gay episode, I had enough and quit watching. It seems all entertainment is a vehicle for agenda now. Needless to say, The Last of Us let me down.  And that's what the song is about. People letting us down. Or not letting us down. Whichever your perspective. I recently tried to get in touch with the parents of one of my best friends growing up. We had been talking through Facebook, but my Faceboo...

Eight years ago I embarked on a new adventure. It was time to move. I was living in Ohio but learned my ex was pregnant (April 1, actually) while we were visiting my parents in Florida. I wanted to be the best dad I could be. For some reason, God took this heart desire and led me out of Ohio, leaving sinful practices behind.  One of those sins was alcoholism. It was in April eight years ago I quit drinking. I memorialize this fact every year because it was a miracle. Everything God does for us is a miracle, but this was quite a big one. I was mired in self-defeat and suicidal thoughts. I was literally trying to kill myself with drink, though I didn't even understand the reasons why. When I stopped drinking, it opened the door to further obedience, which opened more doors and brought about more miracles. In the years that followed, I became free in many more ways.  It shows you God takes what little we do, what little we give Him, and multiplies it. Give Him a little obedience ...

Everything has Changed (a song with a rather passive title) by Taylor Swift (and some English guy named Ed) is a good metaphor for spring. When before everything was coiled in sleep, colored in grays and browns, and dead, now everything is new again. (And, one could argue, spring is also a good metaphor for a woman, as both can be unpredictable.) We all go through seasons. What season am I living through now? Could it be a season of rebirth? Renewal? Life springing out of the once-dead ground? This song even has an organic sound, all guitars and voices and brushes, much like what goes on during springtime. The melding of male and female voices could also point toward spring. And, well, love is an incredibly organic yet spiritual thing that often defies explanation. It grows under sometimes the harshest of conditions, poking out of dry earth or miry snow, undaunted. Love and spring are both miracles. All I know is my heart is as adamant and undeterred as spring. Am I taking this too far...