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Write dammit…ideas many, 1st full-length story that I have been working on for years, just doesn’t want to find itself.  It’s gotta be easier than this, why did I even think I could write well?

My English teachers, Mr. Smith and Miss Ross/Cowan…saw I had a way with words.  When I went to rehab in 1992, I had to write an essay about my journey to where I was and how I got there. My counselor, told me that I should write an autobiography, because she loved my story.

I feel as if I am letting them down.

I am often told I should be writing for a newspaper column, or magazines. Someplace where I could get paid for these words inside my head.   It’s getting those words out of my head…and written down.

But how?

Last week, a man goes swimming and gets invited to a gator dinner. He is the main course. Signs are displayed all around the waters about the dangers of swimming and gators, but his friends claim they were not told of the dangers. I know this, because we go to that park alot to see the Manatees and the water areas are posted with warning signs. What? You can’t read, do signs not matter? They find the gator and kill it. Not the alligator’s fault the man couldn’t read.

This week, thousands of hunters are hunting black bears, because they are a nusicance to neighborhoods, getting into the trash, making messes.  So buy bearproof cans for the people affected, and fine those who can’t follow the rules Do Not Feed The Bears. We have encroached on their territory, but yet they have to be killed because MAN is a group of senseless birdbrains.

But yet, a dangerous snake runs rampant in an area, they catch it and give it back to the irresponsible owner. 

It’s easier to kill something than to figure out a way to rail conflict.  We see it not only in the animal world but amongst our own species.  No more do people put up their fists to fight, but fists holding guns, because it’s the manly thing to do.

Our actions speak louder than words, no longer do people talk. They act upon negative emotions.

Let’s kill the bears because they have no forest to raise their young.  Let’s make a purse out of the gator that had a man for a snack.  Let’s allow a cobra to slither around our children and pets, that would have been the thing I would have considered killing, but instead capture it, and give it back.  What words were used to decide what dies and what lives?

Who decides our fate? A man with a gun? A driver of a car? Pilot of a plane? Our government?

Does it even matter? Apparently those who are in charge, with their pockets filled with pirates bounty make the decisions for us, and that’s not how it works.  That’s not how any of this works.

Ok Facebook, well since you asked. What’s on my mind?

Let’s see.  My eyes are darting back and forth, scanning any thoughts I may have. I have my ear buds in, there is no outside noise. Tegan and Sara are singing Closer (Shepard and Sultan Remix) into my ears. 

I woke up a couple hours ago in excruciating pain…in my left knee, thanks to Osteoarthritis in it.  I have taken Tylenol (4) and rubbed Icy Hot on it. It’s slowly feeling better.  Having a conversation mentally with my cat, Shannon, we are blinking morse-cat code.

Next song…This Time by EverSay. Who you say? EverSay…pretty awesome band, right Blake Dawson?!!

Getting more excited for December 9th, not so much for the flying. Our tickets are purchased, seats picked, big 757 plane from Orlando to Newark, NJ and then an express flight on a Bombardier Q300 propeller plane continuing to Albany.  I need to get things out of my head on the return flight, being that I will be traveling alone…especially in Newark…on a United 757 plane.  That’s all I am going to say.  If you know the significance of plane and route. I will be watching you odd people, don’t mind the stares.

I will have my phone, and ear buds and a playlist of music.  Any passenger not my wife, who sit next to me on the 757, my shoulder is not your fucking pillow, you will get elbowed. And I will bluntly tell you so. As the song that is playing in my ears right now, I have “The Cure” for you if you invade my flying space.  You promise to not be an asshole, I promise not to eat bananas…unless you like the smell of them.

Hint…they make me fart……lol.💀

As I surprised my Mom in 2014, with a 70th birthday, by making the plans while here in Florida, and driving by myself to New York and back. I do hope there are no plans for a surprise 50th birthday while I am there….not everyday you turn a half century.  But still…

What’s on my mind?

Daylight savings time…go away. Hate that I am sitting here in the dark at 5:30pm, the sun is setting…no more are days where it’s light out at 9pm still. 

In This Moment is playing my song…Whore.  With the best lyrics ever…YOU LOVE ME FOR EVERYTHING YOU HATE ME FOR.

Lots of people experience that today. Loving and hating a person at the same time.  I HATE you because you’re gay but LOVE you because you’re my son.  You LOVE all there is about me, but HATE what I have become. The two words go hand in hand. You can’t have one without the other.  And sometimes LOVE is worse than HATE.  It’s easy to tell someone that you love them and truly mean it…many don’t even know what the word means. You can’t teach it. 

HATE is taught everyday. Differences distinguished by HATE.  I HATE you because your skin color is not like mine. That turban you wear on your head, I HATE it, take it off.  You believe in God, it’s a given that you HATE me, because I am not worthy.  I HATE your face, here let me rearrange it for you.  GOD HATES FAGS. Kids mad at their parents scream, I HATE YOU!!! Then run to their rooms and slam the door.  I HATE brussel sprouts.

LOVE. I LOVE cats. I LOVE my wife. I LOVE my family and friends. I LOVE music, video games, Reeses Peanut Butter candy. I LOVE that I have lost weight, but HATE the extra skin that I have acquired. 

We LOVE so much material things and not enough of one another, hence where it’s definitely easier to say you HATE someone but LOVE your iPhone. 

I HATE living in these apartments.  I am even getting tired of living period. Never have I seen so much shit as I see every time I turn on the tv….a boob tube filled with more HATE, against differences.  HATE filled aggression, instead of settling things like men, will pull out a gun and shoot you. Fighting over the last piece of chicken.  Parents leaving their child in hot cars. People in a fucking hurry to pass a school bus and run over kids waiting to board. Taking your eyes off the road to text a friend…be there so….as you run up under the bumper of the semi truck in front of you…was it worth your life? Murder. Death. Kill. Bullying and suicides. Kids killing kids.  # blacklivesmatter…not just yours.  ALL LIVES MATTER. Race wars setting us back to the civil rights movement of the 60s. Cops killing unarmed people.  Black on Black crimes.  Drugs.

Looking out your window and seeing police with high powered rifles because some black guy has a sawed off shotgun and has his roommate barricaded in their apartment. 

I didn’t think I had a lot on my mind….

There’s more….

I removed a pic about Bruce/Caitlyn Jenner, as it was offensive for a transgendered friend of mine, whom I known a while, this was not my intention.
 
I support all that is LGBT, obviously.  I support transgender friends and I know many personally and some celebrities, like Chaz Bono, Cher’s son.  He’s supportive of LGBT equality.  Caitlyn, courageous in her own right, but surrounded too much around Hollywood cameras, deep inside Bruce still lingers and he was never supportive of gay rights, despite many gay rumors of encounters, especially marriage equality prior to June but has since changed mind. She wasn’t truly excited about the national decision when interviewed by Ellen. Even Ellen raised an eyebrow and so did others.  With a family she’s engrossed in, come on, that’s not a real family.  Take off the gobs of makeup, turn off the cameras.

Transgendered people need a better role model. Themselves alone should be all they need.  It’s like being a lesbian, sure nowadays, there are many role models, but they weren’t around for me in 1983, when I came to terms of who I really was. I didn’t realize there was a label to properly describe it.

Acceptance is what we all seek…but even though our worlds views has been greatly transformed since I was 17, many are still hiding internally, locked in closets, scared and scarred.  Its simple to look into the mirror and tell your reflection, you are not who I am. 

We change ourselves to match how we feel inside. We change our appearances, we stop wearing pants and adorn dresses and makeup, shave our legs and traded boots for high heels. Dresses our mother’s had us in, disappears into wife beaters and jeans, hair cut short, shoving socks into our boxers, acting out boy parts when we played cowboys and indians.

That was me, hating having boobs, still do. Getting dirty, climbing trees, playing with trucks and GI Joes, acting like the boys of cousins many and less like the girl my parents had.  Girls started making me feel funny internally.  Making me feel embarrassed when I was caught staring. Gym class, locker rooms, and showers, I went insane.  I apologize to my friends if I made you feel creeped out. I was picked on about my weight in school mostly by the boys so bad and having all these changes going on in me…suicide weighed heavily on my mind…and I tried.

The feelings are similar for anyone in the LGBT community, more so for someone who is Bi, they are in turmoil twice.

First kisses, first base, stealing second and rounding third heading to home base, first love and that First heartache. It’s all the same regardless of what team we batted for.

To go through a transformation of true self, I applaud.  Having the balls or none at all to free the mind of true gender indentity, is all that matters. Some live their lives as male yet keep their female parts, and vise versa. Some have surgeries to change themselves altogether, is courageous.  Taking it public with cameras and tv shows, with a cast of overly priced characters, to give an audience a reality program to the highest bidders, who isn’t overly excited about America’s decision for Equality…all of a sudden, getting involved with Human Rights, becoming a poster child for LGBT rights, speaking for Transgendered people, still surrounded by flash bulbs and money.  This is why I do not support Caitlyn Jenner. She’s still the same old Bruce, but in high heels.

My mother is more deserving of Woman of The Year.  She’s dedicated most of her life to helping others.  She’s been hit, bitten, knocked down, yelled at by people she’s tried to care for.  Caring for others and not so much herself.  Loving wife to my father, stuck by him through good times and bad, especially the last 4 years of his life. It’s heartbreaking to watch a loved one go from a tall strong man to one where you have to wipe his bottom or use a urinal to losing him forever. Cancer survivor. Loved by her family and friends and still caring for people.

Where is her award?

#1 Writing Prompt

Lazy days are spent in shorts, a tee shirt, no bra.  Hair not done, a definite bed head.  You can find me curled up on the sofa either glued to the television, or engrossed in an epic battle with zombies and bad guys, fingers busy at mashing buttons of controller.  Some time’s you can just see me in my headphones listening to my favorite tunes on my laptop.  Hell, if it’s really lazy or just a really boring day, finding me in bed or on that sofa snoozing.

A lazy day means nothing gets done. Dishes stay dirty. Laundry gets more wrinkled in the hamper.  A do nothing day. A pizza delivery day.

Responsibilities ruin my moment of solitude when dogs do that pee pee dance, walking to door and back, looking at you…hold on, gotta put a bra back on. 

A tedious chore with a stubborn pug that has to sniff every blade of grass to find the right spot to go, we walk around the grassy area and we walk, walk this way and that.  We turn in circles as if to go till her nose picks up on a scent to which she has to leave and find another place.  I tell her, “Come on, got things to do today.”

I got lazy to do today.