Notes from the Red Bird House

‎'You've gone a million miles. How far did you get? To that place where you can't remember and you can't forget?' ~ from 'Secret Garden' by Bruce Springsteen I'm in a gray area. I've forgotten things I want to remember and remember things I wish I could forget. I left everything I knew with high hopes ready to walk a new path. I'm still on that new path, but I have no idea where I'm going anymore. At first I thought I was looking for 'Home' - that place where I could be, live, succeed, and find love. I ended up discovering that 'Home'; it was always inside of me. Now, a million miles later, I'm still walking and wondering. God has led me here and even though I have faith in Him and trust Him implicitly, I'm still confused. I fear I'm being prepared for something. My strength is palpable and grows with each step I take. I know I'm not headed for something of my choosing. For once, I'd like to be n...

I'm seldom angry. To be honest, there's usually a diminishing return on my anger so I generally let it go pretty quickly. More often than not the person I'm mad at assumes a defensive stance and throws it all back on me. Somehow, some way it all becomes my fault, even when they've fucked their plausible deniability and are clearly in the wrong. No matter what they've done, I could have or should have prevented it, deterred it, or convinced them not to. Either that or I never should never have said what I said or wrote what I wrote (even when they grossly misinterpret my words). I should have gotten there later than sooner or sooner than later. In any case, I am unquestionably to blame which means that somewhere near the end of the argument, I find myself on the high road eating crow and choking out an apology I only marginally believe in. Oh, don't worry. They always forgive me on down the road. And that's why I know that this, too, will probably pass. I...

Right now I'm trying to cure my 'hangover' with Twizzlers and Diet Coke. Thus far a mango margarita, Mexican food, forty ounces of water, and thirty-two ounces of Blue G2 Gatorade haven't worked. At this point, I'm willing to try anything. Of course, when I bit into the first Twizzler I had a flashback to a time somewhere in my childhood when I barfed Red Vines. So, no... The Twizzlers have done little to quell the nausea. Gotta love a 'hangover'. Especially this one. I had a couple drinks with a friend last night to celebrate the sale of my first book, but I wasn't drunk. I mixed light enough and barely caught a buzz. I woke up early feeling great. I ate some breakfast, drank some coffee, listened to some music, wrote the Krispy Kreme donut blog, had a very productive physical therapy session for my shoulder, and went for a run. The day was near perfect until the dehydration set in. You see, I'm not very good at re-hydrating. After last night'...

I would like it on the record that I don't like Krispy Kreme donuts. I love donuts; I even wish I could eat one every day. I can't do that so I have long told myself that I can have one 'tomorrow'. (Luckily) in my relationship with donuts, tomorrow seldom comes. Because of that, I'm far from a donut expert or connoisseur, but I do know what I like. It's not Krispy Kremes. Now I don't judge. If anyone out there loves them and drives MILES out of their way just to have one....well, that's cool. For them. I simply choose to choose a Krispy Kreme exclusively when I want a donut AND it's the only thing I can find. These are, of course, the times when a pack of Hostess minis won't cut it. Yesterday morning was one such morning. Accidentally running late for work, I needed a quick breakfast and a pick me up. I went to bed with an idea in my head about the coming work day and then suddenly at 7:00am just seconds after my alarm went off, that idea skitt...

Fight or surrender. Grace comes either way. There comes a time when I feel I must speak. Forgive me, if you must, if it makes you feel better. I mean what I say, so I don't care for or need forgiveness. I stand by my words. They are my fight and my thoughts and my feelings. Above all they are mine. I decided long ago that I am entitled to think what I want and say what I want. If I offend, well... It's most certainly not intended. It may seem like I'm trying to spar, but I'm really just attempting to clarify my position. If that position isn't met well or happens to be misunderstood, it's far from my fault. Truly, the beauty and the disaster of the written word lies in it's misinterpretation. It's a hazard I know I may have to face every time I post something I've written. I don't want this to seem bad, but I don't care. I don't. Ask me to clarify and I will. Seethe and demand an apology and I just might tell you to go to Hell. Politely, ...

I wonder quite often why fuck-nuts get the girl. I can count on a couple hands the number of good women who are saddled with a girlfriend who is either dumb, crazy, or a combination of the two. Believe me, I know what it looks like. First hand. Because of this, I feel free to comment. I've dated my share that I never should have. I've endure their stupidity and their crazy. I've been taken for a ride and dumped when it became apparent that I wasn't as rich as they thought I was. I've worked, stressed, sweated, and freaked out. I've let myself be belittled and emotionally battered. In the end I was the dumb one and the crazy one. For dating them as long as I did. And for being so torn up when they left. Now I say 'what the fuck ever', but it's taken me awhile to get here. Experience has made me smarter and stronger. I think at one point, I liked the idea of being needed. It was probably an ego thing because it can feel good to be needed. I'm  pr...

I've been 'yes' and I've been 'oh Hell no', both with about equal success and, interestingly enough, with equal results. Truly, what is meant to be is meant to be and I place my faith in God and His (seemingly fucked up) plan. Blah, blah, blah... I'm good with my life. In fact, most days I say I love my life and I'm being honest about it. Some may look at me and wonder how that's possible. I do have my health, but very little wealth and even less connection in the traditional sense. I still get asked if I'm going to have kids and shocked looks when I say that I'm not. I still get asked why I'm not married and shocked looks when I say that I have to date in order to eventually get married. And this is where I turn my life over to God. Yes, this is going to be another one about being single. Trust me, if I was married or attached or even fucking someone, I'm sure I'd be writing about that. Unfortunately (or fortunately), I'm not...