harold_maude's journal

Have you ever been in that place where you have to be continually on?
The entertainment, the one who takes care of things, makes things happen, and generally makes everyone elses life liveable?
That's being on.

I've come face to face with the reality that I'm on and it has a strange effect on my sleep patterns, and my life in general.

When I'm in the mode of on I don't sleep. I can't. I'm jumpy and can't relax.

I wish I could take a long vacation and disapear into the woodwork for a very,very long time. Not alot of people would understand that need, as most humans are social creatures who need company.
When the normal avarage well driven person needs to get away they just simply do.

For those who make everything ok, there is no vacation. The making everything ok can either be self imposed, as in control freaks who own businesses and can't trust any manager to run it as well as they do. And the more they need time away, the more the works get fucked up because they make it impossible for anyone to do their job.

They need to be hog tied and made to take a vacation.

Then there are the kinds of people who get placed into the solid rock place by those around them. It's not a choice, it just happens. Where every they go, when ever they are around other people, whether they want it or not they get shoved into possition and then get dumped on. Everybody's shit, every major decision that comes across the line, it ends up in their lap.

Whether I like it or want it or what ever I get shoved into that possition. I don't know why. Maybe it's the strong work eithic I have, or the need to do things when they need to be done and not letting them become a huge mess, or maybe it's because I like to take care of things asap that ends me up here again and again.

I want to go away. Far far away, where someone will take care of me so I can sleep, and wander and not have to think or fix things or make sure things are done on time.

I don't want to have to be the one who makes things ok. But all the major decisions keep ended up being made based on my thoughts and observations here. Even with the choice of the next roommate. They come to me. They get sent to me. And I get to be the one who decides.

For what ever reason, and I have no clue as to why, and I'm too fucking tired to try to figure it all out, I end up being shoved into this possition.

My perfect world would be to have someone come along and see that I need to be able to just lay my head down and not have to be strong, and not have to fix things or make sure the bills are paid on time, or make sure that everyone who can pull the rug out at a moments notice is kept happy.
This person would be stronger than me. But be very peaceable about things. And supporitve when it comes time to doing something nessiary, so that it dosen't act as a major drain of any and all reserves.

This person wouldn't have to be there all the time, and they wouldn't have to be strong all the time. I don't mind needed people, but I would love it if needed people were sometimes strong people. A balance in things. A reasonable balance.
that would be my perfect world.

I doubt if I'll ever know my perfect world. Life, at least my life isn't that easy. And I doubt it ever will be.

At the tone the time will be 12:23 A.M. Do you know where your socks are?

Socks are important. They keep your feet from freezing in the winter and keep them clean while your feet are nestled inside your shoes.

I wonder if feet ever feel like protesting against being locked inside shoes for hours on end. I wonder if they want to just look up one day and say "that's it. I've had it and if you try to stuff me in those things one more time, I'm getting together with every other body part and we are going on strike.
I don't see you putting the hands inside uncomfortable things.
They get pampered while we do all the work. We carry you around and make sure you hit the right pedal when your driving and we never get a break!"

I've been keeping my feet as bare as possible lately. I hate shoes. I hate how when they start breaking down, my feet are miserable and then I am too.
I would love to be in a place where I never had to wear shoes again.
I think my feet would be happy being naked all the time.

...no job yet...almost homeless again...food is running out...too tired and too wired to know what to do anymore...but still under the crazy emotions I am at peace.
I have no clue as to why.

nite all.

My day has begun after a few hours of sleep. I got to see this deer up close and almost personal this morning. So beautiful.
And as long as it's not hunting season, the deer is quite safe.
But the deer dosen't know that.

All that deer knows is that it has to watch everything. No matter where it goes.

And it made me think about last night. And the frustration of the last month, and a friend of mine who I've listened to for months complain, and complain and complain.

I didn't sleep so good last night because I was frustrated with this friend.
They've got a drinking problem. They drink because they are bored and their mind is running on over load with analyitical thoughts.
The state of drunkenness turns the volume down in their head.
So they tell me.
And who am I to question what someone is living in the middle of, as far as their thoughts.
I know what it's like to have so many thoughts going through your head that it's on over load all the time.

But I do know this. We have been over and over and over the same old territory as far as things that are wrong again and again and again.
Their frustration, or at least part of it, is that there is nothing that interests them, no creative venu that they can throw themselves into.
No matter options I brought up, they had a reason as to why it wouldn't work.

Finally after several hours of going round and round and round,
I left the room, and came here and wrote and then began searching job sites again.
It was almost three a.m. when I stopped.

When I saw that deer this morning, how beautiful it was, it reminded me that life is a fragile thing. Not to be taken lightly. And a person can live their lives emersed in how wrong things are or the possiblities.
It's a personal choice.

If a person loves their misery, keeps it as a pet, then there isn't much anyone can do. Change is the choice we can take or leave.
My friend means alot to me. When they are sober, they are just cynical. When they are drunk they feel the need to talk. And it's all so pointless. I got drained listening to this mess last night.
I'm still drained this morning. And I've come to a decision.
I'm just going to smile and say uh huh alot. I've got better things to do with my life than listen to some one who loves their misery, and who is too lazy to try even the smallest thing to change it, whether they feel like it or not.

If everyone waited until they felt like it to do anything, most all of us would remain in bed feeling sorry for ourselves because we haven't won the publisher's clearing house sweepstakes.
And pissed off because we had to get up to go pee now and again.

It's been a few days since I wrote last. Being in a state of lostness for a while now, I figured it was time to come here and write.
For some reason writing when everything feels like shit that the dog or cat or any other animal you wish to insert, keeps digging up, helps.

I'm not drunk, although I wish I was tonight. I should be. Everything is about to hit the wall and go crash. I've been looking for work again, and nothing that fits what I need.

The on comming falling apart of my hands have made some decisions for me and have forced the reality that how I spend the remaining years of usablity of my hands a very real issue.
See it doesn't make a lot of sense to spend your life working to make someone else rich and when your done, so crippled up, all you have left to your self is parts of your body that don't work right anymore.

Last month was suppose to be, or at least I thought it was going to be a huge turning point for me. Things were feeling like they were about to fall into the right places, and it turned out to be one of the worst months I can remember.
Second only to last August.
Maybe I should have gone to a local mortician and requested to be embalmed due to the fact that everything in me felt dead.
Would have ended the argument right then and there.

But I know they would have carted me off in a white coat to the nearest padded room.

I made the decision month before last to leave my job due to the condition of my hands. After 4 10 hour days doing assembly work that left my hands knarled and me having to take alternating doses of advil and ibuprofin, so that by the end of my three days off my hands, though still in exquisite pain, were no longer knarled.
That along with getting almost run off the road on my way home a couple of times by truckers doing late night runs on the same road that goes to where I live, and not getting more than 3 hours of sleep a night durring the work week due to how messed up working nights is, the decision to leave that job seemed like a wise decision.

Now almost two months later I am still jobless, searching and what I'm finding is everyone wants experience.
A strange paradox of how do you get experience unless someone hiers you and they don't want to hier you unless you've had experience.

So it's down to the wire. In three weeks if I have no job I will be on the streets again. In the same time period if I have no job I will be with out transportation, and looking at a fine for owning an unlicenced truck. Even if I'm not driving it.
So I've been searching like everywhere and have considered the following jobs among the many, a 900 operator, (we all know what they do), sewing costumes for strippers, walking around with a bill board advertising for any company who will hier a living bill board, and advertising myself as some kind of consultant, what I don't know, I can't get my shit together long enough to figure my own life out let alone give advise to someone who is just as lost in the washing machine as I am.

I've got several sites that will hier writers, except the one's that would be open to me and my ramblings, are at the moment full up.

I went to e-bay, thinking I will try to sell my art there, I've got a huge portfolio and inspite of not having most of them matted and none of them framed, I would give it a go.
When I started looking at the art for sale section and saw what people were trying to sell their art for and that no one was bidding, and alot of the stuff I saw was the same kind of art that graces alot of big name galleries, I relized that my work most likely doesn't stand a chance.

While I was on e-bay I also looked at beads, which I have enough to open a small store with, and saw what they were going for and realized that for my entire bead invantory the chances of getting anything over next to nothing was unrealistic.
Same story with the jewerly.

Then I got the bright idea of doing surveys. All I could get for that was points. you fucking can't eat points, oh yeah and a far off chance of winning 10,000 dollars.
So much for that.
The places I was signed up with wanted to know why I was leaving, and I explained, very polietly, that you can't eat points and my time was worth more than points....

It's 12:28 am now. And tomorrow will bring more searching and possibly more dead ends. I've been at the breaking point for a while now.

It's funny though, inspite of how bleak things look I'm at peace inside.
It dosen't make any sense. So maybe I will hit the wall, and maybe I will crash. And maybe I will loose every thing in my possession, but I'm ok with that....I think sometimes I've really gone far off the deep end...

I look at the stars and wish
that tomorrow would stay away.
I look at my pillow and wish
I didn't have to wake up.
Inspite of all of this
daily feeding I'm eating
it's ok.
No matter what tomorrow brings
it's really ok now.
I don't understand
it dosen't make sense
but that's ok too
nothing is really mine
only just my skin
and that's on loan
really for only a little while.
I came from dust
and dust will claim me again
tho I don't know where
and I don't know when.
The only thing that bothers me
is if it takes a lingering while,
if it's gonna come
I wish it would hurry up and do it quick
because inspite of how at peace I am
I'm not into lingering pain.

nite all.

I wrote this in memory of Daisy, my best friend. She was only a dog in body, but she had the heart of a human. She was the best, and now after about 5 years I can finally look at her pictures and grieve.

So this is in her honor. It's not enough, it will never be enough to say thank you to a friend who was a beauitful gift.

Daisy passed away
last night.
She lay her head
gently down
her eyes weary
she looked at me
one last time,
sighed a quiet good-by
the closed her eyes
and simply left.
I could feel her heart cease
the warm of her still lingering.
My tears
washed her face
and to her sweet head
I gave a final kiss.
Her life was full
beautiful
and simple.
She loved the quiet hours
we would spend
so close
no words really needed
the bond of love
so strong between us.
Just a simple look
told more
held more
than words
could ever capture.
Her joy
still runs through my heart.
Her smile
often filled her eyes.
She knew no malice
held no bitter thoughts
only love
and devotion
so complete
that it amazed me so often.
The times we were apart
were hardest for her.
But our reunions
ohhhhhh thoes sweet renunions
were always as the first meeting.
Daisy died last night.
But only in body.
Her faithful care
was always there.
She could read me
and always knew
when I was sad
or out of sorts.
She was my friend
companion
trusted confidant.
There was no one else like her.
No one else at all.
I have my regrets.
That I didn't take more pictures,
that I didn't spoil her more.
I should have.
I didn't say thank you enough
to this most faithful of friends.
And I should have.
Daisy died last night.
I think a part of me
did too.

Dear Daisy,

I was looking at pictures of you last night. It's the first time in a long time that I've been able to look at them. I wish I had more.
I could feel the ache, still fresh it would seem, like it was yesterday.
I felt the tears running down my face and all I could think about was how much I miss you.

For 8 years I got the honor and pleasure of your company. Your head on my knee when you needed to feel secure, and your eyes, telling me you'd had a rough day.

I wanted to howl and howl and howl last night, from the heart, so you could here me from where you are.
Everything in me misses you. And my heart, though full of your presence still, feels an empty twinge when I can't reach down and scratch behind your ears where the fur was the softest.

I've lost other people. But none of them make me grieve with ache like you being gone does.
You were my best budy, and I feel like there wasn't enough time.
Eight years is pretty short when someone walks into your life and loves you with out any kind of conditions on that love, and being with you is the best of the best for them.

I was looking at those pictures with you laying on your couch with the big spotted bow and remembered how you put up with the humilation of having a bow on your head. Dogs normally don't like that kind of thing, except maybe a poodle, but dogs ususally won't let you do things like that.
I've seen dogs try to eat socks that their friends/owners have put on their feet.
Not you, you sat there so patient while we took pictures and now that's what I have just a few of those.
That's all. And a heart that hurts so bad.

I swear you weren't a dog, but a human in dog form. You had so much dignity. And you never hurt another animal. Not once.
I remember how you wouldn't eat cow bones or deer bones when there was deer meet that came into the house.
I remember how you would catch mice in your teeth and carry them around and then let them go.
And how when we would watch emergancy pet vet you would burry your face in my lap so you couldn't see, because the thought of another animal being in pain was too painful for you.

I remember the night you died, and how you showed up the next day, and spent a week with me. And I remember that night, out side with the sky so full of stars that you let me know that you had to go.

And the dream that repeated it's self for three nights.

I miss you. So much, so, so much. I figure that if I put this out to the sky and the net that you will hear it, and if you do then hear this too, that you were a gift, and my life was better because you were in it, and even though the last 5 months of your life were a battle against something you couldn't have over come, I would go through that experience of heartache a thousand times, just to have known you.

I miss you, and I hope that where ever you are you get all the doggie cookies you want, cases of them, and that you are surrounded by other cool people just like you.
If you can see me, then you can see my tears. Take them, all of them and let them be kisses and hugs from a greatful heart.
Thank you. I miss you and I love you.