I feel as if I'm at a loss for words. I'm not of course. Watch: dog, cat, acrobat. See, I have plenty of words, it's just a matter of what pattern I'm going to place them on the page. This is one of those instances when self-restraint practically makes me speechless. There is plenty on my plate right now, but most of it is food I'd rather not partake of.
I'm not talking about avoidance here. I cannot avoid these problems that insinuate themselves into the very fiber of my being. Probably the biggest issue right now bringing tears and angst forth, is my dealings with my ex-wife over parenting issues. I have always held the weaker position with my ex, even before we were X's. I hold that it's a matter of money over poverty. I believe that the person in the relationship with more money, holds more of the power. I could be wrong, but I'm not in the house that my VA loan helped to obtain. I have the hand-me-down car, and my old car was used as a trade-in on her new economical vehicle.
It's like opening a can of worms. No. That's not right. There is nothing wrong with opening a can of worms, especially if one has a serene day at the lake planned. Opening up a can of whoop-ass is a whole other subject. I merely mean that once I start down that path of resentment and bitterness, there doesn't seem to be any rest stops along the way. I tend to get lost, and can't find my way back out to the sunshine and open spaces.
Tomorrow afternoon I have an appointment with a family behavioral therapist, that includes my ex and my son. A good portion of my stress comes from putting my son through this craziness. Believe me, there are still many days when I wonder if I'm the crazy one, and if I would benefit from a little leucotomy, as long as it wouldn't effect my ability to alphabetize or maintain an erection. Just saying....
It's not Prince spaghetti day. It's not hump day. It's not payday. It's Tuesday! I'm doing what I usually try and do on Tuesday mornings: sleep in, smoke a bowl, and write a blog post. My blog posts are, as a good friend once said, "funny, quirky and sad" and that about sums me up too. My writing is a reflection of all those thoughts that make up this mass of molecules known as Mark (the Markster, Mark Wolf, Sam Durrell, O Wonderous One.) I do my best to weed out the bad thoughts, so that a smile can find a way to my face. Some days are tougher than others. We all have those days.
We are all alike, but at the same time much different. We're made of the same star stuff (thank you Carl), but our dura mater covers much different modes of thinking and beliefs. Sometimes these thoughts and beliefs are strong enough to start wars, and cause senseless be-headings. Sometimes the electrical pulses between synapses produce some of the most wonderful joy imagined: love, birth and puppies! I know deep down that it's all immaterial. Just thoughts that hold too much sway sometime, but my thoughts make up the self that I parade around. Of course, not all of me is open to the public. These words are just mere glimpses into my inner sanctuary (?)...maybe mental cavern is more apt. Believe me, my fellow life travelers, there are some thoughts that just must be kept under wraps, but still must be released into the ether, so that we, or more appropriately I, can live a somewhat content life.
Ah contentment. It doesn't come as cheap as it used to.