Changed my mind

A Montana Reject and Proud Raving Lunatic


Sometimes I get very discouraged. At those times, my battle with the forces of evil is fierce and from all outward appearances, the forces of evil have the advantage. Having said that though, it always seems like just when all seems lost, reinforcements arrive and my wagons surround the campfire and the renegades are forced to retreat with their tails between their legs.

So you see my life is a lot like a poorly scripted movie and the only thing that saves the day is the cast of characters. Depending on the plot, my part would be played by Robert Redford (when it is romantic), John Travolta (when it is dramatic or thought provoking), Richard Gere (when I am in my sexy hey let's dance mode), Robin Williams (when the plot is insane, yet comical), or Nathan Lane (when I need to show my feminine side), or Jack Nicholson (when the plot requires me to have a pre-frontal lobotomy).

Sometimes I think my life would make a great movie. That sounds kind of narcissistic, but it really isn't. Everyone on the face of the planet (no matter how dull they appear to be) has an Oscar caliber movie script in them about their life. The problem is, we consider our existences mundane, boring, or otherwise unworthy of mention. Kind of sad really ... I would love to tell you my story. What is more, I would LOVE to hear yours ... and don't leave out the juicy parts, the nudity, the sex-scenes ... nothing! I want to know the whole you!

Later

This too is getting boring.

A Montana Reject and Proud Raving Lunatic

I am used to blogging, having done so for about a year now on political blogs. They are a lot more dynamic than this one seems to be. So far, I have written quite a bit, with very few comments. Not to downgrade in anyway the comments I did get, as some were very nice and especially what I needed to hear. Thank you Kaycee!

When I started this, I was under the impression it would be like the blogs I was accustomed to. They are more like chat in that the debate/dialogue is ongoing, rapid fire, and very very intense. I had hoped that this would kind of take the place of email between all of us. It has not accomplished what I had hoped it would do, so I reluctantly am about ready to throw in the towel and take the blog off my site.

It is of little value to me if all I get out of it is the work of writing a blog entry and not getting a response or someone to answer it back to start up a dialogue. So, this probably will be the last entry folks. I will wait to see what happens over the next week, and then take the blog off my site if that is appropriate.

Later

Getting Older

A Montana Reject and Proud Raving Lunatic

Sort of funny in a sick/troublesome way. I remember what it was like to turn 10, and now almost 47 years have passed and to me at least, it seems like a very short time ago. I often wonder if it is just me, or does everyone seem to lose his or her lifetime in the twinkling of an eye?

My earliest recollection is when I was about three years old if you can believe that. And it isn't some vague and imagined remembrance either ... it is very vivid. I remember so many things from childhood, and now here I am trying to come to grips with the fact that I feel I have wasted my entire life foolishly.

I don't feel I have accomplished a thing of any substance. I don't know how I will answer to my actions (or perhaps more apropos "lack of action") when I am faced with reconciling my life in the great beyond. How will I answer the question "what have you done Michael, and why did you do that?" I honestly don't feel I have done anything important, and why I did some of the things I did, I have neither excuse nor idea! Something about my psyche apparently is askew!

I am so full of regret, God I just can't stand the idea that my life is winding down.... I have not even lived yet. SugarBooger and I were talking last night about life, and I swear I want to live another 200 years! I feel it will take me that long just to accomplish even the simplest important act. I get so angry when I see people my age with full productive lives, and here I am just struggling with getting through it one day at a time. I don't know how much longer I have because I feel so sick all the time, and that is frightening to me. It is little consolation that the doctors tell me my cancer is gone. I spent seven months trying to convince the medical profession that I wasn't a hypochondriac before I finally got a doctor to take a good look and discovered my cancer in the first place. It is difficult given the runaround I got for so long to believe them now that it is gone.

I am absolutely terrified that it will come back. Getting through the radiation and chemo, plus all the surgeries was something you would have to experience to understand. What makes me angriest about this whole thing is I tempted the fates and brought this on myself.

When I was a young man, there was a guy who used to come into the freight office on occasion to talk to the chief clerk. This man had had throat cancer, and I remember thinking to myself ... that is one thing I just couldn't stand to get, I would rather be dead. I know it is ridiculous, but every time I saw him, I thought those thoughts ... and as stupid as it is, I am angry because I think if I hadn't thought those things, this wouldn't have happened to me. It is an impossible situation to be in, because I can't change a thing about my life. I can't un-think those thoughts any more than I can undo my deeds.

But, I want to unthink them and so much of what I have done, I want to undo. Regret is a terrible thing when you are sick and think you are in the process of dying.

Later

Spring Forward

A Montana Reject and Proud Raving Lunatic

Tonight, tonight, won't be just any night ... tonight we'll lose an hour, somehow!

SugarBooger and I were discussing tonight whether we would rather have an extra hour of sleep, or an extra hour of sunlight.

An extra hour of sunlight seems like an impossibility to me. I think we would all agree that nature has predetermined the amount of sunlight on any given day based upon earths position (distance from the sun) its angle (tilt on its axis), and the specific location (longitude and latitude) where you reside. Therefore, the proposition that I will gain an hour of sunlight seems licuderous (ludicrous for those of you unfamiliar with Chopperisms) to me.

Therefore, if it is impossible for me to gain an extra hour of sunlight, I propose we leave the blasted clocks alone year around. We need to arrive at a standard acceptable to all, and leave it the hell alone.

I don't for the life of me understand how we got by all those years on "standard" time. To hear the proponents of this assinine system talk, you would think the very existance and survival of the planet depends on cranking the clocks back and forth twice a year. Poppycock I say, poppycock! (Now there is a word you won't hear used much anymore.)

Speaking of words, when I was a very young child, my nickname was Bimbo. To those of you under the age of 50, you won't remember the song, but it was a catchy little tune that went something like this:

"Bimbo, Bimbo where ya gonna goeoooooo, Bimbo, Bimbo does your mommy knoweoooooooo, Bimbo, Bimbo does your daddy know, that you're goin down the road to see your little girlieoooooooo."

I don't know how I got labeled Bimbo, but I must have reminded the adults of a little boy ambling down the sidewalk .... perhaps I was chasing girls at age 4 or something.

Anyway, the word sure has taken a turn for the worse wouldn't you agree? Bimbo now instead of referencing a happy go lucky little boy, describes a female of less than virtuous reputation. I like the ancient connotation better ... but, am glad I lost the nickname ... can't imagine being called Bimbo at age 56 even if it still had an okay connotation.

You will notice I used the word SugarBooger in the beginning of this journal entry. Well, this is thanks to my brother Gary. Today he and I were talking on the phone, and I don't recall exactly how it came up, but he said something about someone he knew having a secret nickname for his wife which was to be used to 'call her up to Heaven'. He then stated that he thought the nick was SugarBooger. Now that IS FUNNY said I, and pledged that even though I had been calling Barbara "toots", I was immediately going to start calling her SugarBooger as an affectionate nick.

So tonight, I did just that. I am not exactly convinced that she is all in favor of the change, but in time, I think she may adjust ... and well, if she doesn't ... oh well SugarBooger can get angry I guess, but it won't change anything. I am too delighted by the name, and it makes me feel good when I say it. So, thanks Gary .... I am so glad that every time I talk to you, I come away having learned something new, been given something new to use that brightened my day, or been cheered up in a way only you have been able to do throughout my life. You are a wonderful friend ... so thankful to have you as a brother.

Later dudes ... Oh Kelly and Toni .... you each brighten my day each time I talk to you too, and both also have marvelous intellect and senses of humor. Peace, Love, Dove y'all. War huh, what is it good for absolutely nothin' ... say it again y'all.