Relieved To Not Know

Crazy people don’t know that they’re crazy.

But, what if I SUSPECT that I’m crazy?

What if I’m Suspicious; nay, DUBIOUS of the voices in my head telling me that I MAY be crazy or that I’m crazy to think I’m crazy….?

What if I can’t trust myself, because I know me; I know how I can be. I know how many times I’ve let myself down…

I’m the kind of friend to myself that I love but can’t really trust completely or count on in a crisis.

They/me always lose their/my s*** in terse situations…

Fold like a lawn chair.

But, I keep on forgiving me…even after all the times I’ve let me down. Because, I know, deep down, that I love me in my own special way but, I know that I’m crazy sooo…

I get a pass….

I mean, I’m pretty sure I love me but, I also know that when times get tough, sometimes I’ll disappear or blow things off as not disastrous as initially thought and I’ll lie to me if my butt is on the line or think I’ll get mad at myself.

But, what if I AM crazy?

What if I’m really no friend to myself at all?

What if I’ve just been using myself?!

What if ignorance really IS bliss?

Does that mean that since I am a “naturally” happy, vivacious, fun-loving, morning, midday, afternoon, all-day person that I’m really just overly ignorant living in this utter bliss, bathed in crazy?

What if I am normal?

What if….I’m. Normal?

Oh. My. Heck.

What if….

I am normal crazy?!

What if, all the talking in my head, the anxieties, the mini-disaster movies playing thru my mind, ALL OF THE CRAZY that I am CONVINCED that I am, is really….just in my head….?

What If….

All the definitions and nuances that the world accepts as standards to be considered “CRAZY” were invented by a “normal crazy” person?

But, we all know that there are no normal people.

So, HOW THE HECK DO I KNOW IF I’M CRAZY OR NORMAL!?

Jesus was the only perfect person that I am aware of but, he was too nice & loving to tell anyone that they were crazy!! Remember the guy and the swine?! Jesus didn’t tell people they were crazy, he just heals them.

How can anyone tell me that I’m normal?

I can believe it when they tell me I’m crazy because of the adage “Takes one, to know one”

“I can smell your crazy”

*shudder*

What if I’ve been normal this whole time?

What if I’ve never actually been crazy!?

WHAT IF I HAVE REACTED TO EVERY DISASTROUS SITUATION IN A NORMAL, FULLY FUNCTIONAL WAY!!?

What if…?

If I’m not crazy, I’m gonna be PISSED.

Without my crazy, I will have absolutely no excuses for my behavior, to fall back on.

Crazy, you complete me.

I need my crazy; it’s so obvious.

But, what if I’m really really the only normal person that has ever existed; other than Jesus, I mean?

I wonder if Jesus had his crazy moments…?

What if Jesus….wondered if HE was crazy? Hearing heavenly, ethereal voices, seeing angels, talking to dead people…?

….thinking he is the son of God….

How crazy is that, he’d think.

What. If. When Jesus found out he was perfect, but KNEW he didn’t FEEL perfect, totally convinced that he was NOT PERFECT.

What if Jesus worried about stuff…?

Do you think Joseph Smith thought he was crazy? Himself, I mean?

Would I think I’m crazy, if I had a prayer answered by God & Jesus, in person?

Or would I know that I wasn’t crazy because, it was real?

I’m sure God would let me know that this wasn’t crazy town, that it was actually him…

But you can’t trust crazy, can we?

Can you POSSIBLY imagine what a 14 yr old Joseph Smith was thinking when he walked out of that Grove of trees behind his small house, known what he now knew? Looking at his home, his dad in the adjacent field, the chickens in the yard, his mother looking out of the back door, with a look on her face, wondering why he was in the woods; the clothes drying on the line, slowly moving in the breeze.

Did that just happen, he’d have thought?

Normal thought right?

Or, is it?

Am I crazy?

How do I know?

They say that God talks to people all of the time but, other people always tell them that they’re crazy.

What if God is the voice in my head telling me that I’m NOT crazy?

That I’m only normal crazy?

I hate being normal.

It’s so obvious, now.

Crazy to think so.

1

Year 1, again.

Just checking out the new editor on WP.

Retitled, requoted, repictured my profile.

Got tags fixed, linked social sites are good to go…

Now, all I have to do is start all over, AGAIN. Bare/Bear my soul, AGAIN…

I have a pretty good idea which way to go and how to treat everything I want to do with my blog; this time round.

But unfortunately, I have to work for a living and I’m tired.

I hope all of y’all had a good Christmas. TTYL

  • Trey

0

Only This, Again.

I will never be what I imagined or dreamed of….

I will never know everything.

I will never touch the moon.

I will not live forever and I still can’t accept this fact or believe it, honestly; even after my body has started to betray me by falling apart.

I have been a hypocrite, an idiot, a thief, a liar, spiteful, condescending, bigoted, biased, cruel, racist, a disappointment AND occasional colossal failure.

I have also been kind, loving, forgiving, patient, courteous, courageous, giving, a joy to be around and an occasionally successful with a task.

I’m just a regular guy, with a regular life, facing normal challenges and inopportune fiascos; doing the best I can, as I can.

I realize that I have unlimited, untapped potential that I know I will NEVER have TIME, in my life, to explore or achieve.

But, I am here, now.

A little sad today, but not too bad…

I’ve learned over the years how to keep those monsters at bay.

Just don’t feed them…

I don’t listen to my mind very much or at least I don’t take its first thoughts seriously…

It’s kinda ignorant…really.

I listen to my heart a little more in my older years but, I know it’s naive to a fault, still….after all it’s put me through.

So, I balance them out, best I can.

I’m just a simple man with regrets and future dreams in the same head & heart I started out with.

A little bruised & dented but, we’re still OK….

It’s not bad to not be perfect.

It’s the effort that counts.

My one saving grace is that I continue to effort the hell out of it.

0

2nd Resteps…

This week I am anti-religion and I left my wife.

Plus, I ate a piece of white bread despite my dubious diabetes diagnosis…

And, its only Wednesday.

2

The First, Real Step…

Over and over, throughout my life I have “started” again.

Tomorrow is the first day of my life; so it goes.

I am tired of starting over.

I am tired of failing in things that I believe are important but seems to turn out, not important enough for me to follow thru on.

Lets bring us all up to date, shall I?

I joined the LDS church when I was 1 month shy of my 20th birthday.

I have been battling with it ever since.

I am now, 54.

35 freaking years….

I have had my “stalwart” phases and my “apostate” phases.

I have been diligent in tithing, the Word of Wisdom, temple recommends, church callings…etc., and so forth.

At times.

And….I am an alcoholic; well, a dormant alcoholic.

I’m no where as bad or prolific as I once was….and in the words of my childhood evangelical baptist upbringing “THANK YA JESUS, CAN I GET AN AMEN?”

I have denied the existence of God.

I have reasoned out the impossibility of Christ actually being the really real son of God.

I have thought Joseph Smith was deceived by either demons or aliens during the First Vision.

I have also stood in the Sacred Grove and cried like a baby.

Unworthy in the Sacred Grove

That was just last year…..smh.

It is always a battle and I am tired of it.

Why can’t I submit or make a decision or whatever….shit or get off the pot?

Why can’t I be what I want to be….?

I want to be what I believe worthy should be.

But, my main problem is; is that I’m weak.

I have no concept of how people can live their entire lives as a devout and shining example of what a Christlike person should be.

Blows my mind.

Not just LDS…any faith for that matter….

There are devout followers of all kinds of Gods around the world.

It doesn’t matter to me what a person believes as long as it makes them happy; doesn’t hurt, persecute, discriminate or wrongly deceive the ignorant and/or innocent.

I just choose to believe in the Christian ideal and I believe in what the LDS church teaches.

I do not care if you agree with me but, I want you to understand me.

Love me for who I am.

See, I can stand on a soap box, just fine.

I can also drink myself into a stupor and deny God.

****************

I haven’t drank for a long time but, I think about it everyday.

I haven’t been to church in a long time but, I think about it everyday.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve quit wearing my garments (mythical Mormon underwear) because I either didn’t feel worthy at the time or I thought they were stupid….

I can’t tell you how many times I have put all of my church stuff in storage; my Book of Mormon, my Bible, My records…patriarchal blessing, blah blah blah…..for the same reasons as above.

I got tired of looking at them.

They got on my nerves.

Always laying around, judging me.

But, inexplicably, I have not or will not throw them away.

For some reason, I keep them and I don’t know why.

Because I know I’ll go back to being…..worthy?

That I’ll keep fruitlessly, at least in my mind, attempting to be the LDS man that I want to be?

You know what?

My wife isn’t even LDS.

She’s Pentecostal.

Her dad was a preacher in that church and she absolutely does not believe in what I believe and that’s cool with me.

I do not care if she believes me.

I never give it a thought what she believes; not once. I could honestly care less.

I’m just glad she believes in God and likes me regardless of my membership in an evil “cult”….smh

I fight and fight and fight.

As you can tell I use this blog as a way to work thru stuff and I continuously keep trying and trying to……convince myself? Probably like a lot of you reading this.

So dang frustrating, I swear.

Well, I’m gonna cut this short because I’m kind of at work and I keep drifting into deeper thought (we LDS call this phenomenon “pondering”)

Deeper introspections to the point that I lose my chain of thought.

I have said this so many times in some of my earlier posts “Saints are sinners that never quit trying”

I feel like a failure, a terrible person.

I know that I try but not good or hard enough. I do not sacrifice.

I am the worst kind of “natural man”

I swear this is gonna drive me further insane.

I can see it now “Man dies from religious torment”

I may be going insane; they always say people start getting religiously delusional as they slip closer into the white jacket with 8′ sleeves that tie in the back club

Back to, the cutting it short thing….

Battle, battle, battle.

I’m gonna keep on trying, I guess.

There is something to this or else I would have totally blown it off YEARS AGO.

This is the only thing in my life that has lingered or kept my interests for so long.

I know this because I’m slightly narcissistic and self absorbed..I lose interest VERY QUICKLY.

Anywho, thx for reading.

I’m sorry I said a dirty word but, it’s only a word.

I’ll write more, I swear.

“I am a traveler that will not stay on the path”

4

Dead Men Tell No Tales

I cannot conceive of people committing suicide.

I am completely and utterly unable to understand WHY someone would take their own life.

It does not compute.

I will give you my very unpopular opinion on suicide, then I will explore it with this blog to try & understand….

1) Suicide is the most selfish act a human can commit.

2) There is NO REASON to kill oneself

3) A person is always in control of themselves. They can change things at any time.

OK, that’s pretty much my opinion on suicide.

Do you know why people hang themselves, shoot themselves, cut their wrist, suck car exhaust or other ways?

To be found, discovered that way.

To hurt, shock, punish; to lash out one last time. A final “Look what you made me do” or “Fuck you”

See me…

See me…

I have no concept of suicide.

Admittedly, I do not refrain from killing myself because it is a sin, as much as I was raised to believe, I do not kill myself because I know….have known….all of my life that it is not an option.

I know that it is the cowards way out.

There is no excuse other than painful terminal illness and I’m gray on that.

There is always the next moment. There is always tomorrow. There is always rock bottom.

There is always hope.

Meaning, it can only get so bad. You can sink no lower than rock bottom. If you get any lower, it’s because you dug the hole yourself but, Dammit, there’s still a bottom

You can change things in an instant.

This is a fact.

There are too many avenues these days to get help for suicidal thoughts or intentions.

There is absolutely NO REASON TO KILL ONESELF.

I don’t care how bad your life feels like it’s spiraling out of control and the world would be a better place for it, if you would just hurry up and blow your fucking brains out all over the nice bathroom mirror.

I guarantee the fact that there are millions of other people on this planet that have it much worse; that would kill you to have your life, that would love to have your problems instead of theirs. Would call you blessed…. If even for a moment…they could be you.

There are people that fight for their life every day.

They fight through agonizing pain and the knowledge of unavoidable, inevitable, early death.

They fight until they quit breathing.

And some people kill themselves because life is too hard….?

They can’t see a way out.

There is no hope, they think.

There is no other way, they think.

It’s all about…..Them.

They’re positive.

Oh. My. God.

Fuck your family.

Fuck your friends.

Fuck your co-workers.

Fuck, the world.

My life is too painful.

Everyone will be better off when I’m gone.

I cannot understand this.

It’s stupid.

It’s illogical.

It goes against human nature.

Humans are the only species that commit suicide while every other species on this planet; plant or animal, fight for survival; actual survival, every moment of everyday.

But, your life is too painful to go on living?

Mental illness, you say?

My opinion is that suicide has nothing to do with mental illness.

I’m mentally ill….according to my doctors.

I have been diagnosed with depression, as anti-social and with borderline personality disorder.

Evidently, I am 2 clicks from being a sociopath.

I have the papers to prove it.

I have lived in the gutter.

I was a stereotypical trench coat wearing, brown bag guzzling, sidewalk stumbling drunk.

I was homeless.

I dug thru trash bins behind food joints looking for something to eat.

For a long time, the only money I had was from donating plasma.

I rode city buses for hours; riding for days on end because I felt I had nothing else to do or anywhere to go.

I felt useless. I felt worthless.

I wanted to kill myself.

But, I didn’t.

……I wouldn’t.

It wasn’t an option.

I’m not going to do it.

Anthony Bourdain, did.

I am/was/are a huge fan.

As long as I have his audiobooks, which he narrated himself, his series’ on Netflix, videos on YouTube and many other outlets of which I haven’t discovered yet, I will always be a fan.

He chose to end his life.

From my eyes, A man beloved by millions, a man with a cult following, an excellent TV gig, an employer, a recovered addict, a chef, a father….

Hangs himself in a French hotel room.

Alone.

I cannot understand this.

“I am alone in a room full of people.”

There is only one way out.

It breaks my heart about Anthony.

Here was a guy I actually looked forward to watching his stuff on TV; reading his books, following him on social media.

I have (had) 2 TV heroes that I wholeheartedly believed in 100%; in their honesty, their quirkiness, their irreverence towards “The Man” and no BS attitude.

One is Mike Rowe, the other is/was Anthony Bourdain.

When I saw anything they were involved with, everything they said or posted, I believed. I knew it would be honest and real.

But, I am also a realist.

I do believe that you can never know what’s in someone else’s mind.

You cannot see the monsters.

You cannot hear the voices.

You cannot feel their pain.

As much as I cannot fathom the prospect of killing myself or why anyone would do that to themselves and put their friends, family and colleagues through so much anguish, I understand that I am not that person.

I know that these individuals leave behind people close to them, that love them asking “Why?”

“Why didn’t he call me?”

“Why didn’t he tell me what he was feeling?”

“I would’ve been there in a flash, if I’d ONLY KNOWN”

Anthony Bourdain was not alone in France.

His best friend was nearby.

A hotel full of people, were there.

As far as I know, he still has relatives in France.

All he had to do was say “Help me”

SAY SOMETHING!

It makes me sad for his daughter, whom he claimed to love and cherish.

It makes me sad for his friend Eric; the best friend that found him dead.

It makes me sad for his friends and family that Anthony believed that he had no alternative but to kill himself.

“Why didn’t he just call me?”

It makes me angry that he was so selfish.

He only cared about himself.

No regard or thoughts of what he would leave behind.

No qualms of guilt in how his death would affect others.

No concern on leaving an 11 year old girl to face this cruel world without her dad.

How can I say these mean things about Anthony Bourdain?

I do not, did not, could not know the man or his problems.

What I do know is that he killed himself.

Which means, he did not give a FUCK about anyone else but Anthony Bourdain.

Suicide is real.

Suicide is terrible.

Suicide is selfish.

Suicide is the cowards way out.

There is always hope.

There is always tomorrow.

There is ALWAYS help….

Don’t be an asshole.

Stay alive.

Anthony Bourdain

1956-2018

You cheated us out of you…

Get Help

0

The Rut

The hallway was dark.

My cousin was standing in said hallway; in the dark as I related, her head tilted slightly, looking at me with seemingly vacant eyes. No, not vacant….

Horror? No, not horror…..

It was…it was…..I got it.

Her brain was locked up. The blue screen of death look….

That’s usually what happens to dope fiend potheads so I wasn’t too alarmed.

I’m used to her bunch taking a trip and never leave the farm. If you know what I mean….

Anywho, she’s standing there in the dark hall, barefoot on a hardwood floor; vacant stare, tilted head, lips slightly moving.

She was making no sound that I could make out but as I got closer to her, I heard two things; one distinctly….

She raised her hand slowly to ward me off but making the gesture for “hold up”

Her eyes slowly found mine.

The look of a person that has lost their soul….

She made a “shush” gesture and mouthed “oh. MY. GOD!”

I made the silent “What’s up?!” face with accompanying hand and shoulder gestures.

Her finger slid across her throat in a cutting fashion….no, no, she was pointing to a door to my right, my uncles door; her daddy’s.

I followed the finger, looked at the door, didn’t see anything, started to turn back to her then…..I stopped.

I heard something….

What was she hearing? What was I hearing, slight as it was…

She was pointing with more vigor and giving heavier shushing moves….

I leaned toward the door…”W#hat?!” my sneaky shushed silent face said….

Her eyes got wider in that “LISTEN closer” wide look eye thing…

I listened.

I heard it. I knew the sound.

It was sex.

There was sex going down in my uncles room and he is 62 years old and he’s not supposed to have sex because he’s too old and not married plus his pecker shouldn’t have even been working…because he’s you know, OLD. And, he’s my dead dads little brother!!

My face now had the “WTF” look accompanied by the token slow head turn of the truly baffled, while the realization spreading across my face as I turned back towards my cousin who’s dad was a dirty sinner.

Next silent shushed face wide eye question: “Who the hell is in there?!”

She looked at me, her eyes narrowing; then in a silent lip sync moment she said…

“Mama is in there with Daddy” jabbing her finger at the door.

Dirty, dirty old people fuckers, I thought.

I looked at her. She looked at me.

I needed a shower all of a sudden.

Then, It hit me…

These guys have been divorced for like 30 years! They probably ain’t seen each other but a handful of times in that span!

Hell, I didn’t even think they got along! She was here visiting her grandson for the love of all that’s holy!!! OMGODDDDD!

The sounds were getting louder and more intense.

The bed was actually creaking! Just like in the movies! Moaning and groaning, springs squeaking, headboard banging, faster and faster….!

I had to run. I had to get out of there….I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move.

I was mired in sin…..

OMG; I’m gonna puke.

We were frozen to the spot.

Trapped by the sinful sex romp shadow demons that floated around us….grunting, humping and porking!

“Ugh ugh argh argh, yesss, yesss, oh I got a cramp! Bang bang, fucking creak!!!

Just like in the freaking pornos.

Minus the saxophone….

I don’t remember too much after we heard her saintly mother cry out “punch it, dick ninja!” “It’s getting away!

“I got it!” “I got it, Mamasita!” the dirty Uncle/daddy fucker screamed.

My body ran cold. Her face was ashen.

Her mama…..my uncle,,,,her daddy….were doing the big nasty and liking it!

Can. You. Believe. That. Shit?!

Freaking 62 damn years old and bouncing around on each other with their old person bodies, old man balls, granny panties slung over the bed post, slipping and sliding over each other like two grunting, gasping sumo wrestlers fighting over a corn dog!!

Some people…..

Then…..

It was over.

The noise stopped.

What was said next between the two of them will not be mentioned….

Ever.

Hint: It had something to do with bull riding….

I knew they were dirty fucker people.

I could see it in their eyes.

Here they were….acting like nice old grandparents; kissing babies, cooking supper, drinking sweet tea and sitting by the fire pit and as soon as we turn our freaking backs…..!

BAM!!

They should be ashamed, dirty old people!!

I don’t think I can ever talk to them again or look them in the eyes without seeing Mamasita and Dick Ninja….

54 years old and I have a fresh new scar for my life.

Great. Just what I needed. More trauma.

Thanks, Unc. You dirty old bastard.

My poor cousin.

I think she’s traumatized, bless her heart.

She told her preacher everything; confessed her disgust and shame.

She got baptized a week later.

She sees Jesus in her coffee now.

Check this out, I swear to God! If you can believe this shit;

Mamasita is dating the preacher…..

My therapist told me to write about the dirty old fuckers.

It helped a little. Not as much as the liquor, but it helps.

I wish I could wash out my brain sometimes.

Don’t you?

Dick Ninja? Really….?

0

So Simply

Here is my blog entry for today.

I began crying, listening to classical music.

I finally saw it.

I saw the layers.

I was the layers.

I stepped into it.

It washed around me, and I cried.

I cried, listening to classical music.

This has never happened to me.

I can’t believe it. I’m a big stinky truck driver.

Carmina Burana, O Fortuna…..

Thank You.

You are beautiful

Today is another day of discovery.

Never too old.

0

Realization

Thought about this last night.

Popped right into my head…

Never mind all of the stuff that’s already in my head; there’s always room for more crazy.

There’s always room for more crazy; like Jell-o or ice cream.

I love Jell-o. Crazy, not so much.

At least I call it crazy.

It could be normal, or crazy.

Isn’t the human mind amazing with all the stuff it can do?

All of the information it can process or forget?

All of the useful things….or Facebook…..Snapchat….Twitter…..

Sometimes I sit there going “C’mon THINK!”

Most times I’m like “I wish my freaking brain would just stop!”

Ok, I’m getting off track from my original thoughts that are the basis for todays blog.

Here’s what popped into my brain @ 0215….

I will die not knowing everything.

If I sat here, or if you sat where you’re at, run a diagnostic on your brains hard drive and create a pie chart of how your brain utilizes or categorizes info.

It is sadly amazing how much I don’t know.

Hmmm….I actually have no idea how much I don’t know.

Although, it seems like the older I get the more “Eureka” moments I have concerning trivial stuff.

“Why have I just figured this out?”

I’m an idiot, I swear.

Like these little “life hacks” or “kitchen hacks” I see on Facebook that leave me slack jawed in utter amazement, wallowing in self loathing, awash in shame.

How do people figure this crap out!?

I know nothing about rocket science.

I know nothing about why I’m scared of the dark.

I know nothing except what I have heard, seen, tasted, felt, smelled or been told by others.

Problem is, the senses…..I can pretty much count on being truthful

“Fire HOT!”

“Woman crazy!”

The basic knowledges…..

Learning stuff from people, I’d say less than 50% accurate.

If they taught me things that doesn’t include their opinions or bias’, the percentage would go up exponentially, I believe.

We know enough to get thru life. Simple Simon….

Here’s a thought; We get old enough to make babies, then get older to teach babies until they get old enough to make their own babies. That’s it.

At a certain point, what purpose do we serve?

As we get older, our bodies and minds start to wind down; this we know.

OMG, I’m never gonna know everything, am I?

How cruel it is to create something, give it a brain that is capable of magic and put a limit on what it can do or learn?

There has to be a reason….

There has to be some kind of reason that we can’t know everything.

I wonder what the world was like when there was no highways, cities, power lines, cars, planes….stuff like that?

All we were concerned about was survival. that’s all we HAD to know.

Hunter, gatherers.

From my viewpoint, it was probably terrifying back then.

But, if we think about it; it may have been much much more quiet in our heads.

I mean, what do you think is in your head right now that has to do with your actual survival compared to back then?

Now, how much isn’t there?

Next time you’re standing in a Walmart or a grocery store, think about digging up a root for dinner or making a cloth out of an animals skin.

Think about discovering how to make fire; on purpose.

Think about discovering how to make a bow & arrow, just the fact that WHY you NEED a bow & arrow in the first place.

What in our brains, is necessary?

If we had the ability to clean the junk files or cookies from our brains, how much disk space would we get back and how much faster could we process info?

I know people have drawn these comparisons before but, it popped into my head this morning and I felt like blogging it out loud.

I’m sad that I won’t know everything before I die.

At least I know that much….

But, I know more today than I did yesterday.

But…..how much info am I losing compared to my gains?

Crap…

I’m gonna stop talking now.

I’m a crazy person. Ignore me.

0

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