How Not To Pray

There are certain times in a persons life, and I happen to know this for a fact; that every person in the Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Hindi, Taoist, Shinto or even the “believers”, “followers”….

There are times when we all feel a need to pray…to somebody or something.

The overwhelming, not quite cognizant drive to fall to your knees and do…something, ANYTHING!

wpid-1421193207412.jpg

Despite what we have all been led to believe by other “learned” men/women on our blue marble, there are no rules stating that said prayers have to be about thanks, grief, vanity, money or whatever….suggestions, but as far as I know, the Lord’s Prayer in the Christian Bible, is the only one with rules on how a prayer must be done.

You know… Official like….

But, the rule that is non-negotiable or maybe just expected, is that you DO have to report in every now and again; rip your insecurities out, spill your heart on the floor, yell, scream, whisper, cry, laugh, beg for a horrific end to your mother in law……while on your knees; penitent.

Broken heart, contrite spirit.

Oh, the other rule….

Don’t be lazy if you can help it.

Knees are preferred…

This happened to me a few minutes ago.

I’m in a shower at the a truck stop; dripping wet, shaving cream on my face and Heavenly Father wants to talk.

So….we talked.

No choice, really.

Let me step back…and PONTIFICATE.

We follow the Bible and its teachings for a while, right?

Then we started to really get into worshipping it and wanted everyone else on the planet to feel our joy and love; so we went on crusades and missions and wars; righteously killing millions of heretics, pagans, witches, infidels, musselmen and assorted other Moors, Catholics, Protestants, Mormons and about 82 Branch Davidians….that the government, which was based constitutionally on these same biblical Christian values, didn’t like very much.

I wonder if the kids screamed while they burned….

And the list goes on; even today.

I don’t believe we’re as civilized as we profess to be, really….

But, I digress and I apologize.

I’m having my usual pessimistic outlook on life during this joyous season and I guess the Lord noticed, because I’ve been behaving badly and been kind of an a-hole, lately.

So, like I stated earlier in this post, God drove me to my knees in this truck stop shower; somewhere in Oklahoma. Dripping wet, shaving cream on my face, naked as a Buddha and Heavenly Father decides he wants to talk to me.

Well, I suspect now, in hindsight and reflection; that’s what we’re supposed to do after we pray…reflect; so, I’m freaking reflecting!

wp-1449415567889.png

So, in this reflection, I think he was tired of seeing me mope around, thinking crummy thoughts, not seeing good in anything; basically being a pill and an a-hole, as stated before and possibly witnessed by many, including my very own self.

Isn’t it terrible when you realize you’re being an a-hole and don’t care?

You just want to hurt and be rude and judge and hypocrite…..more stuff; until everyone else gets butthurt and turns into an a-hole too, and joins my little pity party!?

Anywhos…

As I stared into the fogged up mirror; shaving cream on my face, razor held up by my right cheek, barely able to see my big, fat pink body in the mirror, except for the little spot I had cleared with the razor free hand and was presently fixated on.

wpid-img_12463873886964-picsay.jpeg

I heard a still small voice and I recognized it for who it was.

I made the “What was that face?” for effect.

Thats when an urge fell over me, I can’t explain it.

I put down the razor, spread a towel on the floor; because its still a truck stop shower, I’m not crazy…and I knelt.

And I bowed my head before I spoke to the God of us all.

I bent my head in reverance to the celestial being that allows us to exist despite being a horrendous horde of ungrateful, destructive pieces of crap that occassionally celebrate a good deed WHEN IT SHOULD BE A NORMAL UNCELEBRATED THING TO DO A GOOD DEED AND LOVE ONE ANOTHER, LIKE WE WERE SUPPOSED TO FROM THE FREAKING BEGINNING!!!!!

“Dear Heavenly Father’ I said

“I thank you for everything that you have given, have taken away and for prayers that have been and have not been answered, thy will be done.

(OK, I got the initial disclaimer stuff out of the way.

I picture God sitting on a cloud somewhere looking at his fingernails making the “Come on, come on, I don’t have all day” hand motion.

Even though I know he has forever but, hey….

I am only a man.

One of billions…..but there you go.

Well, this man (meaning me) talks to God as if though God were a man.

“I am sorry I say the same thing over and over but, I don’t mean to but, you already know this”

‘I just find it hard to get into myself and tell you things I know you already know, seems redundant and unecessary”

*sigh*

“Is it a confession you want or am I’m doing this wrong? Why am I telling you things you already know? Why am I confessing things to you when you already know them? Does it make a difference on judgement day?”

Is it for forms sake?

*smh*

[*Heres where I slip back into repetetive dribble, which the bible expressly frowns upon]

“I thank you for my wife and kids, please protect them and help them to make good decisions and be good people and do nice things”

10670270_347409812087093_482638345951863755_n

“I thank you for my job and I thank you for being reasonably healthy”

[Hesitation here because I realize that God has heard this all before, again.]

Blah blah blah…

It just became personal.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Lord”

[Here I look up at the ceiling, clasping my fingers tighter; I’m getting frustrated]

“What am I supposed to say, that I’m sorry, over and over?!”

How long do I have to apologize for being human!?

That I’m a piece of crap and I can’t do anything right and I’m sick and tired of everything?!

What am I supposed to say to you, when you know everything I’m saying or thinking and I still don’t hear poop from you, or at least I don’t think you’re saying anything back !?

[I stand up, turn my back to the steamy mirror, looking at another part of the ceiling; I throw my hands up but don’t say anything, I’m too old for this mess!!!]

[Moments reflection]

download

[I turn back to the towel on the floor, kneel back down, slowly shaking my head]

This is stupid….

“Thank you, Lord, for everything.

I’m doing a lot better than most and everythings not too bad.”

“I’m still a little nervous about thy will be done because I hate surprises but, I know, well, I HOPE that you have plans for me, regardless of what they are.”

“I’m sorry that I’ve been an a-hole lately and been kind of a pill to the Honey Biscuit and messing up her month with my OCD crap but, I try not to let my moods show too much.”

*sigh*

“The cool part about you is that you are the only one that truly knows me.

AND despite what others have witnessed and drawn their conclusions from, some well founded I must admit; you know that I am a good man, with a good heart that only wants super powers so I can save the world.”

“I know I’ve screwed up sometimes. Thank God for repentance; oh, I meant thank you”

*ironic chuckle* He knows what I meant.

Silly rabbit.

“I’m sorry, you know how I get.

” Thanks again for letting me live this long even though I’ve almost killed myself several times and oh, btw, I have no idea why you let me live this long.

To see what I’ll do next probably….

That’s just, mean.

“Thanks for letting me see the things I’ve seen, meeting the people I’ve met and letting me believe that I ain’t as bad as I tell myself that I am”

“Dear Father”

“Help make me a better man. Help me do something to make a difference. Help me to be more patient and a loving Husband and Father. Help me to be a gooder man.”

“Dear Heavenly Father”

download

“Help me to be more humble and long suffering.”

[This is when I realize I’m being all biblical sounding, again]

repetition….breeds scripture abuse.

[I lower my now dry forehead to my clasp hands and squeeze my fingers harder, really serious part coming up]

“Father”

“Help me be the man we know I can be, thy will be done. I trust you”

“In the name of your son, Jesus Christ…….Amen”

[I stand and turn back to the mirror which is steamy again because the shower is still going and the faucet is running full blast….]

[I wipe a clear spot on the mirror and look at myself]

I hear the still small voice again…..

wpid-business-man-blank-sign-11-vector-104ggur52892-picsay.jpeg

“Peace, Trey.”

I talked To God today, in a truck stop shower and he answered me….

Oh, From me and God…

Be real.

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.

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

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.

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….?

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.

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.

Day 2 In Yuma

The title to this days blog kinda sounds like a western novel or movie or something, don’t it?

Uh oh, wayward tangent alert!

Here’s some more “titles” (while I’m increasing my caffeine levels) Yes, I know…I’m a terrible Mormon.

“The Watch” A fast paced movie about minute to minute time travel.

“Coffee Man” A novel about love and survival

“Loading….” A sci-fi mystery about patience and murder.

“Potty Break” Action “packed” cinematic dynamite, edge of your “seat”, “explosive” thriller about letting go…

Ok, I’m gonna stop now, I can see where this is going.

Speaking of potty break…..

BRB

Ok, I’m back. The Potty Break movie had a weak “ending”…..no real substance.

Ok Ok, I’ll stop!

What has gotten in to me so early this Tuesday morning!?

It IS Tuesday, right?

I don’t know what day it is. My phone is off….and I don’t know how to find it on my baby iPad.

Ok, I just figured out that my gps knows what day it is.

It’s Monday Jr?

WTH?!

That can’t be right.

Wayward tangent alert, again….

I just realized that I’ll probably never hold a leadership position in my church because I “may” have used inappropriate language in MANY of my previous blogs.

I kinda cuss when I’m being all emotional and creative….

In my defense, and y’all know this just as much, if not more than me…

Sometimes a dirty word is the only word that can work in certain instances. It takes one to get the EXACT point across: to match the flow of our literary intent….

Or, we (I) couldn’t think of a better word.

In my defense, I only have 33 credit hrs of college. In Texas….

Lets go with the creative juices thing….

Yeah, I’m a Cro-Magnon.

Sometimes I say bad words, think bad things, contemplate mass murder…or is it spree murder?

Hey, you try being a truck driver that goes all over this country, thru tiny towns and big cities and tell me that you don’t feel like running someone off the road!

Good thing is that I can keep fantasy, fantasy. Realistically, speaking….

It’s much more cool in my head; the fantasy part.

I could never kill in real life with the same satisfaction or special effects that I do in my head.

In fantasy dream mode (ok, pretend you’re seeing that daydream thing like they do on tv, with the wavy screen)

Ok, in dream mode, when I kill someone on the interstate (99% of the time its a 4 wheeler; car) there’s lots of screaming, rubber squealing and smoke, metal screeching & crunching, glass shattering and the smell of poop. Oh, and there’s always lots of fire & smoke, blood, guts, people flying thru windshields, the satisfying crunch as my 18 wheeler smashes thru their wrecking cars and over their pavement strewn bodies…..

*shudder in ecstasy*

It puts the lotion on it’s skin….

Thank the holy moly, but in real life, the whole “You’ll not do well in prison” filter keeps me sane.

Plus, I’d probably feel bad later.

Hold up, let me tell Jesus I’m sorry for murder in my heart.

This is my Granny’s fault; all this caring about people and crap.

Social norms…..Not killing fools.

EMPATHY for heck sakes.

Crazy old lady.

She’s the one that took me to church, taught me about Jesus, God and the Holy Ghost!

More importantly, the whole burning in hell thing if I run over people on the interstate, or undress pretty women in my head.

I’d marry them! Don’t be so quick to judge!

I’m a softie but HEY! At least I’m not a sociopath or psychopath , huh?!

That’s good news on this early Monday Jr!

Ok, I gotta go pick up some vegetables and start rolling towards F’n Jersey.

Y’all have an excellent Monday Jr.

TTYT

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: