Discovertcr! diaries - podcast
tcr! diaries - podcast

tcr! diaries - podcast

Author: tcr!

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The ebbs and flows of this alcoholic. It's all true. Sometimes I'm serious. Sometimes I'm not. The episodes tend to be short.
136 Episodes
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When I be my best self
I’ve been working on my magazine pretty much since I got up, trying to get the July issue all done and off to the printer. Sometimes the pages and layouts just spill onto my screen effortlessly. It’ll sound kinda corny but when I do my best creative work it feels like the cosmos is directing me. That whatever I’m doing just comes out all on it’s own.Same goes with writing or whatever, too. They’re not my words, they come from somewhere else. It’s like being funny. Everybody knows that we’re not funny when we’re trying to be.So if I force shit, it just never works. I end up frustrated and hating it. I need to let go and let the cosmic river take me where it sees fit.Anyways, I’d earmarked today to get this latest issue finished. I was plenty social yesterday and Maggie’s with her mom and I got nothing else going on. I just wanted to be alone and channel my expressive side. Plus, I needed to make things a priority now and then or I won’t get them done. And I had early 80s music on and everything. The B-52s.But the last 4-5 pages weren’t coming together. I was pushing crap around, rearranging content, deleting shit. Forcing my artistic hand and nothing was working.And then a thought came to me that wasn’t my own. Because I’m selfish and my best ideas are never mine.I messaged Sara:I don’t know if Hope is still with you or what your plans are until this evening, but if you wanted to hangout for an hour or two or whatever my magazine stuff can always wait.We set up plans for a couple of hours later and then, because I got out of me and what I wanted, put someone else before all that, the stars aligned and everything fell into place. Those last pages of the magazine came together with little effort and little time. The universe spirit moved my hands to paint for me.Okay, that was definitely corny but it’s true. When I be my best self, the best things happen to me. My magazine is more or less done and I get to see a beautiful girl.And then Hungry Like The Wolf by Duran Duran came on and life was complete.#diariesmagazine #advancedsoul #diariespodcastsadiebug92· Aug 5, 2018 at 4:00 pmBeautifully written. Love the honesty. ❤️ tcr!· Aug 5, 2018 at 4:41 pmThank you!! sadiebug92· Aug 5, 2018 at 5:12 pmYou’re welcome :) Momma J· Aug 5, 2018 at 6:06 pmSometimes just need to take a little pressure off the creativity part of us which of course is what you did. You might consider dropping in your magazine from monthly to bi-monthly? tcr!· Aug 5, 2018 at 8:54 pmI’ve thought about it but months are easy to keep track of 😊 sara· Aug 5, 2018 at 8:56 pmNo, we ate tacos and THEN life was complete. 💃 Momma J· Aug 5, 2018 at 8:58 pmLove it! Add a comment!  View original  

When I be my best self

2018-08-05--:--:--

Do you wanna know what will really suck?
It’ll be when you notice that the someone who you’ve spent years of your life with is now gone. You’ve already grieved in the months since they left and now it’s been a few years and then you realize again, for no apparent reason, that they no longer live in the home you once shared.And you’ll think about all those moments you let slip away when you could’ve held her hand but instead chose to be grumpy because he didn’t do the laundry that one time.Yeah, that’ll suck. Maybe you’ll want to rewind the clock and postpone that twentieth fishing trip of the summer, but dude you can’t.Remember that time you got pissy because you saw him looking out of the corner of his eye at a cute girl who walked by? Do you know why he did that? It wasn’t because he didn’t love you, it was because he’s human. And that’s what people do. If someone says they don’t look, they’re lying. So what if she’s checking out some hot guy that has more muscles than you. She chose you and that’s much bigger than any fleeting animal instinct.Because after you’re done doing all the yard work for the weekend you’ll be looking around and admiring what a good job you did, but no one will be right there to share it with you. That person may have been laid to rest or they might just be on the other side of town but either way they’ll be gone. The neighbors won’t pat you on the back either. They’ll just be glad your dandelion forest has been cut down.Sure, that might be a lovely castle you built for yourself but being a king or queen living alone is dreadful. And your new clip board won’t mean a fucking thing.Ask yourself what’s more important. Is it that the dishes are done or that you have someone to hold and love for the rest of your life? There will always be more dishes to do but there won’t always be somebody home.It’ll be after 5 o’clock on a Saturday night and the only person you’ll have talked to is the Hispanic lady in the drive-through window at McDonald’s. And she’ll barely be able to speak English.So go ahead and chase your dreams like Edmund did when he first climbed Mount Everest but after you’re done get your ass back to base camp and kiss the woman that kept your dinner warm. If you don’t have someone to share your triumphants with, what’s the point in having them?And the next time that he’s watching some dumb documentary on the History channel about WWII technology, grab some couch and just be with him. Even if Panzer tanks do have you rolling your eyes. Don’t wait until the moment you walk by an empty couch with the TV off to figure out that you made a mistake and missed your chance for happily ever after.And all those things you hold dear, that are oh so important, like emptying the cat litter or finishing that video game, they’re all inconsequential when paired against a living, breathing person who loves you.And, on the off chance, that person is still with you now then hug them dearly.People need time to grow into their best selves. You do, too. Enjoy the journey together. It’s not one you’ll want to make on your own.--PS- I normally stay away from writing in the “you" perspective but for this story it seemed fitting. Because it’s not all just about me.#photos #relationships #birdbath #diariespodcastAdd a comment!  View original  
In this icecapade parade (or life became balanced)
Wherein fate is for people who have given up, part 3 of 3.I’m going to jump right in because this story is already long enough in my head. And it’s taken far too long to write. I’ve grown weary of fate and all that it doesn’t have to offer. I’m ready for closure.So there’s this lady I kinda work with, helping with a project of hers. I get the feeling she got a few dysfunctional nuances about her. Most likely some anger management issues stoked by a little low self-esteem.My heart goes out to her every now and then, when I see her socially wobbling. My own self-esteem has been a struggle for more of my life than I’d like to admit. So sometimes I want to give her a shoulder to lean on until she can find her balance. Watching people wrestle with and within themselves is heartbreaking.But. When she turns and looks directly at me inflamed, raises her voice, then all bets are off and I stop caring if she’s a suffering human being. She kinda likes to fight. There’s an overly aggressive drive in her of sorts. One of her nuances. And when we argue it’s paramount that she wins. And that everybody knows she’s right. All along. Even if all evidence and witnesses are saying that she’s wrong.I’m not interested in being right in the here and now. Or fighting. And she seems to need to do both. But fighting to be right is a fight no one will ever win. Everyone goes away a loser.I cover up and brace for impact most days. What else am I to do when she comes charging in, other than take a defensive stance, preparing to fend off her oncoming assault? The answer is to pray, of course, to stay plugged into the cosmos so I’m walking a spiritual path before getting into the boxing ring. Pray beforehand for guidance rather than praying afterward for help. Prevent rather than correct kinda thing.But it’s like, fuck I don’t want to have to do spiritual pushups each and every time prior to seeing this lady. I don’t ask the cosmos for guidance before I hang out with Sara or Maggie. When I’m with them everything just is. There’s no drama or stress. We hold hands out of love. We don’t take jabs at each other because the greater good of our relationship is more overall important than any one person. That’s how you both win.Okay, so this is the point in the show where things get more specific. Up until now I’ve just been setting the stage for you avid readers.Over the past few months she started taking a keen interest in my daily well being. Hourly well being as it came to be.Between 9 and 10 AM she would send me a message and ask me how I was doing. And then I would say something like, “I’m doing good, working on your project.” I always tried to be professional and polite but I’m not going to engage more than superficially with someone whose goal is to be right. Fuck that.And then she got in the habit of sending me another message, around maybe 11:30 AM. Again, she would ask me how I was doing and I would respond that I was doing good. In my head I would say, “I’m doing just as good as when you asked me an hour ago.”But wait, peeps! There’s more. She started messaging me in the afternoon, too. I shit you not, this happened almost every workday. Three to four, “How you doing? How’s it going? All good?” type of messages.It didn’t really even feel like she wanted to know how I was doing. Sometimes it felt like she thought she was being cool, doing finger guns, master of the universe shit. Maybe she didn’t have anything better to do. Maybe it felt good for her to ask caring questions, take an interest in another human being because up until then she never really had.Humans are complex creatures and our relationships with them can take place on many levels. It’s not always this factor that’s coming into play. Or that factor. Sometimes it’s a combination of both. Sometimes it’s a third factor. Pour in a quart of passive-aggressive and you have a milkshake most people don’t wanna talk to.I don’t know her ingredients, well her propellant exactly. Why she kept bugging me because I’m sure it was obvious by now that it was getting on my nerves. All of them. Even the baby nerves just born were shouting, “Oh hell no. Not this drivel again.”It got to the point where I wouldn't even respond to most of her messages. I would answer the first one of the day but then ignore any that came after that. At work I don’t transplant hearts or build rockets but what I do does take brain power. And then every time she would message me it’d interrupt what I was doing, totally break my train of thought.Think of it like a mechanic under a car with someone routinely coming in the garage asking silly questions. Sooner or later the mechanic is gonna roll out from under the car and say, “I’m fucking working here, you dumbass.”And I’m a big boy at work. I’ve been doing my job for a long time and if I need help or have questions, I ask. My ego is pretty much non-existent in the workplace. I’ve mostly learned my lessons and what happens when said ego gets too big. I just want to do a good job at work and then go home.One morning I counted how many times she messaged me how I was doing. Three times that particular day. Before 10 AM. Jesus Christ Almighty. This is when, in this icecapade parade, I quit even acknowledging that she sent any of them.Where’s my socket wrench? I’m gonna smack somebody upside the head.And you guys know my go-to for people who get on my nerves. I write them off.Somewhere in this story I was bitching to Sara about all of this and she said maybe she’s worried, because I was being short with her, and that’s why she kept asking how I was doing. And then I thought, “Good. She should be worried because she’s really pissing me off.”And yeah, I did write her off a long time ago. It was easy and called for. Totally appropriate as far as I could tell. Monkey throwing poop at you, you best move along. Because they’re gonna keep lobbing their shit.However, working with someone every day, even remotely, that you’ve written off is an exercise in agony. I don’t like shutting down. I don’t like being cut off from the sunlight and that’s how I feel when I build walls to keep people out. Loving you critters and having you love me is what makes the world go ‘round.Anyways, there’s all the fruity spiritual stuff and then there’s real life. In any corporate world there’ll be bitches clawing their way to the top. And sometimes scratching you in the face because their childhoods sucked. Because they’ve never dealt with why they have that low self-esteem. Sometimes I get the feeling some people don’t even know that they do. It’s kinda like when the woman on NPR said, “I never knew I had anxiety. I just knew I needed another cigarette.”I settled into the fact, that this endless stream of comms, and the ring fights to be right are just how it’s going to be with this lady. A spinning airlock door I wasn’t going to get out of until our paths led us far and away from each other. Because people don’t change and my spiritual skills only have so much mileage. My patience for morons is only so high.And then I’d been thinking about fate way too much this past summer. Because it’s been in the back of my mind and under my skin since forever. Sometimes it feels like I’m doomed. Sometimes it’s easier to just give in and give up to the melancholy than to keep disobeying gravity and fighting fights with people I’ll never win either.So I prayed and put this big ball of bullshit into the cosmos’ hands.And then I didn’t feel any better. Nothing changed. The “how you doing” messages kept coming. And we still kept boxing.I’m not a big fan of how I’ve felt throughout this whole story. Dysfunction was normal for the better part of my life and since I started looking for fruity enlightenment, bad behaviors don’t feel right any more. They feel yucky. I don’t like being at odds with people.Because I think too much, I was thinking one night that maybe Sara was right. Because she’s way more compassionate than I am. Compassion in her DNA. So maybe that low self-esteem underneath was what was triggering that lady’s barrage of “all good?” messages. It’s obviously what’s behind her need to be right. People who’re okay with themselves don’t need to prove anything to anybody.And then I was reading something that Pema wrote in her book[1]When Things Fall Apart ...Compassionate action is a practice, one of the most advanced. There’s nothing more advanced than relating with others.So maybe the message lady was anxious by my lack of acknowledgement, by my lack of participation in she and I’s conversations. If someone was all but ignoring me I’d probably be worried that I’d done something that hurt them. And without self-analysis it’s easy to fall into the trap of never looking at what I myself am doing.The real story here isn’t about the lady though. Or our fights. Or even our messages.It’s about me.I kinda sorta believe that we sit in the same grade until we’re ready to move onto the next one. And that can suck when we feel like we’re repeating the same lesson over and over again. It’s pretty easy for me to shut down and run away. Never legitimately learn from whatever assignment is on my desk. But then I never grow. I’m stuck eating the same leaves, day in and day out.So I needed to do something about and in my dealings with this lady. Just for me. Regardless of what else happened.Sara also said that the lady and I were caught in a “dysfunctional, infinite loop.” When it becomes all too evident that my self-defeating patterns are running the show, I can’t live with them anymore. Because I don’t like feeling stuck. Knowing that I am stuck. I want to be a bigger person, be a better man than I was a year ago. Be bigger than the guy who was treading water in useless swimming metaphors.And then I was thinking a thought that wasn’t my own. One of those thoughts that wasn’t my idea, one that doesn’t come to me by default ...People deserve your full attention.I’d wrote about that topic not long ago but only in reference to people I care about. It had nothing to do with, nor had I any intention of applying that to people I’d written off.So then the next morning when the first “how you doing” message popped up, I concentrated 100% on the conversation. I stopped multitasking, shut off the headphone music, and even turned away from my desk so as not to be distracted. I didn’t do anything but directly engage in the conversation, focused solely on what she was saying.It can be difficult for me to do the opposite of what I’m accustomed to doing, even more so when other people are behaving badly. But I did it anyway. I took a step in the right direction and let the god within take me where I needed to go spiritually.I acted like I cared about her and her feelings. Because she was human. A whole human being. I tried to be as loving and accepting with her as I am with my friends.At first she seemed a little wary, a little unsure about getting my full participation but within a few minutes she was completely gung-ho to be gabbing. It felt like both of us came out of that spinning airlock. Life became balanced. The wheels were no longer in motion and the runaway train stopped and let us both off.People want to feel a part of. They want to feel accepted, that they count.Looking past their shortcomings isn’t always easy but it is possible when I do some real soul searching and look at the world from a cosmic perspective. Get out of the minute details and look at life from afar. Stop using my magnifying glass to scrutinize someone else’s most annoying traits.When our morning message conversation was over, I felt better and I hope that she left the conversation feeling good about it, too. I think she did as she lightened up on sending as many messages from then on. Maybe my attitude change had a positive impact on her attitude. It doesn’t matter, though, because I felt good about me.I can talk spiritual truths all day long but when I live the change I want to see in the world I get to stand in the sunlight once again. The loop no longer exists. I can move around in life and not live behind the walls I’m too good at building. Because when I build walls they keep everything out, not just the certain someones I’m not getting along with.Every now and then I’ll still get more “how you doing” messages than I’d like and I can still get pretty frustrated with her. On my worst days I’ll again flat out ignore her and her bullshit for sure.On my best days I’m confident in who I am and what I believe and engaging in the fight provides little interest and little value. Confidence is a bonus point from humility. It lets us walk with our heads held high. It lets us move forward because everything we do will be okay no matter what.And when I do feel like I’m entering that dysfunctional loop, mostly it’s plain as day and that awareness makes it easier to take a step back.Do I really wanna get in that ring again? Not really.The cosmos will heal us, teach us when we’re ready and receptive.At the end of the day do you know what I really hate? Being full of loathing. Look toward the future and assume it’ll be dreadful. “Hate” because when one’s heart has been touched by love, the doom and gloom from yesterday sit in piss unappealing.Fate is for people who have given up. After living with a predetermined future for this long and having concrete examples to the contrary, I can say that I no longer see it as valid cosmic force. I have plenty of my own real life evidence that says the opposite. Personal experience is always what changes my mind.And really, I’ve found the future to be mostly irrelevant. We live in this very second and what we do this very moment is all that matters.That’s where the change takes place. That’s where miracles happen. That’s where we decide how our lives will be today. The cosmic now.If we do our best work in the here and now then when we look back, our memories will be wonderful.#fatedebate #advancedsoul #diariespodcastSara got me that book because her heart is that big. ↑Momma J· Jul 25, 2018 at 4:44 pmWOW tcr!· Jul 25, 2018 at 5:12 pmI’m assuming that’s a good “wow” 😊 Momma J· Jul 25, 2018 at 5:50 pmYES! tcr!· Jul 25, 2018 at 9:11 pmGood 🤩 Shawneemicks· 4 days agoAwesome insights my man tcr!· 4 days agoThank you! It was a long fought battle that mostly turned out okay in the end. 😊 Add a comment!  View original  
Treading water (or unfasten your seatbelts)
Wherein fate has limits, part 2 of 3.Toward the end of my drinking it was like treading water. Never going anywhere, not having any fun, just struggling to do the bare minimum to stay afloat. A soggy, pathetic, emotional mess.I was well past my reckless youth, going out and getting into trouble, wrecking cars, being thrown in jail. Well past the padded room I chased an orderly out of with a safety pin. It was just me, the liquor, and myself. Paddling in a sea of cold air in a dark, damp basement.I’m going to mix and match reality and imagination. Analogies and metaphors. Because that’s what you do when you’re me.So to continue with the useless swimming metaphor, I would watch people up on the beach barbecuing, playing frisbee, soaking up sun rays. My family was there, too.And there I was, what felt like miles away, growing physically tired of the repetitive stokes. And miserably alone. Really though, everybody was only a few feet away, just up and around the stairs.A few years ago I used this same metaphor but in that story there was an anchor and a chain weighing me down. In the years since first writing of it I’ve change my mind. That rusty chain implied an external force that had me moored. But that’s not true. It was only me and my inner turmoil that kept me treading water on the futon.Every now and then my ex-wife would tell me that I needed to come in from the water, be with them up on the beach. Sit with them. But I never listened. I couldn’t hear what she was saying over the water and my splashing. It was all too loud. It was all but impossible to listen. I couldn’t focus when I was drunk. My head sunburnt with hellfire hangovers. My eyes closed after my favorite sunglasses were washed away.I would often think to myself, this is it. I’m not gonna die from exploding diving tanks in a fiery crash. I’m just going to be stuck here treading water, corroding over the decades. Because I can swim against the tides all I want but there’s no escape from the thrashing whirlpool, the sticky tarpit of fate.And then maybe one day when I don’t have any strength left I’d just slip away. Lethally injected with alcoholic strychnine. In yet another metaphor. Poor me.Anyways, one day in between waves (or days depending on your makeup) I’m spying my family up on the beach and then she starts packing up the car. I cried out in panicked silence as my insides unfroze.“Holy shit she’s really gonna leave. She’s not playing around this time. The trunk is open and she’s actually putting the picnic basket and shit in there.”And then I freaked. Swam to shore like a true Olympian. Like a flock of sharks were nipping at my toes. Whatever cosmic harpoon that had me tethered to myself had finally been cut.When I reached the sand and the shore and the safety of solid ground, dear lord, the panic didn’t stop. It multiplied. In color. I hadn’t done the whole sober living thing since 152nd Street. And I sucked at it.So I ran up and down the beach like my hair was on fire in a full blown, year-plus-long panic attack. Being out of the water and on my feet was messy. My eyes needed to adjust, my fingers needed to dry out. I needed to catch my breath.And then I got a new futon. Because the old one had been torpedoed to death. With bullshit.So I guess my point to this story is that when the pain of staying the same is greater than the pain of change, we will swim for our lives. Fate be damned.#alcoholism #fatedebate #diariespodcastMomma J· Jul 12, 2018 at 2:13 pmSo glad you made the choice to swim tcr!· Jul 12, 2018 at 2:31 pmMe, too! Sammons· Jul 13, 2018 at 12:39 amMe too! Add a comment!  View original  
Within a 10 block radius
So this past weekend I pulled into the gas station to get some supplies. It’s the weekend and it’s sunny so the gas station is plum full of cars. I pull up close to the building in an empty spot. It wasn’t an official parking spot but gas stations are free-for-alls when they’re busy. One guy had even parked right in front of entrance to the gas station so whatever.I go in and get my supplies, wait in line for 10 minutes while Aunt Loretta picks out her Powerball numbers. My favorite thing.Also, before I say anymore, don’t make this about you. Because it’s not.I come back out, get in my truck, and am getting ready to leave when a guy, a big dude, tries to squeeze in between my truck and the gas station. Of course he could’ve easily walked around on the other side but no, he chose to squeeze through the narrow corridor between my truck and the station.There wasn’t even a sidewalk there for crying out loud. Well, there was but nobody could walk on it with the ice machine, firewood, stacks of blue washer fluids taking all the walkway real estate.So I’m sitting there close enough to literally touch him as he shimmies by. About a foot past my driver side window he starts shaking his head in what I can only assume to be judgmental disbelief that I had the ABSOLUTE NERVE to park where I did.Shit like that gets on my nerves like you wouldn’t believe. I don’t do well when people judge me for situations they put themselves in to begin with. Like I’m somehow at fault because he couldnt squeeze his 600 pound life through the two foot gap I left.So then I yell out in all of my spiritual glory, “FUCK YOU” loud enough for anybody within a 10 block radius to hear.He doesn’t turn around but instead continues toward the gas station door.And then I realize that wasn’t another of my finest moments.PS- I want to stress that I see this as something along the lines of me going into the Big and Tall stores and then shaking my head because nothing on the racks is in my size.#socialproblems #diariespodcastAdd a comment!  View original  

Within a 10 block radius

2018-07-09--:--:--

You cannot unbutton this jacket
Wherein fate is a miserable state, part 1 of 3.Rivers want to roll downhill. You can put a dam up and stop their flow but their destination won’t change. They all dump into the sea. And eventually your dam will give out and then you or somebody else will build another dam but yet, still the river flows downhill. With all man’s technological marvel, water is what it is.That’s abstract and non-personal but also a good pre-game show.Because then there was that one time we were leaving a neighborhood Christmas party. As I’m walking down the sidewalk with family in tow, I slipped and fell on a patch of ice. I saw it coming like a slow motion horror flick. Time slowed to a near stand still and the whole audience screamed, “don’t go down there!!” But then I kept going toward certain doom anyway and gravity did its thing.There’s nothing you can do about gravity. It’s the Terminator that can’t be talked to or reasoned with. It will always be there. Pulling you down. Because that’s what it does. Gravity has only one job and it never fails. It never quits.Even though I tried to be as careful as I could I still went crashing down on the frozen, slippery sidewalk. In front of the everybody. Just as they all knew I would. I felt as if everybody but me expected me to fall. Because I had it coming. It was in my cards.That’s how I see fate. A piece of shit gravitational, cosmic force and it’s coming for you. It won’t let you down and does exactly what it’s supposed to do. Good luck cheating it. Because you won’t. Nobody can.Fate’s never been anything good to me. Never thought of fate as having a positive outcome. Maybe that’s my true nature of pessimism shining through regardless of how many pictures of sunsets and flowers I take. Underneath the cosmic candy coating is a thread, not vindictive, but menancing inevitable.A distant dead end terminal that's only getting closer. And then I’m riding the runaway train. That’s going to derail when it smashes into the concrete wall of fate. And I’m the engineer who can’t do anything but watch in horror. Feel the momentum and the chugging that keeps me off balance as I’m unwillingly whisked away to the last stop.I can only know that the crash is coming. It’s for certain. It’s just fate. There’s no getting off and there’s no stopping the wheels. They’ve always been in motion. The engine’s supercharged and the brakes are out. Fate’s seatbelts are fastened and I can struggle all I like but too bad, I’m stuck in this seat.Along the same lines, the calendar says biblical armageddon up ahead, around the bend. And there ain’t shit anybody can do. History’s already been written and the words read rapture. And I’ve never been good with religion. So I’m fucked. I’ve never measured up anyway and according to fate, I never will. It’s already been decided. The scripture’s ink is dry and red. One cannot unwrite or undo fate. There’s no redos and you only get one shot. Plus you didn’t even draw the arrow or take the aim.Just like time, fate wants to happen. In the sci-fi shows I watch where the characters time travel they generally have this as a central and understood theme: changing the course of history is all for naught. Because even if they do something different, events happen anyway. The end result is still now and will always be the same.And if possibly, on the off chance, someone does alter the timeline to cheat and beat fate then the cosmos is pissed and things far worse unfold. Nice try. But no.My interest in time travel, physics, and the like is not because I want to unlock the mysteries of the universe, but because I want to unlock the door, disengage the bolt that holds my fate in place. To feel confident that one day I’ll walk past the ice without falling.Unfortunately what I feel[1] now is that I can struggle all I want, swim against the tides but there’s no escape from the thrashing whirlpool, the sticky tarpit of fate. I’m stuck with this black and bleak outcome forever. What I want long term is irrelevant. Fate is unavoidable. It’s determined.Of course when I rewind to the Christmas icecapade it’s true that I’d been alcoholic drinking in the hours before I fell. But how many alcoholics are doomed, feel doomed to their intoxicated fate? I doubt if it’s their idea. No alcoholic ever said, “I’d like to spend my life in isolation and despair, hurt all the people I ever loved and cared about. Give up my sense of humanity and devo to an incoherent mess, too drunk to even wonder what went wrong but burdened with emotional suffering and a liquor that keeps flowing like a feast, a celebration to the gods."The last six months or so that I was drinking, well that’s just the way it was going to be. That it had to be. And there was zero I could do about it. Chained to a stupor on the futon, watching black-and-white movies where the monsters were just off screen and coming for you. The shot focusing on the terror building in the B-movie bystanders as the monsters off camera were moving closer. And closer. And closer.Fate’s a death sentence and nobody wants to die. But you have to. Fate is seriously a haunted undertone and undertow my whole life. The current insists without compromise that you will go where it wants you to go. Even if you drown.Fate’s food coloring that’s stained my soul despite my best efforts to convince myself otherwise.And karma’s got nothing on fate either because, even if you’re good, you’ll still crash your bike. Because that’s what was meant to happen all along. Because fate overrules destiny. We’re all just peons squeaking protests over in the corner of our garage.Don’t take this all as my argument in favor of fate. I’m not a big fan of the concept. But this is how I feel when I take an honest look. Since Halloween.Look at the evidence. How many people have you known that went off on a life tangent that didn’t make any sense? That was horribly self-destructive but then they kept going anyway?That was just their fate. Sure, people can be stubborn and human in the things they do but self-preservation seems like it’d win out over all else. But it doesn’t. Seems to me that we’re being forcibly led (dragged) by something much bigger. And for a flock of humans that finality isn’t good. And again, they don’t have a say in the matter. They don’t have a choice. Magnetized to choices they don’t wanna make.But back to Halloween. In the 1978 movie there’s a scene where the main character, Laurie, is day dreaming in high school. Preoccupied with her own thoughts. The teacher is droning on and slowly her voice begins to fade. And then Carpenter’s eerie piano kicks in and Laurie sees the bogeyman outside, standing obvious, behind a car. His time is not now but he wants her to know that it’s coming.And then Laurie is snapped back to class when the teacher tells her to “answer the question.” Laurie quickly obliges with what seems to be an answer she knew all along, with an answer she had physically witnessed a split second before....Samuels felt that fate was like a natural element. Like earth, air, fire, and water.Her teachers agrees.That’s right, Samuels definitely personified fate. In Samuels’ writing fate is unmovable, like a mountain. It stands where man passes away. Fate never changes.The end.#allislost #fatedebate #diariespodcastIt’s a feeling, not a belief. Intellect tells me I’m being silly with this, but feelings tell me things are real. ↑Add a comment!  View original  
Post mortem, Bourdain
The thing that I had a hard time wrapping my mind around with Anthony Bourdain's suicide is that I kept thinking he was supposed to be above all of that. I wanted not to be surprised but I really was. I felt let down at first regardless of what I said.I don’t have the kind of heroes or as many of them as I did when I was a teenager but Bourdain may have been the closest thing I had to a celebrity hero as a grown-up.From the time he was a teenager, through his 20s and 30s, on into his 40s and 50s, and then even in his 60s I admired and respected his different phases and who he ended up as a human being.With his death I kept thinking annoyed, “you don’t give up.”When people lose their hope it can sometimes rub off on us. There’s nothing good enough out there to look forward to kinda thing. When the future’s not bright and the struggles of everyday are too much then what’s the point?I never saw Bourdain as wondering what the point was though. Or running out of hope. But then again I only saw what made it into his TV shows.Kinda sucks that real-life heroes are only humans, too.#anthonybourdain #allislost #diariespodcastfleming· Jun 25, 2018 at 10:42 amI loved Bourdain, too, watched him throughout the years, and always thought he had such sad eyes, like he was carrying the weight of the world. After periodically reading he suffered from depression, alcoholism and heroin addiction, this sadness made sense to me. I also read he had relapsed with the heroin and that broke my heart, but I understand when the last vestiges of hope are gone and the pain is so overwhelming, death seems to be the only option for relief. I am so sad he is gone, but will never…as some will say…will never call him a coward or selfish. Imagine the pain he must have suffered to resort to suicide, and feel only loss and sympathy. DeeDee· Jun 25, 2018 at 11:15 amI luv him too! erin· Jun 25, 2018 at 11:51 amHe keeps showing up in my dreams but I am not sure what he is there to teach me. tcr!· Jun 25, 2018 at 4:53 pmWell, my take is that I know you you’re a traveler and I know that you love good food so my guess would be that you’re to write a cookbook. erin· Jun 27, 2018 at 12:34 amAnthony Hopkins made an appearance last night so I am leaning away from cookbook. #truestory #benadryl elaineorr· Jun 25, 2018 at 11:56 amMaybe what we learn is that when we ask someone how they are they they say, “Having a bad day,” or even “so-so,” we need to ask, “What’s going on with you?” or “How can I help?” prokop· Jun 25, 2018 at 4:44 pmI felt the same. It’s just so sad. Add a comment!  View original  

Post mortem, Bourdain

2018-06-25--:--:--

Unless I'm a celebrity gardener
Not long ago I was reading an article wherein the author said that people aren’t going to care about what you’re doing. Like if I plant a wonderful garden people aren’t going to come from miles around to see it. They won’t throw flowers and shower me with attention.Unless I’m a celebrity gardener, nobody will care.How the author believed it did work was like this: if I care about you and your garden then you in turn will care about me and my garden. Of course there’s no black and white rule that you can apply to all people or all situations but I do think there’s a lot to be said for me caring about you and you reciprocating.All the people that subscribe to my magazine, I’ve established relationships with them. Showed a true interest in them as human beings. And not because I want them to subscribe but because I legitimately care about them and their lives. Because people can smell a rat.I don’t want to go off on a ratty tangent but I do know that my life is much bigger, much more meaningful when I get to experience another person’s sorrow and happiness. And as a bonus I get to have people care about me and my pursuits. Humans are special. Valuable creatures. If I want to be treated as such then I better do my part.It’s not always easy to stop and listen to what people are saying when we have plates in the air spinning but what I’ve found is that being there for another’s triumphants becomes so much more fulfilling than experiencing mine own.Okay, I’d like to think myself all that and a bag of chips but I’m not that spiritual. I don’t fully engage all the time with everyone else’s wins.However, when I do life is pretty good. Another's joy will lift up my soul and foster my own creativity. My struggles aren’t that impossible and my plates don’t spin nearly as fast.And if the china falls, whatever.#relationships #advancedsoul #diariespodcastKarly· Jun 22, 2018 at 9:58 amYou had me until that last line. Replace “whatever” with primal scream and all out panic….and then I’m back in. Lol tcr!· Jun 22, 2018 at 10:18 amThat’s funny. I like to use examples like breaking china because they make me uncomfortable with the thought of them actually happening. Add a comment!  View original  
Red faced robot
So I have this thing that I’ve been doing ever since I was a teenager. It’s not a healthy thing and I’ve struggled to let go of it ever since I stopped drinking.Most of the time I don’t even realize I’m doing it until after I’ve already done it.In the last several weeks I realized just how bad the behavior is. How it takes me out of the moment and distracts me from all that I have and all that's truly important.So I've paying attention in life and seek not to put myself in the situations that prompt my bad behavior in the first place. And I pray for graceful nudges to keep me on the right spiritual path. Me being who I am, it's all too easy for me to wander off on a self-seeking tangent.And I’m proud to say that I’ve done fairly well at not doing it.What is it you may be wondering? That is another very good question but it doesn’t matter.Anyways, what really sparked my attention to this behavior is that I had somebody do the same thing to me recently. After I’d been doing my best not to do it. And it didn’t feel good. It was a real eye-opener of just how bad it can be when you’re on the receiving end. Karma defined if you will.And then in related news, what the real story is, is when Sara told me that she didn’t believe in karma.The notion that karma is false hasn't left since. Maybe karma is dogma, a made up law to keep people in line for fear of cosmic reprisal.And then I thought that Sara's most likely a spiritual revolutionary.Karma keeps me out of the moment, keeps me waiting for yesterday's falling dominoes to finally catch up and knock me down in the present. It feeds my suspicion and keeps me thinking that I don't deserve nice things. Because of the bad things I've done.Karma also gives us a reason "why" and typically that's never important. To our internal struggles.What is important is me being the best me that I can be. In the here and now.#photos #robots #advancedsoul 🤔 #diariespodcastMomma J· Jun 20, 2018 at 10:14 amPlease tell us what Behavior you are referring to!! tcr!· Jun 20, 2018 at 10:17 amIrrelevant :) jimi hindrance experience· Jun 20, 2018 at 10:18 amIt doesn’t matter. Momma J· Jun 20, 2018 at 10:19 amNot irrelevant to me, your mother! Momma J· Jun 20, 2018 at 10:20 amHi Jimi - it matters to me, his mother! jimi hindrance experience· Jun 20, 2018 at 10:28 amOk. We’re both pretty sure it wasn’t anything monstrous. I doubt he’s capable of anything our imaginations can conjure. I’m on your side, Jeanie. :) cp1989· Jun 20, 2018 at 10:31 amWhat did you do to those dolls? heather· Jun 20, 2018 at 2:13 pmI bet it’s picking your nose tcr!· Jun 20, 2018 at 5:04 pmClose Add a comment!  View original  

Red faced robot

2018-06-20--:--:--

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