My Life

 

 

 

Well, it might have come thirty years later than it should have, but I get it now.

 

I have spent the past 20+ years figuring things out and doing serious soul searching on the path to becoming the dude that I am now, but it is an ongoing evouoution of the self. Like in that old cancer commercial, “it is a bunch of little eureka’s” (if you remember this, you might be old, or an Al Waxman fan).

 

I concider myself somewhat sensitive to the needs and feelings of others, but I am still an old dog, raised in a different time, and in ways, with diferent values.

 

When I was in school, there were very few “special needs” kids, and I was told that I was lazy and stupid. The teachers would take great delight in passing arround my writing that they refered to as Glenn’s “hyrogliphics”, then laugh and laugh.

 

You see writing hurts, and still does. I can only write a sentence or two and my hands start hurting, but back then, they just said I was lazy.

 

Not that I am complaining (much), and we all have our things to deal with, but as I said, 40 years ago, things were, well just different.

 

Like at work, I know that helping to take down the salad bar is not my job, and I enjoy it, unless I am really busy, then I need as much time as I can get for my own work. I could however be wrong, so I wont say anything, and I am the new guy, and I have a habit of choosing the wrong time to speak up (which I only find funny in retrospect).

 

Well, I am probably straying a bit from my chosen topic, the point is that the teachers made fun of me, and I felt worthless.

 

Oh yes I have a screwed up eye, which to me is no biggie, but it does tend to affect how people “sometimes” treat me, for example, I went back to school as an adult and actually completed something.

 

I will write muh more about this in time, but right now it is only important that I took a series of courses, finished something, and really felt good.

 

Unfortunately there were many interviews where interviewers would say things like “your eye might bother the staff, or our customers”, or the place that said “no, we can’t let you work on computers, but you could work part time, unloading the trucks”

 

Out of desperation I even went to Employabilities, who specialize in placing disabled people. I walked in and before I could explain about my (computer) certifications, the fellow sat back, crossed his hands and said (and I quote) “you are unemployable, you might as well leave”.

 

Talk about feeling worthless, but once again, well, until I gave up, and now I mainly just wash dishes and work in warehouses. I do however keep plugging away at the computer thing, sort of like the lottery, if you don’t buy a ticket, you don’t have any hope.

 

Now that the stage is set, I will get back to our little morality play for tonight.

 

I was sitting in the bar after work a few nights ago, and being a bar there was were one (well more, but that is not part of this story) obnoxious jerk.

 

By the way, this is one reason that I stopped drinking, after getting my little bit of education, I went from a happy drunk to an obnoxious one.

 

anyway, this jerk (emboldened by alchohol) yelled out “********, you have the sweetest ass that I have ever seen”.

 

well sir, all of a sudden, all these things came rushing back to my memory, as I saw this poor girl tighten up, and I could just feel the frustration.

 

It is sad to say, but true, if a lady works in a bar, she will get bigger tips, the fewer or tighter her cloths, that is life, and she chose to work there.

 

No one however should be treated like a thing, or that all they are is a “nice ass”, and sadly I will say to this lady, and all other bar waitresses, whenever this happens, I am sorry, but at least, I get it now.

 

Be happy,be good to others and remember to be good to yourself (you are worth it).

 

Glenn

gaburey@talkingtoghosts.com

So If you remember where we left off, that is great, but just in case (you know I tend to ramble) I will summerize.

I wont (if I am strong enough), have degrading sex with men just to relive how I feel arround “father”. Strangely, or happily for me as I like women, unless I am reenacting this role (I assume).

So what do I do so I can overcome this hornyness, whithout doing anything degrading or degrading anyone else?

Maybe I should add a note here, you see I am always talking about sex and it seems (even to me) that I am always horny, wich is another reason that I can’t date. Would you want to be sitting across form this drooling beast at a restaurant who is obviously obsessed with nine years of sexual frustration (and, well, it is a restaurant, so I would pretty much be drooling anyway).

I had a thought, why not just budget for some “compensated company” every once in a while?

Well, at first I will be so crazy from lack of sex that, well (brain, cartoon!), I picture this Lady of the evening standing at my door about to ring the doorbell, then noticing  some bills in her hand, and thinking, wow, that was quick.

Now once this initial sexual release is taken care of, I am sure that I will settle down into the normal male routine, of only, “mostly” thinking about sex, instead of having it consume my life.

Yes, why not just do like I did in Vagas (awsome story) and let professionals look after me?

Well, prostitutes are hard working women, who really are not given the respect, dignity and admiration that we give to (or should give to) any other business woman.

These women, are women first and shouldn’t be put down or used. Unfortunately, I feel that me going to them for help, might be “using them”, so I am not sure what to do.

I have heard very often that there are “women giving it away, everywhere”, well. not so, and if they are, could they be doing it for a wrong reason (like me and abusive guys).

Once again, the “guy” thing hasn’t happened yet and hopefully wont.

So I don’t know what to do, which brings to mind ,,, a story!

This story is entitled “How a prostitute made me feel really good for a toonie!”

For all you international readers, in Canada the $2 dollar coin is referred to as the “toonie”, just google it (or google it on Yahoo) for a fuller explanation.

I was working in one of the more interesting, but less disireable parts of town, and one day while waiting for my bus a slightly grubby but nice looking woman approached me, and being a guy, I sucked my gut in and thought, “alright”.

She asked me if I had any spare change and being a hippie (and she being a woman), I reached in my pocket and produced a toonie, placed it in her super soft and totally hot hand, gently closed it, like in the movies, and looked her in the eye as she said with a smile, “well, it is easier than a date”.

I smiled back and said, “you wouldn’t want to be with me anyway, I mean, just look at me.

She then came close, touched my arm, and whispered in my ear, “it’s okay, it will happen for you”.

And that my friends is the story of how “A prostitute made me feel good for a toonie”.

The point of this heartwarming and poignient story (to me it is heartwarming and a bit poignient, what ever that is), is that I see these women as they are , people, and business women, I just don’t know if I could go to them, in case I caused emotional harm.

What will I do, stay tuned and find out. unless you are a woman in Edmonton, who knows what I am going through and wants to help (please please please please please please please please).

So I guess that I should not have sex until father dies, goes into a home or is taken over by one of my (in name) brothers.

How I ended up here, when I was happy up north, well, that story is well (but not fully) covered on my previous posts.

Let us just say that neither of the brothers could be bothered to look after father, and for some strange reason he thinks that the sun shines out of there butts; while I am the looser, but more on that latter.

Now to be honest now that father is getting (even) older, my younger brother is talking about taking him, which would be great, except that it will never happen. Mind you it is smart of him to talk like that as father is getting closer to the inevitable.

Oh yes, I really don’t trust people or there motivation much anymore.

Anyhoo, he will be 82 soon and I was trying to ask him if he would like me to get him an e-book reader, and the usual happened. Moments after I started talking his stare went to the window and became distant; well at this point there is no point talking. You see he does this when ever I speak, unless it is an answer to a direct question.

A lifetime ago I loved with a wonderfully messed up woman (whom I truly hope is happy, as she really was cool), who destroyed my life with a small, insignificant question.

One day, almost as an afterthought she asked, “why do your parents always interrupt you, and not the other kids?”.

Well sir, it was at that moment that my (up until then) perfect fairy tail life, and my perfect loving family was torn away, never to return.

If you scour some of my previous post you can get the full story of how I came to be back to this dysfunctional dung heap; and hopefully it is interesting reading.

Before we move on let me issue this warning. Should a family member need you, and you already have any sort of a life, forget them, let them fucking rot, cause they will just crush your spirit and drag you down with them. For me it is too late the emotional (and I am sure, physical) damage is done, I am ruined, I exist in a place where even love can no longer reach (I am too fucking ugly anyway).

Cherish your life, DON”T LOOK AFTER FAMILY!!!

where was I, Oh yes, I did the only thing that i could and asked him what he was looking at, he said (very excitedly) “a bird on a wire”!

Yes, he is 81 and you might well say, he is old, he can’t concentrate, it just isn’t a “good day”.

I could live with that, and for years I gave him the benefit of the doubt, but with my (in name) brothers, he listens intently, never interrupts and never looks away or starts starring “out the window” and they always get his full attention.

Yeah, I know how this sounds, however in ways it has made me strong. You see, except when I am horny (after nine years of celibacy, when I get horny, it is in ways, overpowering), but it goes deeper than that, when you continually interrupt a child as they grow, you are saying that they are not important, and worthless.

I have refused to do (comp.) work for people because I have heard them calling there kids things like, idiot and dummy. I am proof that this fucks kids up, so don’t do it!

So where does this ramble leave us, well until he dies, or otherwise moves on, I wont be having sex; even gay sex with guys chosen who will let me play out this role and degrade me. I could NEVER develop feelings for a guy and women don’t dig me, and I don’t blame them, considering the state I am in.

If I did bring a woman over he would spend his time telling me how cheap she is (after all, she would be seeing me, so in his mind…). Unfortunately at this point I am far too damaged to trust anyone anyway. As for moving out; firstly I would (I am sure) be blamed for anything that happened to him, and after nine years, I am institutionalized, it is to late, I am too screwed up.

All this because I tried to ask him if he wanted an ebook reader (for the sizable print) Strangely, and I am sure that this is all too common; the parent will not listen, go without, or knnowingly make a bad choice just so they can show the caregiver “who  the boss is”.

How does this matter to the men I have been corresponding with, well, you don’t get your sex slave. I just don’t think that I can go so far as to relive the abuse, it would feel great at the moment, and people all over the world are do this nightly. I just can’t let him win, I wont let his actions totally ruin my (eventual) chance for a life. You see once I go down that road of reliving how worthless “daddy” makes me feel, I will never (emotionally) escape.

It is unfortunate, and I wish that it weren’t true, but there are many people out there (maybe you) who know how I feel and understand what I am going through (we are going through).

The next post will be (I promise) lighter, and will end this post on a happier note.

Be happy, be good to others, and remember to be good to your selfs.

Glenn

I have given up a lot, and this is just one more thing, but I will outlive him and move far far away, where maybe I can relearn the skills I need to look after myself. I don’t think that I will ever get my life back, but I will find a life where I can start making some decisions for myself.

So, I was living with this amazing woman (in a time long ago and far away, wah), and she said something that changed my life.

I guess that I should start earlier; you see I had the perfect childhood, like one out of the movies, or so I thought until this really cool woman I was living with made a simple innocent comment.

She asked, “why do your parents interrupt you when you speak, but not the other kids?”.

well sir, I didn’t know it yet, but that was the point at which my life ended, at that moment I knew that this perfect childhood was a lie, a fantasy created from years of movie watching and a steady diet of everything from “Leave It To Beaver”, to the Brady Bunch.

Over all I prefer the the truth and my life now (such that it is), to my fantasy childhood; however sometimes I am reminded how far I have come and how bad I (deep down) felt back then.

The reason that I bring this up is that this morning (before my escape to the coffee shop), father asked what I was doing and I explained that I was charging one of my portable power packs with some of my solar panels (I admit, not the most interesting subject to many people). In the middle of my sentence, father started talking to the puppy, and I was drawn back to my (in retrospect), not so happy childhood.

Well, there was a time (childhood, and then for a few years after I moved back to look after him) when I would exercise my frustration, by eating or breaking my stuff. If you understand this, I am sorry, I would prefer it if no one ever had to understand feelings like this. If you don’t understand and think I am crazy,… great, I hope that you or your kids never understand abuse.

Anyhoo (I love fitting that word in), where was I? Oh yes father interrupting me. Now I can just escape to the coffee shop, or my TV, hug my puppy and remind myself never to do the same thing to my nieces or nephews, and so far I haven’t.

Unfortunately I see fathers kids doing the same thing to there children.

Wow, this was supposed to lead into another subject, but I can’t seem to remember what that subject was; well I guess that will be my next post.

So listen to your kids (and now parents) they might be boring, but at least we can break the cycle of emotional abuse.

Till next time, be happy, be good to others and remember to be good to your selfs

Glenn