Protruding vomit hitting pavement

It's the Fourth. The holiday of big bangs and patriotic parades.

Independence Day was always filled with a mix of emotions. I looked forward to our suburban parade of drum cadences, fire trucks, and the presenting of the colors.

But I dreaded the party that followed, a tradition that had made my parents famous. It was an event that was often talked about months after the clouds of booms and bangs drifted out of the night's sky.

In our small back yard, we raised the volleyball net, fired up a multitude of grills, and iced the variety of kegs.

Patronage to the patriots!

Invitations were never sent. It was common knowledge that if you knew my parents, you knew that you were invited-- and your kids, too.

The parties started out innocent enough. The kids all chocking down hot dogs so they could beg their parents for money for the local carnival. The oldest of all the kids, I lead the group down the old dirt path to the park where we'd all inevitably argue which death trap we'd ride first.

Years later, I wounder how that traveling carnival ever met safety code requirements. Or how it is that no one was ever lost in the masses.

Hours would pass. Rounds and rounds of the Egg Roll ride, the Spide, and the Ten Top. Spent from standing in line after line, and broke from playing too many rounds of darts, all the kids would head back to our house... knowing that the climate had changed.

As darkness approched, so did the slurs of speech, droopy eyes, and staggered stances.

One year my mom insisted that I brush my teeth three different times before I went to bed. It was 8:00. At nine, I learned of adultery when I walked in on two of my friends' parents having sex in my bedroom-- not with their spouces. My mom tour her ACL trying to fight her pal for making eyes at my father. The next year, he was arrested for DUI during a beer run after the kegs went try.

Wendows were broken. Cars were crashed. People fought. It wasn't unusual for a member of the party to fall off our roof trying to get a better view of the fireworks over the trees that grew taller each year. It didn't even seem odd the year someone was arrested for trying to saw down those trees when they had finally grew to totally obstructed our view.

As bombs bursting in air, the sound of protruding vomit hitting pavement rang in the background.

My parents knew how to honor the Founding Fathers. This was the way to honor America.

An adult now, I've chosen to do things differently. My holiday are not about inebriation. An intiment cookout with a small group of friends and a few beers will suffice. I don't even need the booms and bangs. Sparklers in the backyard suffice. This year, impromptu front pourch cookout with the neighbors did the trick.

But I wonder about the kids I use to walk that dirt path with to the land of cotton candy and elephant ears. Did they find in a way out like I have? Or are they falling off a roof top somewhere, right now, vomiting on pavement. Are their children watching with giggles, hiding in secret their fright and shame?

I'll only brush my teeth once tonight.

God Bless America.

Catching up...

I was wasting time on MySpace rather than catching up on my blogging. So, I thought I'd repost something I wrote there... here.

WRITE EXACTLY WHAT'S ON YOUR MIND, AND DON'T CHANGE IT!

I'm tired of:

HEARING FAT GAY SEX DOWN STAIRS (NOT THAT THERE IS ANYTHING WRONG WITH BEING GAY OR FAT) AND THE YAPPY FIGHTING NEXT DOOR. SADLY, THESE NOISES COME FROM PEOPLE WE INVITED TO LIVE HERE. OUR APARTMENT BUILDING USE TO BE SUCH A PEACEFUL PLACE UNTIL "FRIENDS" MOVED IN.



Maybe I should:

STOP BEING A VISUAL PERSON SO I DON'T HAVE MENTAL IMAGES OF THE FAT GAY SEX I HEAR FROM BELOW ME. SERIOUSLY, HE SAYS HE ISN'T GAY... BUT COME ON. AND THE IMAGES WOULD BE AS DISTURBING IF IT WERE STRAIGHT SKINNY SEX. SEX IS JUST DIRTY. THAT'S WHAT THEY TAUGHT ME IN CHURCH.



I Wish:


I DIDN'T HAVE SWEATY BALLS. HOW'S THAT FOR A MENTAL PICTURE?

I have lost my respect for:

PEE WEE HERMAN. HE USE TO BE SO COOL-- WORD OF THE DAY, AND ALL. DO YOU REMEMBER THE EPISODE WHEN HE MARRIED FRUIT SALAD. THAT WAS SO PROGRESSIVE FOR THE 80S.



The meaning of my display name is:

IT'S MY FIRST NAME AND THE PART OF MY LAST NAME. I LIKE TREES, SO IT FITS. OR DO I LIKE TREES BECAUSE IT FITS? I DON'T KNOW? IT DOESN'T MATTER. JUST STOP CUTTING DOWN ALL THE TREES. WHAT DID A TREE EVER DO TO YOU? AND IF YOU SAY, "FELL ON MY HOUSE/ CAR" THAT REALLY WASN'T THE TREES FAULT. THAT WAS GOD TELLING YOU THAT YOU SHOULD PRAY MORE. (this only makes sense if you know my MySpace user name, or probably not,)



Love:

"LOVE IS... WELL, LOVE IS... " THAT'S WHAT THE OFFICIANT SAID AT A WEDDING WE WERE AT TWO WEEKS AGO. "IT CAN'T TRY TO BE ANYTHING. IT JUST IS." I THOUGHT THAT WAS PRETTY DEEP. AND PRETTY STUPID, TOO. THAT'S WHY I KEEP SAYING IT OVER AND OVER AGAIN TO MY WIFE. I LIKE HER TO THINK THAT I'M STUPID SO SHE DOESN'T MAKE ME BALANCE THE CHECK BOOK.



MySpace is:

FOR IDIOTS THAT CAN'T FIND ANYTHING BETTER TO DO WITH THEIR TIME. LIKE ME. SURE, I COULD READ A BOOK, BUT THAT DOESN'T HEAT UP LIKE MY LAPTOP, CAUSING MY BALLS TO SWEAT.



Today:

IS MY LAST DAY WITH STUDENTS, EVEN THOUGH I STILL HAVE TWO WEEKS TO SIT IN MEETINGS AND COMPLETE PAPERWORK. I'D RATHER THE TIME WITH THE STUDENTS.

THEY DON'T MAKE ME WANT TO STAB MYSELF WITH SCISSORS, PULL OUT MY NAILS WITH THE STAPLER REMOVER OR WRITE ON MYSELF WITH SMELLY MARKERS A T-SHIRT THAT READS, "HORRIBLE TEACHERS MAKE HORRIBLE ADMINISTRATORS!"

Tomorrow:

I NEED TO GO TO A PARTY, DRINK SOME BEER, AND TRY NOT TO TALK ABOUT TEACHING. I'LL DO EVERYTHING EXCEPT NOT TALK ABOUT TEACHING. IT IS A SCIENTIFIC FACT THAT IF THERE ARE MORE THAN TWO TEACHER'S IN THE ROOM, ALL THAT WILL BE DISCUSSED IS TEACHING. IN FACT, ONLY ONE TEACHER HAS TO BE IN THE ROOM. THAT'S WHY TEACHERS DON'T HAVE MANY FRIENDS. PLUS WE WERE THE KIDS THAT ATE GLUE.



I get annoyed:

WHEN I CAN'T FIND SOMETHING. SO I PRETTY MUCH STAY ANNOYED. THOUGH EVERYTHING IS LABELED, I MISPLACE CRAP ALL THE TIME. LIKE MY WALLET, KEYS, AND CELL PHONE. IMAGINE MY ANXIETY AT THE ZOO WITH 32 SECOND-GRADERS.



what are you doing?

THINKING ABOUT HOW I'M NOT BEING VERY FUNNY IN THIS DAMN SURVEY AND WONDERING IF ANYONE WILL ACTUALLY READ IT AND IF THEY DO IF THEY'LL EMAIL ME OR COMMENT AND TELL ME HOW FREAKING STUPID I AM AND THAT I SHOULD GET A LIFE BECAUSE IT IS A WASTE OF TIME TO DO THESE THINGS AND NOW I'M THINKING THAT THIS IS A REALLY LONG RUN-ON SENTENCE AND THAT I SHOULD GO BACK AND ADD SOME PERIODS BUT I WON'T BECAUSE IT SAYS AT THE TOP THAT I CAN'T CHANGE ANYTHING.



Parties:

ONLY HAVE ONE EYE IF THEY'RE HARDCORE. OH WAIT, THAT SAYS PARTIES, NOT PIRATES. UM, THEIR STRESSFUL FOR ME AT THE START BECAUSE I'M AN INTROVERTED PERSON. BUT WHEN I COME OUT OF MY SHELL I BRING THE HOUSE DOWN... LIKE NAPOLEON. EVERYONE'S FREAKING VOTING FOR PEDRO WHEN I LEAVE THE DANCE FLOOR.




QUESTIONS


Is your cell phone right by you?

I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE IT IS RIGHT NOW. I PROBABLY LEFT IT IN THE CAR... BECAUSE YOU KNOW, THAT MAKES SENSE. IF SOMEONE CALLS, I WANT TO SIT IN MY CAR TO CHAT.



Is there something you want to tell someone?


TO BUSH, "THANKS FOR THAT STIMULUS CHECK. IT'S ABOUT TIME I GET PAID FOR YOU GIVING IT TO ME IN THE ASS THE LAST EIGHT YEARS."

Do you like anyone now?

DO I HAVE SWEATY BALLS? WHAT A STUPID QUESTION.



If you could have one thing right now what would it be?

A REAL CLASSROOM. MY MOBILE HAS BUGS AND ISN'T BIG ENOUGH FOR ALL MY STUDENTS. PLUS, I'M PRETTY SURE IT MAKES ME SICK WHEN I'M IN THERE TOO LONG. IT SHOULD BE DESTROYED, OR YOU KNOW, GIVEN TO THE SPECIAL ED KIDS.

(THAT'S A JOKE, BUT TOTALLY WHAT THE SCHOOL SYSTEM WOULD DO)

What were you doing at midnight last night?

I WAS HAVING BAD DREAMS ABOUT TODAY'S MEETING. IT INVOLVED ME SITTING, LOOKING AT MY SUPERVISOR, AS SHE RAMBLED ON ABOUT WHAT NEXT WEEK'S MEETINGS WOULD BE ABOUT. AND THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED TODAY. OH, AND SHE TALKED ABOUT EVERYTHING SHE HAS TO DO AND HOW WE DON'T HAVE THAT MUCH TO DO.



When is your birthday?

8-30-YEAR OF THREE POPES.

Are you single or in a relationship?

I'M ABOUT AS RELATIONSHIP AS YOU CAN GET.



What are you excited about?

SUMMER. I'M GOING TO DO WHAT I DID LAST YEAR, WITHOUT THE SUICIDAL THOUGHTS.



How is your life?

IT'S PRETTY GOOD.

100 things about me...

Here are fifty things about me…

1. My dad wasn’t present the day I was born because he got hot on the way to the hospital and wanted to take a swim in the ocean.
2. I know this because my mom still brings it up and, and they’ve been divorced for over ten-years.
3. I have a degree in Inner Disciplinary Studies with an elementary education endorsement.
4. I have two label makers- one for my classroom and one for home.
5. I have a collection of Garfield collector plates that I adore.
6. I smoked pot for the first time my senior year of high school because when my friends lit up, it reminded me of happy memories of riding around in the car with my parents during my youth.
7. My first car accident took place the day I got my first car.
8. I wasn’t high at the time.
9. My favorite pet growing up was my mutt-dog named, Midget.
10. She died on my twentieth birthday.
11. When I graduated from high school, I didn’t think it was a big deal because I thought everyone should do it.
12. The Rush Chair of a fraternity told me they wanted me to pledge because I had a really high GPA.
13. The only reason I pledged was because someone said I wouldn’t.
14. I think that my frat-boy days were some of the best days of my life, because it helped me "lighten up."
15. I really like the color black.
16. I am a pretty reserved person.
17. I once got kicked out of a fraternity bar, because I was stripping on a table while pouring beer down my chest for a bunch of girls.
18. After complaining that a table was too sticky and dirty, I licked beer off of it.
19. I like beer.
20. I was very afraid of balloons as a child, because the loud noise when they popped scared me.
21. I really don't like balloons now, but it's because they're not good for the environment.
22. Autumn is my favorite season, because I like sweaters and football marching bands.
23. I played the trumpet in my high school marching band.
24. I still do, but I’m not good anymore.
25. I love things clean, and do it often.
26. I think a girl smoking is the biggest turn off.
27. I never locked my door when I lived in my college dorm.
28. On more than a few occasions, I’d come into my college dorm to find a drunk chick waiting, naked, in my bed.
29. I always dressed them and made them coffee, because I’m a nice guy.
30. I think the three new Star Wars movies are overrated, but I still love them because they’re Star Wars.
31. I chew my fingernails incessantly.
32. I was diagnosed with dyslexia in the fourth-grade and really couldn’t read until then.
33. The following year I was labeled, Gifted and Talented.
34. Now that’s what I teach.
35. I’d rather teach “regular” kids.
36. One of my favorite movies is Billie Elliot because deep down, I want to dance.
37. In Junior High I always had a line of girls wanting to dance with me, because I was the only white guy that would dance.
38. All the black kids would chant, “Dance white-boy, dance white-boy, dance." I would!!!
39. I’m really into gay rights, because people teased me relentlessly as a kid.
40. They thought I was gay.
41. For a time I thought maybe they knew something that I didn’t.
42. I knew the truth, and soon came to realize that people are just mean.
43. As a child, I collected the paper place mats from restaurants.
44. I cried all the way home when my mom took me to see An American Tail as a child.
45. I was a very sensitive kid and cried at a lot of things.
46. I rarely cry as an adult, but when I do it;s hysterical and uncontrollable.
47. Then I start to laugh, and then I cry again.
48. The last time I cried was in my car after my student’s funeral.
49. I always hated cats.
50. Marriage changes everything.
51. I now have two cats now and love them to death.
52. The first tape I owned as a kid was Michael Jackson’s, Thriller.
53. I even had a zipper jacket.
54. I use to have a six-pack, because I use to swim a mile almost every day.
55. I’m the only person that I know that gained weight during cancer treatment.
56. I’ve never lost my cancer weight and feel that until I do, I’ll never be cured from cancer.
57. I don’t like using contractions when I write.
58. When I was in eighth grade I had my wallet stolen from a cross-dresser during a field trip to Washington DC.
59. I was raised a Methodist.
60. I believe in God, but question organized religion.
61. I love to organize.
62. I believe George W. Bush isn’t the complete dumb-ass most think he is, but I believe that he is slime.
63. I voted for him the first time.
64. I use to honestly think that I’d marry Debbie Gibson.
65. I have broken every one of the 10 Commandments, except for the no killing thing.
66. I was certain that someone would kill me before I turned twenty-one, which is why I planned to loose my virginity at sixteen, get married at eighteen, and have three good years with Debbie before I was killed.
67. I was going to take Debbie’s last name because I thought my own sounded funny with, Debbie.
68. My freshman year of college I was on six different drugs for anxiety, depression, and compulsion.
69. I’m not on any of those drugs any more, and I’ve only had one anxiety attack in seven-years.
70. I love afternoon naps.
71. I have never watched an episode of Law & Order.
72. I never sleep nude because as a child, my grandma told me that God would watch over me while I slept.
73. The first time I tried to complete this, I stopped here because my friend wanted to know if I wanted to drink some beer.
74. The seocnd-time I tried to complete this, I did, but it was all lost because my Internet dropped.
75. I should really start to back-up my stuff.
76. I love movies, and I'm not picky.
77. I love books.
78. I've been called a book snob, and I think it's a complement.
79. I dated the same girl pretty much throughout high school.
80. I first saw her carrying a gong across a stage during a band concert and I told all my friends she'd be mine.
81. She was a junior in high school and I was an eighth grader.
82. We started dating the next year.
83. I said the same thing about my future wife when I met her freshman year of college.
84. I was still with the gong-girl.
85. I consider myself a feminist.
86. I started blogging because of this girl.
87. She's my best-friend and I consider her family.
88. I'm not always the greatest friend, but I try.
89. I'm not good at not being able to fix or help someone.
90. Most of my closest friends have been female.
91. I'm alright with that.
92. I'm not alright with snakes.
93. I shut off, which I think is typical of men.
94. I'm not what you'd call a typical man.
95. I drive a Ford Focus.
96. I want to get my PhD in educational policy.
97. I also want a weimaraner, and name her, Smith.
98. I like to, "drop it like it's hot," when "it's getting cold in here."
99. I might need a support group for NPR addicts.
100. This was a pain in the ass.

FOUR POINT FIVE

Floating hand creep, dirty hands

Locked doors stifles the egress
Vicissitude follows infantile erections
Rest without sound- movement stilled
Deep breath.

Eyes of innocents cleaved
Ripped from youthful sockets
Dripping down- chin to chest
Taste it.

Pressed against untouched skin
Lips and hands maw and sway
Prevailing then- awake me now
It hurts.

Fostered screams silenced by blindfolds
The spider's breath dances down my back
Cool patted stones- we used to skip
No light.

Shove this behind shielding stockade.
As it is shoves in and through
Silent childhood doldrums- help evades
No sound.

He is so strong
He is still too strong
And my bulwark- blankets the ground
I cry.

Floating hands creep, dirty hands.

It is a truth I claim for myself...

After yesterday’s post, I had an awakening. Having to add “God” to my category list to index my post exposed how far I had drifted. For nearly three-months I’ve posted about everything pertinent to my life: randomness, friends, family, mom, sex, The Wife… but not God. And though I’ve been asked many times about my faith, the result of my posting, I’ve avoided the subject.

I regret not allowing others to be involved in my Christian faith. I want you to know that I am a Christian. I strive to remain close to God in all my days and to keep Him at the center of my life. As of late, that strive has been unfortunately weak. As a result, I have been weak. I have been lost.

True. I am a Christian that struggles. Yet I know that all Christians remain in struggle and bounded in guilt that follows. Created by perfection, Christians are not. Like a wrongful children, we turn away, ashamed to face our Father. Some pretend to be otherwise—superiority— a front for mortification.

The Lord is my Savior. In my relationship with Him, I will
allow Him to manifest Himself in me, as He defines me. I
will ask the Lord to guide me. I am a follower of Jesus
Christ. I will share with others the glory He brings.

I search for what it means to be a Christian. For me, the definition is expansive: Anyone who has accepted Jesus Christ as their Savior, has asks Him for forgiveness, and seeks to follow Him. Arguing over a theological shopping list, I feel, leaves every bough of our faith drawn asunder. God is Love. Jesus saves. He is the way.

Simple enough, I feel.

As a Christian I remember that Jesus was the son of God and that I am a child of God. Therefore, it is imperative to investigate the story of Jesus, asking who He was and what He did, to help guide my life. And though my academic pursuits have precipitated variance, I find guidance from The Bible.

What Jesus has taught me:

I see Jesus as being a man who was totally at one with God.
I should strive to be at one with God.

Christ was Divine.
I should recognize that Jesus connects me and makes me at one with God, the Divine, the
Christ. Living out of balance with God enslaves me. Living in union with Divinity frees me.

He lived what He spoke.
I should not be a hypocritical Christian. I should walk the walk and talk the talk

Jesus’ entirety was an embodiment of unconditional love and forgiveness.
I should love unconditionally and forgive with the same heart.

I must be reminded that it is not what I do that makes me a Christian, it is about all He has done for me. He has forgiven my unspeakable sins. He has saved my sullied soul. He has always loved me despite my inability. He has guided me through the depths of blindness. He has remained truthful despite my lies. All He asks that accept Him and reflect onto others all that He has showered upon me. He is my Lord. I am His servant.

This is not a truth I can claim for others. It is the truth I claim for myself.

My God loves. My God is the advocate of justice, fairness, decency, goodness, integrity, and uprightness. The simple act of proclaiming my Christian beliefs is a useful exercise in spiritual boldness, and like many of my previous posts, therapeutic. Doing so, I hope, will assist me in living a more spiritually honest life; I hope it will hold me accountable, so as not to mar my testimony.

More I hope that you see that God and faith in Him is about more than doctrine. It is about the unconditional love, understanding forgiveness, and surmounting happiness He provides to those who are obedient to Him.

Doesn’t he rock?

Gasp. The horror. What's a vagina for...?

Parents across the country... commiserated over the Internet about how, thanks to Ms. Spears, they were facing a conversation with their 8-, 9-, and 10-year-olds about sex. -- The New York Times

Gasp. The horror.

I suppose some good is coming out of J.L Spear's teenage pregnancy. What an amazing concept... talking to your child about about sex.

My folks weren't nudists, but they weren't shy, either. Growing up, I saw them naked. It wasn't odd, much. Seeing all that flesh to raise questions.

As I developed and gained the cognitive ability to formulate questions and devise "answers" to those questions, I thought that when a girl got older, she simply lost her penis. You know, it fell off in the tub or something.

This was my "answer" for why my mother didn't look like me, my dad and brother.

So one day I asked, I think while eating breakfast, when her penis fell off. I think I was five at the time, because it was the same year my friend had told me that pussy was cold like ice cream (I wasn't certain what pussy was, but I was certain it wouldn't feel cold like ice cream. I mean, I'm just saying.)

My mom must have been shocked, perhaps amused, when I asked. "Did you keep it." But she never let on. She simply answered, "I never had a penis."

"Huh?"

She explained.

"Then what's a vagina for?"

Again, she explained. And though it sounded like it could be a nice thing, I certainly didn't want to use it to make a baby. And eww. Girls at school annoyed me.

Though I did like ice cream?

And that's how it went. Sex was an open subject at my house. Of course as I got older, and more shy in my adolescents, information was received often without my posing a question.

I never asked how to protect myself against AIDS-- oral sex was not a safe guard. I had never thought standing on one's head would keep a girl from becoming pregnant. I did want to know where I could find condoms for free, but was later happy to have the information. And knowing that there was a Planned Parenthood in our town sure did come in handy when a friend thought her boyfriend had given her an STD. Another thought she might be pregnant. My friends were tested before they became sexually active with their partners. I made sure of it.

I had become the sexual information source because no one else was handing out the information. Thankfully, I knew what I was talking about.

My point, it's never too young to start discussing sex. If a child is old enough to ask, they're certainly old enough to know. And in my experience in working with small children, they have a lot of questions and thoughts about sex.

But like me at a young age, they don't really have the right answers.

Do you really want your kid growing up to think penises fall off of girls? Or worse. Much, much worse.

Besides, who isn't going to want to try the new ice cream?