Sorry if I butchered your name!

Last night my sweetheart and I had an in-depth discussion about love and feelings. Strangely enough, she had some interesting things to say. I'm not trying to say she's a Gump or anything (I may not be a smart man, but I know what love is Jenny.), but at age 35 I thought I had heard it all. Or at least most of it.

Basically, she made me realize that I have no idea how to love her. Not in the physical sense. It would appear that despite myself I fairly well in that category. (insert pat on the back here) The part where I mess up is in the emotional department. I don't READ her well. I don't know how to be sensitive, or sensitive enough. That's a problem in itself. The bigger problem is this... I already know this! How to change is what I don't know.

There's no question that I love her. Hell, I love her more than cooked food. Well, that would really depend on who did the cooking... How about, I love her more than a fat kid loves cake. That's not a good one either. What's with all the food references? I must be hungry. Fuck it, I love her! Now how do I let her know?

This is why doctors don't make good patients. I can sit here and give all sorts of advice for other people. Good advice too! But I can't seem to get myself out of my own shit. When it comes to me, I've got nothing. Why is that?

I would give her anything she asked for. Even if it wasn't exactly in my power to give, I would find a way to make it happen. The problem with that is, I know that's not what she wants. She wants some intangible shit from me. She wants the one thing I just don't have lots of. She wants time. TIME! Very rarely is my time my own. I seem to have a bad habit of putting everyone before me. And then I try to make time for her, unless I have something to do. How fucked is that? I Won't put her before my children. I Can't put her before my family. I Don't put her before the people I live with. No wonder she hates me. All she wants is to know that she's important in my life and has a spot in it. She does! It's just nor really defined well. I'm so single if she reads this!

So boys and girls, what have we learned today? No matter how fucked up it is, there is love in this relationship. But in the immortal words of Negro Songstress Anna Mae Bullock, a.k.a. Tina Turner, 'What's love got to do with it?'

Blaque Out!

Dayum, here I am again, in court. I hate being here! The reason I'm here is bad enough, but that's not what I hate. I hate knowing that I'm going to fall asleep as soon as I sit down. I don't mean to, it just happens! It wouldn't be so bad if I hadn't done it every other time I'd been here. The magistrate even mentioned something about it when she came out of her chambers. She didn't look directly at me when she did it, but I understood who she was talking about. I hate this bitch! Anyhoo....

After several minutes that seemed to stretch into eternities, I was finally called. Would you believe that this bitch tried to have jokes? She asked my attorney if I had worked the previous night. It was fairly obvious that she was alluding to my falling asleep in her courtroom. He answered in the negative. Pushing the issue, she then asked if I had some sort of sleeping disorder. Almost as soon as the question was out of her mouth, she saw the answer in black and white. "Oh, yes he does..." Haha bitch !

I need you to realize that this woman has been trying to put your humble narrator in prison for several months. Luckily for myself, there has always been some loophole available for me to exploit which has kept me out of the gray bar hotel. After trying for a while to get things accomplished the way they wanted me to, I saw I was getting nowhere. If I continued down their path, I was on my way back to prison. So, I took things into my own hands. I did the seemingly impossible. I got BOTH of my children's mothers to drop their cases. Don't ask me how. GOD truly is a wonderful GOD. There's no other explanation.

Not knowing what bomb was about to be dropped on her, the magistrate kept being an asshole. She seemed to take great pleasure in telling the court that I owed over twenty-four thousand dollars in back payments. She even smiled when she said it. Then she came across it. Two letters stating that they would like to close their respective cases and don't want anything in the way of back payments. Did I mention they were notarized? And oh yeah, neither women were present to say anything to the contrary! When the realization of what just happened came across her face, there was just this look of fury. That bitch thought she had me. Guess what Bitch? You don't!

I equivocate the weight that was lifted off of my shoulders with that of Atlas. Hence the title of this post. But don't you worry, I'll probably find some other weight to shoulder soon. And when I do, I'll write about it here.

Blaque OUT

Like a lot of folks in this state, I have a job. I work, they pay me. I pay my taxes and the government distributes my taxes as it sees fit. In order to get that paycheck, I am required to pass a random urine test with which I have no problem. What I do have a problem with is the distribution of my taxes to people who don't have to pass a urine test. Shouldn't one have to pass a urine test to get a welfare check because I have to pass one to earn it for them? Please understand, I have no problem with helping people get back on their feet. I do, on the other hand, have a problem with helping someone sitting on their ASS, doing drugs, while I work. . . . Can you imagine how much money the state would save if people had to pass a urine test to get a public assistance check? Holla Back at your boy!!!

I once heard somewhere that there are more suicides on Easter Sunday than any other day in the year. I wasn't contemplating suicide or anything, but I could see how that's possible.

On one hand, you've got the zealots. While there's a lot that I could say about them, I won't. If they were normal people they wouldn't be called zealots.

On the other hand you've got the people that are just alone. Bear in mind that there's more than one kind of alone. There's the alone that I was: There just happened to be no one home. And then there's the other alone. No one on the planet seems to give a shit about you alone. Of the two, the latter is the one more likely to see Jesus. But since that's sort of depressing and this blog is mine to write about me, let's talk about that for a minute.

I was left alone on Easter.

The FAMILY (?) I live with just completely hauled ass. There was no one in the house but me. Usually I don't want to go to any of the gatherings they have because they always get fucked up somehow. But this year was different. Well this holiday anyway. With all the drama that I've been going through I really wanted to be wanted by someone. Anyone.

Needless to say, I didn't get the invite I was looking for. Family shouldn't need an invitation, but in this one you do. Knowing the volatile mixture that my son's mom and I can be, we're usually invited, but with special instructions. 'Don't fight' or some other shit like that. I didn't even get that.

I spent my Easter laying on my bed watching television and the backs of my eyelids. I suppose I could have went somewhere, but I didn't know where to go. My brother and I aren't really cool like that. Well, we are, but his wife isn't real big on people just coming over unannounced. Especially me. Coincidentally, my phone was either lost or stolen a day earlier so I had no one to call and couldn't tell if anyone was calling me. This sort of shit really puts you in your place. So what else did I do?

I thought. I've got a lot of shit to do and not a lot of time to do some of them. Now that I truly see where I fit in where I'm at, it's time to break out of here. I'm not talking about going to mom's either. I've got to do for self. One of the biggest steps involves getting a job. If I'm not going to get this disability thing, I have to get some real income. Real soon.

Dammit, the train has left the station. The train of thought that is. I've lost what the hell I was talking about....

Holla back.

I woke up to a most vile message on my cell phone today. It would appear that the sheriff was most prompt in serving my son's mom with her court papers. Boy was she pissed!

Before things got this far we had an agreement. She would help me with the state end of it, and I would help her on the financial end. Basically, she goes to court and tells them that she no longer needs their involvement in this matter, and then I'd give her $50.00 dollars a week. $50.00 dollars is a far cry from the $7.00 a week she's supposed to get, and the $0.00 dollars she's getting.

Being in mind that we are supposed to have this agreement, everything should be gravy. But things fall apart. Guess why? I live with her mom. Her mom has reasons as to why she wants me there. One of them is, she wants to piss off her daughter. How fucked up is this family? Dwell on that for a while. Now the daughter is mad at the mother, NOT me. But because she's mad at her, and her mom let's me live there, I'm in the mix too. The girl blows off the court date, effectively screwing me over, and now here we are.

I wish I could let you hear the message this woman left me. She told me that I'm not shit. Her family thinks I'm not shit. Not the family I live with, HER family. That would be my son and her daughter. Great, what is she telling my son? I bet she's not telling him that she's a drug dealer who uses men to get money to buy things. But that may come out in court. Now she HAS to go. While she's there, she's going to have to fill out a financial affidavit. Now she's going to have to explain how a woman with no job is holding down her rent, car and truck insurance, bills, groceries, and all that. I tried to keep her from this... Oh well.

Now I just have to wait and see what's going to happen. I love my life. I just wish someone else would live it!

In other news, today's humorous post can be found in the recently re-activated He-Man Woman Haters Club!