The Power And Impossibilium

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I dreamt about you last night.

It was the first time in a long while that my unconscious mind has wandered down this road. My conscious mind, aware of time and distance, has been battered by the ravages of war. It still longs for things that can never be.

But while I sleep, an alternate universe is woven like a web that glimmers with a fresh morning dew. And in it, I relive your beauty. 

My gaze falls upon your raven hair and its perfect sheen. I can feel your warmth through our clothes as we sit pressed against one another in an overcrowded car. Your scent penetrates the nostrils of my unconscious self with a delicacy that my conscious mind is no longer able to recall. Your smile delights me and your throaty laugh hints towards a deep, untamed passion. My lips are even allowed a subtle moment to brush your bare shoulder, unnoticed by everyone except you and I. 

Here, in this place created by my memory and my imagination, we are unchanged by the events of our conscious lives. Our past is alive, our present is altered and our future is immaterial. It is the moment and I am cleansed by its purity.

Inevitably, I wake to the realization that it is merely a dream, a reflection of the raw power you hold within my heart. I am moved to tears by the beauty of it and also by its impossibility.

Nature Boy

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I’ve been inspired by ladyn0ttingham over at Blackbird Rising who has thrown up a few photos of her most recent adventure into the natures. I now feel compelled to post a few nature shots of my own from my camping trip out in David Thompson country. 


I took them with my iPhone and didn’t even bother to try and edit them. Cuz I’m lazy like that. 

Deep Thinks On The Over-Plan

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Not every post here has to be a novel nor does it have to be Pulitzer-winning material. I need to remind myself of this… and frequently, it would seem. I start writing things and delete them because they aren’t thought out well or my writing is scatter-brained. 

It’s a chronic problem that I have, it’s my way of procrastinating. Instead of just doing it and letting the chips fall where they may, I analyze it and then over-analyze it until I’ve wasted sufficient time that the moment has passed. This problem doesn’t only apply to writing, I do it with a lot of things… come to think of it, I do it in many areas of my life where I’m afraid to take a step into a large or difficult task. I plan and analyze and often don’t get around to executing the plan and accomplishing that which I originally wanted to do. 

Why is this? Introspection on this matter leads me to wonder if it’s because I’m generally afraid to fail. 

Now, I think that a lot of people might just stop there when they’re getting introspective. But that ain’t me, as I’m telling you… I’m an over-analyzer. (And a procrastinator, don’t forget.) So I ask myself, ‘why am I afraid to fail or even produce something that is not good?’ [note that I never use the term ‘good’ because I feel that it’s over-used and ambiguous so to do it here is me trying to make progress] What is it about producing something in any form that is sub-standard that turns me off? 

Is it evidence that I am sub-standard? Is it proof that I am deeply flawed? Will people think of me differently by seeing the crappy fruits of my labor?

My feeling… my realization is that I have to accept that, regardless of what I do, my efforts are always going to be less than perfect in my own eyes and probably in the eyes of those around me. However, I am always doing and producing things that people see whether I am aware of it or not. I am always being judged and need to become comfortable with that. It’s my own imperfection that needs to drive me to be better and stronger rather than hinder or prevent me from moving forward and growing. 

Like that Featured Image up there… I took that photo on my iPhone and then edited it on my iPhone. It’s probably utter shite but it’s my utter shite. I’m just putting it out there and let it be what it is. 

Not perfect. Probably crap. But it’s mine. And I love it. 

When The Marriage Has Given Up On You

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The majority of people who read this blog don’t have the historical knowledge of my life and, particularly, my marriage. So, for the benefit of the majority of you, I’ll give you a bit of a crash course and try to not make this post too heady.

We’ve been together for 17 years and married for 8 years of that. We have three kids, two of whom are 18+ and the youngest is in high school. 

(Right about now, you are maybe doing some math to figure out how old I am… I’ll help you out, we both started families when we were young.)

She’s a person who believes firmly that if a little of something is good then more is always better. This is a common theme that I’ve observed over time and, because of this tendency, she often steamrolls into (and through) situations making decisions contrary to what most people would regard as common sense. In doing this, she has gotten herself into hot water over and over again. Consequences of these poor decisions range from significant financial setbacks for the family to questionable parenting episodes to her personal safety being in serious jeopardy. 

In the vast majority of these situations, I’ve stepped in to pluck her from the fire because… well, that’s just what you do for your spouse and your family. Often, this comes at your own personal cost and is done thanklessly. I know this just as well as anyone who has found themselves in this role.

Now, fast forward to present day. 

You don’t have to scroll back very far in this blog to see that I’ve had struggles with alcohol. Drinking became a coping mechanism to compensate for my inability to cope with stress and loneliness. My relationship with the bottle finally culminated into me having a grand mal seizure while at work and being taken to the hospital.

It was at this time, while laying on a hospital bed and freshly swearing off booze, that my wife told me if I were to start drinking again… she was going to leave me. 

Going back a few posts in this blog, you’ll note that I dabbled with alcohol again. I’m the type of guy that lives by the adage ‘never say never’ so I generally don’t close a door on any possibility.  I felt like I needed to convince myself that, indeed, I had to close the door on my drinking past and walk away. 

This didn’t go by unnoticed, of course. My wife had no clue since we have been working opposite schedules for years now and rarely see each other. However, my youngest teenage son did notice and finally said something to her a few weeks ago. The very next day, she confronted me and said that she was leaving; stating that I’d had started drinking again that she couldn’t live with it anymore. 

Given the fact that we rarely see each other and that she admitted that she hadn’t even noticed, this statement felt disingenuous and the situation was being used as an excuse or, worse, an opportunity. 

Throughout this past ten months, I’ve felt angry and bitter toward my immediate family that there has been little to no support for me staying sober. I also feel that there has been little to no effort made by them to understand or appreciate how hard this is. So, this past ten months has felt like a gigantic slap in the face that highlights how unappreciated I’ve been for the previous 16+ years of bailing this family, and particularly my wife, out of trouble over and over again. 

Now, my natural tendency is to try to inject humour wherever I can and especially when it’s a painful subject for me. So, when I was reflecting on it at the end of a work day immediately following that weekend confrontation, I related this entire scene to an episode of The Simpsons. The episode in question is titled ‘$pringfield (or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Legalized Gambling)’ where Mr. Burns opens a casino in Springfield and Marge ends up developing a gambling addiction.

Homer: You know, Marge, for the first time in our marriage I can finally look down my nose at you.You have a gambling problem!

Marge: That’s true. Will you forgive me?

Homer: Oh, sure! Remember when I got caught stealing all those watches from Sears? 

Marge: [ Groans ]

Homer: Well, that’s nothing, because you have a gambling problem! And remember when I let that escaped lunatic in the house ’cause he was dressed like Santa Claus?

Marge: [ Groans ] 

Homer: Well, you have a gambling problem!

The writers pretty much hit the nail on the head with this episode. I’m feeling a lot like Marge here. And my wife has been Homer for our entire marriage and I’ve never noticed it. 

Maybe this is why she hates The Simpsons. 

I Quit

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If you’ve followed this blog for a little while you’ll have an understanding of my battle with alcohol… and what I’ve been up to. 

For a little while, I have been experimenting with alcohol thinking that maybe I could re-introduce it into my life on a controlled basis. It has been a dangerous experiment and probably one that I thought I could do successfully. I may have talked myself into thinking I could do it because of my condition. 

I’m realizing that I can’t. I’d like to be able to still have that beer at a barbecue or a sporting event but I can’t. It’s just too much of a slippery slope that I inevitably fall down on and crash all the way to the bottom. Right now, I’m laying in bed and feeling like mental, emotional and physical hammered shit because I was drinking yesterday. I hate myself for doing what I did. My state of mind is one of futility and worthlessness and hopelessness. And I don’t want to feel this way. 

I was telling myself, as I lay here, that I have to quit doing this. To just stop. And then I realized my own trap… I’m saying that I have to quit this. That I haven’t made a decision or a change by recognizing this. I’m putting it off… delaying the decision. Instead… I am saying to myself… I choose to quit drinking. Right now. I quit.

Writing? Ain’t Nobody Got Time For That!

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It kind of feels like the traditional blog is dying out there on the Internet. With all of the social media formats out there… you are almost wasting your time by stringing together anything longer than 140 characters because most likely it’s not going to get read. 

I’m on a bunch of these social media sites; Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, SnapChat, Vine… just to name most the popular ones… and it feels like the attention span for content is getting shorter and shorter. Most likely, I’ve already lost half of you that might have started reading this post. 

It’s all become a popularity contest for who can get the most likes the fastest. Content? Fuck the content. Fuck the thought and fuck the integrity. Just give it a like. Maybe it will go viral and I’ll become Internet-famous. 

I fall into the trap too. Coming up with things to write about or sitting down to type my thoughts and feelings out can really be a lot of effort. And I don’t do it often enough. But when it comes down to writing a post here, it’s not about getting popular. It’s not about getting recognized. It’s not about going viral. It’s about getting my thoughts and feelings out and real. It’s about the process… the journey… and not the result or the destination. In the end, I’m writing for me and not for you. 

The Wait

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Anyone who knows me offline from this site knows that I’ve been dreading my work situation for some time now. The company I work for has been laying off people for about 18 months with no end in sight and I’ve been dreading that layoff since Day One. This means that my family, friends and contacts have all had to deal with me and my dread for about a year and a half… which I have to given them credit for patiently listening. At some point, I’m sure that they have started feeling like I am the boy crying wolf. 

I have been working in this industry for about 20 years and have noted that the cycle of boom & bust can range from 5 to 7 years. Effectively, it’s a reset to the industry to deal with steadily increasing costs. For the previous two bust cycles the industry has gone through, I was lucky to be wherever I was because the personal impact to me was negligible. For one bust, I was protected by the nature of the business I worked for and the other bust happened during a time when the business I work for now was in a crunch of multiple major projects that necessitated us to keep working… and working hard. This is the first time in my career that a bust cycle has directly affected me. Really, I’ve been lucky. Truly. 

In these past 18 months, I’ve said goodbye to a lot of people… some of whom were merely acquaintances while others I’ve come to consider to be my friends. Some… very close friends. It hasn’t been fun seeing so many good people cut loose. The company has gone from 650 people to somewhere just over 100 as of Friday. While not all of them have been layoffs, the vast majority have. 

There is no new work on the horizon. In fact, the work that hasn’t been deferred or flat out cancelled is being pulled back within our client’s organization to keep their personnel busy. No one knows for sure what’s going to happen but the general feeling isn’t good. Where, at the start, managers were trimming the fat and cutting out cancers from the organization… they’ve now had to start carving away the some of the muscle. And they’re getting closer to cutting into bone. 

I heard from my boss last week; he asked me if I would consider working a reduced-hour work week. From 40 hours down to 32, which would represent a 20% cut to my take home pay as well. My work load has declined significantly however I play a unique role in the company so they would rather not flat-out lay me off if they can avoid it. By no means am I irreplaceable but it would mean a change in strategy of how we do work. So they would have to, in advance, plan this change before cutting me loose. Again, not an impossibility in the least but rather only an inconvenience. 

I know that this reduced-hour work week is a stopgap move to avoid having to let me go. Really, with the lack of upcoming work that’s facing us… it’s, in my opinion, delaying the inevitable. I *hope* there is some work coming up that gets me chargeable and working 40 hours again but I’m not optimistic. We’ll see how it plays out… I’m pretty much ready for anything at this point. I’ve been in a holding pattern with respect to a layoff for so long that I think I’m mentally and emotionally ready to accept my fate.