I’m taking a phased approach, if you hadn’t noticed.

Seriously, life is…is…so damn busy that I’m having trouble keeping my head above water. Between juggling locations, finances, children, a new job, a new town, the search for a new home…I can’t believe I haven’t gone mad.

But, I’m noting something about myself – a survival mechanism that I have always known was there, but never paid much heed. During times of trouble and high stress I strip away things. My dress becomes more simple, sometimes I’ll shave my head, I’ll often talk less and interact with people less. The last one is the worst by far – I will drop contact with nearly everyone (including myself) and interact with those within my immediate eyesight. I will only interact with those that demand and require my service.

Strangely, I will also fill my plate to overflowing at work. I will often take on way more tasks than I should and commit myself to more meetings, phone calls, e-mails, and schmoozing than I can reasonable expect to handle. But, somehow I juggle it all and generally end up alright near the end of things.

Do you do this? Do you isolate yourself…ever? Is it helpful or hurtful, in your opinion?

On another note…I still haven’t sold my house, and I am renting a condo, but we are about to sign a contingent offer on a house in Historic South Park in Dayton, Ohio. Yes…South Park.

I am a lover of architecture to an extreme degree, though I know little about it when compared to true experts. I do, however; know what I like and I LOVE a Craftsman style home. There’s something about hard woods, simple geometric lines, nooks and crannies, craftsmanship, and stained glass that calls to me from deep within my soul.

I found this Craftsman style back in August and immediately fell in love with the house and the price – at only $172,000.00 it’s a steal. But I had little hope of ever occupying it, due to the location of the home…in seedy downtown Dayton, which is not a very nice area. Downtown Dayton has many historic districts, but they are mostly in disrepair and close to crime ridden areas – not a nice place to raise three children.

When I first arrived I drove past the house – on the first night! I knew then that I would fall in love with it if I ever got to go inside, but I never thought it would happen for the reasons I stated. Well, the house was open for viewing this weekend and my wife and I went to see it. Upon entering my heart nearly burst – it was more amazing than I had imagined. So many hand crafted details all lovingly cared for since the house was built in 1917, just four years after the Big Flood. Some of the fixtures in the house aren’t period or correct style, but that’s ok because we love to update. The place is massive and full of wonderful accents – the basement is the size of an entire single-story Ranch style. It has a huge back yard and the windows on the upper floor at the back of the house overlook the historic Woodlawn Cemetery, where Wilbur and Orville Wright are buried (along with the rest of Dayton’s most prominent and infamous).

You can see by the rambling that I have been thinking of this house a great deal. While standing on the upper floor…I kid you not…I got teary eyed. Our chances of selling our place in time to purchase this house aren’t good. We’re stuck in a lease at this condo for the next three months. Our finances are stretch to capacity, but everything inside me wants this house…it’s the most amazing house I have ever stepped foot in. It IS, without doubt, the house of my dreams and the place I want to raise my children.

I will find a way. I will.

...since I logged in, that I nearly forgot my password.

I'd love to tell you all about the insanity that was the last couple fo months, but I haven't got the energy. I will, at some point, but for now...suffice to say that I have lived through it and am stronger for the experience (according to Nietzsche).

So, I'm back. I have an internet connection (at last) and was able to locate the disperate parts of my computer, which were spread throughout the 1 million boxes that occupy my new home. I'm nearly sick thinking about the mountain of boxes and the work it has taken to get through them - and I'm not even close to being finished.

I think I just threw up in my mouth a little. New topic...

What does it mean when a piece of equipment that you once used to do your job is installed in the Smithsonian?

Writing serves many purposes, as we all know. The written word may be used to inform or communicate thoughts, ideas, and instruction. Words may entertain or take on the form of a piece of art. And words inspire feelings and emotions, which can set one’s heart soaring or drive a person’s soul to the depths of hell.

Good writing serves some purpose and elicits some response.

Not that my writing is particularly good, though I have been told many times by some of you that it has merit, I use it to achieve various goals. These goals are sometimes known to me and other times I am completely unaware of what or why I’m writing – the words simply come, like a flash flood.

My words and emotions are true, but (But, he says) there is a certain amount of theatric play in what I write. My entries are often as much production as they are truth. This is who I am – an actor.

I am this way in many aspects of my life. I enter a room. I am the life of the party. I am magnetizing. I know or have guessed these things over the years. People like Rie can say if they are true or not. The point is; I am theatrical, as well as vulnerable and human and so are the things I write.

And my words are as much for me as they are for anyone. I love sharing them for the same reason I enjoy good conversation – feedback. And you, my friends, never disappoint me with your amazing insights, grand tales, and unending wisdom. Most times I agree with everything you say and when I don’t, I have something new to ponder and the opportunity to see life through another’s eyes. You often change my mind.

Step right up and get your ticket! Come see the freak show! You’ll laugh, you’ll cringe in fear, you’ll recoil in disgust, and you’ll most likely leave wanting your money back.

Sorry, no refunds.

As life crawls by I grow ever more restless.

I talk of truth. I talk of living life in the open. I talk of how I want to crush hypocrisy, but the real truth is…I’m the biggest hypocrite of all. Those people I spoke of whom live in shadow and wear a mask for those they love – that’s me.

I wear a mask.

I know you can see it. It’s in plain sight to those who will take the time to notice. Someone recently noticed it, “…mysterious.” He said.

The puzzle is…the mask has become my own flesh. I would rip it from my face and go bloody into the world frightening some who see me – the innocent, the fearful, the self righteous, the weak…

But I won’t. I never will. And in death the mask will have grown its claws into the bone of my skull and there it will rot with me. I will wear it even in death.

I shouldn’t write when I’ve had too much wine…

Want your own shap? E-mail me.

What in the hell makes society right? Is it majority rules?

Society has dictated for too long what is or is not acceptable. Society has told us too often that we must not be who we are and that we must conform to some idea of what is right and proper. So, I want to know – who is this society?

Most of the people I know chafe under the yoke of society, yielding themselves painfully and reluctantly to the will of this invisible master. They do so in public, before their families and friend - but in the darkness of the night or secrecy of some charted haven, they let loose themselves just a little.

Especially the creative sorts – those with fire and passion, and a desire to breathe life into this world. These are the ones that suffer greater than any. But these are also the ones that change the world; the ones that can take no more and boldly break free of society's yoke.

Artists write their own morality, it has been said. They do...but few follow the path they create and generally not for long, if they do. It's the ones that write their own code and follow it, or drift through life on wings of chance that change the world.

I for one want to wield a hammer of literary thunder against the shackles of society. I want to smash down hard on the shields of hypocrisy, on the helms of higher learning, on the armor of intolerance, and break the bones of society. I want to mash society into the cold ground and leave it dead for the earth to soak up. Let the bones of society rot into the soil and nourish the true nature of human-kind.

Mother Nature…rescue us from ourselves.

I don’t get the whole thing with famous people.

Why do people get so wrapped up in meeting someone famous? I recall going to a special pre-screening of the film National Treasure- Jerry Bruckheimer was there. Many of the people in my group went to shake his hand and talk to him. Why do people do this?

I felt bad for him. Who needs all that attention from people who are hoping for, what…a chance at fame? Like he’s going to see you and say, “You’re the person I’ve been looking for all this time. Will you be in my next picture?” Are people that jaded?

Or are folks looking for the opportunity to get close to something bigger than themselves? I can understand that a little better, see the appeal. Acknowledging hard work and skill is a good thing, but those people get enough of that. And why admire someone for fame’s sake…I want to know the man, or woman.

Personally, I just don’t get into it. If I’m going to tell someone that I admire their work, or anything about them, I want to do it in such a way that it’s as unobtrusive and invasive in nature as possible. And I’m only going to do it with someone that I have a great deal of admiration for, not…say…Brittany Spears. A quick e-mail is more my style.

This comes to mind now because I’m reading Bob Dylan’s book Chronicles Vol. I. Before now I knew nothing of Bob Dylan except what everyone thinks they know – he’s a famous protest singer/songwriter (Aka. The voice of a generation). Bob, by the way, would disagree with that summation.

This is a terrific book and Bob’s outlook on the world and America in particular are beginning to make me re-assess some of the things that I think and feel about the world, America, our culture and history, writing, and music. He’s connected to the roots of our country’s history like so few people are – the one’s that are, are mostly called folk singers. Bob considers himself a folk singer, always has, and I believe him.

Reading his book is also helping me understand what sets a guy like Bob Dylan apart from the rest of us. His passions for literature, thought, philosophy, music, history, and life run deep and he chases them down like a coon dog. He’s not jaded. He understands much of what’s going on around him and is able to find his place in the middle of it all. And he’s able to express all this from his soul, in plain English, woven into a complex tapestry of words, feelings, insights, and rhythm which is made up from the fabric of his life and the lives of others.

This is a guy I’d like to know.

But I’m sure I never will. So, I’ll get to know him as best I can through his music and writing. If I ever see him in a crowded place, I won’t bother him, but if I ever have the chance to sit and talk with him one-on-one…you can bet I’ll take it.

That last entry was a little over the top…maybe.

This is the place where I dig deep and talk about the feelings that I’m not sharing with the people around me though. This is the place where I do my virtual bitching and whining. Really, this is a very negative space for me, which is why I’m surprised when people keep reading. But then, people like drama, don’t they?

Maybe that’s why I write this stuff in a public forum – I like the drama. Considering that I scored higher on a “How gay are you” test than my gay friend the Bear, I’m not surprised. Not all gay folks are dramatic, that was an unfair generalization. No, wait a minute…yes they are.

I’m really doing pretty well despite things. My family will be with me before long and everything will be all roses and sunshine…until my youngest eats one of the roses and my son screams about the sun being too hot.

I’ll tell you what’s cool though – my comments section. This will be the second time in less than a week that I write about the fact that someone’s comment(s) made a difference to me in some way.

JFZ said:

The world is far more digitally connected now than it was when I had to travel on consulting contracts. You can blog and email, skype and webcam.

I think sometimes that Chrysalis has the right idea. Get a camera. Go adventuring. Enjoy the company of total strangers.

That's what I did. Explore and take notes. It doesn't have to be grandiose, either. It could be investigating the story behind the history of the hippie bar, for a start.

In your mind, interview people. Take mental notes. Put the elements of your surroundings into your new story.

This is good advice and some I am likely to take. Funny, but I had been thinking about stepping out into the world and interviewing people as part of my decision to pursue a degree in journalism. I was thinking of interviewing all kinds of people that the general populous either shuns, ignores, or generally stays away from – I think these people are just like the rest of us and need the chance to tell someone. I was thinking to start with someone that is generally considered “homeless” (been there), and a particular Domina that I’ve recently discovered. I think both will have some really interesting takes on life.

I’ll probably post the interviews. I guess it’s time I got off my backside and did something about this.