The Hidden Price of Success.

Scott Sigler got his contract with Crown Books. His dream is in the process of coming true. He quipped: "I'm an overnight sensation that has taken fifteen years."

 As I continue to follow his career I am reminded of the hidden price he has and is paying for the hard cover book release, five city book tour and finding out how many of the 100,000 copies of INFECTED have actually sold.

As I sit at my computer happily consuming his wonderful audio version of INFECTED, it seems so easy. How hard is it to tell a story? I've written stories and have imagined plots. But I am nowhere near being even a wannabe writer.

I produce this blog, but this is not truly professional writing. I have vague illusions about someone picking up my blog and seeing the potential for a book, but reality lets me know that it probably won't happen. Why?

Because I don't put in the time and effort to make it happen. Crown decided to back Sigler because of the quality of his work. Sigler has been working and reworking INFECTED  for about twelve years. He is also involved in continuing research of scientific topics, to add to the plausibility of his fictional horror yarns. 

Twelve years ago, Scott discovered a book on Parasitism. His brain latches onto the beginning of a story idea. That part is fun and exciting. The hours of rereading, rewriting and more researching can feel oppressive. Boredom lurks after the blush of "newness" wears off.

Scott is married and can't pursue career success at the expense of his family and friends. He has learned to walk that tightrope between career and personal life.

Scott has embraced the discipline of learning the rules of grammar, style and storytelling. He is willing to slash and burn his own work to make sure it is ready for the "break" when it does come. He balances opposite parts of himself.  His head may be in the clouds but his feet are on the ground. He'd like to be the biggest thing in publishing history, but what will he settle for if he not the biggest thing in publishing?

This part of the journey I'm somewhat familiar with.  I am coming to terms with having several disabilities, large aspirations, champagne tastes and a beer budget. I discovered I must like the "process" of what I'm doing, not just the result. Therefore the achieving of a goal isn't the only time I find enjoyment.

I killed myself to become a computer programmer, only to discovered I'd been happier as a data entry operator! Ooh, that realization was a real sad moment.

So Scott's pre-launch shin-dig with family and friends is held on the eve of his book launch. He has some candy, that turned out to be spoiled. He got a nasty case of food poisoning, a condition with which one can't argue. It is hard to do a phone interview with a radio station in New York when you are too sick to speak.

I know he never fantasized about having those radio interviews while fighting nausea! Crown, having dealt with a legion of authors, took it in stride and Sigler is still in their employ. People do become ill.

Day two (April 2nd) he's on a plane for Los Angeles and the first of a five city book tour. Success is tiring and after the first three cities, he found his bed at home and collapsed into it. I'll bet he didn't daydream of this aspect of success either.

One of the reasons I know I wouldn't make it as a writer is my tolerance for depression. The level of depression at the "let down" phase of success would be more than I could handle.  After several days back home Scott is off to New York and sees that he has strong sales, but not as strong as he'd hoped. How does he handle what must be a terrible personal disappointment?

All of these emotions are thrashed out alone, or at best with a few trusted friends. When you get noticed, people come out of nowhere and want to be your "friend". Usually not with your best interest at heart.

I know I'm a fan, more then a friend. Yes, I care about Scott and his work deeply. I want the absolute best success for him. But I'm also having my own money fantasies about owning what will become the equivalent of a first run copy of a signed book by Tom Clancy! My daydream is something like this. I bought it for $30 and now people are willing to pay $30,000. Wow, that would be SWEET! This kind of thinking makes me a fan, not a friend.

I study Scott's career and continue to mine personal inspiration from his honest and shoot-from-the-hip interviews. The hidden price of any successful endeavor is hours of just plain hard work.

I reflect on my current success with my church and the computer. I looked for that "hidden" work pattern and realized it was indeed present. I got a computer, programs and manuals. I had a real difficult time figuring out Adobe Acrobat 5. It took me days of reading and rereading their documentation to actually successfully use it. But from that adventure I found I could read much easier on a computer and bought serious Bible software. I love history and began the ridiculous task of reading the works of the Church Fathers, all 37 volumes. I'm in Volume four now.

Continuing with self education, my next difficult task was comprehending how to use Nisus Writer. There as still things that program could do I don't understand. But I learned more of how to learn and how word processing on a computer works.

When I made the leap to my first Internet capable computer the world exploded open to me. I read a lot of almost everything that came my way. Sometimes I long for those days with nothing to do but what I wanted to do, with no external responsibilities. My days are not like that anymore.

.

I have projects, deadlines and the challenge of learning when something is too difficult for me to tackle alone. I just turned over the project to create church stationery to someone more experienced with business stationery. It feels good to admit I need help.

Today after a little over three weeks out there in bookstores. INFECTED is doing well, nearly in the top 35 of the New York Times Best Sellers List. He'd published before with a much smaller company and when he sold 3,000 copies of a book, the company could barely fulfill the orders!

Crown sees potential in Sigler, because of his proven success in the podcast arena. So they gave him an unusual 100,000 book roll-out. Most first-time print runs are around 3,000 copies. Scott mentioned how that pressure weighed on him, in the beginning. I break out in a cold sweat just thinking about it, and it isn't even my life.

Sadly, Scott and his family now have to concern themselves with personal security issues. There are dangerous people out there who seem to glom onto folks in the public eye. Scott rarely talks of his wife or his marriage. I'm sure partly to shield his mate from some of the insanity of being in the public eye.

So when you find yourself angry because somebody else got the promotion, praise or recognition, remember all that went into that "moment in the sun". I am content with my life and am not angry or jealous of someone else's "five minutes of fame". I have learned to remember those lonely, hard times of grinding effort, that "hidden" price of success. 

Taking Responsibility In Our Crumbling Society.

I have been shaken up badly to realize I am now treating others the way some professionals treated me. They treated me harshly when I was strong enough to start accepting responsibility for my life. At church I got tricked by a homeless person, who spun a tale of family suicide. She conveniently neglected the details of her resent hospital release, destitution and homelessness.

I assumed I was dealing with a middle class person being rocked by the suicide of her 11-year-old grand daughter. I now question whether that actually happened to this lady.

I started receiving calls from her in various states of hysterics. "I have no place to go. No one cares." Being I've lived among the very poor I recognized this ploy. I refused to buy into the idea that I was now totally responsible for her well being.

She managed to secure a temporary hotel extension from the hospital she was released from. Her check comes in next week. I then get the call this morning that she has no food. I heard that Lilt of victory in her voice as if to proclaim: "Now you HAVE to do something!" Again, I had to decline to assist her. I gave her information I had about various feeding programs in Oakland, but beyond that, I will do no more.

I have that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I have food, money and a place to stay. If-I-were-really-a-good-Christian... Common sense redirects my flight into unrealistic guilt.

Neither I, or my church are equipped to handle a person in such desperate straights. We can refer her to The Red Cross, The Salvation Army or The Lighthouse Mission. These groups are set up to render emergency assistance. True to the nature of the mentally ill and or very immature, this woman refused all three options. She ran down everything that was wrong with each group. At that point, I hung up the phone.

Oh how I remember my own battles with agencies and doctors. Here I was a seriously messed-up mental patient ((self-committed, but now only able to leave when someone else judged me sane). I had all the answers for everything except my life and current circumstances.

Yes, I was suicidal. I'd been that way for years and knew that played right, someone would do something to make it stop. So, I dragged myself into yet another doctor and showed him my drawings depicting my desire to die.

I whipped the drawings out as a kind of victory. I thrust them into his hands with the triumphant feeling of: "Now, even a dumb-ass like you will see how badly I need YOU TO DO SOMETHING!"

The doctor's response shocked me into stunned reevaluation.

He rudely threw the papers on the floor at my feet and angrily growled: "So? What do you want me to do with these? Its your problem, not mine." He then walked out of the conference room. As cruel as this may sound, at first, it was a continuation of my real recovery.  This man was the beginning of my understanding that I was responsible for my own life and problems. Oh, what a series of painful lessons I had to endure before embracing the idea of carrying my own butt through life.

I truly hurt for this homeless and obviously troubled woman. But part of what Christianity is preparing us to become is leaders. We will rule and reign with Christ. What are the qualities of leadership? One big one is knowing that you can't be everything, everywhere to everyone.

If I have information the Director of the FBI needs, I'd go through the phone-channels and eventually I'd be put in touch with the Director, or one of his close associates. You have to go through channels. The Director of the FBI can't field every request for his attention, he no doubt receives.

Our 50-member church has limits as to what we can have and do. We can and do give occasional emergency food and or hotel stays. One night with the related referrals given to the people the next day. If they refuse to act on our information, we don't continue to give them aid. It can get ugly, but sanity dictates that our church isn't taken for a ride by people who refuse to seek out appropriate forms of assistance.

Leadership demands that one knows their skills, weaknesses and very real limits. I have a friend back east. It would be totally unreasonable and unrealistic for me to request him to fly across the country because I'm lonely. While he would be happy to speak to me on the phone, he would no doubt refer me to my local sources of assistance. This isn't being cruel, or irresponsible. He has a family of five to support and precious little time which isn't accounted for. When you are friends with busy people and they give of their time and resources, it is a truly loving act of friendship. 

As a writer I know always acknowledges to his readers. He tries to make his work worthy of our TIME. Once time is given to something, you can't get it back. Before my life got busy I used to laugh at such a statement. Now I thank God for the loving friends I have who are always there when I'm going through a rough spot. Thankfully, those times are becoming fewer and farther apart.

I also must manage my time. I have several types of part-time work, needs for rest and study as well as needs for some "down" time. I get overtired and ill, when I ignore these limits.

I no longer will give my phone number to strangers. I don't have the time, or resources to adequately help them. When I give out my number, I'm implying that I have the time and resources to help.

It is painful to see my old self for what it truly was: mentally ill and desperately immature. I thank God, He didn't give up on me. I knew I'd changed, but it was a shock to realize that I've come full circle. I am now acting like some of the professionals who used to work with me. I repent for some of the nasty things I thought about them at the time they were introducing me to that nasty concept of taking responsibility for my own life.

Another Example of Healing I Didn't Notice.

I listen to my iPod on the long commute to work. A song from the '80's came up. I listened in shock to what my life used to be:

Too Much Time On My Hands
Written by tommy shaw
Lead vocals by tommy shaw

Sitting on this bar stool talking like a damn fool
Got the twelve o'clock news blues
And Ive given up hope on the afternoon soaps
And a bottle of cold brew
Is it any wonder I'm not crazy? is it any wonder I'm sane at all
Well I'm so tired of losing- I got nothing to do and all day to do it
I go out cruis'in but I've no place to go and all night to get there
Is it any wonder I'm not a criminal?
Is it any wonder I'm not in jail?
Is it any wonder Ive got

Too much time on my hands, its ticking away with my sanity
I've got too much time on my hands, its hard to believe such a calamity
I've got too much time on my hands and its ticking away from me
Too much time on my hands, too much time on my hands
Too much time on my hands

Well, I'm a jet fuel genius - I can solve the world's problems
Without even trying
I have dozens of friends and the fun never ends
That is, as long as I'm buying
Is it any wonder I'm not the president
(hes not the president)
Is it any wonder I'm null and void?
Is it any wonder I've got

Too much time on my hands, its ticking away at my sanity
Ive got too much time on my hands, its hard to believe such a calamity
Ive got too much time on my hands and its ticking away from me
Too much time on my hands, too much time on my hands
Too much time on my hands
----------------------------

This is the best description of having no purpose or direction I've ever read: "I'm so tired of losing I got nothing to do and all day to do it. I go out crus'in, I got nowhere to go and all night to get there"

I lived that nightmare for most of my life!

Also notice a totally out-of-control ego: "I'm a jet fuel genius - I can solve the world's problems without even trying." Another example of "If you so smart, why ain't you rich?"

Back in the '70's, before becoming a Christian, and sadly, for many years AFTER, life just happened to me. I sat around, not changing me, and expecting things to "get" different.

I am stunned to realize that everything has been changed and turned up-side-down. I now have the "normal" problems of living. I have in a quick outline. from recovery, a  "life".

"Something to do, somewhere to go and someone to meet".

I have real friends, interests, hobbies and several kinds of work. Amazingly, I'm now getting compensated for my "volunteer" church work. Every time I go to the grocery store I literally thank God for his bounty as I use a gift card for purchases.

I'm learning how to have love, joy and peace. I'm learning to develop: patience, gentleness and kindness. I am also working on learning to practice having faith (trust in the future), humility and self-control.

By no means am I any way near DONE on any of those things. They are the nine "fruits of the Holy Spirit". I'll get to work on all of this for the rest of my life.

The first three (love, joy and peace) are things I experience directly as flat out gifts from God. As I make more reasonable choices and avoid obvious chaos from people and situations.

I remember wallowing in self-pity: "I'll always be alone. I'll never have a husband and I have to be grateful for always being alone..." Yuck-o,, yes?

I decided that while going to The Marriott for dinner by myself, I could talk to God about how wonderful dinner at the Marriott is. I just thought at God all through my dinner alone. I told him everything, just as though He was sitting there with me.

The beauty of the dining room. The brilliant sun splotches on the carpet and the kindness of the Marriott staff. What happened inside surprised me. I didn't feel alone any more. I was REALLY grateful for ACTUAL people, places and things. I spent a glorious afternoon feeling at peace and content, instead of tasting my own tears of sadness as I'd choke down a dinner my emotions wouldn't allow me to even enjoy.

I no longer get into a fight between two other people. I stay away from violent, or raging people. I also have learned that negative people do not have my best interest at heart.

Long suffering, or patience, gentleness and kindness are things I CAN already accomplish, if I want to badly enough.

I have a little experience with even patience. When I'm at the Social Security office waiting to talk to a worker, I see someone get angry, scream, yell and leap over the gate between the waiting area and the Worker's desks. ARMED security guards quickly take the out-of-control client away. From these observations, I have learned to be quiet instead of loud and threatening. 

Gentleness is having the strength to shove you off your feet when I push you as a joke.  Sanity is not applying all my strength towards you while giving you a friendly "push".

Kindness came to me via a crying bus driver. It was raining and she almost drove by me. I got on the bus screaming at her incompetence. She cried, through real tears that "I'm not Jesus Christ!" Man, did I learn a lesson. Talk about feeling small and stupid!
Now when a driver messes up I make it clear that there is a problem, but I also make it clear that I'm not going to go hysterical on them. I can have a reasonable and fair conversation even when angry enough to tell you off.

The last three are last because they are extensions and usually completely new behaviors. I had a PhD in being negative. I could find something wrong with winning the lottery. I had all the answers and never bothered to question my responsibility in any situation.

Having experienced a tinsy bit of the first six traits of the Holy Spirit, I have a new ability to think about something positive. Yeah, I'm on the system and unable to support myself. BUT there is a possibility (maybe remote, but real) that I will be able to be self supporting. I have learned to be thankful for what I DO have, instead or cursing the darkness about what I DON'T have.

It is amazing how much stress and tension leaves me when I plan a vacation NOT letting lack of money prevent me from even THINKING about taking a vacation. A good way to get unstuck to where you can at least figure out what you would LIKE to do is to let your imagination lose. What would you like to do if money was available?

Once you get a list of what you'd like to do, then you can come back and cross off the truly ridiculous. "I'd like to stay at the Marriott for five days". I settled for two really great days and a night - and actually did it! Thinking positively is the germ of faith.

Humility came to me the hard way. When you are arrogant and outrageous people roughly rebuke you. "Attitude Adjustment" is a great example of "oops" and learning to eat crow.

Attitude Adjustment 

By Hank Williams Jr.

Now I met an old friend
In the bar the other night
And he got a little drunk
And he wanted to fight
And he jumped up
And challenged every man in the room
And just about the time he got the words out
An 'ol boy jumped up and closed his mouth
And used his head for a mop
And his butt for a broom

It was an attitude adjustment
I guess it was his first time
An attitude adjustment
Now he understands just fine
He got bent out of shape
And he opened his mouth
And just one appointment
Straightened him right out
It was an attitude adjustment
Oh It'll work every time

Well I've got this big 'ol brother-in-law
And me and him just never did get along
Because he wants to make sure
I'm treating his sister right
He got drunk one night
And started beating me up
And I went and got a tire tool
Out of my truck
And laid him out as cold as a block of ice

It was an attitude adjustment
And it will work every time
An attitude adjustment
I made him see the light
And he says I'm his kind of man
And he comes around with his hat in his hand
It was an attitude adjustment
I cured all his family pride

Now my girlfriend slapped me in the face
I said darl'in that was you're first mistake
Then she went wild and her eyes turned red
She started breaking everything
And screaming loud
And kick'in me and cussin me out
And I gave her a little adjustment
On the top of the head

It was an attitude adjustment
Now she loves on me all the time
Just an attitude adjustment
She got a whole new frame of mind
She don't nag
And I don't beg
And we get along and like I said
Just an attitude adjustment
Oh everythings just fine
Well almost

She called the cops to take me in
And I said you're never gonna do it friend
And they just smiled
And said "Oh Yes We Will"
Now a stick to the head
And some kicks in the chin
And a several bites from Rin Tin Tin
And I couldn't wait to get into that jail

It was an attitude adjustment
Oh I went along peacefully
Attitude adjustment
Oh they made me clearly see
Cause my head is black
And my legs are blue=
And both knee caps are bit clean through
It was an attitude adjustment
It made my whole outlook brand new
Just a attitude adjustment
It made my whole outlook brand new

-----------------------------------------------

I really believe I've eaten enough crow to never seriously entertain the idea that: "I'm all of that and a bag of chips". Man, humiliation is hard and a very painful way to learn that you aren't God.

I misunderstood humility. It is not to deny what you can do. I have some natural talent in several areas. However, God has permitted me to really shine by teaching me things and taking my natural abilities and adding to them. God is "the wind beneath my wings". But as long as I stay under God's control, I have the joy of flight.

I just don't get to put other people down who don't perform as I do. I also don't get to take the credit for what I do. It even works on things like this blog. I pray for ideas. Now that I'm not in and out of crisis on a regular basis, I find it harder to figure out what to write. This blog is an answer to one of my prayers. God gave me the thought and the ideas. I basically just copy what he gives me. That is very different from claiming I have great personal talent and ability.

The last gift from the Holy Spirit is self-control. Like humility, I didn't easily embrace this trait either. Having untreated Bi Polar Depression shows up in being impulsive and headstrong. You don't have to be Bi Polar to have those faults, but Bi Polar Depression puts you on a whole other level of immaturity.

Delayed gratification is another term used for self-control. I still struggle with the idea of saving the money FIRST and then PURCHASING my desired item. The difference now, is I am aware of what I'm doing and am willing to take responsibility for my behavior. (What a concept)!

My time is now valuable to me. I have more to do, then hours in the day. I am not saying I have unfair pressure put upon me. I struggle not to over-work, because I am so happy to have meaningful work to do for my church. I have to set a timer to keep myself from the brain numbing three hour marathons! I am not a loser. As a friend says: "I'm one of God's kids". I am grateful to be alive. This is why I had to laugh when I listened to the song: "Too Much time on My Hands". Wow, God, like the song says: "Look where You brought me from!" 

Recovery: When It Isn't Black or White.

I haven't posted lately from being either busy, sick, or both. Tomorrow I officially get help with whatever has taken up residence in my lungs. But now back to recovery!

I was the one with the courage to turn my dad into my mother when he was trying to have sex with me, but thought I was my mother. Black and white. I did what needed to be done.

I left my abusive lover and almost everything I owned, as I knew my own weaknesses. Not letting him "talk me back home" was my only protection against going back for more physical and mental abuse. Again, black and white.

I thought I had enough emotional strength and maturity to walk with a friend while she had an anxiety attack. She started talking really crazy, violent crazy. She then became unintelligible. Then it was over. She thanked me for hanging with her and assured me she was fine.

Unfortunately, I was no longer fine. Her crazy talk scared me back to thinking about my mother and her "attacks". My mom would be fine, truly fine. I'd ask to be fed, as a small child and she'd give me food. She would talk to me and even engage in mild play. It was real, fun and safe.

When my mother would have one of her "attacks" I'd ask for food and she'd lose it completely. Screaming at me and savagely punishing me for something... I never knew what I'd done wrong. As an adult I'd black out, grab a large stuffed animal and beat it with a closed fist screaming: "I'll teach you a lesson!"

My mom knew she went crazy. She cried and prayed to God a lot, after she'd recover. But I learned to know that my mother was never truly "alright".

Now I had a box to place my friend in. She thinks she's okay, but I am afraid she may kill someone. Do I sit by and wait for something to happen? Do I call the police? What exactly do I report? My adrenaline has shot up like it did after my 2nd mugging. I'm totally on hyper "red alert"

I decide it is time to lay the hammer down. Time to "exit" another person from my life. Oh God, how I hate this part of myself. I leave a message on my friends machine letting her know that I think she's psychotic and not to call me like that any more. I also dumped on her for doing "Psycho-drama". A pastime played in every psych ward.

But, my friend, being my friend, saw things more clearly and had a different idea. She wanted to continue being friends. She was clear that I was not a good pick to talk to when she was having any strong emotional outburst. She was willing to try and continue being friends with some new insight on how what she does can scare some people.

Wow. I am stunned. Yeah, her anxiety attack sure did scare me. I really didn't want her to totally go away, but those episodes of hers can for sure "go away". Just like when I get really upset and start spouting off about suicide, I have also learned that my friends can't deal with it. It is time to go to the hospital, or at least get some "tune-up" counseling. All are available to me and my friends are spared unnecessary upset.

This is one of the first attempts to keep a friendship in my world, instead of just cutting and running. I'm sure some of you have a past strewn with those who you don't associate with any more. Sometimes that is survival, as we sure know how to find illness in a crowd! But as real healing begins, I am overjoyed at NOT trying to make friends with the most troubled soul in a group. I've learned some of the "signs" of trouble, before befriending and man, my friends are so HEALTHY!

I now have to attend to this lung, weakness thing that has been around for almost a month. Time to call for medical help. I have no doubt I'll be taken seriously. My HMO loves it when you try to get well on your own before running to them. I've never been refused treatment. I may have some kind of low grade infection going on, but something sure is going on and I've had it. Yes, I waited so long because I have issues around being sick and actually making it official. My family had issues with illness and as much as I thought I was done with their garbage - well, maybe not.

This is more of getting "really well". Sure not as cut and dry as I once thought it was going to be. Keep waiting for the angels to sing and a bright light to shine on me while a voice booms out of heaven: "Yes, thou art finished!" THAT probably won't happen until the rapture, or my physical death. So recovery continues with very little "drama". Have to remember that "dramatic" is rare, like "traumatic". Health is so sweet!

Wow! What A Great Valentine Message!

Today is Thursday, Valentines Day. If I permit myself I can slide into sadness because I don't have a romance in my life. I don't go there, as I have trouble living with me, so do I really think my eccentric ways would be good for a husband? NOT!

Yesterday was my first day with no tears after returning my check to my church to prevent the loss of my medical benefits. Did I over react? (shrug), more than likely . But it is over in three days instead of several months. (from a song), "Look where God has brought me from". Actually updated church's website last night. A real sign that my brain is once again working.

So this morning I got on my beloved twitter and greeted my flock of about 20 followers. Check out this lovely gift that arrived on my desktop from twitter.com:

"Sending you much love, a (hug), and a single rose @ for your sweet friendship. "

This lady is the wife of one of my favorite and most fascinating net friends. I have written much about him, claiming he is to creativity what a Jack Russell Terrier is to dogs. He said that was a first for him - being compared to a Jack Russell Terrier. I have gotten brain fatigue attempting to keep up with his text messages. I have often pondered how it must be to actually LIVE with this super energetic dynamo!

When his wife was pregnant with their last child he took loving pictures of her napping. I bet she was napping! Because I listened to some classes with this man I know a bit about his wife. He is impulsive, she is not. He says whatever pops into his mind. She plans it all out before sharing. Yeah, they've had to work together to keep from driving each other crazy.

But until twitter, I'd never met my friend's wife. Something got her into using twitter and to hubby's amazement, she took off like a rocket. Now they chat with each other via twitter - even when both are seated on the same couch! The kids now lament the disappearance of both of their parents in "real time". Oh, and their kids are also amazingly creative and energetic. Not a surprise there (smile).

So you lovely human being (you know who you are), how's about a run down on what got you into twitter? I'm so glad you ventured out into cyberspace. You win the prize for the best valentine I've ever gotten. Actually got me to tear up. I will mine wonderful encouragement from that message for days.

Now I leave you all to clean a house. I hope every one of my readers gets blessed with something that makes this day special. What an awesome gift from my friend's totally cool wife!

Priorities, What's Really Important?

This World Is Not My Home

This world is not my home I'm just passing through
my treasures are laid up somewhere beyond the blue
the angels beckon me from Heaven's open door
and I can't feel at home in this world anymore
O Lord you know I have no friend like you
if Heaven's not my home then Lord what will I do?
the angels beckon me from Heaven's open door
and I can't feel at home in this world anymore

They're all expecting me and that's one thing I know
my savior pardoned me and now I onward go
I know He'll take me through though I am weak and poor
and I can't feel at home in this world anymore
O Lord you know I have no friend like you
if Heaven's not my home then Lord what will I do?
the angels beckon me from Heaven's open door
and I can't feel at home in this world anymore

Just up in Glory Land we'll live eternally
the Saints on every hand are shouting victory
their song of sweetest praise drifts back from Heaven's shore
and I can't feel at home in this world anymore
O Lord you know I have no friend like you
if Heaven's not my home then Lord what will I do?
the angels beckon me from Heaven's open door
and I can't feel at home in this world anymore

I was so shellshocked from the events of yesterday. I actually removed the church check from my wallet and "voided" it. I felt very, very disconnected from reality. The last time I experienced such a disconnect was the first night I left (was tossed out of) my x-lover's house. I was at a friend's home on an emergency basis. I had been working in her home for almost 10 years and yet the house, my belongings and the world in general felt "strange". I felt like I didn't belong.

I couldn't sleep last night. I found myself stairing at the ceiling and pondering if it mattered what I did any more. I could just walk away from everything and wait to die... Better figure out what is important, or this kind of thinking could lead me into the hosspital.

What does the Bible have to say about this situation? Am I mad at God? Am I mad at myself? What has me so riled up?

I felt God very close to me and realized that whatever was happening I wasn't mad at God because He didn't do anything in this situation. I had misunderstood the rules of the system which is paying my medical costs. They rightly assume I am unable to work. While this is TECHNICALLY untrue, the reality is I need more money than Social Security provides and my ability to make up the difference has been amply demonstrated to not exist. Oh man! my pride is having a howling problem with THAT bit of reality!

According to Jesus, finding Him is the most important assignment of my life on earth. I may not have the trappings of the "World", but I am saved and have a deep and rich relationship with God and His people.

According to my Pastor's wife, this is just the devil attempting to derail the blessings I'm accruing from this month of fasting and intense prayer. That almost makes sense to me, as I've been tempted to drink, use drugs and just act crazy in response to realizing I traded in my ability to get off the system for the money I need for medicine and treatment. Without my psychiatrtic drugs I truly have no life.

Using the old idea of looking for the good in a difficult set of circumstances, I realize that I am also being tempted to abandon my church's website out of anger. A test of my promise to God that I'd stay with that work regardless of pay. I have a chance to prove how much commitment I have to God's work when I literally have to walk away from compensation.

I realize that in spite of feeling somewhat "lost", I know God will show me a new way of thinking and reacting to my circumstances. He is so close to me as I write. I really have learned to trust Him. I have enough mental strength to tolerate feeling "lost" for awhile.

I now consider someone like Susan Reynolds. Before cancer she had a life and carear with all the ups and downs. Now her life has been turned insid out and upside down due to cancer. I totally appreciate her willingness to share her "hard" times, as well as those days when she is full of energy and hope. I can handle a hard day, just like she can. It gives me strength to face the "strange" and "sad" stuff just watching her whip out her new video cam and have the sheer guts to look us in the face and say: "I'm not doing so well today...". Girl, you give me a gift, every time you do that!

What to do with my friends, and they are friends, who ignore my upsets? It is hard for me not to think of that kind of behavior as cowardice. I have lost some respect for a couple of people, but maybe my mic was on mute and they didn't "hear" me. I know that wasn't true, as I checked my mic, as I tried to re-connect with them on our conference call via Skype. Somebody muted me remotely and they bailed out on me. I have to "forgive" them for that and I'm not ready to deal with that ball of pain just yet.

I hate people with no courage. Apparently to ignore someone having a hard time is how its done, as an individual I thought would be there for me joined the silence on twitter in reaction to my angry tweets. Lesson learned, "you pussies"! Oh, Scott Sigler, how I love you!

I know that kind of "silence" well. Yeah, it is the world's way of "socializing" people. Torture them with absolute abandonment so they will only put out "nice", "tame" and "appropriate" noises. Yeah, I've been through this fire before. I may be down, but I'm not out. I have the balls to "take" whatever comes down. I can't play the "pretend" game about life, as it is a short trip from "happy talk" to Lock-Down" hospital admission for me. So, I will be chided for calling a behavior I hate being a pussy, but that's how it appears to me. If you don't like that, google search on Shirly Temple movies and you'll find something more to your liking.

Returning 1st work check of $50 or loose $460!

Ah how reality has a way of gumming up a good day. I qualify for two parts of Medi-Cal, California's version of medi-cade (the federal program for the poor, old and disabled). 1st part assumes I only have a right $802. /mo. instead of what I really get from Social Security. They assess a $460 Share of Cost. Being that my rent is $560./mo. I qualify for the program for the REALLY poor and TOTALLY unabled. It pays for 99% of that $460./Mo. share of Cost.

If I take the $50 check from my church for my "work" I will be assessed the $460 + the $50 earned because I'm am only entitled to have $802. They divine that this amount is all I need to live on. So, after some angry tears and a large milkshake I have steeled myself to do the unthinkable. I'm returning the uncashed check to my church and will refuse any "gifts" as they also have the potential of getting me into trouble with our state insurance.

For those of you hankering to hire me. In order to totally leave the "system" I would require about $3,000./Mo. NET. After paying for my insurance and drugs, I'd have about $1,000/Mo. to llive on. Yeah, tried to put together "gainful and substantial" employment for myself for the last 27 years and I now surrender to reality. I can't support myself, even with social security. I get special indigent aid. I do nothing, I have nothing and I am nothing.

Oh! some of you may scream. Rave on, oh dear ones. If you ever join the land of the disabled you will soon meet the worlds of poverty, fixed-incomes and regulations. I fought until I broke and this is just the final piece of glass leaving the shattered frame.

Thanks to my anti-depressants I'm not hysterical. Eventually I'll be able to construct a happier face for all of this. I know I have to be thankful, grateful and compliant. I have to be humble too. I cried in front of two acquaintances and they reacted by pretending I wasn't in their presence. God, such courage my mates! All to make me strong. According to some, people like me have the best blessing from God because since we are poor, we have nothing else to practice but faith. Well, give me a few days and I'll talk myself back into believing that. Right now I feel dangerously cold inside. Its just anger which I'll bleed off through excess work and a bit of overeating.

In a few days I'll be able to listen to my Pastor try and ramp up my "hoper" again, hopefully without crying. This moment is not a lot of fun. I refuse to lie. I get it that when you are sad and mad no one wants to talk to you They wait until you have rejoined them on the river Denial.

So, next post will be "fun" and "uplifting". Yeah, something talks and BS walks. "On the good ship lolly pop"!

What's With The Peas? The Susan Reynolds Story

Since I virtually live on my computer, I am used to seeing my buddies playing with their "avatars". Those little pictures, or representations of themselves that go with their messages on sites like twitter.com, facebook.com, etc. I use a beautiful Samoyed dog on this site and everywhere else. But a few weeks ago on twitter.com a few people started going crazy with pictures of peas somewhere in their avatars. What's this all about?

This is an example of "social media" in action. A lady named Susan Reynolds, an artist and author got the dreadful word that she not only had breast cancer, but a rare and particularly nasty variety of same. Being a lover of life and people, as well as a lover of herself, she took her personal "challenge" and put it into a blog for the benefit of other patients and their families. In the same spirit which motivated and motivates this blog, she let it all hang out about the ups, down, ins and outs of being a cancer patient. You guys are gonna love this. She calls her blog "Boobs On Ice".

When I first read her story on The Frozen Peas Fund page I thought the name was a brilliant joke of some kind. No, this brave lady had surgery and was in bad pain. She tried ice packs and all the rest, but for her two bags of frozen peas tucked into her bra gave the best and longest lasting relief.

The movements beginning and giving $5 or more to The American Cancer Society specifically for Breast Cancer research are all documented. $5 is about the cost of two small bags of frozen peas. I love small donations, because I'm on a fixed income and I can't drop the large donations. But even I, with my impulsive shopper ways can give $5! So now I too have joined the ranks of the PEAple who have a PEAvatars.

But Susan realized that a permanent avatar change would soon disappear in peoples minds. They'd see it daily and it would loose its impact. So "Frozen Pea Friday" was born. I believe this is #7 or #8. We all change our pictures for only one day a week, on Fridays. The change is striking, as more and more little pictures are surrounded by or embedded with peas. Here's mine:

This rendition will only appear once a week. I love grass-roots, or in this case icy boobs movements. I know next to nothing about The American Cancer Society, but according to Susan they are the only 24/7 phone number cancer patients can call and talk to someone. That in itself is enough for me.









Here are the links I've referred to in this blog with their actual addresses:

The Frozen Peas Fund Page; http://frozenpeafund.com/

Susan Reynolds Cancer-related blog "Boobs on Ice": http://susanreynolds.blogs.com/boobsonice/

Free pictures of peas can be found on Flickr.com: (I did the "peas" search for you: http://flickr.com/search/?q=peas

google search results for "susan reynolds": http://www.google.com/search?q=susan+reynolds+md&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8&aq=t&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a


Be sure to check out the google search page for "susan reynolds". She is far more than just a cancer patient. I have no doubt, this illness will fade to a "blip" on her active and creative life radar.

You GO girlfriend!

Handling Success: My Church Work Is Rewarded.

I sat in church and the announcement was made that there was a vacancy on the board. If interested, please apply. I have scant notion of what the Board does, or what they would need, but I was interested. I figured a "no" on this would just be God letting me know that He had something else for me to do.

I got the polite rejection letter, and after a few minutes of feeling sad, I prayed for whoever had been nominated and went on with my life. It isn't like I don't have enough to do. I am still struggling with time management and not surfing my day away on the Internet. I am amazed how EASY it is to get lost on the computer and get nothing doner on my to-do list.

One of the things I love about my current church is their utter transparency about the business and money side of their operation. In the traumatic world of Dr. Scott everything was hidden and one learned quickly the safety of NOT asking questions about anything on the business side of the church.

My current church hands out a complete balance sheet for the year. You are free to ask about anything during the business meeting. Basically the Board gets recommendations from Pastor and after they pass on something, they bring it to the business meeting for a vote. I LOVE that!

The new board member seems like the perfect fit and I am truly happy for her. We than moved on to "salaries". I am now to get some money every month in appreciation of the work I do on the website and in creating out bulletins and most other printed material. Not everyone doing work for the church is getting paid. They combined all the salaries into one yes, or no vote and the room went crazy.

I was stunned. Unlike receiving money from a secular business, this money would be coming out of tithes and offerings given to the church. This is the first promotion of this type I've ever received. I have a bit of trouble actually accepting what has happened.

It is like my church family is giving me a vote of confidence. I'm going to keep on doing what I've been doing all along. I am deeply grateful to a friend who has been my mentor from the beginning of my website mastering. I am now a mentor for another less experienced Christian. Mentoring is its own reward, but with my friend's help and encouragement, I'm doing things that amaze me.

I have been asked to tell the story of how someone who is darn near blind is deeply involved with computer graphics and website tinkering. Some of you will see God's fingerprints all over the following. Only God could have put it together.

Back in 1999 I purchased my first computer. A 1993 G3,Power PC Macintosh with 1 GB of disc space running on System 7.5. (Had no idea what a GB was, but it seemed like I had an amazingly huge disc drive to play in).

I soon discovered that I could draw a box around the cursor and reverse the video on my monitor. Print white, background black). I turned the screen magnification up to the max, but did not actually use it. I just requested the "preview rectangle" option. Since the magnification was so high, the result was a lovely 1 inch square box neatly drawn around the cursor. Now I could really see where the cursor was and I could read for hours with no pain. I still refused to get on the internet because of having so many "getting lost" (and confused) issues, whenever I tried it.

I started playing around with all the software they gave me at the store. Calendars, children's games, accounting software and word processing software. I really liked how much easier it was for me to "draw" on a computer as compared to drawing on real paper with writing tools.

Since I have mild Cerebral Palsy my writing quavers. Even with a ruler a truly straight line is difficult for me to create on real paper. On this computer I could draw a line and hold down the shift key (forcing the line to remain straight, or at a 45 degree angle). My work didn't look like I had Cerebral Palsy any more!

I then discovered a magazine from England called Mac Format. This issue had a CD taped to it and featured that year's world wide winners for excellence in software. Oh man, this was HEAVEN. My system was too old for some of the latest and greatest, but there were some awesome applications I discovered and fell in love with immediately.

Nisus Writer was a Word Processing/drawing/slide show presenter and some other stuff I had no clue about. It also had a spell checker that didn't block the text you were trying to proof. But what made me swoon was in their drawing area, they provided a lovely grid that looked exactly like a sheet of graph paper. You could control the size of the squares and now I could draw objects to a size I KNEW was correct! Only problem, this gem cost $100. Oh, well... How many of you would like to drive a Rolls...?

I had begun to copy printed material and clean it up for my pastor's wife. She knew nothing about computers and considered me some kind of genius because I could work a computer at all. I invited her to my room and showed her all my new discoveries. Earlier that year she'd given me the money to purchase a printer, so I could get her work back to her. Now I prepared her for the fact that I was just "window shopping" when showing off Nisus Writer. I knew I'd never be able to justify the price. But I showed it off anyway, because I loved it so.

She asked me about the cost and when I told her it was $100, she cut the check right then and there! She wasn't buying it for the church, but for me. I owned both my printer and now this amazing software.

I laid out fliers, meeting agendas and attendance lists for various departments. I also transcribed some notes I'd occasionally take as a fill-in secretary. Nisus Writer was just so beautiful. It made me look ever so good with an amazingly small amount of effort on my part.

I also bought some very serious Bible Research software. Accordance. The kind of program Masters Program students in Seminary would need to use. Hey, at that time I actually thought God might want me to be a Pastor! NOT!

My old church had about 400 members, lots of little committees and a sophisticated counseling program. It was the counseling department which gave me the core of my graphics experience. Last minute is my specialty. I don't like it, but what can I do? I receive 100 xeroxed, marked-up and chewed-up pages. I'm sitting in pastor's Wifes'
car and ask the stupid question: "when do you need this?" It is Friday afternoon.

Haltingly she responds: "Sunday?" I resist the temptation to reply: "Are you out of your flipp'in mind?" and foolishly agree to it! But I know that God, Nisus Writer and I will get it done.

Nisus Writer was made for college professors who are writing things like Calculus or History texts. I had very easy ways of adding check boxes, arrows or blank lines to forms and having everything line up like a dream. I know the team at Nisus didn't really understand why I'd gush to them from time to time my gratitude for their program. But that program made me look totally professional.

So after several years I changed churches and landed at my current location. I had graduated to an eMac, system 10.3 with 40 GB of disc space and the ability to connect to the internet. Since I no longer had the visual hassle of "loosing the cursor" the internet was like a candy store for my mind. I just went nuts for news, music, ebooks and podcasts. Podcasting is where I met my wonderful padre back east. A rich friendship which continues to flourish.

I sent off my first email to a musician begging for information on where I could buy a song that was demoed on another Mac Format CD. To my shock, his answer appeared in my inbox almost immediately. And within minutes I had his great music on my machine.

Nisus was trying to move their creation over to the new system architecture. Oh, how I miss their lovely graphics! But I have been forced to mostly abandon them for Apple's Pages. I get calls from my old church from time to time:

"I know you can get this out. We need it tomorrow at 7:30 AM." (it is now 8:30 PM the night before the morning deadline) ,"Can you make us 6 place cards?"

"sure" I reply. "But what's a 'place card'?" If I know what it is to look like and how big it is, assuming my printer can handle the size, I'll come up with pretty much anything.

"Pastor's mother-in-law just died. We need place holders for the pews for the family and close relatives..." I got the layout, but color scheme was mine to choose. (sigh, I don't always do color "guessing" too well).

I went to my clip art collection and found a tasteful cross with flowers for the artwork, done with light blue/gray accents. I put it together and my work was picked up at 7 AM.

Watch God on this one. I just happened to pick the exact color scheme used by the people decorating the church! Hello Holy Spirit, how cool is this?

My current church is a teaching church using the OLD King James Bible. Church Of God In Christ is conservative, but we are at the far end of conservative, even for them. I fell in love with their strong emphasis of teaching the Bible and teaching you to dig things out for yourself. I wanted to make them a website. I Had no idea what that involved, but I know I'm smart and ought to be able to knock it out...

Another member was assigned to do the website and they came to me looking for educational websites. I was sad that I wasn't going to get to do the site, but I did what I was asked to do and (amazingly) kept quiet about my personal dreams.

Next thing I know Pastor has assigned the website to me! I took off running. I scoured the web for education and BROTHER did I find it! HTML is the basic language of websites, but there's more. Oh so much more... I was referencing websites written by professional web DESIGNERS for professional web DESIGNERS. Like teaching yourself to cook starting at the Ph.D. level in France! I whined and cried to my friend back east, who gently informed me that if I wanted to create the site in the next decade, I could continue as I was. If I wanted to get it up and running, use a program like "iWeb".

iWeb lets you lay out the page in English, just like any document and then the program does all that HTML/CSS voodoo... Yeah, I came to myself and still use iWeb to this day.
My friend mocked up our basic layout and I went from there.

Compared to the other church, their printing requirements were a breeze. Not 100 pages of fill-in-the-blank exercises, but one flat page in black and white. Woa! I could get that out in under an hour! But I wanted to show pastor what else I knew how to do. Soon I began producing color, fold-out bulletins. They are hard to set up, but once set up as a "template", are easy to reproduce.

I found a professional website for very good looking clip art. Save yourself some time. If it's free it looks like you made it, but when you were on drugs! I find great satisfaction in coming up with the ideas God puts in my mind. I just see it in my head and attempt to reproduce it on paper. I love making quality things for God's work.

One of my pet peeves is some of the substandard work that is produced for God. It would never pass in the most easy-going secular situation! I didn't ask for pay because we are a tiny church and another pet peeve I have is how some people who do work for the church almost blackmail the pastor: "oh, you like what I did? That'll be ...". I figured I could use any church work I did to get work elsewhere.

But now I'm getting paid. It is a small amount, but it is still pay. This is the first non-animal-care work I've gotten in over 10 years. It feels very, very good.

So this is how God took someone who is nearly blind and turned me into a graphics and website person. Only God, only God.

Quick Life Update: Great Holidays But Minor Eye Problem.

I am declaring myself officially "well". My life has gone from totally dysfunctional to normal as you have been following this blog. I have been made Program Director in addition to my webmaster duties for my church. By Program I mean the printed bulletins that are produced for church meetings.

This is the first "promotion" I've ever earned in my life. While I'm still in a volunteer mode, my church is struggling to make arrangements to pay me for my work. For me, what I do is part of my "giving" to God. I put Him in charge of what I do and what I receive. Takes my emotions out of it and I stay calm and focused.

Christmas was amazing. I received 22 pairs of earrings from an amazingly creative friend. She did such a beautiful wrapping job. I will show pictures of the wrapped boxes. I am trying to find the time to clean up my pictures of all my earrings. They are beautiful and I want to do the best I can with their photos.

In the last week I have been having some eye trouble. It scared me, as it felt like I could have had an eye infection, or a Glaucoma Pressure problem. My HMO got me seen within 24 hours of my call. I have bleeding from the Retina. So I see a retina doc next week. But my regular doc just wants to get a 2nd opinion. He doesn't feel I'm in serious trouble.

I feel my life has moved into the normal mode because my issues are the mundane things everyone deals with. How do I get everything I want to do done on time? What about life balance? (Not good to work all the time). I have a rough time making time to do this blog. I also have difficulty figuring out what to share with you all. Things are calm and interesting, but how many times can I tell you all that I'm making a new bulletin? BORING!

Here are the pictures of the beautiful wrapped earrings from my friend. Wait till you see all my new and older earrings - 42 pairs. Yeah, its a lot and I love them all.

As far as the current political scene goes, I am underwhelmed. I truly don't like or trust ANY of the people running in either party. I also distrust 99% of news sources to learn about what is REALLY going on. I am heartsick about the continuing slide of the dollar. I'm sure as we get closer to the actual 2008 election that I'll have more definite opinions. I am finding it hard to resist the temptation to just walk away.

Doing that, however, is very wrong. At least in this country I can decry anything and not fear being taken away in the dead of night, never to be seen again. So, I will read The Voters' Handbook and do the best with what we've been offered as citizens.

Grandstanding On the Backs Of the Disabled.

What I share today will make some of you spitting mad. It will comfort and amuse others. I am one of those folks with a "visible" disability. I use a walking cane, or a walker and without too much observation it is obvious that I don't see that well either.

Religion of all kinds proclaim healing for the sick (handicapped/disabled) and "liberation" for the "captive". When I first got Glaucoma a well meaning health food fanatic sent me home with a xeroxed health magazine that informed me that I possessed the "cure" for Glaucoma. Mind you, no research was ever sited, or experts quoted. No books were referenced.

A bunch of Russian sailors were shipwrecked at sea and all they had to drink was, well their urine. They got cured of arthritis, diabetes and high blood pressure! For me, the "cure" is worse than the presenting condition!

Being curious, I finished the article. They even had a Bible verse to support the idea of drinking your own urine. (hot, or cold, by-the-way). "Let every man drink from his own cistern"!

I run into this kind of foolishness all the time. People are under the impression that to have a physical disability is a worse fate then anything. I have learned that being out of one's mind emotionally to where you can watch trees "sneak" around a parking lot renders you totally unable to serve others, or even yourself successfully.

Also, I have a serious trust issue with a lot of the "alternative" health movement. If you take their advice and die, their books keep right on being sold and they cry all the way to the bank. I also loathe most faith healers. I haven't let myself trust enough to be involved with these fools for a very long time.. But tonight I wandered back into a very painful and I believe demonically-inspired swamp of "being healed".

My guard was down, as I tend to assume that most of what our church participates in with other churches is close to the real deal. I do rejoice that I have been delivered from a blanket mistrust of all "moves" of the spirit. I forgot to pray for my own mental protection. I got stung and hurt badly.

The speaker started off by proclaiming that he was a "prophet" and that some people don't "receive" his word. He only teaches the Word of God! My BS detector was turned off, along with my cell phone, or I probably would have giggled inside, at this ploy. If you is one, you don't have to do the classic child abuse move of: "I'm a Prophet. I'm going to beat you up emotionally (in the name of JESUS) You know this is GOOD for you". Anybody recognize this one?

I was impressed with this guy because he did the puff-it-up-I-am-so-powerful routine. I always get snarred by that, when I leave my mind at home. It is just like Dr. Scott, who was just like...
Anybody recognize that one?

I know my pastor is going through a rough patch right now and I wanted to pray for him with the help of this "Prophet". My thinking is like this: God let me accept whatever you desire for me to have, but I'm going to concentrate on others and not my physical, emotional, mental or spiritual limitations. So, I swung into prayer.

I had my walking cane with me, as I knew my ride would be leaving as soon as I finished speaking with this man. The next thing I know this guy is praying for me. No problem, I'm swaying back as he's pushing me and others have come to pray. Fine. This happens sometimes at my home church.

to your faith". Now I'm truly trapped. If I don't jolly well get healed - eyes were also What NEVER happens at my home church is the physical removal of my eyeglasses and walking cane. I was than forced to "prance" around to show that my legs and feet were healed. They weren't, but I hesitated to get into this guys face and argue with him while he's still "praying". I did finally tell him it still hurt. He then quoted that "be it unto you in proportionnow on his radar, it meant my faith has a problem. I've been down that dreary road before and it has lead to suicidal thinking in the past.

The truth was, I felt refreshed and happy, but my physical vision and walking hadn't changed at all. He of course told me to throw away my glasses and my cane 'cause I wouldn't need them any more.

Thankfully, in the car going home my wonderful pastor and his wife helped me sort out what happened. I have to tell the truth, as I may be healed as I go on my way, like the lepers in the Bible. I can live with that. What I can't live with is being used like that. Everyone was swooning and carrying on while I walked around without my glasses and walking cane, waiting for the miracle.

Can I get real here. That ARROGANT man! I will NOT let someone remove anything from my person while they are praying or otherwise! What a lovely piece of showmanship for him and a catch-22 for me! I saw someone do this routine with another disabled person who has great difficulty walking because of surgury and pain. She was made to high step and prance. I remember wanting to feel good about what I saw, but something inside made me wonder what was really happening to her. What if she wasn't healed and was being forced to do painful things to make the "prayer warrior" look good?

Faith healing for show is a load of crap. I thank God I now know what NOT to do when lead to pray for someone laboring under any obvious painful or restrictive condition.

Recovery: Resurrecting Old Interests

This will be a short post, as I am down with the flu. I have to share with you my rediscovery of some old interests. I love books. I was unable to read regular sized print until the sixth grade when a friend stole a magnifying glass out of her science class for me to try.

I went to the dictionary first and broke all library rules by screaming with joy. No way was I not going to go back to her science teacher and officially have the miracle of a 10x hand held magnifier. My friend and I interrupted a class in session as I breathlessly told my story. My girlfriend, the teacher and class cried in joy for me. Needless to say nobody got into trouble and I was provided with the reading glass.

I quickly fell in love with our local public library. I'd go to the card catelogue and find a subject of interest and browse the titles. When computers came in I was shut out of the library i loved. I still can't freely browse the online card catelogue, as it is a PC with no provisions for the legally blind.

So, I'd forgotten all about this part of myself. Oh, sure, I have about 4,000 ebooks and about 20 print books in my possession. But I found out years ago that when I share my excitement over something the odds were 10 to 1 that my friends would roll their eyes and plead with me to stop with that... So, I just kind of gave it up.

Much as I love my boston friend, we are radically different as people. He's the most visually oriented person I've ever met. He can't fathom how I'd rather listen to a football game instead of "watching" one. The visual experience of football for me looks like a pile of laundry wearing helmits and sneakers running up and down the field!

I love math, he LOATHES it! Even our taste in humor is radically different. But I enjoy his faithfulness and optimism as a friend. He has introduced me to whole new worlds on the Internet. Social networks being the most intriguing.

Facebook, myspace and a few places I just didn't pick up on. Facebook is a busy site. Lots of quizzes and the like. I felt totally retarded when I compared my taste in movies with this man and didn't have a clue on 95% of the films he likes! He reads books, but I believe is more into pod casts and magazines. Things that take less time to absorb. Me, I like the 1,000 page tomb that becomes woven into your life to where, when its over, you are almost sad.

Twitter is a lovely compromise. I can follow the amazing thinking of a vast group of people and still have time for a life. Blogs take too long and I just don't have time to do all the exploring my brain longs to do.

Then, somewhere I read about a social site for book lovers. Shelfari.com. Oh, my GOD! I have a happy brain! I spent several days attempting to remember the titles of every book I've ever read and have around 200 plus books on my shelf. My wish list shelf is probably bigger. No overlapping, except on a few books I want personal copies of. I am finding animal lovers, disaster novel lovers and several "love that author" groups. Oh man, I feel like I rediscovered an entire piece of my personality that had gotten lost in the shuffle.

I bet my Boston buddy will breathe a sigh of relief, as I will now stop trying to "teach" him how to love math!

Recognizing Old Patterns Preparing For New Behavior.

Just about the time I fancy myself truly delivered from the insanity of my past, I discover my old patterns are still alive and well. I turn around to gaze on a huge thing still planted in my heart which is actively growing, alive and DYSFUNCTIONAL! Darn, I think of my heart like a garden. How have I managed to "not see" an attitude tree so lush and large?

My family was into hysterics as a way of manipulating others to obtain "their way". We had dramatic scenes worthy of the Academy Awards. Since I was on the receiving end of a lot of this stuff I really learned how to "roll over and lie real good". I also learned how to play the part of my victor. (oops!)

I had a problem on a bus. I got dropped off at the wrong stop and really scared myself good wondering on mountain roads with cars a bit too close to me and my walker for my comfort. I raged and wrote an "official complaint". I then sank into a dark kind of depression I know only too well as my "tantrum state". I got good and stuck. Friends have been wonderful. The really good part of my funk is finding out that my friends are really willing to lavish their time and attention on me when I'm not happy. It really does comfort my troubled soul. I just couldn't seem to recover.

After some sleep and letting myself read a few stories of serial killers, I have come back to center. I was following my cousin's way of dealing with "surprise". Get emotionally over wrought and "make them deal with it". Oh, that doesn't work! It wears me out, messes up my self image and tends to really tick other people off. (Sounds like a way to make friends and influence people huh)?

I am a tense mess when riding the bus up here in the Berkeley Hills. I really need visual help. If the driver forgets, or makes an error, I feel like I have a right to emotionally come unglued. No, I need to rationally plan out the "what if's". If I'm dropped off at the wrong stop I need to do what I did the last time it happened. Stop a passing car, get information and walk back to where I should have been in the first place. However, now that I am aware of how the traffic flows, I need to be careful and aware of approaching cars and venture out between approaching cars. This takes more time, but is totally doable and safe.

If the driver misses my stop and I have to ride back to where I started, I need to call my boss and CALMLY explain that I will be a half hour late, as there was a mix up on the bus. No rage, no tears or theatrics. I got depressed because I have been laboring under the illusion that my "disabilities" give me a right to "expect" perfect performance from those around me. It is their job to watch out for me! (humm, sounds a bit like a three-year-old)?

My parents believed that my "condition of blindness" gave me a "get out of jail free" card. I felt the world owed me everything for years. One day it dawned on me that, perhaps the world was simply "unaware" of their job. When I began to inform my fellow beings of their "duty" My bellow beings abandoned me in droves. (oops)!

I have a right to request assistance and most of the time, happily, that assistance is graciously given. But, when a bus driver is worried about his dying child, or wife and "forgets", I do not have the right to use my power to "punish" the driver. I forget things also. I need to prepare for life's surprises and handle them with a bit of grace and maturity. I rejoice in realizing I have the ability, stability and self-control to actually change my old ways. I have made other changes, this is one more step towards acting like I'm fifty-four and not three years old.

Pastor's Appreciation Month: Uplifting One Another

I turned away from aspiring to be a pastor of a church when I saw that ninety-nine per cent of that job is counseling people. I am a good teacher, but I am sorely lacking in the traits of a good counselor. Not being raised in a church the concept of "Pastor appreciation Month" struck me as odd.

Wait a minute, the guy is the chief honcho, the big kahuna. He's the leader! What gives? Isn't leadership its own reward? (A question only an non-manager, naive person could ask). I found out that most Christian pastors carry a full or part-time job outside of their church duties to make ends meet. Most churches are too small to support a full-time pastor. People assume a Pastor is made of harder stuff then the rest of us. A sixty to eighty hour week would kill us, mere mortals, but "he's a Pastor"

Entire ministries have sprung up attempting to help the children of these beleaguered souls. Many Pasors used to believe that "if they took care of God's business, God would take care of their families." I was shocked to hear a grief stricken child of a pastor weep as an adult, for the "father I never had". Many of these kids drift into hardcore drug and alcohol abuse. There's a problem here.

I can only speak for what I've seen within The Church of God in Christ denomination. The people really attempt to give the Pastor and his wife (or (vise versa) a week of rest and relaxation or recreation. At my church people are nervous and want everything run just so. Money is given, visitors from other churches come and speeches are made. I find this time of year to be better then Christmas, as what is done is done from the heart. We may not always agree with the man, but we are all united on our love for our Pastor.

I saw the blog of a good friend. He was weary of fighting the good fight of being a Christian in a decidedly non-Christian culture. I really relate to just getting tired of the small foxes which never stop gnawing at your vine. Bad language, declining, or absent moral values and trying to bring peace into places where everyone (except you) wants to fight!

I suggest we try to find something encouraging to share with everyone we meet. As Pastor always says: "You never know what someone may be going through".

PhillyMac: You inspire me to keep on keeping on. You have a very full plate and rarely complain about the long hours of work and family responsibilities. All done on a precious few hours of sleep. You really care about Jesus and His people. Makes me want to stir up some goodness around my neighborhood of believers. What really amazes me, however, is when I've asked for help, or even just whined into your email box - you always make time for me. I am a better person for having you floating around in my Cyber Space.

Recovery: Having To Overcome Transit Fears

I have a month long cat-sitting job way up in the Berkeley hills. Beautiful area and awful old style mountain roads. Two weeks ago my bus dropped me a full block away from my stop - not bothering to tell me of this, I had to chase down a motorist and attempt to locate myself. Once I knew where I was I began a long walk to my job. This road stinks.

Why all rich areas seem to be like this, I'll never know. They didn't waste money on their roads or sidewalks, that's for darn sure! There are two narrow lanes for two-way traffic. Actually, cars coming at one another have to negotiate. One must pull over so the other car can creep into the other car's lane to get by. There are very few sidewalks. The road shoulder has been converted into neighborhood paring. I hate the roads here.

Now you have a feel for what my stroll through twenty to thirty mile-an-hour traffic was like. I attempted to dart in and out between the parked cars, but they are bumper to bumper. So, when a car is coming at me, I flatten myself against a parked car and pray I don't get picked off like other road kill. One car passed so close to me, I could perceive where the door handle was on the door of the car. It didn't hit me, but it was pretty close to contacting my body.

I finally got to my temporary home and felt very strange. I fought wanting to cry. I soon went to bed and slept the sleep of the depressed. I woke up wondering if my life was really worth the money I'm getting paid to tend to Maggie the cat. It would be difficult to bail out on this job, even if I seriously wanted to do so. My employer is over in Turkey. I can reach them, but you can't get a live-in person at reasonable rates quickly. So, I returned to just being depressed.

On Monday I had to take the bus down to Sweet Maria and John's to clean their home. No problem. I know my way around that sidewalk lined area. But I see out the window of the bus that I'm all the way to the little shops near downtown. Way past where I need to be. I just lost it.

I got on my cell phone and when Maria answered the phone I more-or-less yelled at her that I was on the bus, they'd missed my stop and I didn't know where the #$% I was, or when I'd actually arrive at work. Needless to say, poor Maria was a bit taken aback. I hung up and planned how to talk to the bus driver in a way that would not tempt him to call the police.

I was so angry and scared, I was actually shaking. The driver got off the bus and readied himself for my tirade. I acknowledged my anger, but kept my language clean and respectful. I explained about what had happened the day before and how I obviously was still a bit freaked out by the whole thing. Since I was being respectful and reasonable, the driver responded in kind. He apologized and explained the problem from his vantage point.

There are two bus runs, the #65 and the #67. They go more or less the same places, but on different main streets. The street I wanted had a twin on the other line. Did I want the Street, or the Lane? (Oh #$%%&*()*&!), I messed up too. We parted as mature adults and I headed for the #67 that turns into a #65. The two runs hop-scotch each other, it is an amusing way to confuse riders and drivers alike.

When I finally got to sweet Maria, she had left me a message that she had been willing to pick me up from downtown. Now, that is like offering to drop down to Manhattan during rush hour. I was very moved. That was a very kind gesture. Maria did drive me back up the hill. I feel badly when she does this, as any travel causes her additional foot pain. But I gratefully accepted. I could avoid the bus scare one more day.

I'd totally bailed out on a job the week before. I called the lady of the house and told her that I had almost been run over on Sunday and I literally was afraid to leave my location. She gave me the time off and I prayed I'd recover. I knew I was really scared, as just opening the front door caused me a wave of nausea.

I also decided to call my Pastor and request prayer. When I am afraid to leave a house to avoid something, I'm not handling things very well. We prayed on the phone, and my church prayed when they got together Friday evening.

I had to return to Maria on Tuesday and she again drove me back up the hill. I knew that this coming Thursday (today) I'd have to face the music and get back to my normal transiting life.

I went to my mailbox, my cell service office, my house cleaning gig and to get groceries. I did not feel good at all, but I forced myself to proceed anyway. I actually didn't eat or drink much this morning. Thankfully, the ride up the hill was uneventful. I now take more time to tell the drivers in more detail why I am making my "call this stop request," I force them to talk with me. I will not just speak at a driver who doesn't respond and assume I've been heard.

Once back on the hill, I put groceries away and had a lovely, if less then healthy dinner. Strong coffee, smoked oysters and Godiva capachino ice cream with chocolate hearts. I was amazed that the Grocery Outlet store would carry Godiva ice cream. It is expensive and wonderful. So, I've faced the monster. It still feels tense, but I'm no longer feeling like I can't wonder outside, even to get the mail.

Social Commentary: Community Rights Verses Individual Rights.

Walking down a street in downtown Oakland I am suddenly assaulted with the unmistakable odor of sun baked urine wafting my way. I am offended at the brutality of homelessness, panhandlers and litter on the streets. "Homelessness is not a law enforcement issue, but a mental health issue," No, according to a New York City court you have a RIGHT to live on the street draped in rags conditioned with your vomit, urine and feces! Let's hear it for Human Rights!

"I can't help being gay, its in my genes". Okay, but does that mean I have to watch you have sex on the street when I'm forced to be in the area for some other reason?

"We need money". True, but I resent as a person with multiple disabilities, having to run a gauntlet in public places. Is it fair that while I'm trying to carry a walker down a flight of stairs, packs of smelly, rude and tactless people try to shake me down for the change I won't willingly share?

I've heard that there are two sides to our RIGHTS. Along with each individual's RIGHT, comes an equal RESPONSIBILITY to the group surrounding us.

Technically, there is nothing wrong with my free speech proclamation of "Fire, run for your lives!" shouted in a crowded theater. Thankfully, our courts have come down on the side of common sense. That act is illegal.

As a Christian, I have the right to leap up on a bus bench and start screaming out a sermon in downtown Oakland. I've seen many different religious and other proponents of all sorts of things engage in this behavior, unhindered. As I pass by, on my way somewhere, I get to "drop in" on their presentation. There is no real problem with this. I find it irritating, but as long as I'm not detained from continuing down the street, who cares?

However, while waiting for a bus, I don't appreciate being man-handled by over-eager proponents of anything. I can't leave and this is to their "selling" advantage. Man, I hate it! Since I am religious, I've found a good way to confuse my religious attackers. Ask them to tell you how they found their faith. I enjoy watching the confusion. It makes my "no thank you" delivered later less confrontational. But, am I not an adult capable of seeking out whatever you think my soul needs?

Churches by the hundreds are listed in the phone book. I've found more then one organization using this less obnoxious method. Oh, I forgot, sellers of whatever assume I'm too stupid to know what is good for me. Geez, now it makes more sense.

Not only do I have Rights, as an individual, I have responsibilities to the community in which I live. In my apartment building I may have a right to play a radio, or my electronic keyboard. But I don't have the right to play these things loud enough for my neighbors to hear my radio through my closed door and theirs. My responsibility to my fellow apartment dwellers is to live in such a way as to not disturb their peace with my noise. I play instruments and several entertainment devices without causing any problems. My secret: headphones!

I post this rant because of an issue brought up on another blog. The Folsom Street Fair in SF. A small gathering of some 400,000 folks coming together to practice public sex and various forms of debauchery in a South of Market (Street) neighborhood. Because our popular media is pro-gay-rights, this curious exhibition was ignored. The gay press and some religious organizations were the only evidence of this event. Yeah, you have a right to be whatever you want to be, but do I have to be forced to "watch"?

Worst thing that ever happened to our community was when the gays decided it was time to leave their closets. Popping onto our radar by proclaiming the right to copulate in the street. Yes, I know most gays (supposedly) don't do that, but ever attend the Gay Freedom Day Parade. My goodness! (I was on my way to an Opera one year and got a real education).

Yeah, I'm old-fashioned and some would even claim fascist, but I'm so tired of being forced into being more "open minded", or "tolerant". Toleration is like what we did with Russia during the Cold War. They had a right to exist and if they left us alone, we left them alone. Our tolerance by no means implied our consent to, or agreement with their morality. This is how I feel about adultery, homosexuality, bestiality and other "sins". I know it goes on, but don't ask me to bless you for it when you force me to take a stand. I care for the person and hate to see the hell they will stir up in their lives via sin, but I refuse to bless the behavior.

This has been a rant I've held inside for years. I'm sure comments will flood in telling me, six ways from Sunday, why I'm wrong. Have at it.

I want to scream: Bring back common standards of public decency!

Social Trends: Being Polite When Complaining.

I'm an impassioned consumer. I love or hate hard. When something which used to works gets broken through an update, I go nuts. I have had a love and hate relationship with Adobe Corporation ever since 2003 when I got my first Internet-capable computer. I discovered ebooks. With my fluky vision print on a computer screen is so much easier to read then print on a real piece of paper. On the computer I reverse the appearance of the screen. Letters are white on a black background. It is pure heaven.

I then discovered I could buy ebooks. Heaven help me! I discovered several estores and I began to build a respectable elibrary. Adobe was my virgin experience. Adobe Reader 5. It was flawless. I then had to update to the next version. I'm on a Macintosh, it didn't go so well. I kept the older version and limped along. So it goes. I raged and more seasoned computer friends told me I was over reacting. (growl, snarl, moan).

This last update from Adobe Reader 7 to Adobe Reader 8 and the NEW Digital Editions was particularly traumatic. Adobe now deals with all my beloved ebooks on the Internet via a whole new system: Digital Editions. When I first looked into this I discovered there was no Macintosh version, but Adobe Reader 7 still worked. So, it goes.

I then had to buy a new computer as my eMac's logic board bit the dust. I had several kinks to work out with the iMac. One of the programs which got deleted accidentally was Adobe Reader 7. But there were Macintosh versions, so I updated. I knew it was probably a mistake, but I did it anyway.

Digital Editions saw all my encrypted ebooks, but had a note next to them: "missing" or "can't be read on this machine". I stared in shock at around $100 of "gone" ebooks.

I dutifully went through the websites and customer forums, which all decried the new program as being a total loss. One customer was so angry he threatened to delete his $3,000 worth of ebooks and take legal action. Oooh, sign me up!

I then saw a lonely humble post from an Adobe employee with an EMAIL address requesting more detailed information, as he was part of the team trying to solve the problems! I was so angry and sad, I hardly knew how to begin my Adobe rant.

I settled on being factual (no exaggerating or threatening), mature (no course language) and polite (no assuming the recipient was incompetent). I really attempted to rise to the above standards. I did my ranting to a friend, who, once again (gently) told me I was over reacting.

To my utter amazement, several days later, I got an email back from the Adobe employee. After asking a few more questions, he proceeded to launch into a new paragraph thanking me for being polite! Wow! That's a grim commentary about how we must be treating people we don't know via email!

I had solved my Digital Editions problem by running that program while my internet browser was open. I then imported all my "missing" ebooks via re-downloading them from the stores where I'd purchased them and all was well. I replied to the Adobe Developer, letting him know that I was now back in business. Another shock, I took the time to let him know something was working as it was supposed to.

Recently our local bus company messed up badly by not letting me know they'd overshot my street. I had several personal safety issues over this situation. The road I had to walk on has a shoulder (used by locals for parking) and at least a half of a lane of room in each direction for 35 MPH traffic. I got to play bumper car with real cars. I also had to flag down a stranger to discover where in the world I was in relation to where I wanted to be.

I tried my new mature tact. I have a feeling I will not only be heard, but responded to by a stranger stupefied by politeness. I bet this is just another example of catching more flies with honey, verses vinegar! Amazing.

Recovery: Being Reminded of Past Trauma.

I have been fighting very bad depression and anxiety issues for the past few weeks. I had to pack some cooking items for my month-long cat-sitting job. I prefer to use my rice cooker and my already purchased brown rice. I have been fighting buying the special suitcase for this specialized job. I waited until the last moment to actually buy a suitcase.

I finally actually bought a very nice suitcase on rollers. It worked fine, though I have to get a longer portable handle for the suitcase so I can attach it to a belt around my waist. I need to have my hands free to deal with my walker.

I literally had problems sleeping last night. I couldn't figure out what was bothering me. I just knew something was not right. I didn't experience any relief from finishing my work on the website. This morning I stumbled upon what has been making me unhappy for the past few weeks.

After packing my suitcase this morning, I remembered the last time I had to pack kitchen items. Our building had been condemned. I came home on a Wednesday night to the grim news that I had three full days to get out before the tenants would be "forcibly removed".

I remember the frantic call to one of my employers, hurridly arranging emergency money for temporary housing. I physically moved all my stuff alone, six blocks to a hotel I couldn't afford. Then I had to move all over again to my current residence. It was an awful two weeks.

I looked around at my house and realized that this packing did not mean I had to "move". A wave of joy and relief flooded my body. I wanted to cry out thanks to God. All the tension I've been carrying started to leave. I finally found the memories that were disturbing my peace.

I guess I still have trouble dealing with some of the "crisis" moves I've made in my life. I have felt terrible ever since I made the decision to use my own cooking items on the cat-ssitting job. I finally got some restful sleep and all is well with the world.

Hopefully this may help someone else wondering through a swamp of feelings with no "reason". Sorry this isn't entertaining, but I want to continue documenting my recovery, confusion and all.

Sound Editing and How I Learn.

I have just finished editing the last ten minute segment of a forty minute sermon. I love to observe how we learn and the strange things "jobs" cause us to think and do. I have listened to this entire bit of material at least three times. But after being buried in the problems of editing sound, I can tell you nothing about what I've edited. I can, however, show you where I took out excess clapping, coughing, pausing and other useless noises from this sermon.

How can I listen to something and not get the content? Simple, when I'm taking notes about the sermon, I dutifully notate everything I hear the speaker say. I will be posting a cleaned-up version of these notes on the website later. Once that is done it is time to clean up the sound. Oh, my, every sermon speaker is different. I have to remember, I'm learning this job as I complete parts of it. In a year, I'll probably be able to go back to these early sermons and REALLY edit them correctly. But I can't wait a year before posting to the church's website. So, when I've done all I know how to do, up she goes!

I now understand how someone can work on something and not remember what the content was about. This problem used to baffle me. I couldn't figure out how someone could post something to their OWN blog and within hours, not remember that they'd even made a post. Now, I see. A busy brain having to clear out recent short term memory. I stand corrected.,

One bit of info. I do recall from this sermon is how God appears in being more interested in purging us of our run away pride, then getting a job perfectly done. I know this because my run away pride screams that I need to do more to the sermon before posting! What if I've made a mistake? Yikes! Hello never-willing-to-die pride. I thought I'd gotten control over you.

Pride absolutely messes up anything you attempt to do for God, or anyone else. When you are too sure of yourself, you can't be taught anymore and that is the beginning of the destruction that pride causes in a life.

I can't believe how tired a bit of editing makes me feel. My little brain has been busy, experimenting (I LOVE "undo"), re-doing and deleting. Thankfully, the actual posting will go rather quickly and I can start on another sermon tomorrow - instead of waiting a month! Maybe some of that "pause" was pride too? Yeah, I bet it was.

Recovery: Fear Revisited.

I am now well into what I always thought of as a "normal life". I have part-time work of several kinds, an interesting social life and an active mental and educational environment. I was shocked to see how quickly, overwhelmingly and stubbornly an old habit totally stopped me in my tracks.

I am my church's webmaster. I basically handle it all. We have recently added audio broadcasting for our sermons. I haven't set it up as something one can subscribe to, as I'm not sure we are professional enough for that move, yet. I ran into a technical snag and just completely shut down mentally.

I have made arrangements to do some of my audio editing work in Berkeley, while cat-sitting. Their computer is slower then mine, but after chopping sermons into ten-minute chunks, it works fine. I felt scared inside, but tried to continue. It occurred to me that there may be a difference in sound quality between the two computers. At this possibility, I just shut down and went away mentally.

It took me over a month to thaw out enough to realize what had happened to me. I tried all the normal tricks to get around my fear. Absolutely nothing worked. I then attempted to see if my pastor was interested in another member who appeared to know more about web mastering then I. He turned me down flat. He believed in ME. Man, I just was in hiding and was refusing to come out.

About a week ago, I decided that even if there was a difference in sound quality between the two machines, I could do the work anyway and correct any errors I may find when I get home. Poof! I felt myself return to normal. I at least was willing to TRY to continue as a webmaster.

Due to my family's way of using any information I'd give them against me, I learned a sure-fire defense. Literally know nothing. My cousin would scream at me about something I did, or didn't do. I truly had no memory, no thought. I just was stupid. I could survive her accusations of my stupidity a lot better, then having her savagely tear up another part of my person hood.

As an example. I was a huge fan of the program The FBI, as well as of the real organization as a young teen. I dutifully went to the library to read up on the real FBI. I was shocked and saddened to discover that the real governmental agency was riddled with controversy, conflicts and down right incompetence. It really made me sad.

When my cousin found out about this by talking with me, she never failed to laugh at how nieve I was. From this painful incident, I learned to keep the real me far away from any one's knowledge. I couldn't afford to know things even for me, as I didn't have the ability to deny my cousin information when she demanded it from me.

I know in my life now, that I have several friends who would and have given of themselves to help me with my dilemma. It is a blessing to have so many smart, friendly and amusing people in my world. But, I had run into an emotional freeze producing a mental blank wall.

As I force myself to continue to edit sermons, I realize that I'm still teaching myself the ins and outs of sound editing. Sometimes, I don't like the way part of a sermon sounds, but am unable, or unaware of how to fix it. I'm learning to put it on the web anyway. It is better to do something instead of nothing. Something can be fixed. Nothing is a cop out.

I don't have a final answer on this one. I hope I am willing to not freeze up again. When I feel the fear starting, I need to talk to God AND keep working! This freezing behavior did not serve me well as a student in college either. It is hard to learn something totally new, when one feels they must be perfect at the task, the FIRST time they attempt it. Ah, I guess all this immature stuff doesn't just magically change into maturity, huh? DRAT!