some fun with election night

Election is a busy night for those in the media, but there is no excuse to not have fun amid the craziness.
What I did is what others surely did and that is play a music game.
I took Barack Obama and substituted his name with certain songs. I know, it is cheesy, but it made the night pass quickly,
A few of the winners:
* "Keep on Barackin in the free world."
* "Barack, Barack, Barackin on Heaven's door."
* "Barack the boat, don't Barack the boat baby. Barack the boat, don't tip the boat over."
* "Barack-n-roll, hoochie coo."
* "Barack it."
* "We will, we will Barack you."
* "I love Barack and Roll."
* "Barack me Amadeus."
* "I am a Barack."
* "For those about to Barack, we salute you."
* "Barack lobster."
* "Barack the Casbah."
The list goes on and on, but I will spare you the details. You can come up with your own. It is fun.
And remember, Barack out with your cocks out!

do not worry about me, it was just a phone call

So I have rambled incessantly over the weeks and months -- especially since I became the Editorial Page Editor and started producing daily opinion/editorial pieces for my daily -- about how everyone seems to thrive off phoning or writing me to let me know I live in a blood red state. Each concerned citizen feels the need to either convince me of the error of my ways or attempt to convert me or, most often it seems, just wants to let me know the extent of their vocab skills.
The last occurs maybe 60 percent of the work week, the middle from every other drone -- or readers, as they so wish they were -- and the first, each and every person.
It does not go unappreciated or unnoticed. With each instance, a certain glow is provided to my day. Every time it happens, it makes me happy to be alive.
Mind you, I am wrong, even when what I write is an agreeable piece with said concerned citizen. There is a certain, as it was said to me Tuesday afternoon, subconscious, between-the-lines way in which I write, it seems. Never straight-forward and to the point, just my attempt to lead the sheep astray.
The four-letter words, the venom, the hate spewed forth by these mouth-breathers, brings a smile to my face. As my friend, Kevin, told me when I took this job, "When your voicemail is running over and your inbox crammed full, you know you have done your job when you are being attacked on all sides."
It did not take long for me to understand exactly what he meant by that.
I am a little more than two months into this job. Before that I was privy to this knowledge from the former Editorial-Opinion Writer/Editorial Page Editor and I got different, while hateful all the same, input from readers/subscribers as a former Sports Editor (hey it was all that was available -- sports -- when I first applied out of college). I took the job, because I needed the job, and rather quickly moved up the newsroom's food chain into management. But I never wanted to stay in sports long and when I was approached about transferring to the dark side of news, I leaped. I hurled myself in my current direction because of several reasons.
First, I have wanted to try my hand at opinion/editorial almost as long as I have wanted to work in print journalism (specifically, since I was about 12 or 13 years old).
Second, it was the best avenue for future advancement -- I was not moving up directly from my Sports Editor desk.
Third, the hours are much better. In sports, it is a seven-day-a-week gig. For us being an a.m. paper, it also meant working from about 2 or 3 p.m. to anywhere from midnight to 2 or 3 a.m. Seven-days-a-week, 10 hours a *night* will burn your light out rapidly. Now, I work Monday through Friday, 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. The new hours allow me to actually have a life, letting me spend that life with my 4-year-old son. I have witnessed more in his life -- every other weekend -- the last three or so months than I had in the previous three-plus years combined. I truly do believe that.
For those three primary reasons, I allow myself to be attacked -- not in a physical nature, so far. ... I am subjected to violent phone conversations; twisted, violent e-mails; and bi-polar, schizophrenic letters delivered by the postal service. I do all of this, not with dread or fear, but most times with a smile on my face. Ninety-nine percent of these kind souls do not realize the sad insanity in which they spew. The contradictions and preschool logic have moved me to tears before. Not because I am frightened or properly put in my place, but because I am laughing so hard, my tummy hurts.
So as I sit here at my home computer, researching future edits, I look forward to Wednesday.
I just wonder how many four-letter words and names I will be called? The funny thing is with it being Wednesday, some of these kind folks will attend their house of worship.
Where I live, it seems, red state equals the opposite of family values and compassion. It equals hypocrisy.

i just don't understand

OK, so there is this story that circulated from our Montgomery correspondent in today's edition that has me scratching my head.
In the copy, our correspondent scribes about how the government, or more precisely the Federal Emergency Manangement Agency, has not paid the state for damages which occured during the Hurricane Gustav evacuation.
It appears FEMA owes the state two-year college system something like $2.25 million for damages to shelters (also known as gymnasiums to the community college basketball teams) and for things like methadone for smack addicts.
When all of this was going on, I had a friend, a close friend, who ran one of the shelters. I went there a couple of times.
I DID NOT SEE METHADONE!
I mean, seriously, the state was just handing junkies sustinance to keep them from jonesing and withdrawing in the middle of the shelter?
This shit just had my jaw on the floor.
I had heard about the rapes, assaults, robberies, thefts at Wal-Mart, vandalism, etc., but no one told me about the 24-hour methadone clinic our state was running at your local junior college.
You can read the more tame version of this and more on our Web site or in the daily edition, but I had to post here. After all, they won't let me write about methadone and I did type *shit* earlier.
Go figure, FEMA owes the state two-plus million dollars for running a methadone clinic for five days.
Wow, and to think, I figured it would be no fun and nothing to do. Who knew I could have gotten high?
Thanks FEMA and thanks Alabama.

it's all make believe

i figured something out this weekend -- nothing is real. or at least as real as i used to think things were.
i burned the oil all weekend and, well, it was way worth it.
it's kinda like the song "firecracker" -- i don't want to go on forever, i just want to burn up hot and bright. let me be your firecracker. let me be your baby tonight.
it all started about 6 p.m. friday and it just now ended (and it's 2:15 a.m. monday morning).
i have not put in a weekend like this in quite a while, but i have been to and viewed a lot of places this weekend and i stared into a lot of eyes and heard a lot of voices, while they in turn heard mine. but it still comes back to nothing being real. i mean, i went a million miles an hour for three straight days in four different counties, birmingham, and other municipalities, and it is all a blur. unreal.
maybe work will be grounded this morning. oh shite, that is in five hours.
nite!

i walk to you, only you

i walked to you in the still night.
you in soft slumber, so tenderly sweet
with innocent inspiration.
but i awoke too soon
to find the screen in my hopes
are not equivalent to the realities of dream,
not like the prayers of times long past.
your arms reached out
and i reached in to find
my heart beats still
and you steward my love,
but the reception
along the way
waned.
and i drifted to dreams
yet again
with wants to outlandish
to speak.
i hope you know
i will always love you.
i hope you will share
my dream again,
on a night when minds
crave change
on a night where your arms
are my goal.
i'm walking to your door,
will the light
be on
to welcome me in?
i knock and I hope
the rapping
wakes us all
so we can fall
asleep again
in the warmth
of our embrace....

A Google-ly cure for a drunken heart

Jessica Mintz, an Associated Press Technology Writer, wrote an interesting story Tuesday, which I noticed on the general news wire.
She began the piece:

“Here’s the scenario: It’s Friday night, and what began as an innocent happy-hour margarita morphed into a few pitchers. After all, those tacos were salty.
“Bidding friends adieu, you jump in a cab, head home and decide a quick e-mail check is in order. And there it is: a message from your ex. Or your boss. Or that friend you’re secretly mad at.
“If you are the kind of person who types tipsy and regrets it in the morning, Google’s ‘Mail Goggles,’ a new test-phase feature in the free Gmail service, might save you some angst.”

What Mintz is writing about is a program by Google, which will ask you a few easy math problems. The “Mail Goggles” require you to answer these problems in a short amount of time before you can send your e-mail, to whoever it might be going to.
If you answer correctly, the program assumes you are logical enough to know what you are typing, eliminating the “drunk e-mail syndrome,” which is a technological advance from my younger days of “drunk calling.”
I have done that quite a few times in my life and, I assume, you have done the same. But before the Internet there were no safeguards from saying something stupid while inebriated. So there have been several people in my life who have had to endure the drunken ramblings of an idiot (I act like this does not still happen, when we all know we still do it and probably always will).
Well, Google can save those of use who prefer typing e-mails over talking on the phone. A little change of your Gmail settings and — poof! — you have “Mail Goggles.”
As I type this, I am saddened I did not read this story by Ms. Mintz last week. It might have saved one of you from hearing your phone ring on end Saturday night.
Although “Mail Goggles” would not prevent “drunk texting,” it would keep intoxicated romantics, like me, from sending you War and Peace-like e-mails.
Too bad this program does not return the same affection presented in an e-mail.
That, too, will come soon enough from those wacky Google folks. Who knows? In time, those Google people might grant me enough money to buy what we want to hear. It could happen. Twenty years ago when I was “drunk calling” you, what average person would have imagined we would have “Mail Goggles” or even the Internet.
So give it time. What else do I have?

Nothing ever changes in the hood

I went out last night, thinking that the different scenery would change the pattern of thought in my tired brain. It did not happen and I have only one person to blame for that — me.
The night of social drinking and a feeble attempt at connection only exasperated my emotions and feelings.
At 1 a.m. I continued my broken promises to someone I care about deeply.
After that, I just went home to sleep. But that too was a feeble attempt.
I tossed and turned, thinking about the night. I wondered if others were doing the same, but I knew, deep down, that they were soundly sleeping.
My dreams are not the same as others. My goals are not shared.
I often throw darts at the board, hoping someday, just one will stick. It is futile and hopeless, but the hopeless romantic in me chooses to be blind to obvious truth.
I attempt to spark some hope so often that I miss the fire all around me.
It will probably continue, although I am getting better at keeping my mouth shut.
But that, too, makes me wonder if opening my mouth would make things different? Would throwing it all out there make a change?
I resign myself to the belief that it would not. Most likely, it would make things worse.
Like I have written before, if someone wants something, they will go and get it. But too often, I try to hand it to them and, in turn, create unnecessary pain for myself.
I tell myself, this has got to stop. But I continue on. Maybe I am into the self-torture thing? Maybe I like the pain and hurt when I cannot be with the one I love?
But if the one I love does not want to be with me, why push it? Why make things worse? Because I love her, plain and simple.
I always will.
I, again, tell myself that I will not say anything, I will not push the issue.
But tomorrow is Monday and it is the start of a new week.
I wonder what it will bring? What new revelations will come with it?
Probably more of the same — another week of me trying and another week of me hurting myself.
Hopefully, the cycle will end one day. Hopefully, I will learn my lesson.
But as long as the chance is there, I will not rest on what I had. I will press on toward the future. No matter what that day will hold.
I hope it will hold us together, but if it does not, it will not change what I hope to be and strive to be.
I just hope she is listening….

what a wonderful web we weave...

I can honestly say this has been one of the most — EAR MUFFS!!! — f***ed up days I have had in ages. And I can honestly say I had nothing to do with it, which is rather surprising, considering my way of screwing things up for so many people, including myself.
It started out strange with a phone call this morning, like pre-dawn early. I am not going to name names here, but suffice it to say the call came from someone close.
Anyways, she said she was coming to town. I knew this was not a good sign. Never this early, I thought. Boy was I right.
Seems her husband, who had cheated on her a while back, had emptied his heart and soul late last night and told her how he truly feels. The two of them have children and for the sake of the kids, and also because this grrrrl really, really loves this person, the two of them had tried working things out, going to a counselor and all.
But it all boiled over last night.
This person who he had been cheating with had been sending him e-mails, texts, had been calling him and had even sent pictures of her to him. He got caught and was cornered with the news, which was news to me and everyone else that knows them. In the months since the first indiscretion, I thought things we going well between the two. Counseling had been going good, the two of them seemed happy, it basically seemed like things were back to normal.
Until this morning.
He told her that he "loved" this other grrrrl. That he was sorry. That he loved her, too.
Well, I have got news for him.... you cannot truly — in its purest sense — say that you love someone when you claim you love someone else.
It is called lust — look it up — not love.
So all day, there have been phone calls and the like and nothing has changed.
I am not sure if he actually realizes what he has and what he is losing. It is a shame. A downright shame.
I sit here on the computer, typing these words and I shake my head and wonder what the heck is really going on.
It has caused me to really look at life and all the things we say to one another. It makes me ponder my relationships — how few they may be — and take a close look at everything that touches my life.
As I write all the time, I am alone. I made a choice to break off a relationship I was in, because I was not happy. I tried to rekindle an old flame, to no avail.
Everything I have been told up to this point makes me hollow at times. I question all I hear and feel, because I wonder if it is really what I feel, if it is really what I want.
At this time, it does not matter. I could shout on the street corner my true feelings and it would not change a thing. It would not make a difference. And I am not sure why. I have yet to hear anything from anyone that makes sense to me.
We have all heard the words, "it's not you, it's me," "you're great, but I just want to be friends," and on and on. But when we open our hearts up to someone and that person gives back, it is the most wonderful feeling. It is indescribable.
There are times we all make mistakes. We have all been hurt, too.
Then there are those who make mistakes and that hurts, as well.
I have written and said that the object of my affection will realize one day who I am and what she has missed out on. Today, I sit here not so sure.
I talk to her — sometimes — and I exchange e-mails and texts — sometimes — and she continues to live her life. It is full and rewarding, she always has something to do and someone to do it with. She apparently has all she needs and wants and I am not part of those grand plans.
That is fine. It is her life. I do not want to be around someone I have to force to be around or with me. As much as it hurts — it really does, all the time — I have realized I am not a part of her life the way I once was, no matter how much she has told me she wants me in her life. Sometimes, actions scream louder than mere words.
So, I have to worry myself with those who need me and want me. As pathetic as I sound sometimes, I do realize what I have to give and offer. I know that I would make someone happier than they ever imagined. It is not going to be who I want it to be right now, but I do not want to her to regret. I do not want her to be sad when I am not there. I am not there now and she is not sad and thinking about me, so I doubt she will think of me then. After all, I am just a quick delete button on her cell phone away from being purged from her life anyway. So I do envision any grieving.
It is all right. It really is. I have been written off before. I have not had my phone calls or texts or e-mails returned before. It is old news from a new grrrrl. I just really do wish that she would have a chance to see what she is missing. I have totally changed, but no one will know without giving me a test drive. But like I wrote earlier, I cannot make someone do what she does not want to do.
Quite honestly, I have too much respect for myself to even try.
But today made me mad, too. It pissed me off quite honestly. While I respect myself, I am still a person. I still long to have someone to talk to, to hold, to spend time with, to grow old with, to have someone to love. And in return, I long to have someone love me, truly love me, to get lost in me and let go.
But while I have a really good job, with a really great 4-year-old son, with a great family, I am alone. I am caring, nurturing, loving, kind, funny, somewhat attractive, intelligent, loyal, down-to-earth and all that, but I still have no one. Sometimes, I feel like I am diseased and used up, like I have nothing to offer someone. I get the sense like I do not matter, at times, like if I did not exist, it would not matter, I would not be missed. And that is painful. It hurts me, at times, and it makes me often wish I was not here to have to wake up each day knowing it will end the same and that the next day will not change. But that is the life I have. It is lonely and depressing and when you do not even have “friends” that tell you they will always be there, then what do you have?
Right now, I am not sure.
But while I have my pity party, I think about today’s news. Here is someone who has a wonderful wife, someone who would go to the ends of the earth for him and he throws it away. And at the same time, here is someone so despicable that he would lust so bad that he would cheat on someone so wonderful.
Here he has two women — TWO — and I have no one.
What is wrong with this picture? Good guy is a leper; bad guy has his pick in women.
I guess I will never know. There is a chance that I am not supposed to know.
But it does add to my sadness and pain. I still do not feel wanted and loved. And I am still alone.
I just hope Sunday is a good day. Or better yet, I hope it does not come.

how big of a loser am i?

please don't answer that. i already know the response.
but as i sit here -- alone -- for like the billionth friday in a row, i have decided to watch "the ex list" on cbs.
i read a review of the show on The New York Times Web site this morning, and i figured since i would be so busy tonight i would never have a chance to watch it.
wow! was i so wrong.
friday night got here and all my wonderful plans fell through. all my phone calls. my texts. my e-mails. everything gone. vanished into thin air.
all the beautiful people who i thought would be spending their evening with me must have gotten sick. like hospital-sick, cause no one could stand to pass up a chance to spend time with me unless they had a really bad case of rickets or scurvy.
so i figured i would watch this show since it is so heterosexual and all.
well it is coming on.
i hope all of you get well soon...

A song, a game, a blind date and a lifetime of broken hearts

"My heart is broken,
My love is gone.
I lay without you,
Your pillow cold.
I am forsaken,
I can't go on.
My heart is broken,
My love is gone. ..."
-- Ryan Adams

All day today I could not get that song -- the one I included the opening lyrics to above -- out of my head today. All day.
I walked around, wrote my editorial, took a couple of phone calls, sent a few texts and went to lunch, but even though I was occupied for most of the day, that song haunted me from the moment I woke this morning, around 7 a.m., to as I type this.
I did not get off work until well after 6 p.m., probably closer to 7 actually, and after work I met up with someone.
I had never met this person before, but someone yesterday asked me if I wanted to meet this grrrrl. I told her I was not sure. I have never been on a blind date, although this was not what I would consider a date by any stretch of the imagination. But I told her that I guess I could, I did not have anything better to do.
I wanted to watch the Cubs game, which came on at 5, but I had already agreed to meet her before I found out what time the Cubs-Dodgers game started.
Oh well, my Cubbies got beat and I did get to watch almost all of the game anyway.
But even while I sat at a table and talked to this grrrrl, I could not get the sad, drunken lyrics out of my head.
The line about the pillow being cold, sends chills down my spine every single time I hear that song, and there is no telling how many times I have heard it considering the album, "Jacksonville City Nights" is right at three years old now.
Used to be all I ever listened to was Ryan Adams for quite a while, and before that his old band, Whiskeytown. I about came near wearing out my catalog of discs. I have seen him in concert about 15-20 times solo, and double that on Whiskeytown shows back in the middle 90s. Those were sweet, sweet times.
I had not listened to that song in quite a while before today and I have not figured out why that particular one got stuck in my head. I did not sleep with the radio or tele on last night, so I do not know how that song got planted in my noggin. But it was, from the moment I entered the shower this morning.
And I could not, for the life of me, shake it outta my brain.
Well, by this evening, I figured the distraction of meeting someone new would break me of it. No such luck.
She was nice and all, we had a good time. But all I kept doing was thinking about that song.
Then it hit me -- it is cathartic. It is my heart, soul, body and mind purging me of my past. It is cleansing me of the wrongs I have done and the regrets I have, still. It is a way of purifying me of the dark things, erasing me of what I wish I could take back, the things I wish I could do over, it is making me anew.
I know I must walk straight ahead. I can't look back anymore. What is done is done and I must move on. There will be new beginnings. There will be starting over. But I will never be able to reproduce what is gone and I can't bring back what is dead.
There is a lightness to my head now that is peaceful. The noise I once had, that loud, rumbling sound was just my wants, my lusting, my desires.
It is gone now. I can't have that, I can't get what I want. It might be down the road, it might never return, too, but I can't do anything about that. All I can do is control me and live my life from this day forward.
That song has been replaced by a different tune now. A more "positive" song. I can hear it in my head. There is no noise anymore. Just a soft, lush melody and good memories of who I used to be and who I am again....


Oh, by the way, I will not be going out with this grrrrl. We had a good time, like I said, but she is not my type. And I got the sense I was not her type either.
Oh well, it was worth a shot.
Now if I can just pull my Cubbies through Game 2 tonight it will all be good.

My big date with James?

I am sure you are reading that title and wondering, "Wow! Matthew finally has a date!" Well not so fast, pal.
First off, it is not really a date.
Second...OK there is no second (other than, you really thought I had a date with someone named James?).
To straighten -- no pun intended -- things out, the James I am referring to is Greenville businessman Tim James, who will be in town today (Tuesday, Sept. 30).
James is the son of former Alabama Governor Fob James.
Fob James, for those not familiar with Alabama politics, did something no other lawmaker has ever done in the state's history. When he won his first bid for governor in 1978, Fob James ran as a Democrat. In his second stint as governor, Fob James switched parties, again, winning the governor's race in 1994 as a Republican.
His flip-flopping from party to party was big news in Alabama and it is worth noting that when Fob James first pondered running for governor, he was a Republican, before joining the Democratic ticket and winning the race.
It is interesting to note that when he won the '78 race, Fob James edged another prominent Alabama politician Bill Baxley in the first primary. In the second primary, Fob James easily defeated Baxley, a Democrat, again, and knocked off the Republican candidate Guy Hunt.
A sidenote on Hunt, again for those not familiar with the state's politics. Hunt, after losing the race in '78, did not give up. He held a position in Ronald Reagan's state campaign organization, which kept him at the forefront of Alabama's Republicans.
In 1986, with the support of his party, Hunt won the governor's race after a split in the Democratic Party gave him an advantage. Proving that the '86 election was not a fluke, Hunt was re-elected in 1990, by defeating Alabama Education Association director Paul Hubbert.
Trouble soon followed Hunt throughout his second term. He was charged and found guilty of illegally using campaign and inaugural funds to pay personal debts.
Hunt was removed from office on April 22, 1993.
Lieutenant Governor Jim Folsom, Jr., was sworn in as governor the same day.
You may be asking why did I go into so much background on these other politicians when my "date" was to be with Tim James, son of Fob James?
Well, I am getting to that.
See, today, I get a phone call while I was in my office and the gentleman on the other end introduces himself and lets me know that he is Tim James' campaign manager. I sit there for a second wondering what Tim James wants to do with me -- I mean I could not remember writing an editorial about him or anything.
Well the campaign manager clued me in. Seems Tim James will be in town tonight to speak to the Etowah County Republicans fundraising dinner and since he was going to be in town, would I, the Editorial/Opinion Page Editor want to sit down with the man. I said sure, especially since he is running for governor in 2010.
Should be an interesting time. I have read that Tim James seeks the "Roy Moore" support.
For those of you who do not know Roy Moore, for one, you are probably not from this state, or two, you just do not read a lot of papers.
To fill you in, Judge Roy Moore was in Gadsden and he was best known for the replica of the Ten Commandments hanging in his courtroom. He was ordered to take it down but he would not.
He got so popular with Evangelical Christians that when he ran for the state's Supreme Court he won by a rather hefty margin.
While in Montgomery, Moore continued with the Ten Commandments, only this time it got larger and larger. The iceberg-size display was in the rotunda of the courthouse. Moore fought and fought rulings and appeals, before he was ordered to remove it. It took like two or three crews and numerous lifting and construction machines to do it.
Well, getting back to Tim James, it seems that Tim James thinks that Alabama is made up of about 30 to 40 percent of conservative evangelicals and he is basing his run on that voter bloc to win him the election.
What I might have to tell Tim James today when we are sitting in my office is that it is going to be crowded on the governor's highway to the state Capitol.
I mean, just on the Republican side you have Tim James; State Treasurer Kay Ivey announced her run by dropping a cool $1 million of her own money into her war chest; as mentioned earlier in this Alabama political history lesson was Jim Folson, Jr., who is expected to join the race early next year; and Attorney General Troy King.
Others seeking to take the spot Governor Bob Riley is vacating after fulfilling his term limit are two-year college Chancellor Bradley Byrne; Troy University Chancellor Jack Hawkins; former lieutenant governor candidate Luther Strange; retiring U.S. Rep. Terry Everett; and last, but not least, Mike Hubbard, who is now the state GOP Chairman.
As far as Democrats are concerned, no one has tossed their hat in the ring just yet. But after his performance at the Democratic National Convention in Denver, U.S. Rep. Artur Davis, D-Birmingham, just might have the momentum. He is currently raising funds for a possible run in 2010.
Also too, do not forget Charles Barkley, who has joked about running for governor of his home state for years. Even last year while delivering a speech, Barkley joked about whether he is Republican or Democrat.
Many outsiders might think Barkley is a Democrat, but in the past he has called himself a Republican and has said he is "rich like a Republican."
In this state, there is no telling who will show up and what will happen with politicians and elections.
All I know is that I hope there will be no weirdness or strangeness or freakiness around me today when I talk to one of the many Republican gubernatorial candidates.

where has the time gone?

I was cleaning some things out today, getting some stuff reorganized, when I came across some old pictures. I really did not pay them much mind at the time, placed the photos aside and moved on.
That was until later, when I bunped into someone I had not seen since about the time the pictures, I had found earlier in the day in a box in storage, were taken.
That got me playing the "what happened to such-and-such" and "wow! it has been that long?" games we so often play.
The old friend I ran into used to work in the old record shop that I once worked at (it has since long been closed and our sleepy little town is the worse for it, too!). Like I mentioned, it has been quite a while since I had last seen her and running into her was a blast from the past.
We worked together for almost 10 years, but since it closed shop, we have not been in touch. Chances are, unless we happen to bump into each other again, it will probably be as long, if not longer, until we meet again.
It was good to see her and we asked each other the usual questions one would pose after a long hiatus and after working together so close for so long.
After our brief chat, I went on my way. She did the same.
The chance meeting did bring the photos into question, so I got them out again when I arrived home. I studied the photos a little closer and then it hit me! -- time really does fly.
The pictures that were tucked neatly away in box in the garage were taken at my apartment some 15 years ago and while not that distant in my mind, could not be any farther away from where I am personally.
In the photos there are friends that I am still in touch with, there are some that I have not seen in the 15 years since and there is my sister and her boyfriend at the time, which is now her husband.
It made me think about what has transpired in the years since -- I have graduated from college; I started in my first job for the newspaper I now work for; I got married, had a child and got divorced; I have lost the same grrrrl. ... twice; I have moved five times.
Those photos and the chance meeting of an old friend made me think about how little time, and how much time, has passed in just the last three years since my divorce.
It made me realize that it has been dark before. It also showed me that I am still here.
I guess what I am trying to say with all of this is that people come and go and times change, but through it all you stay who you are and you endure.
I may not be living it up and having what I consider the greatest of times right now, but that, too, will pass.
Just like the decade and a half before and after those pictures were taken.
I made a comment to a friend recently that I feel as if I am a leper with this lone existence I have right now.
But I know I am not diseased. I have a lot to offer and I damn near say that some people would kill to be with and know me.
Now, I just have to find those folks.
Cause 15 years is a long time...

i don't understand why i can't get past this

as i sit here on a friday night, what once was a fun night for me a long time ago, i wonder what i am doing with my life.
i am seriously doubting some things this evening and it has nothing to do with a debate, most certainly nothing to do with Obama or McCain.
i sit here on the edge of my chair thinking about my life plans, or, better yet, if i even have any plans.
i thought i did when i was younger. never would i find myself sitting alone on a weekend night. or any night for that matter.
i always had someone to hang out with, or share the time with. hell, i always had someone to talk to, at least.
but, tonight, i have none of those things.
it is not from trying, mind you.
i have sent texts. i have made calls.
for some strange reason, no one has returned my many texts. no one has bothered to ring me back.
so i sit here thinking, "what gives?"
have i really alienated my friends to the point that they can't bear to even talk to me? have i, in the grand scheme of things, made everyone mad?
if that is the case, i am not sure what i have done.
i view myself as one of the nicest people i know. my therapist tells me i am almost too nice, sometimes. he says i should speak my mind more. let people know how i feel.
well, i have tried that. and i have news for him, it has not improved my life. not one bit.
i have bared my soul. got it out there in the open about how i truly feel. professed my deepest feelings for everyone around me.
and here i sit alone.
i have reached a point that i feel like telling my therapist -- the one who is supposed to help me unlock the doors that have impeded my path, my life -- that i was better off before.
i was happier, i think, when i kept things to myself and did not open my heart and soul up.
i also feel that i am somewhat attractive. i mean, i have dated a lot of sexy grrrrls in my time, so i have to be a little attraction there.
right?
i just do not get it. i simply do not understand.
i may not ever comprehend why.
so i sit here and have these random thoughts bounce around my skull like a ping-pong ball, ricocheting through my brain.
and i do it alone.
on a friday.
what used to be one of the better nights of the week....

a new projekt

I posed a group project to some friends one day eating lunch a little while back. One that I believe will not make the frontpage of my daily newspaper, mind you, but one I was serious about.
In a half-joking, half-serious tone, I proposed to the group that a series on dating would make for a informative, interesting read.
I offered to use myself as a centerpiece for the project.
In it, we could look at the difficulties that face a 37-year-old single father in the dating world. We could focus on the lack of prospects, the awkwardness of finding someone and building a relationship with someone else.
I had some positive reactions. I had some blank stares.
There are not many options for someone like me.
I could try the online dating thing.
I decided this was not for me, however.
I could hit the bars.
This too, not for me. I have been there, done that, and what I came up with is that someone who is looking for someone else in a bar setting, would probably wind up doing it again. The alcohol breaks down some inhibitions, but it also screws with judgement and reality and makes a mess of things for most people.
I could try church.
No offense, but I have. And what I found was is if I was looking for someone single older than a grrrrl in college, I would have to date someone already drawing social security. Again, I decided that was not for me.
I have met grrrrls. I have seen grrrrls when I go out. But what I found is that most times — in my hometown, mind you — is that these grrrrls have amputated their hearts, their minds and their souls.
It is quite depressing, actually.
So that leaves me here: alone and with no prospects.
No hope.
So I figured...if there was a series in my newspaper, featuring me, maybe, just maybe, I would find someone. They would come out of hiding, come out into the light and I would find them.
But it is not going to happen. I mean, who am I kidding?
So I am drawn to the fact that I am destined to be alone, forever.
After all, who wants to be with a 37-year-old single father?
In this town, I am finding the answer to be: no one.

a little clarification is in order, me thinks

I feel I must explain myself after my last rant, in order to clear some things up. It is more for my well-being than anything else. After all, no one reads this anyway.
I said earlier that I, in other words, am alone. I wrote to explain my craving for someone and it was rather open-ended.
I know how I still feel about someone, how I will always feel about this person and how I long to still be with this person.
But she has made it clear she does not see me that way.
I am her friend, still, even though I know -- and to a certain extent, she does, too -- how I feel about her; how I am attracted to her more than anyone I have met in my entire life. I explained all her superior qualities that attract me to her. She is without flaw. I wrote she is perfect.
She is. She always will be.
I worship her, the ground she walks on. I admire her, too. In other words, I am deeply in love with my best friend. I would give the world to have her back if for just a second. To feel her again, hold her again, have her look at me the way she once did, to know she felt the same about me and there was no one -- with exception of the boys -- on this planet. Just us. Forever.
I said those things to show my devotion to her.
To show my love.
What I failed to say is that I just will not settle for anyone.
I left a relationship, to someone who wanted to be with me, because I did not love her. I love my friend that I wrote about previously. I told them both who I wanted to be with.
So see, I am not alone, alone.
I am by myself, because the one I love does not return the same affection. It is not reciprocal.
I have had other grrrrlfriends. As I wrote, I have had a wife.
I just want someone who does not want me back.
I am not bitter, or angry. I do not hold it against her, after all, I do consider her my best friend.
I hurt her. I broke her heart. She told me this. And that broke my heart.
There is the old saying, "You don't know what you've got til it's gone."
Well, I knew what I had when I had it. I just see it clearer now.
Also, I do not depend on others to make me happy. I make myself happy. I am not co-dependant. I do just fine by myself.
No, this is an emotion, this is my love, my heart and soul.
I have told myself that I will never get it back. I know that.
But it does not heal the pain. The hurt is still there.
You know, I figured after I got out of the hospital and got well that everything in my life would just line right up.
I thought that straightening myself up, living right, everything would be OK.
I was wrong.
I had someone who was right and I turned my back on her.
I guess it is just like a clock. I have spent my time in the sunshine.
Because of what I have done in my life, hurt those who love me, been a bad person, it is time for me to walk in the dark.
I do not know how long it will last. I hope it is not long.
But all the things I have done in my life, all the harm I have done, hurt people so bad, that maybe it will last forever.
Hmmm....Karma.
Go figure?
I was driving around tonight, after I wrote my first blog of the evening, trying to clear my head.
Trying to allieviate bordom.
I heard a few songs while driving through town.

One, by Coldplay, really hit me:

"In my place, in my place,
Were lines that I couldn't change,
I was lost, oh yeah.
I was lost, I was lost,
Crossed lines I shouldn't have crossed ,
I was lost, oh yeah.
Yeah, how long must you wait for it?
Yeah, how long must you pay for it?
Yeah, how long must you wait for it?"

It really drove all these thoughts and emotions home. I made me turn around and come home. It made me sad.
Second, the song I heard was by a band called Cross Canadian Ragweed. I had heard a few other songs by them, and had heard they are really good live.
Well, the song I heard reminded me of all these thoughts bouncing around in my head, though I promised I would just keep to myself.

The song also reminded me of home:

"She said maybe I miss your lovin.
Maybe I miss your kiss just a little bit.
Maybe I miss your body lyin’ right next to mine,
Maybe I miss your touch a little too much...
They talked about Savannah,
Sweet home Alabama,
And how he missed the way she always smiled.
Are you coming back soon,
By the Harvest moon,
If I have to walk every mile on my knees."

Like I have written before, I live in Alabama, was raised in Alabama and will probably die in Alabama. I have been to lots of places and other countries, but home is home.
Well, I just felt that I needed to straighten some things out before someone read them and got the wrong idea.
Hope I did.
And if you are reading this, I did not say them, I wrote them.
I kept my promise.

where am i going?

I am not sure where this is going to end up, I have a lot on my mind. If you are reading this and you prefer to have structure to what you read, you might want to turn away right now to save you the discomfort.
For those of you who do not mind a little misdirection and rambling, this could be for you.
Either way, there will probably be no one reading, so in all, this will probably end up being just a free, in-the-comfort-of-my-home therapy session.
Yay!
First off, I miss my son with all my heart.
For those of you who do not know me, I was married over seven years ago to my long-time sweetheart. We stayed married for almost five years before it ended in divorce. Out of this union came my wonderful 4-year-old son.
Where I live now is about 30 minutes away from where I lived when I was married. I work here and travelled back and forth to work every day. After the divorce, I just moved back here, to the town I grew up in. My ex-wife and son stayed there in my former home.
That was over two years ago.
This summer, my ex-wife got remarried to a nice guy. He seems to treat her and my son very well. Problem is, he lives almost two hours away in Atlanta. After their marriage, my ex-wife and son moved in with him in the Atlanta suburbs.
I miss my son very, very much (or this much, as my son says with arms outstretched). He is my life. I talk to him daily, often multiple times. My ex-wife and I remain cordial, so that allows me and my son certain aspects to our relationship that other divorced fathers do not have with their children. I am lucky for this. I am lucky that my ex-wife understands the importance -- not only to me, but also my son -- of my son and I staying as close as we can.
But here recently, my son speaks of wanting to live with me. There have been times where he has called me, crying, wanting to be with me, to live with me. My ex-wife does not say anything about it. She does not get upset, she does not get angry.
My issue is that I do want my son living with me. I want to be around him every minute of every day. I comprehend that this is not possible, even if he did live with me. I have to work, my son has to go to school. But not having him with me, and even more so when he gets upset, is getting to me. I do not plant thoughts in his head, I do not encourage him to say the things he does, or act the way he does. He sincerely wants to be with me.
I hope eventually he is with me. But even if he never lives with me again, I will not love him any less, I will not act differently. I will cherish the weekends he is with me every other week. I will love him with all my heart, always.
That gets me to my next thought.
My ex-wife has someone in her life now. I hope for her, this time it works out for her. I hope she is truly happy, that it is all she ever dreamed of and that the two of them are together for the rest of their lives.
Her having that love and someone to share her life with is great. If I am not allowed to have my son in my life every day, I wish there would be that person in my life that made everything complete.
I want those butterflies in my stomach when I see her. That warm feeling when I touch her. The smiles and laughter. Someone to talk to about everything. Someone who is there for me, like I am for her.
I had all those things. I let her go. I allowed something else to become more important. I can't change that. I can't go back in time and correct those mistakes. I wish I could. I think about her all the time. I have a hard time thinking about anything but her and my son. She is always in my mind. She will always live in my heart.
She remains my best friend. I hope she always is. I only want the best for her. She deserves it. She deserves to have everything she wants and desires. She deserves to be happy.
I told her once that I would not talk about my feelings for her anymore. I have done a good job keeping that promise. I love her too much to not be true to her. I let my heart, mind and soul get clouded once. It obstructed my devotion and truth to her. I will pay for that mistake the rest of my life.
Like I wrote before, I do attend therapy. It helps me stay grounded and focused.
Sometimes, I do get off track. I let my mind and heart wonder. I get lost in her sometimes. Usually, I am quick to right my course. I keep my mouth shut and my feelings restrained. After all, who would want a friend, or someone hanging around, who all he does is go on and on about how he loves you and wants to be with you? I do not know too many people who would.
So I write, write and write. I work non-stop. I push myself to find things to keep me occupied, to keep me sane.
It is hard work sometimes.
Like I said, I see her regularly, I talk to her daily, often multiple times. I remember the good times. I remember just talking to her and holding her. We did not go on amazing expeditions, we were not crazy, we did simple things. It was the most amazing year of my life.
I have told her this and it is so true, I have never felt the way I feel for her. It is the most amazing experience I have ever had with a woman.
I still feel that way. I guess I always will.
What I have figured out is that I am never going to hold her again. I will never get to experience the things I did. I am not going to have her to share my life with again, other than as my friend.
She is the most amazing person I have ever met. Her sense of humor slays me. She is smart and witty. She is kind and loving. She teaches and she nurtures. She is neither controlling or distant. She has just the right touch. She is compassionate, but firm. She is so sexy, but also the perfect grrrrl to bring home to meet your family.
I used the right adjective for her already -- perfect.
I could go on for days about her, but I am going to quit this exercise now.
I just had to get these thoughts and images out of my head. Did not work, but it is better than hiding in my bed watching the ceiling fan, wondering what her and my son are doing and if they are thinking of me.
I have come to the conclusion no one thinks of me.
That is why I am alone.
That is why I am pathetically lost.
Never to be found again...

a night with the boys

I started the day at work, hastily putting together this weekend's pages and sections, writing furiously on that last editorial, before heading out the door for the rest of the weekend, which began with a meeting with my ex-wife to get my 4-year-old son.
I picked him up at 3 p.m. and we headed back to town to get ready for tonight, a rare occassion of grandfather, father and son. A sorta-improvised men's night out.
We chose the Oxford at Gadsden City football game as our destination, because of the drama surrounding the game. Oxford entered the game at 3-0, ranked No. 4 in Class 6A, or the largest high school classification in the state of Alabama. Gadsden City was 2-1, and ranked No. 8. So the buildup to this game was enough to coerce us into attending.
We departed my father's house about 6 p.m. in order to stop by an ATM and hit the Burger King drive-thru for some chicken fries for my son -- the dinner of champions according to him. Oh well, he ate them all, so where am I to complain?
We got to the game and were standing in the ticket line for about 15 minutes when the game kicked off.
We did not miss much, other than a couple of incomplete passes by Oxford and a punt return by Gadsden City.
The game was not very interesting. Gadsden City's defense is extremely strong, but its offense, let's say, the Titans' offense needs some improvement if they hope to go deep in the playoffs in a few weeks.
Oxford showed why it is considered the team to beat in their region.
The Yellow Jackets stayed unbeaten with a 24-14 win.
The best parts of the night belong to my hyperactive son. He thought he was the band director; a dancer; a gymnast, considering the tumbling he did back and forth on the bleachers; a comedian, with the contorted faces and wise cracks he made about everyone surrounding us; and finally a bottomless pit of a food and drink taster.
The kid drank four beverages, ate two bags of popcorn, his previously mentioned chicken fries and french fries, m&m's, three suckers and a few roasted peanuts. The kid gained about 20 pounds in the three-and-a-half hours we were there.
A sidenote, I took my son to the restroom after his second poweraid and while he was in the stall, I waited right by the stall door for him. This drunken guy comes up to me and asks me if my n***** (racial slur) was in there. I told him no, that my 4-year-old son was. He left, but returned in like 30 seconds. This time he gets in my face, saying he hopes I am not trying to be a pervert to some kid and then gets closer to me calling me a fa**ot (sexual preference slur). About that time, my son opens the stall door and I see a frightened look on his face as this kid is standing between me and my son. So I push the person out of the way and grab my son and get him behind me. Well about the time the person is going to make a run at me, a police officer enters the restroom facilities and smelling the alcohol on this persons breath, he takes him out. I wash my son's hands and dry them and we walk outside to return to our seats. I look over and the drunken idiot is being cuffed, I assume for public intoxication. Good for him! He'll have fun in county tonight.
So we return to our seats and finish watching the game before leaving late in the fourth quarter to beat the traffic.
We get home and I get my son for bed and put him in his bed. He drifts off to sleep, before waking up -- wide-awake -- to talk and read. It took me forever to get him back to sleep so I could call a friend to see how her night went.
I finally talk to her and she tells me about a happening tonight (Saturday night) that would be a lot of fun to attend. She hints that she won't go it alone and that she has no one to go with. I am seriously debating about getting her and travelling up there for the bluegrass festival.
If you are reading this now (and you know who you are, and you want to go, call or text me or come by for birthday cake! whatever you want to do!)
So the men's night out was a success, minus my almost appearance in Friday Night Fights. I think I could have handled my own, but it is good that I did not find out.
One other thing, my son is at an age that he is a grrrrrl-magnet. That is a good thing and a bad thing. Good in that pretty grrrrls talk to him and me, a little. Bad news is, pretty grrrrls talk to him, and me even more.
I feel awkward talking to grrrrls when I am around my son. He is too young to understand everything, so I do not want to confuse him.
Plus, I am not looking looking for a grrrrrl. I am looking for the grrrrl.
I wonder if she knows who she is and if she does, does she realize it is her?
We will see.........

It's time to really lace them up ...

Week four of the college football season is when things really get cranking down South. Today, the first day of the week, actually felt like college football weather here in Alabama, and it sure feels nice.
This is the week where all the talk builds up and the trash piles high, as players from several Southeastern Conference schools get ready for what should be the first test of the season for a few of the teams.
The headline game has to be down at Auburn, where the Tigers welcome another batch of Tigers, the defending national champions from LSU.
The last five meetings in this series have been close, with the difference being a total of 14 points. LSU came away with last year's bragging rights, 30-24.
That win by LSU, continues the streak where the home team has won every year since Auburn knocked off Louisiana State in Baton Rouge in 1999.
The sixth-ranked LSU squad comes into the game with a 2-0 record, while No. 9 Auburn counters at 3-0, 1-0.
The last time the two teams met while both were ranked in the Associated Press Top 10 was in 2006, when No. 3 Auburn, led by Gadsden-area legend Carnell Williams (24), defeated No. 6 LSU, 7-3.
Auburn doesn't have the services of the All-American Cadillac now that he has moved on to the Tampa Bay Buccaneers of the NFL, but the Tigers do appear to have their usual ferocious defense as witnessed in last week's 3-2 win at Mississippi State.
Auburn had to claw, scratch and bite its way to the close victory last weekend, but the important thing in the SEC is to survive, get the win and move on to play another weekend.
Auburn's new offense, put in place by spread guru Tony Franklin, appears to be a sticky subject for the Tigers, who have had problems putting points on the board at times this season.
But with any big game comes emotion and Auburn should be just fine at home Saturday against LSU.
ESPN thinks enough of the rivalry and the recent string of exciting finishes to tab this game as its prime-time game at 7 p.m. and to have the crew from College GameDay at the "Lovliest Village on the Plain."
Should be one of the best games of the year.
The other big SEC contest Saturday takes place about four hours up the road from here in Knoxville, Tenn., with the unranked Tennessee Volunteers hosting heated rival, the fourth-ranked Florida Gators.
Over the past 10 to 12 years, the winner of this game has represented the SEC Eastern Division in the SEC Championship Game in December in Atlanta's Georgia Dome (with the exception of a couple of years when the Georgia Bulldogs made the title tilt, but more on them later).
For years, Tennessee coach Phil Fulmer and Florida coach Steve Spurrier did not get along and with the exception of a couple of seasons, Spurrier held the upper hand.
Now, Florida has returned to being a national championship contender with Urban Meyer and Heisman Trophy winning quarterback Tim Tebow, while Tennessee has slipped a little in the SEC heirarchy the last few seasons.
Still, the Vols are the defending Eastern Division champs and 10-game winners a season ago.
But this year started bumpy, falling in overtime at UCLA to open the season. The Vols got back on track at home last Saturday, knocking off lowly UAB, 35-3.
But there is nothing like a fall day in Neyland Stadium and 100,000-plus orange-clad Vol fans singing Rocky Top to get the team going. Just watching the team run through the "T" (below) is enough to get someone fired up!
That drama and pagentry is all Volunteers. But Tennessee still has its work cut out as the Gators have their sights set on the National Championship, again. It would be the second title in three years for Florida, and the third straight for the SEC.
The only chance Tennessee has is running the football with running backs Arian Foster and Montario Hardesty. If the Vols can control the clock and outrush the No. 4 team in the country, it will give Tennessee a chance.
The last decade in this series, the team with the most rushing yards has won the game. Something to keep an eye on.
Oh, by the way, this game also falls on the same week as my birthday. I usually don't get what I want, namely a Tennessee win, but since I am getting on up there in years, I am asking please, please, Coach Fulmer!?! Win one for me?!?
Another big game in the SEC involves No. 9 Alabama heading up to Fayetteville to face the Arkansas Razorbacks.
Arkansas lost a lot to graduation, with Heisman Trophy runner-up Darren McFadden and sidekick running back Felix Jones both being chosen in the first round of the NFL draft. With those two 1,000-yard backs gone, new coach Bobby Petrino has had to lean on a lot of unfamiliar faces. What that has done is allow opponents to stay close to the Razorbacks. But Saturday is a different kind of beast for Arkansas.
The Crimson Tide comes in after dismantling former No. 9 Clemson in the season opener. Alabama followed that up with a lackluster win against Tulane and a blowout win against Western Kentucky. As expected, the Tide has played a lot of freshmen and untested players so far and it has worked out for Coach Nick Saban.
One player not seeing a lot of action is former Gadsden City High School linebacker Jerrell Harris. Harris was listed as one of the top 25 players in the country his senior year of high school by rivals.com. He currently is listed as a backup linebacker and could get redshirted this season.
That might be what is best for Harris (5), giving him a season to mature and learn the defense, because he definetly has the skill to play at this level and play well.
The Tide should beat the Razorbacks. Should not be a problem with a defense allowing less than 50 yards a game on the ground, which is tops in the nation. But stranger things have happened like Leigh Tiffin missing all those extra point attempts and field goals in an overtime loss the last time the Crimson Tide traveled to Fayetteville. Especially with the a Top 5 team -- Georgia -- looming the next week for Alabama.
Speaking of Georgia, the Bulldogs started the season No. 1 in the AP poll, but dropped after opening the season with a win against Georgia Southern, a team from the Football Championship Division (formally I-AA). The Bulldogs dropped again this past weekend with a lackluster 14-7 win against Eastern Division foe South Carolina -- the only team to defeat Georgia last year, preventing what could have been the best team at the end of last season from playing in the BCS Championship Game.
But there shouldn't be any worrying from Bulldog Nation over this. The point of it all is to win every game. Do that and the BCS Championship Game will be there for an undefeated SEC Champion.
With Matthew Stafford at quarterback and the receivers he has to throw to, such as A.J. Green, a highly touted freshman, Georgia should be able to name the score against Arizona State, even though the Sun Devils are a tough road opponent.
But what Georgia has in its favor is that Arizona State has not seen a running back the likes of Knowshown Moreno, the Bulldogs' Heisman Trophy candidate.
Moreno had one of the prettiest 5-yard touchdown runs anyone will ever see against South Carolina last weekend. The back took the handoff running left behind his line. The Gamecock defense got a great push up the field forcing Moreno to run parallel to the line of scrimmage. Even the CBS announcers thought Moreno was bottled up in the backfield for a 4-yard loss. But Moreno suddenly darted through two Gamecock defenders, put his hand on the turf for balance and then darted into the end zone without ever losing his balance and hitting the ground.
Simply amazing.
If Moreno and the Bulldogs keep that up, they will have a date in January with USC, who is clearly the best college football team in America after destroying Ohio State in a Top 5 showdown, 35-3.
This game had people shouting for the Buckeyes to drop out of sight, especially after being humiliated by Florida in the title game two years ago and being embarassed by LSU in last year's BCS Title Game.
The Trojans almost toyed with the Buckeyes throughout the entire game and with that being the last real test for USC, almost certainly seals up a trip to the BCS Title Game, unless the Trojans slip up and lose to an Oregon or Cal. But don't count on that happening. USC looks as good on the field as off the field!!!
So grab some popcorn and your favorite frosty beverage and sit in front of the big screen all Saturday it is going to be non-stop action all day long.
Myself, I am going to get my 4-year-old son, the rest of my family and some friends and enjoy the same football action, but only with frosty beverages, some hearty tailgate food and one big BIRTHDAY CAKE!!!
But instead of singing happy birthday, I hope we are singing Rocky Top all weekend long.
Till next time, enjoy and take care.... and remember Smokey -- women love him and men want to be like him!!!

Is this the year? 99 and counting....

For a team known as the Lovable Losers, who watch year after year as teams like the Florida Marlins win two World Series titles in the first decade of the expansion club's existence, Sunday could be the sign that the wait might be only just a few weeks away.
Or what about the Boston Red Sox, oh so similar to the beloved Cubbies in so many ways, win two World Series crowns in four years after going almost a century -- just like the Cubs this season -- with nothing but tears and broken hearts.
And what about the St. Louis Cardinals, our most bitter rival over the decades, winning a World Series in many senses just to rub our faces in it.
Do not get me started on the Houston Astros, slipping into the World Series, only to be swept by the Chicago White Sox -- yet another team us Cubs fans just love oh so much......VoMiT!!!
So you see why I am bitter and so many of my brothers and sisters are fed up with all this nonsense. It is time to bring the World Series home to the Friendly Confines of Wrigley Field.
Enough with black cats. Enough with the darn billy goat. And enough with Steve Bart....well, you get my point.
It is time! And it looks like it might have shifted into a higher gear Sunday, September 14, 2008.

Sunday, pitching in Milwaukee instead of Hurricane-ravaged Houston, Chicago Cubs pitcher Carlos Zambrano threw the first no-hitter of his career.
The ace of the Cubs' staff, was returning from a sore rotator cuff in his right throwing shoulder to shut down Central Division rival Houston Astros, 5-0.
It was the first no-hitter thrown by a Cubs pitcher since Milt Pappas hurled a gem against San Diego in 1972. It was the 13th no-no in Chicago Cubs history, which includes five back-in-the-day in the late 1800s.

Zambrano shouted after the game, "I guess I'm back!"
From the looks of it, the Cubs chances for getting to their first World Series since 1945 skyrocketed with the strong return of Baby Bull.
Things looked bleak one week ago when Zambrano -- the ace of the staff and a 2008 National League All-Star -- and newcomer Rich Harden -- who has been as advertised ever since coming over in a trade with Oakland last month -- both were sidelined with key injuries.
Now things might be looking up for the lovable Cubs. Zambrano looked like a potential Cy Young Award winner against Houston Sunday, with Harden waiting in the wings for his return possibly this week. With the one-two punch of Zambrano and Harden healthy, the Cubs should be able to hold on to the Central Division title.
Throw Ted Lilly -- who has thrown great over the last two to three months -- and Ryan Dempster -- a 2008 National League All-Star who is also being seriously considered for the Cy Young Award -- and the Cubs have the National League's best starting rotation. Even the bullpen is strong with Carlos Marmol, Kerry Wood and Jeff Sjmarjda
It was Zambrano's first complete game since June 16, 2007, when he won at home against the San Diego Padres. He had not tossed a complete game since April 7, 2004, when he hurled a two-hitter against the Colorado Rockies at the Friendly Confines of Wrigley Field.
It was Zambrano's first visit to the mound since September 2, when he had to leave the game with soreness in his shoulder. After an examination, the doctors felt he would be fine with a little rest. Fine, as in throwing a no-hitter fine!
If coming back from a sore shoulder did not have enough drama for the average fan, toss in Hurricane Ike which did considerable damage to Houston's infrastructure, including the Astros' Minute Maid Park and the NFL Houston Texans' Reliant Stadium.
Since the devastation was so bad in the Houston area, the NFL game between the Houston Texans and Baltimore Ravens -- which was originally moved from Sunday to tonight at 8 p.m. -- had to be postponed to November.
The damage to Minute Maid Park was not as bad, but officials with the club and Major League Baseball felt, for safety reasons for fans and players, that the series would be moved to Milwaukee's Miller Park, setting up the Zambrano fireworks.
With Milwaukee just a short drive from Chicago, thousands of Cubs fans helped fill the lower level. The upper deck was not avalible because a lack of security to guard the second level.

Hurricane Ike forced the move of two games to Miller Park and the Astros, still fighting for an unlikely Wild Card berth into the National League Playoffs, did not arrive until just hours before the first pitch.
The Cubs just needed a comfortable and short bus ride up to Milwaukee with dozens of Cubs fans joining the convoy up I-94 en route to what has been called in recent years, "Wrigley North."
Another weird note, the Elias Sports Bureau said Zambrano's gem was the first no-hitter thrown at a neutral site in Major League Baseball history.
Chicago skipper Lou Pinella had Zambrano on a strict pitch count, planning to limit him to just 100 pitches Sunday. After getting an anti-inflammatory shot in his shoulder this week, Pinella watched as Zambrano went just over the pitch count, throwing 110 pitches, in which 73 were strikes.
In what could be a sign of good things to come for weary Cubs fans, who have had 100 years of World Series frustration, the Cubs get a no-hitter win on the same day that the second-place Milwaukee Brewers dropped a doubleheader to the Philadelphia Phillies, giving Chicago a 7 1/2-game lead in the Central.
Now it is time for Soriano, Ramirez, Lee, DeRosa, Theroit, Fonteneau, Soto, Dempster, Harden, Wood, Marmol, Edmunds, Johnson, Blanco, Samardzija, Lilly, and last but not least -- unless you count amount of hits allowed!!! -- Carlos Zambrano to kick the last two weeks of the season into overdrive and close the division race out. Then we switch concentration on to the Dodgers, Mets, Brewers and whoever else might slip in -- Phillies, Astros, Cardinals or Marlins, although these four teams would need a historic collapse to make the postseason.
So Cubs fans, sit back, drink an icy cold one, grab a seat in the bleachers and get ready for October.
It is going to be a postseason we will never forget! And a party that is not going to stop!

Did not know you scared

We all know someone who is a afraid to step out and grab life. I, too, know someone like this. He is a friend of mine.
I try and try to get this friend to go out and grab a drink after work all the time. I, at least, tell him he should get out more.
I am not some barfly who goes out incessantly and closes the night spots with regularity, but this guy has me beat as a homebody.
It is not that he seems content with his current situation. He does not have a grrrrrlfriend. He still lives with his parents.
Now, in his favor, he is a recent college graduate. And his employment options are just a part-time gig he has right now, although he is looking for more.
What gripes me is he is always complaining about the lack of options he has. Options as in dating opportunities. There are no grrrrrls in his life and it does not appear that it is going to change soon.
I tell him we need to go out. Live it up a little. But he says no, flatly, every single time.
So, it leaves me wondering, why bother? Why even ask if he is going to say no? If he is not willing to step out there, then it is not my problem. I should just stop trying to be his personal match.com.
But I don't. I still let him know every time I am heading out to a local watering hole.
I do this to try to help him out. At least I think that is why.
I, myself, am heading out right now to find some fun — if there is any to be had in this sleepy town.
Meanwhile, my friend will be watching his favorite college football team win a game he already knows they won.
I just hope his night is not as predictible as mine.
Here recently, it has been.
But I am still walking out the door.
I am grabbing my keys as I type.
I am slipping my shoes on and fumbling with the latch on my watch.
Hmmmmm. The more I ramble on, the more I think I am a lot like him.
Who knows? Maybe I am.

whatever happened to, you know, that person, who we used to know?

I was walking around earlier trying to figure out what I was going to do tonight and it hit me -- I am going to do nothing, which happens to be the usual these days.
I try going out, but I do not see anyone I recognize and I go home and watch TV or try to sleep.
Neither of those options sounded appealing tonight.
So I type, about what I have not figured out just yet, so if you are looking for specifics, you might want to try another blog.
It is boredom. Pure and simple.
Ever been there?
Yeah, probably so, since you are reading this right now.
Well, I will start from the beginning of the night so you can better understand the dilemma I am in.
I worked earlier today and finished my portion of my job that is expected of me daily. This comes after going to the eye doctor.

Seems my vision has not changed at all, which is good, cause I was one of those kids who had coke bottles by like the third grade. It got in the way during my teenage years, cause you know, the cool kids did not have glass bottles of the original formula on their faces, or was that during the New Coke years? It might have been, that miserable, poor tasting, failure of a soft drink or pop.
But I digress.
See, four-eyes was not a nickname you sought out in middle and high school. But I got it anyway.
Add to that, my father is a Methodist minister, so I not only had four-eyes to endure, but also "Preacher's Kid" which meant that I could do nothing right in the Biblical sense, at least according to all of those throwing stones.
Well, I got scarred and bruised, but I was not broken. I think. Well maybe that is something for my therapist to sort out, but like the New Coke, Original Formula, it is entirely another topic and one that I have gotten way off course discussing, so back to the idea that sparked me into this chair and in front of this handy computer. So, dating and self-esteem. Hmmmm. That is a tough one and an easy one at the same time, a sort of oxymoron that is.
I always had plenty of grrrrrlfriends. Girls who were attractive, some dare I say HoT! I was never sure why they were with me. I played sports, but it was those dorky sports like tennis and soccer. At the time, I was very good at both. Almost won the state singles title in tennis my junior year, finishing runner-up at sectionals both times. My ability was good enough to catch the eyes of several college and university scouts, so I hit the road playing tennis at a junior college.
Those were a fun two years. Most of my friends were as good if not better than me at tennis, so we had competitive moments. But freshmen and sophomores in college do not always have the rules and regulations tattooed on their hands in case they forget. So me and my band of vandals hit the road with fury. We drank, tried to score some female companionship, there were a few cigarettes puffed on and maybe a cigarette that was filled with a different kind of tobacco.
We had no worries. We were the team. Plus our coach was KooL. He was young and he got into his own hijinks in the hotel bars and such. We were a year or two away from entering the sacred hall of booze. The nectar of the Gods. But hey, who cared, we did not need a bar. We had cheap beer and two or three rooms of ladies from South Alabama who were there for their "HigH sCHOOl" -- get this stroke of luck, or misfortune -- cheerleader camp. They told us there were more.
MORE?
She had our attention, in more ways than one. Let us say our body parts stood at attention. Well, you get the point...
Oh yes, she was right. The Montgomery Holiday Inn and the La Quinta, right next to it, were booked up. There were approximately 500 rooms between the two fine establishments and my crew handled five of the rooms -- two players in each room, there was the starting six and two alternates who filled in during an injury or would play doubles in a blowout win -- and one single room for coach. Well that set our strategy.
Coach would do a door check each night at 11 o'clock, so what we did was make sure we had a designated door man (we were fair, we would rotate us around on long road trips so we each had to do it once). So coach would come around pounding on the doors looking for booze, mary jane, or for mary and jane, two of the cheerleaders we met. Forgive me at that fleeting shot at humor. I will cease.
So after coach made his rounds he would have us believe he was going to his room and locking the door and he would be out. Right? Wrong!
Conniving coach, unaware we were watching from the rooftops in the shadows of the night, observing him slide past his door and he would then tiptoe down to the lounge where there were women his age.
Coach was not much older than us, maybe 30 or 31 at the time, so he was old enough that we would not be hanging out, but close enough that we still had a lot of the same interests. And that spring our tennis team was interested in seeing how many grrrrrls we could get unclothed and how many water tower tanks full of swill we could ingest, And I cannot forget the healthy example we set for all to see as we chain smoked Camels, Marlboro's, Lucky Strikes and one player's Vantages -- yuck!
Still, we looked like we were skinny, Southern, young Rat Pack offspring.
We had the Dean Martin (wonder who that was), the leader Frank Sinatra, Sammy Davis, Jr., and on and on. We toured through Florida, Georgia, Tennessee, Mississippi and our Great State of Alabama. We went all over the place and saw everything. We took pictures, both with a camera and with our minds. This blog is from my mental vault, in case you were wondering.
We sped through towns with no stop signs and no stop lights. We toured through major cities with all types of influence that Coach would not let us near for fear of the school disbanding the team and firing Coach.
We refrained from the truly bad -- which by the way would have been really, really good -- we did it for Coach. He signed us and gave us a team of friends we got really close.
Sorry reader, I am rambling again.
Here we go, back on course.
One of the stops we made was late in the summer, maybe August. School was about to start back in early September and we had restless energy to burn.
We rolled into the Holiday Inn in Montgomery and registered. After finding our rooms, we went to the tennis center to practice and look at the tournament draw. For those of you who are not familiar with the lexicon of the Sport of Kings, I will spell it out for you. The draw is where players are drawn out and placed on a spot on the tournament bracket. That is how you match players up in a tournament and they then play the tournament out to the finish based on where they are on the bracket or the draw.
Back to what I was trying to say.
We went to the tennis center and practiced, but before long we all started to tire of the tennis and we started lusting serious food. Coach decides to drive us back to the hotel where we can shower and make ourselves presentable for the ladies of the Capitol City.
We board the bus and head out. We noticed nothing strange or new about the hotel, but it will be different when we get back, possibly altering the future of the game of tennis forever.
We had an uneventful meal, with one exception -- we invited the whole waitressing crew back to party. They accepted and we chatted and for teenage boys, it looked downright promising.
But Coach nixed the idea, so we got mad and left.
We were surprised when we got back to the hotel. Seems in the four hours we were gone to play tennis and get dinner, every junior and senior high school cheerleader had purchased a room in our hotel.
We set up a strategy and set out into the warm, dark night.
We walked down the hall and met five voluptuous blonds, brunettes and maybe a redhead. The whole crayola collection!
We talked and hung out, they told us where they were from and we returned the same. We walked and talked more. We visited restaurants located beside the hotel. We went to the local park. It was a blast.
I was 17 years old and I had no idea what to do. I played it cool. I played it quiet. I figured, if no one hears me, then no one will see me, and I can lust after their gorgeously, hot bodies, glistening in the streetlight because the heat and humidity made us all one big drop of sweat.
As a kid, I did not know of the eroticism held in a drop of sweat. I did not comprehend how hot nights and bodies close together tend to get even closer and also tend to find ways of cooling off -- like removing unnecessary clothing, which for quite a few meant everything they had on.
Mind you, I kept my clothes on. I was skinny, like malnourished skinny. I also had the Coke-a-Cola glasses to worry about, too.
But I played it cool, I had a sweet tan, good hair, which was rock star long, earrings, and playing tennis had gotten me into fantastic shape. I was toned and had an eight-pack, even though I was skinny, because of that, there was not a single ounce of fat on me. Doctors said I was dangerously skinny, that I needed at least seven ounces of fat with the exertion.
Ha, there I go again, off on another ramble. Hope I did not lose you there.
So back to the glasses -- and being the son of a preacher man -- I was terrified and extremely self-conscious about them. I did not hate them, mind you, but it was like an albatross, hanging around my face, pointing out to those who were way cooler than me how much of a dork I was.
I did not let it get to me that bad, however. I had friends and they were all super cool to me and I to them.
But with grrrrrls, it was different.
I could talk to them. Heck, I could talk their ears off. And I was good with words. I could put them together that would have grrrrrls getting weak-kneed and drifting in and out of consciousness. So maybe that is slightly exaggerated. No harm....
So we spent the entire week in Montgomery and we met and did other things with lots of cheerleaders from all over the state. But there were five grrrrrls that had my card. I kept going back to them. Over and over. There were topless juniors jumping on beds in Room 241! Sorry, I am sitting here in the floor while I look out the window. But at least I am in the room with them. Hey! There are about 20 grrrrrls swimming in the pool! Naked! Nah, I'm going to go to McDonald's with her. BUT SHE'S DRESSED!?! I know. YOU ARE CRAZY! ARE YOU GAY?!?
They did not mean it, but you know hetero teenagers, if you are not trying everything you can to see a grrrrrl naked or get between her legs and start a fire in her panties, then you must be queer.
Well, I am not, nor have I ever been, gay. I just liked this grrrrrl.
Our bond was over my glasses. Like I said, it was a burden and it was an Albatross sitting on my nose. But she let me into her world and it changed my life.
She showed me the braces she had to wear on her legs. She was born with a problem with her legs. Those braces not only attempt to straighten her legs, but they add support so she can walk, although she called it more like a "shuffle."
I noticed them, and commented that I thought they were cute. She said, the same as your glasses. We smiled.
We both tried to overcome our "cute." We so desperately wanted to be hot, or sexy, or whatever adjective the kids are placing on clothing ads or centerfolds or music videos (speaking of that person we used to know! What happened to "MuSiC tElEvIsIoN?).
We wanted to be the ones who had their clothes ripped off by passionate persons seeking the highway to heaven. Lust was not used to describe us. More like loathe. But we were cool with that then. And I would imagine we are cool with it now.
We spent so much time that week together. We swapped addresses and phone numbers. This was the time before cell phones and camera phones. We had nothing to give the other to show off when we got back in school or the amazing person I met at cheerleader camp, or for me at the state tournament.
So we returned home with our memories. Neither of us wrote. We never even spoke to each other ever again.
The Internet is a fabulous universe. You can find almost anything and I did.
I did a search for this grrrrrl and found her. Address still in the same small South Alabama town she had always lived in. Even said she has three kids and has a "wonderful" husband who is the "greatest thing that has ever happened to me!"
I am happy for her.
I got older and got married myself, although my ex-wife probably never thought of me as the "greatest thing that has ever happened to me!" But that is ok.
I got over the glasses issue, by the way. But I am still a dork. But by choice, not because someone put me in that class.
I have had my fair share of women and grrrrrls. Had a lot of fun with them, too.
I have gotten a few "Hot" and "Sexy" thrown my way. I am still cute, too.
That sweat I have seen up close. I have been the one sweating a time or two, too. What I have found is it is fun. A lot of fun. But it is also sticky, too. And most will want you to shower so you do not mess up the sheets! Haha.
The whole "Preacher's Kid" syndrome passed, too. I never pretended to be perfect. I am not a fan of hypocrisy. Those that threw stones at me when I was growing up, well some paid for what they did. Karma. It is a Charlie Batch.
Anyways, that gets me to tonight.
I was walking around and around. Circled the block three times. My newspaper's office is right at the entertainment district of the town I live in and a quick walk out the main door puts you in front of a small bar. The big, populated booze halls are around the corner, but you can smell the smoke and alcohol in the air and you can often hear the bands playing, too.
Trying to figure out what I was going to do with the next six to 10 hours of my life I got to thinking.
I did not really want to go to any of the bars and there was no homes that welcomed me right in. I could have gone to the coffee shop and took a chance that there was a single grrrrrl who might provide me some company, a little conversation. But I backed out.
Not because I am so self-conscious. No.
Not because of my man-hole-cover thick glasses. No way.
I did not go, because I got to thinking.
Thinking about a grrrrrl who I knew back then.
A grrrrrl who overcame a lot more than I ever will.
She did not complain about her condition, so I most certainly should not.
What's complaining about being alone when she kept her mouth shut for 17 years while wearing an erector set on her legs as she mounts a pyramid?
So I walked to my car, turned the key and drove home.
The whole time thinking about that grrrrrl. I think of her now.
How she changed my life by showing me I was not alone in the world.
By being who she is.
I want to thank you Lana, where ever you may be.....