Christmas time is here and all are filled with cheer. Jesus Christ, it's that time of year! Check out my bulbous rear.
I want to bring awareness to another important religious figure that needs celebrating: Cheesus. Cheesus is our Savor. Cheesus doesn't walk on water, but Cheesus melts on top of anything, making them instantly better. Cheesus Rice, it's good!
Okay, I just wanted some attention. I'm at work and I'm bored. Have a good day.
For those of us that didn't get the president that we wanted, or the ones who really just wanted anyone but Trump, be kind to yourself. After that, be kind to your family. Be kind to your neighbor. You don't have to agree with others, but the world needs kind, loving people now more than ever.
I'm so virtuous. Please pat me on the back and tell me I'm a good boy.
P.S. I just farted.
Once wasn't enough. Not enough of?? Rabid letting of humors. Bile-stained American flags. Distrusting the other. Hatred. Bibles tailor made for today's "real" Americans. Disinformation. Lies upon lies. Cozying up to our enemies. Calling other Americans "the enemy within". The constant victim. Up is down and dogs are cats. I could go on. I don't care anymore. I don't care about a lot of things anymore. I just go to work and try my best to take care of my family. If the world is going to end, I can't stop it. If this country goes to hell in a hand basket, I can't anything. I lack the ability to change minds, to debate, and to argue. I see what I see and call it how I see it. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter at all. I don't want to die. I just don't want to live in this reality anymore.
I had what I found out later was a panic attack. I was walking around the street in front of the offices where I work, and the world became dark around the edges. Sound was that of muted gobbledygook. Everything that was the conscious me detached from my body. I was weightless. My vision was narrow, like I was looking at a projection that was a floating beach ball. I didn't feel any pain. I had to move my body in a way that felt like remote control. I didn't fall. I was able to grab a rail and ride out this episode. It lasted a good couple of minutes. After the dial got turned back up on reality, I went and sat down in a courtyard for a while, trying to recover and gather my thoughts. If what happened to me wasn't an indication of something terribly wrong with me, I would've preferred to stay in that state.
This is dangerous because I have major depressive disorder. I have struggled with suicidal ideation for a good part of my life. While I am being treated by my primary care physician, a psychiatrist, and a therapist, the thoughts never really go away. I am just better able to deal with them, as well as the noise being turned down considerably. I still wonder, though, if being on the other side would be more pleasant for me. But that doesn't mean that I want to kill myself to escape this reality. I'm feeling overwhelmed and powerless--hanging by a thread. I need rescue.
Some time ago, I had an amazing experience. Me and my wife were attending a class and the class had two breaks. I needed to pee, so I went to the bathroom. I walked in, got in position, and unzipped my pants. It was then that I heard a strange, unearthly, voice. It was a woman's voice. She said, "hello". I got scared, zipped up my pants, and left the bathroom.
I thought I had entered into the ladies' room by accident. I then saw that I was clearly in the men's bathroom, as well as the fact that I was about to use the urinal. I got so spooked. Was there a woman in there? Was it a ghost? I decided to go back in and see what the heck was happening.
When I entered back into the bathroom, I noticed a pair of feet on the floor in one of the toilet stalls. I recognized the boots as belonging to one of the guys in the class. I started to think that I had imagined the whole thing. I went up to the urinal again. This time I heard the man strain, then he let out the weirdest fart I've ever heard. It was his fart that said "hello" to me before. It said it to me again! I mistook a fart for a woman saying hello. You can't make this shart up.
Ham is just who Ham is. Ham gonna Ham. Ham brings home the bacon. Ham sometimes smokes, but can also come home with a sweet glaze, ready to treat you right. Ham will spiral with you on the dance floor. Ham likes pineapple, and you know what they say about eating pineapple, right? Ham, bamalam! Black Forest, hamalam! So many Hams.
I don't know what I set out to accomplish with this silliness. All I know is that I'm hungry and ham tastes good, bamalam.
Here's a picture of the best ham in the world. This man likes to ham. He was also a former supervisor of mine, back in the day. Ham Man.
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| Ham Man, complete with "Ham Action Grip". Kids, tell your parents that you want Ham Man for Christmas. Cloves not included. |
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| Touched by a Ham Angel. |
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| Slapped Ham. |
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| Ham on Ham |
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| "I know what you're thinking" Ham. |
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| Hot Ham. |
There's something to be said for mindless, menial labor. Since I became king of the grunt world some time ago, I can order people to do these mindless things, instead of me. However, I need this kind of work in my life, occasionally.
I'm currently pressure washing the north side of a building, blasting off all the lichens growing on the stucco exterior. What do I do for a living now, you may ask? Well, same thing I did before but fatter. I'm a facility manager of a large office complex. The cream has risen to the top, well, at least past the halfway mark of the coffee mug. Anyway, I could have any of the workers under my supervision do this mindless, menial task. I could stay warm, dry, and fat in my office. I don't want to do that shit. Time fucks up your body--relationships, finances, and work stress does the rest. I have to keep my body moving and my mind focused on something methodical, predictable, and most importantly, controllable.
When life turns out to be something you never expected, and that spans the good and bad, there has to be something you can turn to that will never change. What never changes are the tasks that you go to that are reliably boring, repetitious, and constant. It's the task that puts you in a state of meditation, no cares, and subconscious prayer, where the physical pain fades into a drone, a hypnotic vibration, and auto pilot cause you to leave your body, in a sense.
I'm pressure washing this building because I need to do it for myself. I need to take the pain of my heart, mind, and body and throw it at an immovable object, knowing that if I only move it an atom's width, I have triumphed.
I am back.
