Oh, The Conundrums

Hey Gang!

Welcome to my life…

Where anything is possible and nothing is as it seems. I’m Freedom and I’ll be your host, coming at you from within…

The Depths of Geistopiaaaaaaaaaa

Velcum to my Life ees a prochect, un experiment een Life unt ART, A liwing storyboard, if you vill. Eet’s premise ees zat you can, and do, experience za life you choose. Eet ees based on za Veel of Life unt za ARTs for za New Millennium as life building tools. Ya. Eet’s true.

Welcome to my Life is an ITV Studios/Geist…House production. JustUs Productions, the parent company, would like to give a ‘Shout-Out’ to the following for their ongoing, and oft times unknowing, inspiration and support:

Princess Cuddlebug

Princess Sunshine

Craze & Co.

The Shaman

The Pillar

The Entire Putt-Putt-Putter Clan

FaeriePrincess

Berton

The Baker of the Cornbread

The VanMan (may he R.I.P.)

Osteen, the Son

Redds

‘The Brain’

The Nameless One

The WhiteRose

The Fallen Angel

Jojo Dancer

Senior Swankypants

Jethro

The ‘Original’ Mr. Baggins (and His Wife)

The Socialite

Roxie Heart

Prince Charming

Sir Patrick Wylde

Saint Diane

LisaLisa Monet

The Ziatonic Antagonist

Otto

Prof. Siggy Chong

Pasturizer

The Piz-Nifer

Dancing Queen

Downtown Donny Brown

Mama Rabbit

And, of course, a very generous sponsor who pretends to want to be anonymous.

(There are a few of you I just don’t have nicknames for as of yet. Soon. Very soon.)

(*Semi-Legal mumbo-jumbo jargon fine print – my thoughts, my words. Bug off if you think you theivin’ them.*)

It is Sunday, December 15, 2013 Time….Repetitive

Once again, I’ve decided to try something a lil different. Something to mix it up just a little bit. And, I do mean just a little. So little, in fact, that it barely needs mentioning. But, I will nonetheless.

I think, for a time anyway, I am going to share the Theme, Lesson, and Observation at the beginning of each post. I will give no attachments nor explanations. They will be there, somewhere in the storytelling. But I figure this way I can just kind of write as it comes and not have to worry about tying things together or looping them around.

Flow With It

Acceptance

Trust

Feedback

Feedback has always been my favorite part of WTML, and also, the one I get to play with the least. I have long said that this is actually the most vital part of the project and have strongly encouraged folks to leave comments, questions and the like.

There is no actual feedback this week, since I have not actually written anything in a very long time. LOL.

However, for those of you that may just be joining us, I would like to take a moment to define the statements above. Each of the above is one of my ‘weekly revelations.’ These are…”of the week.”

Observation

Theme

Lesson

I used to share each one individually and then tell the stories that led to each. My newer approach is to throw them out there at the beginning and then just tell the story of my week. Then perhaps you as the reader can find the connections, if you so choose.

Before we continue, I do need to pay homage to a great woman. I realize this is not necessarily a Feedback kind of matter, but it seems an appropriate place to put it. Last night my aunt, my father’s youngest sister, passed away. She was a good woman who led a rough life. Various strokes over the past several years slowly weakened her and last year she lost her husband who had done much for her. Through all of this she never lost the core of who she was. This woman was very giving and generous and compassionate and accepting. She was always good to me and always very good to the Princesses. She was always very good to everyone she met. She would open her home to a perfect stranger if needed. Though you will rarely witness me mourn, for death is the inevitable play out of life and I accept that, a tribute no matter how small is always appropriate.

So…God bless you Linda (Geist) Miller.

And, now, we can move on…

The past few weeks, the past several months, have been very…off. I don’t know what word to use here. I have just been very discombobulated. It seems the more I try to get something done, the more other things get in the way. Sooner or later the job gets done, and done right, but the process there is always more challenging than anticipated or even liked. This blog is the perfect example. I can’t tell you how many times I have sat down and tried to write and just never got this post or that one finished. I have been living in space that is as cluttered and disarrayed as my mind and emotions.

I cannot complain about things. the Divine Promise has withstood the test of this time. Though I wouldn’t say things have been bad, I certainly can’t allude that they have been great. Work had all but fallen off the grid. I was able to find a little bit here and there, but the big one – the main one – there was nothing going on. Over a period of three+ months I had 3 weeks worth of work. Of course, those three weeks did pay very well. And, with the little bit I was able to piece together I was able to make Just Enough each day, each week. It was the epitome of Day by Day.

But, being the resilient SOB that I am, here I trudge onward. Never give up. (Never surrender.)

As Christmas/Yule loom closer and closer with each passing second I find myself further behind schedule than I would like. But, that seems to be the case every year. I just thought that this year I was going to end up ahead of the game. It didn’t work out that way.

I have two more projects than usual this holiday season. All projects have ended up being a little more complex than I had anticipated. Plus there was delay in buying the materials and supplies and I just lost a week of time being away for work.

From a shopping aspect – both gifts and supplies – I had a brilliant plan come to mind. (Please note the slight hint of sarcasm.) It really was a good plan and has been working out just fine. however, it brought some glitches and complications with it.

I have a Capital One card in my wallet. It is in my name…but not my account. Needless to say lack of employment leads to lack of credit. Nonetheless, I had my plan approved and set out about my business. The bite in the ass comes later.

So, that is the set-up. That is everything that brings up to the past two weeks. And what weeks they have been. The Dreamcatcher (my van) has been laid to rest. Work came and went and now offers some possibilities and potential for the future. A project has come to surface that has een on the back burners or more years than I care to think. And, what would the Holi-days be without an eruption in Geistopia. Yup. My family and I are at it once more.

I’m not sure how to tell the tales. Which order should they come in? Do I start at the very beginning which is heavy? Do I tell of the adventures of this past week, which are great on their own but become more potent with the tales of days prior?

I suppose that is conundrum #1.

So, two weeks ago, life is ok. It is not perfect, but it’s working. Work was minimal, but there was Just Enough to keep my head above water – to take care of what needed to be taken care of. The Christmas Crafting was finally under way and moving along quite well. Then, of course, there was this business plan that had come to surface. I may not have been making a lot of money but I certainly had enough on my plate to keep me busy. In fact, I told this one woman from work several times, “You will not hear me complain about the lack of work. It is what it is and I have plenty to do.”

In reality that is precisely how I saw the downtime. The downtime merely provided me with the opportunity to start accomplishing other things that are just as important. I was content. Things were…ok. Then the trouble started.

It was Saturday two weeks ago. I was on my way to a meeting about the proposed business plan. Now granted, I was a little fired up and my head was spinning. You see, the business plan had grown from an idea I was given many years ago and have carried ever since to a partnership with a “newer” friend. From there it began to evolve into a collaborative effort of 5 people. With the business plan written up I presented it to three others for perusal. If they liked what they saw they were welcome to join us, in a partnership capacity.

However, I was seeing, experiencing things with these three others that concerned me. There was ego developing with one and a sort of lackadaisical attitude on the part of another. The third, well, he’s always been an enigma of sorts. So, this was on my mind because it was the first thing my original partner and I needed to discuss – how to handle this.

Anyway, I was about half way to my friend’s house when ‘BAM!’ I smacked into the tail end of another van. I really don’t know what happened. I think I was grabbing my lighter to be honest. Well, there seemed to be minimal damage to their vehicle and what appeared to e none to mine. (This actually surprised me quite a bit considering the power with which I hit them.)

I continued on my way, took my meeting and went home. The next day I headed out to do some shopping. I picked up Christmas presents and supplies. I drove all afternoon without a problem. Sunday night came and I was on my way to pick up the Princesses. My mother was taking us to NYC the following day to see the Radio City Christmas Spectacular. This is something she and my sister do every year and she started taking the girls a few years ago. Half way to the pick-up point the temperature gauge shoots up and the van starts overheating.

I pulled over immediately. Now, I had already been having some difficulties with the radiator. If I filled the radiator itself all was fine. But if I filled the reservoir the fluid was not making it to the radiator. So, naturally I just assumed I had been overly neglectful and ran out of fluid. I knew I couldn’t just open the radiator and fill it with the engine being so hot and I wasn’t sure if filling the reservoir was going to do me any good. So I had to call mama and ask her to drop the girls at the house. But first, I needed some assistance.

Now, if you are a friend of mine on Facebook you may have already read this story.

It just so happens that I pulled over next to a a small apartment building. It’s one of those conversions where someone took a house and divided it into small apartments. I pulled over directly in front of a door. I went up, I knocked and I asked for help.. The gentleman was more than obliging. He got me a gallon of water and off to the van we went.

It turns out there was more damage done to the van than originally suspected. The accident had pushed back on the radiator, bending it and its housing completely out of whack. There was no fixing this problem without a mechanic. So, I called for the tow truck, which had ended up being more of a hassle than it should have been.

While I waited, the gentleman and his son waited with me. Inevitably, the conversation about all the writing on the van came up. I explained what it was all about. I talked about the trip and how I had come to take it. I told him how I had been lost and frustrated, how I had tried so many things and absolutely nothing was working out. “Then,” I said, “I had prayed asking for guidance and the trip was the answer.”

I shared with him some of the stories from the trip, some of the amazing ways I had seen T.O.T.S. work. Something seemed to touch him, move him, inspire him. He and his son even signed the van.

“You know,” he said, “I have been in that very place lately. In fact, when you knocked, I was up on my bed worrying and stressing.”

“Well, then I am here to tell you that if you just keep the faith, pray and listen, you will get your answers and all will be ok.”

It was in that moment that it had struck me. T.O.T.S. truly does work in mysterious ways and everything really does happen for a reason – whether we like it or not. I had my accident the night before so that the van would break down in precisely the location it did and I would knock on that very door and deliver a message of hope. I was reassured that my problem would be taken care of because my problem was merely an illusion. It was a tool of the Universe to get the job done.

Enter Conundrum #2.

How does one feel about this? To be used and abused so by the Universe just to ‘get the job done.’ It is a blessed feeling to experience those kinds of moments, to watch that kind of stuff go down. But, the stress and the strain it puts on my life is some days almost unbearable. Little did I know that more of those days were on the horizon.

The tow truck came and off went the van to our mechanic. A few days later I heard from the mechanic. The news wasn’t necessarily good. It would be about $800 to fix the van. ($1100 if I wanted to fix everything at once.) This left me in a bit of a panic at first and I had told my family what was going on. I retreated to the basement where I had been working when the news came in and then it struck me. There was a solution available to me and it did not involve my parents spending any of their money, though it did require their help.

I went upstairs and announced that I was going to use the Capital One card to get the van fixed. I realize, of course, that this was probably not the greatest approach. But, desperate times call for desperate measures (Mrs. Lovett). Needless to say, this was met with great opposition.

You see, the card had been given to me to use on business trips. This way I could cover my expenses and when the expense check arrives I just paid it to my mother. Up until Christmas, that is all I had used it for. But this was the perfect solution. My parents did not have to put themselves out at all, I could get the job done and at the same time buy T.O.T.S the time it needed to work out the finer details. It might take me two, maybe even three, months to pull the whole $800 together – all depending on how things played out.  But I could do it.

I was told this was unacceptable because my mother likes to pay her credit cards off each month. She does not want to carry a balance or accrue interest. I can understand this. however, I believed these to be extenuating circumstances. So, I pointed it out. The card does not have to be paid in full each month…and as for the interest, well, if I’m paying it it’s not really a matter for concern now is it?

I was challenged on this. Where would I come up with $800 to pay the bill. My response to this, I believe, is the only appropriate response.

“Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow shall take care of itself.”

It’s right there in the bible. Those are Jesus’ exact words.

“Well, I don’t think like that. I do have to worry about it. Right now!”

Conundrum #3 – How do you function properly in your own life, believing so strongly as I do, when forces that can so greatly impact that same life cannot even allow themselves the opportunity to experience such wonder?

Well, I wasn’t taking “No” for an answer. I said I was doing it. That’s what I was doing. My mother moved towards her laptop, “Then I’ll cancel the card right now.”

“That’s fine. If that’s what you have to do, but without that card I cannot go on the business trip planned for next week. So, I will just call the boss and tell him to take me off it.”

That seemed to stop her in her tracks. I do not know if it was in this argument or the next but I was told that if I cancelled that work trip I would be out of the house.

I returned to the basement, called the mechanic and told him to do it up. The $800 option of course. A little while later my father left the house for a bit. And, I had picked up snippets of activity in the house.

“They cancelled the garage work,” I confided in a friend.

“Do you really think they would do that,” he asked.

“I’d like to think not, but, quite frankly, I wouldn’t put it past them.”

It turns out I was right. In fact, I was right about everything that was about to happen. I so called it.

The next morning I was summoned to the kitchen. I was then told that they talked to the mechanic and he told them that the van was not worth fixing. (Which is a very different version of the story than the mechanic tells.) So, they would not fix my van but they would put me in another one. They found one, a year older, listed for 1900 and some odd dollars. That they would help me with.

I was adamantly against this. First and foremost, I was in no position to strap myself with that kind of bill, which in the end becomes just under $2300. Well, they told me, it was that or nothing. If I didn’t let them help me with that then I would be on my own to figure it out.

In retrospect, I probably should have gone with that scenario. But, no van means no work. it also means no kids. This didn’t seem like much of a choice.

They continued to argue that my van was “a piece of shit” and what happens if I fix it and it breaks down next week? Then what?

We continued to argue back and forth. As usual, the fight went from what it was about to all sorts of other unrelated things. When I told my parents they knew nothing about me or my life, they told me that I have no life.

At another point I was asked why I have 2 sisters that hate me. Shortly after that it was, “Why do all the cousins hate you.”

This comes up all the time. In fact, last time I believe “all the aunts and uncles” were added to the tally. It’s one of their power plays. It’s how they prove to me that I am such an asshole and pretty much worthless. My response is always the same.

“I don’t know.”

I don’t know why they hate me or how they could. I do not have enough interaction with any of my family to give them cause to hate me. I couldn’t have possibly done anything to them directly. And, if they choose to hate me because of the stories that come out of this house then that is their choice and it is of very little consequence to me.

Of course, admitting that it’s all fairly unimportant to me just makes me more of an asshole. Or, so I’m told. But, why should it be of any concern to me? Why should it bother me?

I have always been the black sheep of the family. My parents and I are definitely from two different generations and of different mindsets. My older sisters are much older and we’ve never been real tight. My cousins all live close to each other. They grew up with each other, went to school with each other. I’ve always been kind of a loner and independent. Those bonds just never grew. People never really talked to me or included me. I even stopped going to most family functions because of it. The only one I always try to make an appearance at is the family Christmas party. I don’t do Easter or Thanksgiving, Christmas day or any other family gathering – large or small. First, I see Holi-days as just that – Holy. For me that means just relaxing and meditating on the energies and blessings of what the day means. Also, I’d rather be content being alone y myself than uncomfortable being alone in a room full of people.

So, we’ve never really been close and I have never really let this bother me. But this distance, this separation, only became more pronounced and defined fifteen years ago when I left Corporate America in pursuit of my spiritual life. I do not have a single family member that truly knows anything that has happened over the past fifteen years – where I have been and what has happened. I have taken three spiritual quests that have left me with some pretty amazing stories and I do not have one single family member that has ever heard a one of them.

So, my family does not know me. They have no valid reason to hate me. I’ve been told they hate me because of what goes on in the house. But, those are stories they are only hearing on side of. They never come and ask for my telling of it all. They rely solely on the information that my parents and my sister feed them. Which, I promise you, is lacking in quite a bit of information.

They will gladly tell you all of the horrible and horrendous things that I say and do. But, they will not tell you what they say to me. They will not tell you how they repeatedly tell me how pathetic I am. They will not tell you how my sister has grabbed me by the neck – in front of my daughters no less. Or, how my father has threatened to get his gun and shoot me in front of my children. I mean, he not only has said it in front of them, he has told me he would not hesitate to do it in front of them. They will not tell you how my father has threatened to shoot me in my sleep.

They will not tell you how I have extended myself, on many occasions and in many ways, to try and fix the problem. They will not tell you that because they do not want to fix it. My father has told me as much.

“I don’t want to fix anything.”

His exact words. In fact, he has gone as far as to tell me, on more than one occasion, “I do not want to know you. I do not want to be a part of your life.”

So, I can do no more. I am helpless in fixing things. I have no power to heal it and make it all go away. But they don’t want it to go away. Somehow it feeds them. (I could get into the psychology of all of that, but this is getting long enough as it is…and there is plenty more to come.)

So, if the rest of the family chooses to judge me and hate me because of the half truths they are given, why should that be of any concern to me.

Conundrum #4 – How do I work with that? What do I do with it? How am I supposed to feel about it all?

I mean, I certainly don’t want people to think that my family is just a bunch of horrible monsters. They can be kind. They can be generous. But, for me, it is reaching the point where all of this nonsense far outweighs any amount of kindness or generosity that could show, or have ever shown, me.

Amidst the arguing my sister appears out of nowhere to get involved and give her two cents worth. This always happens. The fights don’t ever concern her, involve her or affect her in any way. Yet, she must throw herself into the heat of it.

This is another thing the family at large does not consider in forming their opinions. How, exactly, would each of them behave or react if they had three people harshly attacking them. You cannot corner an animal and expect that it won’t fight for its life.

So the fight continues. Finally I concede. Then lets just go get this van…because I had to go do work and the day was ticking away. I had to concede five time, because the first four I was told, “No. Go fix your van.”

I finally asked what the deal was with that. I mean, when I didn’t want to do it I was given all sorts of shit and then when I agreed to it I was denied. I asked if this was some sort of power game to them.

“If we wanted to play a power game you’d be out of here. That’s our power game,” my mother touted from her computer.

this is another thing that happens in each and every fight. I’m going to get kicked out. Quite frankly it is to the point that I want to tell them to shit or get off the pot. Either kick me out or stop threatening it. It’s old.

So, finally, we are off to get the ‘new’ van. My father and I get there and go through the whole obligatory process – checking it out, test drive, yadada-yadada. It comes time to pay the $2278 bill and my father pulls out a credit card. Not a debit card mind you, but a credit card. I thought I was going to fall on the floor. Or…go through the roof. One or the other. I mean, you have got to be kidding me right? They couldn’t help me out with $800 charged on a card because they didn’t want to carry a balance and God only knows when I would be able to pay it off, but almost $2300 under the same terms and conditions is ok??

Of course, its ok, I was told, because they were helping to put me into a ‘better vehicle.’

So, I took the keys and set off to my day. It just so happens that the work I had to do was near the car dealership. So, that worked out.

I had just completed my third job. I got in the van and turned the key only to notice that I had no indicator lights in the dashboard. I had no odometer and the lil lights that tell you what gear you’re in were not on. The light that was on – Service Engine Soon. I took a deep breath and brushed it off. I went and completed my fourth job and set off for home. It is on this drive that I noticed it was not just those indicator lights. I had no speedometer, no gas gauge, no anything. It had all shut off.

Now I have to confess, I feel slightly at fault for this. After seeing the whole credit card thing I did think several times how it would serve us all right if something went wrong with this van.

(Be careful what you wish for…and how.)

Needless to say, I had no problems walking into the house and announcing to my father that the ‘new’ van had to go to the garage.

“You’re kidding me.”

“Nnnnnooooope!”

When he probed me for more details I gave them to him. But I was also sure to inform him that he really didn’t want to speak to me right then. So apparently, My father drove it down to the mechanic. y then the dash had returned but the Service Engine Soon light was still on. The mechanic fixed and explained that technically it was a temporary fix. There was nothing to guarantee that it wouldn’t happen again. And, if it did happen again, it should be fixed. I found all of this out when I visited the mechanic the next day.  That’s also when I found out that the conversation about my ‘old’ van hadn’t exactly gone the way I was told it had.

So I told the mechanic it didn’t matter if it happened again, because it wasn’t getting fixed. Why? Because I’m out of money. I am way over my budget for this fiasco. $800 I was comfortable with. That’s workable..almost easy really. But $2300 is almost triple that. I have no grasp on that. I can’t “see” it. $800 I could “see.” So I am in a void as to when or how this debt gets paid. And, truthfully, it is just set-up for another fight down the line when they decide they are not getting paid back quick enough.

The way I got it figured is I could have fixed my van two more times at $800 a pop and just be slightly over what I now owe for a van that needs to be fixed. So, it doesn’t get fixed. If it stops working, worst case scenario, I am right back where I started – without a vehicle. Only now I have a $2300 deb over my head.

Two days later another fight would ensue, only this time my children (who I later found hiding in the closet) were her to witness it. What’s funny is, I was very clear that I did not want to get into it right then. But, they insisted. They would have their way once more.

This fight begins when they inform me that they had made arrangements for the van to go to the garage the next day. I went ballistic. First and foremost, as I informed them they must stop making plans and arrangements for my life and then later telling me about them. At least have the decency to come and discuss them with me first – not tell me about them after the fact. And secondly, “Who the fuck is paying for this??”

“We will.”

“Ya damn right you will, because it sure as shit ain’t getting tacked on to my bill.”

So, once again, it all became the same old rhetoric – how pathetic I am, how the family hates me and even, “Why don’t you go turn your video camera on and tell yourself how wonderful you are.”

At one point the bill I have run up on the credit card for Christmas, and some other necessities such as gas (which I had to do twice, because I filled one tank and then had to fill the new one on top of it) was thrown up in my face. Only, it wasn’t thrown up to me by my parents. It was thrown up by my sister, who couldn’t even say it to my face but muttered it under her breath as she walked away. Muttering only audibly enough for me to hear, “$400.”

I even had to stop the fight at that point and ask what the hell she was talking about.

This was a focus of the whole three days of arguing – the balance and use of this damn card. In one of the fights I was told, “you can’t be paying for Christmas and your work trip AND put $800 on that card. It’s not limitless, you know.”

Really? Cause two weeks ago when talking about Christmas you started to tell me to be careful not to max the card out only to stop yourself by saying that I wouldn’t run it that high because I don’t make that kind of money. Soooo…

“What is the limit on the card?”

“That’s none of your business!”

“I think if I’m using the card it should be my business.”

“Well, it’s not.”

So, the fight ended and I helped my children through the aftermath as best I could. I asked them how they felt about it. I talked to them about it. I told them that their grandparents aren’t bad people. I told them that they do mean well. In their heads they think they are doing the right thing. I told them that they were not to, in any way shape or form, change their relationship with their grandparents. I said I would be more disappointed and upset with them if they did that than anything else.

I also probably told them some things that I shouldn’t have. I suppose it is a matter of perspective. We discussed the possibility of me not living here anymore and what that would mean for us. When they asked where I would live I gave them the only available answer – my van.

Let’s face it. My family is constantly threatening that and holding it over my head. At any point in time they could make it a reality. And, even if they don’t, I can’t guarantee that I won’t. I have very often wondered if it would not be better to die on the street than to live here. My reasoning behind discussing it with them was the uncertainty. My family could make it so at any time, or I could just decide that I can’t deal with it anymore and do it myself. I figured it was better to discuss the possibility with them and help them process the ramifications of it then to just one day not be there and leaving them with no understanding at all.

So, the argument happened. I talked with my kids. I left the keys to the van on my desk and off on my work trip I went. I do not know if the van ever made it to the garage, nor do I care. It is what it is, what it is. It has not been mentioned and I certainly do not care enough to ask.

The work trip is the second part of this story. It is where we truly find the Lesson, Theme, and Observation.

My co-worker picked me up and off we headed to Philadelphia International Airport where we would board a plane for Nashville. There we would connect to a flight headed to Pensacola. In Pensacola we would pick up the rental car and drive about an hour to Foley, Al where we had a few days of work scheduled and were to make the same trip in reverse on Thursday night. I figured at best it would be a 40 hour week in all. It all depended on how the work went. There was a possibility it would be less than that so I was would e happy if I saw 30-35 hours in all.

We have joked several times since then that we should have known how this trip would go when it started with us literally jogging through PHL to board the plane just before they closed the doors. We got there in Just Enough time.

By the time we were on the plan and they had made their arrangements for taking off the weather had made a turn for the worst. The report was now ‘Heavy Snow’ and heavy show meant no taking off. So, they let us off the plane.

Time moved very slowly from that point on and I am not sure exactly how much passed before they let us board the plane once more. Only, it seems there was a miscommunication and we were not actually taking off. They let us off the plane again.

Three times we boarded the plane before the plane would take off, seven hours after its original departure time. We had looked into alternatives but the final plan was to just wait it out and get to Nashville where we could connect with our flight the next morning because it, too, was stuck in an airport.

The snow caused more problems than that. Because of the heavy snow and traffic and accidents and delays the company had another team of techs that couldn’t even get to the airport for their flight. By the time we got to Nashville our week had changed drastically.

We would continue on to Pensacola as planned. We would pick up the car and drive to Foley. There, however, we would pick up the equipment that had been shipped ahead and drive another 10 hours to Palestine, TX where we would work for a few hours and then sleep. The next morning we were called to say we needed to test again which we did, only to eventually have it determined that they weren’t actually ready for the test. So, we started our 10 hour drive back to Foley.

The work in Foley changed many times over the course of the next several days. Till it was all said and done we were not going to be able to make our flight on Thursday night, and because it was too expensive to change the flight, we would be leaving Friday morning for a 20 hour drive back to PA.

What started out as a week that I would have been glad to see 30-35 hours, ended up coming in just under 90 hours. Almost 50 full hours of overtime. On this trip I not only made enough to cover all of my bills and expenses for the month of January, I also made enough to cover the $400 credit card bill (plus what I am adding to it to finish making Christmas happen). And, I still have plenty left over to play with. To boot – I have all this time now to work other things out and earn even more. Anything can happen.

(And nothing is as it seems.)

In fact, many things happened while we were on that trip. One of our techs at work…isn’t so much anymore. And, I was told by two different co-workers that this only means more work coming my way.

Conundrum #5 – Is it worth bringing this up to my parents? Do I even bother telling them the stories and what all happened. Do I show them that we had all of that stress, all of that worrying, all of that fighting and at the end of the day I was right. Ask and Ye Shall Receive. Do Not Worry About Tomorrow, for Tomorrow Shall Take Care of Itself. The Lord Works in Mysterious Ways  and  Before You Even Know There Is A Problem, God Has Put The Solutions In Motion.

Probably not. It would do no good and it wouldn’t change anything.

Obviously, 40 hours of driving in a car with another person leads to much dialogue. One of my favorite exchanges went as follows. We were making our drive to Palestine and it had reached that twilight time. That point in the day when the Sun has not quite set – the time between dark and light. I had finally come to in the passenger seat and my groggy eyes fixed on the road in front of us, filled with traffic. After a moment I asked, “Does this car have headlights?”

“Of Course….Why? Aren’t they on?”

“No.”

“Oh….no wonder I can’t see.”

It may be funny to read but it was even funnier to hear. It was the most casual, non-nonchalant conversation with no stress put on any words at all. I can’t tell you how many times that conversation has made me chuckle loud and hard. In fact, I just chuckled again writing it.

But we did. We talked. We talked about everything under the Sun. We talked about Religion and Spirituality. We talked about some of my adventures and the many stories I have. We talked about what happened to the van and the mess that had become. And, we even talked about my family and what that situation is. I told him that not a member of my family has ever heard a single one of the same stories that had left him quite awe-inspired.

I refer to many of my stories as “Things That Make You Go Hmmmm.” Because, whether you believe them or not they are enough to give you pause. Perhaps even open your mind a bit and alter your perceptions. I probably do have enough of them by now to write a book. Not that I would know how to get it published when I was done writing it.

On our way back from Palestine we decided to treat ourselves to a little side trip. We had mentioned how we both wanted to go to New Orleans but had never had the opportunity to do such. In fact, it was on the itinerary of two of my trips and it never happened.

Let me just say I am glad it happened when it did.

He wanted to go but there was definitely a little bit of hesitation. He finally decided to hell with it and we went. Afterwards I informed him that had I continued to drive I wasn’t going to give him a choice – we were going.

The logic for us was simple. It was something we both wanted to do and the city is placed in such a location that you don’t often have the opportunity to get there. We were literally driving right past it. It was nothing to scoot off the highway and grab some dinner on Bourbon St. (Perhaps even a little adventure.)

And, adventure we had. It was quite fun and I had wished several times that we had a video camera with us. First of all, it was a completely different experience for each of us. For reasons of his own, this was not really his scene. He doesn’t really drink, nor does he do the big social scene. I, on the other hand, was in hog heaven. I live for that shit. I had found Nirvana and as far as I was concerned I could have died on Bourbon St and felt complete and satisfied. In fact, I told him several times he might just want to call the office and tell them that he lost me in New Orleans.

We parked the car and set off on what I am now considering a vision quest, a spiritual journey. I got into my groove and set on my way and he kind of followed along – watching, observing, “taking it all in,” as he said repeatedly.

Bourbon St. is a hub of activity – people wandering, musicians playing, lights flashing and so many men standing outside of their respective clubs ‘engineering.’ (“hey boy…you wanna try my girl. C’mon. Try my girl.”)

My particular favorite invitation was, “hey guys come on in. We have cold drinks and hot titties.”

My friend observed that the pattern to Bourbon St. seems to be – Bar, Titty bar, Oyster House, bar, Titty Bar, Oyster House. We passed by The Penthouse Club, Hustler’s Barely Legal, and, my particular favorite, Big Daddy’s World Famous Love Acts (ft. men and women) which I will someday return to. I told my friend often that it was probably a good thing neither of us had cash on us.

I wandered the streets, mingling with so many people. There were the men engineering, the couple who was as fascinated with Big Daddy’s sign that they, too, were taking a picture of it, the shopkeepers, the bartender, the group of staggering young men who told me as we passed that they wished they had a dollar to go buy a beer (to which I responded, “I wish I had a dollar to give you to go buy a beer”). There was the homeless guy who approached me and told me he wished he had money to get some food. Of course, I had no cash on me and therefore nothing to give him but I assured him that had I had money I would have shared it and instead I wished for him the blessing of abundance that he needed. There was the beautiful, beautiful shot girl and the homeless man who would inevitably lead us to one of the best damn burgers I have ever eaten.

As we walked down the street looking for a place to eat I had looked across the street at the row of businesses there. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted this man nearing me from behind. He was just walking down the street with his bike and I am not even sure he was aware of me at first. I quickly spun on my heels, pointed a finger at him and announced out loud, “That is the man who is going to show us where to eat.”

He was more than happy to oblige and as he led us to our new destination I did catch his story. not all of it mind you, but the key points – born and raised in New Orleans, lost everything in Hurricane Katrina, on the street ever since.

In exchange for his guidance, I walked to the corner store (actually on the corner) and bought him a pack of cigarettes and a half pint of whiskey. It’s at this point in the story I want to stop and mention three things my friend had said to me that night.

1 – He commented on how interesting it was to watch the way I interacted with, and impacted, every person I met.

2 – He thought it was a very nice thing I had done for that homeless man who had helped us. I told him that I know what its like to be without cigarettes and I figured the whiskey would help keep him warm that night…cause it was damn cold.

3 – That he knew that I was going to find someone to lead us. He said he just knew how it was going to go down. he didn’t know how or when but he just stayed back to let me do my thing.

This is interesting to me. It leads to one of my greatest frustrations. Here is a man who, for all intents and purposes, had just gotten to know me, We knew each other before this trip but we know each other so much better now. He had just started hearing my stories and learning who I was. He accepted who I was and when the time came just let me e who I am and do what I do. And, I promise you, if you asked him he does not regret it. Yet, my family, who has had 15+ years to process the experience that is me just cannot get over the first hump. And, I often wonder what would happen (for all of us) if they could.

I suppose this is Conundrum #6.

So, anyway, I bought the gentleman his rations for the evening, sent him on his way and headed back to the pub to meet my friend. It was the right choice. The food was good. It wasn’t over-priced. My only disappointment was that they wouldn’t let me light my finger on fire. (But that’s neither here nor there.)

We left the pub and started back for the car. We were passing by this one bar. My friend had seen it on some TV program or another and had expressed an interest in it. When we passed by the first time he had peeked in and decided that it was not as impressive as it appeared on TV.

Anyway, as we passed the entrance this girl stops me and asks if I want to come in for a shot. She was cute enough to pique my interest and get me to step inside the door, at which point she showed me the barber chair in which I would sit to get said shot.

I had no clue what I was in for, but how can you resist a shot in a chair like that? Especially after she laid it back before going to get the whiskey. Now, my friend had an idea of what was to come because he had seen it on TV I suppose. however, he was just as surprised as I to see how it all played out – just not as pleasantly.

I sat in the chair and laid back. The waitress came back, lifted her knee, and used it to spread my legs. She crawled up on my lap, her knee all up in my junk, and poured the whiskey straight from the bottle into my throat. When the shot was finished, she placed her hand behind my head, began to raise it and said, “Oh…you need to take your glasses off.”

With that, she removed my glasses and began to rub her young, soft, beautiful, perky breasts all over my face. Later I told her that she had made an old man very happy. Needless to say, I gave her almost as much for a tip as I paid her for the shot itself.

She invited me to walk with her as she went to process my credit card. So, I walked with her. As I moved through the bar I did take notice of the other fairly attractive girls, some with huge breasts, and quite frankly I was very satisfied with the one who had chosen me.

Of course, as we walked and she ran the card I did what I always do – I talked. I asked questions. In particular I asked her if her parents knew she did this. She kind of stumbled through words at first. And, to be honest, I was only asking because the whole time all I could think was, “My God. Little Princess Sunshine is going to get a job like this,” and I wanted to know if girls were comfortable telling their parents about such things. When she finally found words she said, “Yes, my mother knows. But hey, it’s not stripping.” I looked her up and down and thought, “no honey, but I sure wish it was.”

She was just so damned cute and adorable. (and a bit Hispanic which is always a plus.) As we walked back down the street my friend decided that he really wanted one of the specialty glasses that they sold at the bar. it was some skull mug that lights up and flashes blue. But, they only sold them with the drink and he doesn’t drink. So, he said if I wanted the drink he would buy it. Could I say no? (Let me just say that I woke up with a slight hangover the next morning and that was without even trying.)

So back we went and it was the same adorable young lady that waited on us. I told her flat out that I am not generally up-front or forward in any way but she made me wish that I was 15 years younger.

Along the way, and before the bar, we stopped in 3 Voodoo shops. (Was there really any question?) Well, two Voodoo shops and a gift shop but that was the primary focus of the gifts. Now, my friend was just curious. he had never been in any such shop and was awed and overwhelmed to say the least. I had my own reasons for scoping them out.

As we entered the latter of the shops I told my friend that one of these shops was mine but I just hadn’t found it yet. It turns out that was it. The vibe was real good. I liked the gentleman behind the counter. and, they had a reader that night.

Now, the other two shops had readers as well but nothing impressed me enough to get one. I must confess that I am sort of a reader bigot. I am very, very, very particular about who reads for me and when. I always check it with the big guy upstairs. If the time is right and the reader has been scrutinized properly it’s a done deal.

I am so glad I got this reading. It was probably one of the best that I have ever had. The man was intense – very fast and very thorough. He pegged things quite well.  He starts the reading with a six card spread which is intended to give you an overview of your life and who you are in it. Though it was all very accurate there was one point he made that caught my interest and stuck with me.

He told me that, basically, I cannot sit idle. If one project ends I must immediately begin the next. “The problem with this,” he said,” is that you are never satisfied. No matter how good things get you must always have more. You must always strive for the next level. some people see this as a flaw. I call it ambition.”

From there he allows the querant three questions. The more specific the question, the more specific the answer.

My first question was about the girl. Not the girl. I have come to the realization that I must put her behind me. I must detach myself from that experience completely – get rid of the pictures, unfriend her on Facebook, let it go and move on.

No, this question was about the girl who has been showing up in my dreams for the past several months – the faceless one. I needed to know what she is all about. The answer was quite simply that she is no one in particular. Instead, she is a conglomerate of all past relationships – the good and the bad. The point to her appearance is not to foretell of romance to come but for me to recognize and learn.

My second question was in regards to the business proposal on the table. Is it really worth pursuing? The answer was yes. It is a completely attainable goal. The warning though is that it does require other people and the question is do I really have the patience and tolerance for others’ idiosyncrasies to work with those other people. If I can move past that all should be good.

And, finally, I asked about my family. The problem, he explained is something I already am aware of – I have high expectations. The closer a person is to me, the higher I set those expectations. He said I want them to get it. I want them to understand. And, this is true. I do want them to understand and to evolve to a higher paradigm, for their sake as well as mine because when they get it they will live a much better life and they will stop barraging mine with negativity.  But, just as I wish they would accept me for who I am, I must step up to the plate and accept where they are at. This becomes…

Conundrum #7 – How do I do that when where they are at so blatantly and negatively impacts my ability to fully be who I am?

And…Conundrum #8:

I look at my life, the whole of it. I tell these stories and read them several times myself. I know my life is no one’s dream life. Some may call it pretty sucky – considering the money and living situations. But when I relive these moments and hear others’ reactions to them I feel lifted up. I feel very blessed in the moments I have. They are overflowing with riches that money can never touch. I like being that person. I like being the person that can interact, impact and inspire. And, honestly, if my lack of abundance is the trade off for having that gift, then I would take lack of abundance any day. Because, let’s face it, “One cannot serve Mammon and God at the same time.” Can one?

And now I am done. The stories are told and what needed to be put out there has been put out there. Yule is right around the corner and it is at this time of year that I shut my life down. Everything goes on hold and I release all earthly attachments. I turn it all over to Spirit to see just what gifts and lessons I will be blessed with and only when it is all finished can I assess my life and see what the New Year may hold.

So…let’s just see what happens next.

From here in Geistopia, for now and for always, I am your beloved Rev. wishing you…

Love

Light

Peace

and Freakishness.