Axing Realities

(this was a draft from a while back of me trying to write again on one of my rare good days, originally from March 13, 2013)

One of the "perks" (if you will) of being disabled, is being able to see just about every syndicated "reality" type "show".  That's a lot of quotations marks there, but with good reason.  These show do that fine balancing act of being both entertaining, and mind numbing crapfests.  I watch these things completely astounded that there are vast audiences and follow these as gospel, real edifices of humanity.  I guess my attempt here is to navigate for all those who don't have insomnia and have to work, the wild lands of cheap syndicated folderol.  (look that word up, it's worth using and it fits this perfectly)

Firstly a few caveats, much like wearing protective headgear when skateboarding or biking.  Just to make your journey less painful than mine:

The word "Axed" - used primarily in courtroom shows.  Definition, the past tense of "ask", apparently.  This one makes my skin crawl every time I hear it.  Can't be bothered to use a few more mouth muscles to form the word "asked"?  Dumb yourself down and let the word "axed" slide out instead for half the effort of real human speech.  Example:  "I axed him why he kick my car, Judge Judy!"  I understand "asked" uses a bit more tongue gymnastics, but com'on people!  Make the effort, I already had one brain stroke, every time I hear that word on a show I get so near a stupidity triggered aneurysm

Being shirtless - It never fails, on any police/cops type show, you can count the seconds till a perp has his shirt disappear or shows up without a shirt.  Often times, I'll watch an episode of Cops, and when an officer approaches the door to some inevitably white trashy situation and they have to figure out the guilty party, it's always the shirtless guy.  Oops, spoilers.  It's almost a drinking game sometimes.

Creating Compulsive Disorder from Watching Disorders - To anyone who watches the show "hoarders",  they know what I mean.  After watching that addictive show, I always get in an intense mood for cleaning, organizing, and throwing away things I kept for a bit, but haven't used yet.  It's a great house maintenance motivator.

"Actuality" - beware of any network or show that avoids the word "reality" and use buzzwords such as the non-word "actuality"

Here We Go Again!

Yes, here we go again.  Once again, I am trying to restart my blog.  And this time, I think I'll actually be do it.  Because, Now I'm doing this for a personal reason.  I'm starting to recognize why I stopped in the first place.  I mean, yeah, the stroke obviously sidetracked me quite a bit.  But as of recently, I've also discovered other reasons why I haven't been diligent.

Previously, I've used excuses, however accurate, such as, I'm tired all the time.  My memory got scrambled or lost, therefor, I have no more stories.  I can't put my thought down on the page well enough.  Lots of brain stuff.  But there was also something far more serious going on.

Depression.  And the type of depression that stay hidden and denies itself.  The kind that slowly eats away at your own person, telling you you can't, and you'll fail.  The kind that tricks you into giving up and just waiting it to leave.  But like a bad house guest with a hygiene problem, just wont take the hint and makes himself MORE at home.

And this hidden depression started long ago and was the real reason I was withdrawing from society quietly, including this page as well!  I remember (yes, I still remember some things) long ago, about five years ago after the stroke, I was asked, "do you feel depressed?" by my doctor.

I said, "No, I don't think so..."  and never gave it another thought.  But that's the danger of depression:  it's not the cinematic bad actor type, with the moaning and crying and walking around like Shlep Rock or Eeyore.  It's much more devious:  it's doubt, it's loneliness in a crowded room, it's not finding the reasons to get out of bed, shower, get dressed and just go out the door.  And thinking your thoughts don't mean anything. Hense, no blog.

I'll probably go into it later, but I eventually acknowledged the depression and sought help.  I'm on medication and not only can I form words again, and be my usually verbose self at age 48, BUT...

I did my first selfie ever.  

This, for me, is a humongous breakthrough!  I never ever thought I could get over taking pictures of myself before.  My entire life was me ducking the photographs when I could!  And here I am taking my first vulnerable step and posting my picture online to scrutinize.  

Not only that, I'm talking the way I used to, to people, I'm enjoying it!  I'm taking walks (okay, more hobbles with a cane, but, you take what you can get...)  and i'm finding my humor again.  

Also, I don't think I look that bad!  Not shabby for an almost 50 year old, huh?  I stopped aging it seems.  And as my bestie Leanne said in her own open way, "Still the same duke..only with thinning hair".  Thanks...

And do you think taking a selfie is easy?.  It really isn't.  You have to pre-plan hoe the mirror image will look, you can't block your face.  You need to balance the camera/phone and still press the touch sensitive button.  You have to avoid dropping the phone in the sink or toilet.  You have to remember to take off he flash and clean the damn mirror.  And, wipe that constipated look off your face, that you get by trying to remember and do all that.

And my left arm and hand are controlled by my brain like one of those Chucky Cheese Claw arm prize machines.

But, here's to a brand new era.  I may not have memories, but I will have something to say after all.

And, this is a great start!

Infamous SOTD reorientation

I was reading my past posts and I thought, "dag-nabbit, I could write!". I was always a good creative writer, but getting my brain and fingers back to semi normalcy just to flow my thoughts here has been quite a chore.  I usually just freeform type, as I would just talk to someone, one-on-one.  Now, I have to pre-form my thoughts before I type, just so it makes some kind of non-ADD sense.  I need a professional editor, or control my wandering mind...SQUIRREL!

I was planning to make a YouTube channel and film stuff, but i'm still terrible at reading from a scripted dialog I wrote.  After 30 takes on the first paragraph, I decided I had more mental work to do and called it quits for now.  I'll eventually do it.  I can talk fine with just spontaneous talk so far.

But, I need to get back to focusing my head and doing this blog religiously as I did years before (has it really been years?!).  I still got stories to tell, it seems, and I think I can resuscitate this...

Which leads me to this:  I'm coauthoring my girlfriend, Whitneys, infamous Song of the Day blog.  This is where she posts musical acts and songs she likes but doesn't think anyone really knows about.  She's got about the same musical tastes as me, and many groups she's liked in the past that were unknowns became quite big.  Not to sound all hipster, and such.  Take a look at the dates of some of these posts.

Lately, it's been more of a "Song of the Moment" as it's almost bi-monthly now.  So, I offered to write and present inbetweeners, such as I've done in animation, to fill up the slack.

My "Michaels Sidetracks" will be weekly and will reflect music I've liked and styles I produce.  Hopefully, this exorcise will re-orientate my fingers and focus my head to do this blog properly again.  Should be fun.  Give a listen, wont you?  And, I'll be back...

Archive for the Infamous SOTD

Beauty in Sadness

Nothing makes you feel so small and helpless, than seeing someone you care about cry.

Nothing cuts you to the core than seeing someone so strong and proud, drop the curtain on their heart, and let you see there pain. To have so much pride striped away, choking back tears. Not wanting you to see this side of themselves. To see that they too, are as frail and imperfect as the rest of us.

And nothing is more humbling then a friend feeling that safe about you, to open up that wound in your presence.

And thats the true beauty in sadness.

The Gayness Show

Way back in my early twenties, I was seeing this girl and we'd go out quite a bit and do things like see movies and stuff.

It was quite nice and we'd talk and talk for hours. And I thought, zounds! (well, I didn't actually say that, but you get the gist, right?), We sure do get along afully swell together! (I might have actually said that, I am a dork). And I was thinking, she's comfortable with me as well.....

Talking about the troubles with her boyfriend she's seeing on and off. Yeah. Nice.

But wait a sec, If she's enjoying her time with me, and we do have a fantastic time, well, she must like me, right?

And this is where I realized something I've never phantomed before. Why I always seem to be the best-est guy friend of all these fantastic girls over the years. The one 'buddy" thay they always feel so comfortable with discussing things tou wouldn't just tell anyone. I used to thing perhaps, I exuded this aura of trust, and maybe a bit of pine tar for freshness.

The big hint was taking Rose to a movie. We were having a seat in the desired center rows and I was leaning in closer to her as she spoke. The movie was about to start when she said something about having something to eat afterwards.

I smiled at her, and said "I'm game!"

...And the most odd look came over her face as she looked at me with a cocked eyebrow of puzzlement. I then got my answer on how I am percieved.

"You're gay?!"

It was dead silent as the lights went down and all I saw before the blackness was all thses heads swiveling about to see the guy who just aparently "came out of the closet" as the movie preshow. I was speachless.

so THATS why she hung out with me! She was so ready to see I was gay!