Fuggit About It!

I feel a bit better after a combination of things. In the past few days I have spoken or hung out with the people I consider the closest to me in my life. I have the possibility of working on the horizon. I will be able to pay rent early. I have been writing more. And I have a feeling that religiously I am close to making a breakthrough.

I read this book my girlfriend let me borrow called “The Shack.” In the book something horrible happens to this guy. Actually, his life as a child was pretty shitty and it got better when he had kids and was married until something they call The Great Sadness happens.

Anyway, dude ends up speaking to God, Jesus, and The Holy Spirit and asking questions that we’d pretty much like to ask God if we had the chance. Why does he let good people die? Why doesn’t He stop wars? Why does he let us hurt? Things like that. The writer explains things in a way that made me feel like an asshole for asking those kind of questions.

One of the main things the book about is forgiveness. I have a hard ass time with this one. So much that happens in our life we never let go of. This is particularly true with me. Since I have memories that go as far back as 9 months old, I have a lot of shit that is fresh in my head that can still upset me even 30 years later. Its not like, “Oh, yeah. I think I remember that.” Its more like, “Fuck. I totally remember that and this is what the weather was like and what I was wearing…” Forgiveness is not forgetting. I tend to mix the two up.

Forgiveness: act of forgiven; state of being forgiven; disposition or willingness to forgive.

Forget: to cease or fail to remember; be unable to recall: to forget someone's name; to omit or neglect unintentionally.

You can forgive your father for beating your ass but you can never forget it. Well, some people are really good at repressing shit and really cant remember stuff like that. I digress. I am going to make an effort to start letting shit go. Not holding in so much anger. I don’t wanna be the guy that walks around mad at the world because mommy and daddy didn’t love him or hug me enough. I think I have spent enough time doing that. Its one of those things where it seems so damned simple that you wish you had done it years ago. I hate admitting that sometimes I do something stupid way after the fact. This is what keeps me from doing more things because I talk myself out of it before trying.

I can try to forgive the bad stuff that has happened in my life. I can try and forgive the people that have affected me in horrible ways. It will be very difficult but I am still going to try. Wish me luck.

Rockets.

The Parent Trap

I always say how I never say I am sorry about things. I just try not to do anything to fuck folks over and hope they return the favor. People say sorry to me and I don’t know how to take it. I mean, I’m not gonna forget what they said or did. So I don’t accept the apologies. Damn it. What is a man to do?

Whenever I think about my childhood I have some fun ass memories. I remember jumping from roof tops, riding in shopping carts, wrestling with my brothers and cousins, riding my bike in the backyard for hours until I remembered that I had to eat. But then I recall all the bad shit. The alcoholism from my dad. Being beaten. Having my own mother call me an asshole like it was my actual name. Parents of the Year candidates, they were not.

I know the thing that bugs me most is that they haven’t apologized. Yeah, it makes no sense. I don’t accept them and I figure its because people say them and all’s I can think is “Why the fuck don’t my parents apologize for how they treated me?” The things is they don’t remember. They legit never even acknowledge it. My mother has the memory of a goldfish and my father was drunk during most of my childhood. How can I expect someone to apologize for something they don’t remember? Oh, now you see the dichotomy I have set myself (or was born) into?

I used to wish that my parents would divorce. They split for a few weeks and it sucked so much dick and ruled so much ass at the same time. Like, on the weekends we stayed with my father and it was awesome. We went to church and I got to see my family that my mother let us see. We would rent movies (one of them being “American Tail” which I cant watch to this day because it made me cry like a bitch). And my fish tank was there. Then it would end and we’d have to go back to my mother and live in Sucksville, CA. Oh, and during this time I got hit by a car. Good times.

I know that one day I will have to forgive them. I know this. But damn it, it seems like I’m gonna fight it until the end. Maybe one day I will have an epiphany and all will be forgiven. Who knows? Stranger things have happened. Until that day I will keep seeing them once a year, not calling often, and keeping my life private from them. Rockets.