On the flag…

In my years of service, i have probably carried and folded no fewer than a thousand flags carried and lifted from a thousand caskets. In SERE school, I was beaten for refusing to stand on the flag. And the National Anthem is the only song that both strikes fear in my heart and brings tears to my eyes when Im asked to sing it.
So ask me how I feel about all this kneeling business and words cannot accurately express how deeply this bothers me. I expect it from terrorist organizations and those who hate our country, not from fellow Americans. Yes, it’s their right, as Americans amd i defend it, as i must. But I hate them for it and G-d forgive me for that.

This sparked a heated debate between many of my conservative, liberal, military, civilian, friends and family. I warned them all to keep it respectful or I would not only delete their comments but them as well. I took the time to read the external articles that they posted and consider their arguments that “it’s not meant as disrespect to the military” and countered with “I would not walk into a shura in Afghanistan wearing a bikini in attempt to Advocate women’s rights. You cannot expect to win support to your cause by doing something so culturally offensive”. Once you have shocked and alienated people like that, they won’t give a damn what your “intent” was. They aren’t listening.

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“You don’t get me high anymore” – Phantogram

Is it any wonder I can’t get a rush Anymore?

I have flown with the Navy Blue Angels, broken the sound barrier and nearly blacked out from G-Force (and didn’t puke). I traveled the world for a year on tour singing and dancing onstage in front of tens of thousands of people. I’ve met and interviewed most of my favorite musicians and songwriters. I even gave many of those bands their Big commercial radio Break. I flew Slow and Low while we lit up Baghdad in 2003. I’ve crashed cars at high speed while shooting through a windshield.

How can I not believe that my best days are behind me? 

I didn’t ask for a picture of you in bed. I sure as hell didn’t ask for a picture of your cock. Whenever a text conversation devolves into a request for Cleavage shots, I wonder what did I do or say to invite that kind of attention? Whatever happened to a man who appreciating my Sharp wit as much as my phenomenal tits? Whatever happened to admiring my duality of kindness and badassery?
Yeah, you, I’m talking to you. You ruin my day with your “compliments”.

But no one can hurt me without my permission, right?

My lipstick application is a meditative practice in patience and precision.

I’m flat lining again. I just want to drink and sleep. Focus eludes me, I panic at the hundreds of pages of research in front of me while the hound Im watching whines like a bored toddler. I have a reason to put on pants, Samba rehearsal in an hour but I don’t want to go. I want to close my eyes and dream to escape. Can I make a living sleeping? My bed was the best investment I ever made. Too good, it would seem.

“I’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies” ~ Hozier

Do you ever look at Facebook and see posts from a bunch of your friends out having fun together on a Saturday night and wonder why you werent invited? I wanted to be out tonight. I tossed ideas around, put out feelers but no takers. So it’s 10:30 and I’m home alone. Still dressed to go out but once the boots come off, it’s all over. Feeling so damned sorry for myself, I should probably just go to bed. I was supposed to be in the smokey mountains this weekend with the kin but mother canceled at the last minute. She just didnt have it in her. This is a bad time of year for all of us. Her father died a year ago this past Monday and October was when her husband, my dad, began to get sick. Three days after his 45th birthday on 24 November, he had a seizure and slipped into a coma. A month later, just before Christmas, he was gone. This time of year also marks the end of every major relationship Ive ever been in Sept is the downward spiral and by December, I was either divorced or nursing my wounds from an ugly betrayal. Four. No, five times. I don’t like the holidays anymore. It means death of people I loved, physically or emotionally. And I’ve never been kissed at midnight on New Years Eve. Never.

He’s home and writing to me daily but we only talk about his kids. In ten days and he hasnt mentioned his wife or the fact that he will be within a few hours drive of me in the next week or two. I told myself that I wasnt going to bring either topic up again. I dont need to hear about how awkward the sex is or her latest meltdown. The only thing I know is that he is waking up next to her. And if he wants to see me, he will have to ask. I wont beg. And if he doesnt…well, then I guess there is my answer. The last time we were together, I was content and I meant it when I said that I had no expectations except that we stay in touch and remain friends. My expectations were low but my hopes were high. Are still high. He does nothing to feed my hopes except continue to write me and refuse to tell me to go away. I confided in a friend that I had drawn a line in the sand: If he doesnt ask to see me while he’s near, then I will cut him off. My friend says “Good for you, drawing that line in the sand”. The problem with lines in the sand is the water. Tears roll in like a tide that blur and erase those lines that I draw.

But hey, I’m still trying to get out there and meet someone else! Except that the only guys who show interest have handles like “BigMeat”, “FitYoungEuropean” and “Papi4U”. And if any of their photos include them flexing shirtless in the bathroom mirror or holding a fish then it gets deleted without reading. So that’s 99% of them. The Marine Biologist who also happened to be a traveling performer at Renn Fests sounded promising until I saw the glorious mullet.

It’s a new moon. I have everything I need for a banishing ritual but my head and heart are not in the right place for it. It’s a catch 22: rituals are supposed to be cathartic, relaxing. But you need to relax and focus in order to conduct the ritual. So what? I take a half a xanax in order to relax enough so that I can perform a ritual which should help me relax? That’s why I’ve never been able to pass a polygraph either. That hamster in my head never stops running on that wheel. “Just dont think about anything”, he says. I imagine that must be what peace feels like. To be able to flip a switch in your brain.

My mother and I need to be in the mountains right now. Healing in the crisp air and changing leaves.

That’s it. The boots are coming off…