I was sitting in the St. Petersburg Community Church for the Disston Heights Civic Association, next to a girl. We were out on our first official date. It was the oddest first date I had ever been on not only because we were at the St. Petersburg Community Church and I am a confirmed agnostic who stopped going to church sometime in the late 90s, but also because we were there for a debate between the candidates running in the special election for congressional district 13 in Florida. Yes, it’s true. I brought a first date to a debate. I am that into politics now. The debate was between Republican David Jolly, and Libertarian Lucas Overby. (Democrat Alex Sink was invited but declined the invitation. After seeing her performance in the first debate between the candidates, I can’t really say I blame her much). I was personally interested in this particular match up because I was raised in a very Conservative household but in recent years had begun to sway more to the left on specific issues. I was curious if I would end up siding with the party I was raised to believe in or the party I had started following more and more as I continued to grow.
Years ago my dad told me I reminded him of his brother, Mark. This could have only meant Mark was a wonderful person, and it’s true. Mark is a wonderful person. My memories of Mark, which start back in California, are fractured moments of glossed over memories, which seemed inconsequential as a 5-year-old kid, but now, as a 34-year-old kid, make me remember him with warmth and fondness. Continue reading In Remembrance
I opened my eyes and blinked away the light film that covered my pupils every morning. The sunlight exploding through the room blinded me for a minute as my eyes adjusted to the sudden change from darkness to light. I wasn’t exactly sure where I was, but the pounding in my temples led me to believe that I was having fun last night.
I sat up in a strange bed—nothing more than a futon on a metal frame only a few inches off the floor—and looked around the room. I was surrounded with white. The curtains, the walls, the carpets, the sheets, the furniture—everything was white, reflecting the early morning sun violently in every direction. The clothes that had been carelessly tossed to the floor at some point last night injected the room with an unexpected splash of color.
I rubbed my temples in a vain attempt to subside the headache that was growing worse by the second and making it hard to see anything in the too-bright colorless room. I took a deep breath, hoping that the taste of day-old beer and stale cigarettes would magically disappear with the fresh air of a new day. Continue reading Prologue to “Diary of an Addict”
(*Sally, stop reading at this point. If you pass this sentence you are basically signing a waiver that you will not be upset with what you read, nor will you blame yourself for being a bad parent or think you failed or anything of the such. Do not move forward, and don’t get your friends to tell you about this story either*)
Long before I became the exceptional person many of you know today, I was a completely different type of exceptional. I was well liked by most everybody who knew me, I had friends I could rely on whenever I needed them, and I cared just little enough about anybody I came across I had a certain magnetic appeal which made people get very attached to me (so basically, I guess, I was exactly the same as I am now). Continue reading Some Days I Do Feel Regret
(This story is rated safe for Sally to read. Somebody please inform her she is allowed to read this story in its entirety.)
One of my friends (and of course loyal followers) told me he wanted me to write a story about an early memory of mine. He said he loves my stories where I just talk about how great I am (each word very true) but wants to see a story in which I possibly don’t end up even better than I was before. It took me a long time to find that story. Today, while talking to a girl I should not be speaking to, I remembered the one story where I didn’t really learn a lesson, and it actually affected me negatively for many years to come. At least this is my theory on how my awkward teenage years happened.
Continue reading Loose Teeth and Cartwheels
(*Sally, this story is okay for you to read if you don’t mind the fact that I admit fully that I am not a religious person anymore. If you mind I would recommend skipping down three paragraphs and stopping three or so early*)
I am not a religious person. Anyone who has read many of my stories already knows this. I describe myself agnostic, or “the poor man’s atheist.” What many people don’t know is I was not always this way. In fact, I was an exceptionally religious person for along period of my life. I was very involved in church groups, the FCA (Fellowship of Christian Athletes, or as my buddy Fink has called it since high school, “The Federation”.) and Young Life. I was even a puppeteer who performed plays about God at different Vacation Bible Schools or in front of churches. We even won a couple of awards at national competitions (in Hershey, PA. Which I always looked forward to because the chocolate factory was basically my crack den when I was 14). I was one of those kids that would stand around the flag pole that one day of the school year to support prayer in schools. I was dedicated to the cause. I definitely was not the same person I am today. All of who I was, lead me to who I am, but it is hard to believe I was who I was back then, especially knowing me now.
Continue reading My Last Prayer
Here is the first of my new blog, Most Of The Names Are Changed. I talk about things people care about…like me. So, in order to protect the innocent, or the not-so-innocent, or the people who really just don’t matter much in my life most of the names are changed.
Go like me on Facebook so you can know as soon as I post a new story. The next one might actually be good…you never know. Well, I do. It will be good.