First Dates, Debates and Flood Insurance

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. 

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In Remembrance

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

Prologue to “Diary of an Addict”

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”

Some Days I Do Feel Regret

(*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