Living Proof

New Year's Eve used to be crazy fun at my house growing up. My parents were quite the partiers. They would hold the most elaborate celebrations usually catered by my mom and grandma. There were cases upon cases of champagne piling up near the bar area. Family friends and acquaintances would pile in smelling like strong colognes and perfumes -- enough to suffocate you. Women came in wearing fur coats with the most gaudiest of jewelry. My mom would push all the sofas to the way end of the large living room area so it would become a makeshift dancing floor. Now, as a 5 year old, these people seemed ancient, when they were only in their early 30's to 40's top -- now seemingly young in my soon to be 40 year old eyes. They danced all. night. long. I remember sitting by the Christmas tree watching everyone have fun, pulling off the candy canes in need of a sugar high. I was allowed to stay up after midnight, because after all, it was New Years Eve. They let me watch the ball dro

They say women are more complicated than men in terms of emotional and intellectual ways. We're over thinkers and obsess more than the average guy. But we're also more complicated in other ways, especially when it comes to a heart attack. For men, they get a chest pain. Bam! Heart attack. Simple. Easy to diagnose. For women, they can have a slight back pain, and that'll be the indicator of a heart attack. It's known as the "silent killer". We also get various other signs: jaw pain, chest pain that radiates in one or both arms and even good ol' heartburn. There's another ailment that plagues many hypochondriacs such as myself like costochondritis, which is an inflammation of a rib or the cartilage connecting a rib. It is a common cause of chest pain. I get this a lot, especially if I sleep on my left side at night. This pain is a sharp stab, usually in the upper left pectoral muscle which periodically hits a nerve that leads right down my arm into my

If there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that the people who work at the ER are burnt out, especially during the holidays. I'm one that has frequented that place more than enough times this year due to my back pain. They were amazed that I didn't want anything "heavy" to sooth the excruciating pain other than Advil, but they refused my ibuprofen due to my stomach bleeding. Here's the thing I've learned: if you come in with back pain, it's a red flag that you're a drug seeker. They judge you by the way you look, the way you talk and the time you walk in those doors. If it's on a Saturday or Sunday and you say, "My doctor isn't in till Monday --- bam --- you're an automatic drug seeker. And don't get me wrong, there are plenty of them out there, but when the genuine pain victim comes in needing the necessary pain relievers, they may get shot down due to lack of trust. Most people in the ER have the thousand yard stare. Th

So this is what I've heard: Christmas (Jesus' birthday) was not on December 25th. In fact, it's been said it was some time in November, but the facts are still unknown. On December 21rst marks the shortest day of the year. (Stay with me here.) With the increasing darkness and the lack of vitamin D from the sun, people from way back when were depressed and miserable. Sound familiar? It was harder to find food due to the brutal weather and many people suffered physically as well as emotionally. There were more illnesses, more deaths, more sadness and hopelessness. It's been said that December 25th was given as the biggest celebration of the year so that people all over the world can have something to look forward to on the shortest days on the calendar.  It was a glimmer of hope, a light that shined through the darkness and a day to celebrate, to give gifts and receive love. It was designed to take away depression and hopelessness. Of course, it's a celebration of J

In my previous post which I put up on my Facebook page got a lot of hits regarding this topic. One lady by the name of Christina Mercer Acors decided to leave a comment. She first stated, "As you expect to be respected…respect our beliefs also." Then she went on to say, "Why should someone be surprised at a Christian's opinions? It's just a matter of the government and the media cowering to a select group." Here's my thoughts on that… Freedom of speech is a beautiful thing. We can say what we feel, we can say what we believe and not be penalized for it to some degree. But when does it come to the point where our beliefs and opinions, and yes, our "freedom of speech" causes violent behavior towards a certain group or have rights taken away from people who just want to have equality? Your beliefs are your own, but once you throw your cherry picked scriptures and cast them out with your vile opinions, making others feel horrible about them

Mmhmm… Who is Duck Dynasty? What is Duck Dynasty? I never heard of this reality show until recently, when one of the stars, Phil Robertson made a few comments regarding homosexuals and black people. Everyone was offended. Apparently, this is a show based on some hillbilly in the south who made millions from their family-operated business, Duck Commander, operated in West Monroe, Louisiana, which makes products for duck hunters. Not bad. I guess anyone can get a reality show these days. I never watched it so I really can't be the judge whether it's good or not. But seriously, who gives a flapping rat's ass over what this old hillbilly has to say about anyone or anything? He's almost 70 years old and lives in the south. EXPECT IT! We're all so offended! Phil even got fired from his freedom of speech. The funny thing is, I was more shocked over his comment made about black people because it's completely untrue. First, my initial "offense": black p

Don't get too happy, because… Personally, I don't think I would want to win a huge lottery jackpot, (yeah right) maybe a few million ,  but nothing that would stir the world around you to knock on your door and beg for some cold cash. Here's the problem: if you ever won, say the Mega Million jackpot, you would literally have to go into some sort of strange witness protection program. People from all over would be knocking on your door. This includes: family members, long lost family members, people with the same name claiming to be family members, friends, friends of friends, Facebook friends, brand spanking new friends and of course, your local churches would take a steamroller just to get through your door. Think about it --- would you knock on your friend's door if he or she won the Mega Millions? Think hard. What about a family member? Would you dare to ask them for even a penny? I find it repulsive --- re-pul-sive --- that some people would beg others for

Ever go to bed feeling completely exhausted expecting to fall into a deep slumber, but instead, you watch the clock hour after hour? 11pm…1am…3am…5am… Your eyes won't shut, your mind refuses to quiet down and you're flip-flopping like a fish outa' water. I sometimes just go on my phone and see who's up on Facebook. I write, "Insomnia again," to see if anyone is out there. I get a whole bunch of suggestions like, "Take melatonin," "Take NyQuil," "Take Benadryl & wash it down with some wine."  I search Google only to find the same 'holistic' advice like deep breathing and meditation, but sometimes I'm just too fired up to even calm down. I did take the suggestion of making chamomile tea before bedtime. It seemed to work for a while until it 'found me out' and said, "Ah ha!" Well, a couple of weeks ago I found something else that seems to work…if you could even do this. I was on Twitter, and there

There are times when I'm okay. Most times I'm okay I prove it with a smile. Most times when I'm not okay, I also wear a smile. Facebook tells people I'm happy. "You seem so happy lately," because I plopped up a funny post or a photo that seemed jovial. I'm not going to bog down someone's feed with nonsensical depressive quotes or statuses. I try to be upbeat, but I am much more than my Facebook status or tweet. I think it's sad when friends and family only check social media to see if their loved ones are "okay". What about a phone call or text or even a visit? Our way of life is social media, but I'm not going to write a status message saying, "Well, today I felt depressed, but I'm okay now." And I have those days believe me. They pass quickly as they come, and sometimes, they linger a little too long for my liking. I'm like anyone else. I have my limits and sometimes, I get angry or frustrated at certain things,

Why does it feel good when someone says, "You're not alone," while you're having some sort of conflict in your life? And it's not like, "Oh good, that sonnovabitch is going through the same crap too," but it's more about understanding and relating to their problem. Misery definitely loves company because it makes us feel less crazy. (And not in that malicious 'karma's biting them in the ass' kind of way.)  Some people get on their high and mighty horse and rattle off, "Oh if they only knew how tough I have it, they'd stop complaining." Whether circumstantial, emotional, physical or other, we all suffer in some way or another. We all have a cross to bear. "I'll be here for you," doesn't mean shit anymore. It's a text or two, maybe even a phone call and then that's where it ends. People can't do more than that because they have their own issues to deal with. The one thing I've learned is t

Not many people know I'm a songwriter or that I've been playing guitar since I was 10 years old. I started playing electric guitar first because it was easier on the fingers, and well, it was "cooler" back then. I learned how to play by ear once someone showed me the chords. A few years later, I chose to only play acoustic. I then started hopping from one band to the next and then I simmered down to open mic nights with a good friend of mine when I was around 23 years old. I have to say it was a lot of fun. My buddy Jen and I would practice for hours and hours not realizing that 10+ hours had gone by and the fact that my fingers were bleeding. (And no, it wasn't the summer of '69.) She's an amazing singer and we just collaborated so beautifully. We were so passionate about music that most of our time was practicing --- more like enjoying every single second of it. After time, we both eventually had responsibilities piling up and our paths went separa

It takes time to heal a wound once it's been freshly cut open. You tried to use bandaids and anything that'll hold it together so it doesn't bleed again. The other day, I sliced my pointer finger on a can of dog food while trying to feed Lola. It's hard to do a lot of things - even typing is challenging. I'm using different fingers. Last night while making a drink, I grabbed an ice cube that had a jagged edge, and it ripped open my cut once again. But isn't that how life is with being hurt? You try using bandaids (i.e.: alcohol, rebound loves, ignoring the offender or doing something to spite them -- whatever the relationship was). Forgiveness isn't forgiveness until the offense has been forgotten about. I remember I once wrote a post asking if I could forgive yet still remember the offense. "Remember" doesn't have to be like total amnesia -- you can reminisce about it all you want --- I'm talking about the type of mindset where you'r