A Monster of A Forum

I find that there are many things about life that I do not understand. In fact, it is of such a numerous quantity that it would be impossible to mention all of them here. Highest (or at least one of the highest on my list) is the Internet community's inclination towards stupidity. It is truly amazing, and disturbing, how posting one's thoughts or feelings on the Internet can cause other Internet users to erupt into a frenzied emotional state. I briefly discussed a similiar topic in a previous post, mentioning how I post on a forum that is run by Monster.com entitled Vent!. You can even find various topics and replies to posts by others that I have posted there under my screen name Conundrum of My Mind. Most of my posts are about how I feel about my life since I use the forum to do as the title of the forum suggests and vent. Things bottle up inside me and I need to let it out. Other forum users do the same or want to ask for help on a particular problem. Most of the comments are from kind compassionate people with something productive to say. Notice how I used the word "most". Then there are the other users who are a complete mystery to me. They offer no words of encouragement and instead seem to get a sick pleasure from berating the person. These forum users apparently lack the ability to feel sympathy or compassion for others. That is a serious disorder, and if not corrected can (and will) lead to problems in life. (disclaimer: I have nothing in particular against the Monster forum. I only mention here for purposes of discussion and because of personal experience. I am sure that the attitudes I have encountered there are just as common at many other Internet forums and chat rooms.)

Although not an expert on child abuse (and never been abused, perhaps a little neglected, but not abused), I would have to say that these unsympathetic individuals were most likely abused when they were children by their parents or someone close to them, and when I say abused, abuse comes in many forms. Most of the time when people hear of abuse they assume that it involves violence or something of a sexual nature, and that very well may be the case. However, abuse can also be of a verbal nature such as a parent using insults or put downs (i.e. a parent telling their young child that the child is worthless or that the child will never amount to anything). Perhaps their parents never showed enough attention to them when they were a child or any sympathy or compassion when they needed it. Obviously these behaviors are learned. The natural normal instinct for humans is to offer sympathy and compassion for others as well as constructive advice that can assist the troubled individual. Anything other than that would be considered abnormal. Even animals in the wild are able to elicit care and concern to fellow members of their herd or pack that are in danger or injured (I guess that's more than we can say for some (not all) of the Monster Vent! forum users. Who says all humans are smarter than animals?).

I think some parents (particularly men) are afraid to show love. They are afraid to hug their child or to say to their child that, "Daddy loves you." Why? Is it a sign of weakness to show love? Is it better to call your child weak and worthless because they cry? Does that make your child better? What does it teach your child? If religion is supposed to teach us that Jesus was of a forgiving nature, would we expect Jesus to yell at a child, or anyone for that matter, for crying or needing help? My theory is that it is based on fear. Those individuals (such as some of the Monster Vent! forum users) are simply afraid that if they offer sympathy or compassion that they will look weak in the eyes of others for offering sympathy. How sad that it is and they pity I feel for them. You see, those who can offer sympathy and compassion for others possess a higher intelligence. These compassionate individuals will go farther in life because they don't think of themselves. They are able to feel for others, and others will see that too. Who would you rather have as a close friend, someone who only feels sorry for themselves and offers you no sympathy or someone who is able to feel and offer sympathy for others? Kind of a no-brainer there. The uncompassionate person is anti-social and will not be able to have many friends or at least for not very long. They will lead a lonely life till they realize that they need help. It is a disorder, but can be corrected.

Of course, most of the people that have this disorder don't think anything is wrong with them. It's always the rest of the world that is wrong. Perhaps the reason is arrogance. These type of people feel that they have all the answers. They really believe that they do. I had one Monster Vent! forum user (I believe by the user name Maighread) try to tell me some rubbish that depression is just an excuse and even when I provided medical evidence to the contrary as well as using valid medical terminology (which of course went over this person's head since they are ignorant. People like this still believe the Earth is the center of the Universe) about chemical imbalances in the brain, this sad individual is belligerent despite all of my supporting evidence. These types of disturbed people operate on the learned anti-social behavior and not from any form of logical behavior. If you look at the forum as a court room, which I wish more forum users would do, one would need to gather evidence to support their position and then present their findings. So many times the ADHD afflicted, over MTV'ed users there just impulsively react to a post that causes an abnormal rage response (glad I'm not driving on the highway with them or perhaps my very life would be in danger, which is a topic for another day) and then post something that is just plain stupidity (for lack of a better word). I'm not an expert but I have over twenty years as a sufferer of mental illness and I grew up with a mother who is mentally ill.

What these anti-social individuals need to do is take a deep breath, calm down, take a Xanax (and God knows you should be on it if your not), and, if you feel the need to respond to someone, do some research before you post your voice of absurdity. It isn't hard to do with the Internet staring you right in the face. hint: Google (Of course, before you do that you need to open your mind.)

Recently I posted a topic on Monster Vent! about an atrocity committed by American soldiers in Iraq who alledgedly raped a young woman and murdered her family which included a five year old girl. Someone at the forum had the audacity to try to make excuses for this behavior by American soldiers, saying that they are stressed out over there and that this happens. This forum user goes on to criticize me and asks me how well would I behave if I was in Iraqi right now as a soldier. To answer that, I would say that I would not resort to raping and murdering innocent civilians since I am not a rapist nor a murderer. You can't use stress as an excuse. It is the same as using the excuse that the person was on drugs or drunk from alcohol. It is not a legal defense. These conditions do not impair ones sense of right and wrong. If you do something while under those conditions such as stress or drugs, then you would most likely do it while not under those conditions. If you start using stress as an excuse, well I suppose then everyone can start raping and murdering because most people are pretty stressed out. What about police officers? They are in very stressful situations with their lives on the line. Does that give them a good reason then to walk into someone's home at random, rape any women living there, and then murder everyone? Of course not, just use logic. It's not that hard, but it does require that you think.

Although it was reported consistently by more than one source, I can't say for certain if the soldiers really did do what they are accused of. Apparently the forum user who wanted to lecture me is a staunch supporter of the war in Iraq and probably lives by the misguided motto that: America Can Do No Wrong (even if it includes rape and murder. I suppose we could change the name of the country to the United Nazi States of America).

It is true that I also stated that if these soldiers are guilty of what they are accused of, then they deserve death. I would imagine at this point one might want to ask me, "How can I have no sympathy for rapists and murderers"? I answer that question by asking this question: "How can the rapists and murderers have no sympathy for innocent civilians?" Did this woman deserve to be alledgedly raped by American soldiers who are supposed to be keeping peace? Even if she was a terrorist (which I highly doubt) does she deserve to be raped and murdered? So the logic behind this is, we'll show the world we're more civilized than terrorists by raping and murdering innocent civilians?

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Reflections Of

As I reflect over the topics I've discussed on my blog, I imagine there are probably some who might disagree with my opinions on the subjects I write about. They are free to feel that way and disagree with anything I write. However, I am also free to write as I feel and, in regards to the personal events in my life, free to describe the events as they occurred. I have not embellished in any fashion whatsoever any of the events that have happened in my life (I have no reason to since the truth is stranger than fiction). Believe me when I say, that there are things I wish that didn't happen to me the way they did, but they did. Those incidents also did some damage. My manner of damage control is to write about what happened. The truth is on my side but people are free to believe what they want. We do live in a free society. Perhaps some are afraid of the truth. I do not write with the intention of hurting anyone, but simply to set the record straight and to set myself free. It is good for the mind and body to do so. It is for my own sake, but with the hopes that perhaps someone else could possibly get something out of it as well. It seems today on the Internet everyone wants to tell everyone else how to think, how to feel, and what they can and can not write about. As ridiculous as it sounds, some even threaten to have them arrested. Arrested? For what? What crime has been committed? Felony to recite truthful personal experiences, opinions, and thoughts on the Internet?

Then I think millions of people around the world are committing felonies, and I'm sure the police have a special taskforce specifically set up to stop this from continuing.

No. Of course not (unless the United States became a communist country and no one told me. Why didn't someone tell me?). Like the police aren't busy enough dealing with real crimes like, say, oh, I don't know, maybe...murders, illegal drugs, and robberies. As far as reciting personal events that one has experienced, and their own opinions about said events, it is not a crime...at least in the United States and the rest of the free world. It is known as freedom of speech. I don't even have much profanity on my blog (I try to keep it as clean as possible). However, even if I did, I'm not sure that that is necessarily a crime either. If I threaten to kill someone on my blog, that would be a crime (and a really sick one too!). If I am telling a story of what has happened to me, that is not a crime (but it is if it isn't made into a movie! hint hint, Hollywood).

Remember:

• Only the people involved know what happened for certain
• I have nothing to gain from lying,

and, most importantly

• Aliens are among us (ok, I admit on this last one I went a little off topic, but what the hay)

Thanks for reading!

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A Testament to the Idiocy and Corruptibility of Bureaucrats

In addition to my own plight, my attention will focus on larger issues such as the war in Iraq and Afghanistan. I keep thinking of the movie I recently watched called Fahrenheit 9/11. I have heard of the film for some time now and was curious to see what it was about, but I kept putting it off since I was in no hurry to be reminded of the horrors of 9/11. I happen to be flipping channels one night recently and it was on one of the cable movie channels. I decided to watch it and I found it fascinating, as well as quite disturbing. I have read on the web a lot of the hype about the film and also a lot of information discrediting the film. Either way, it presents a lot of food for thought. I'll be honest and say that I didn't vote for George W. Bush. It is not because I have anything personal against the man, I just didn't think he was the sort of person that should be leading the United States (perhaps he could lead a frat house, but not the United States). I didn't feel any confidence in the man as a leader and I need to feel confident about the man who is going to lead the nation.

To me (and I could be wrong about my impression of him), he just seems to give off the air of a spoiled son of a rich man. I didn't feel (and still don't) that he had the level of achievements one needs to see in the man who is going to be President. He was governor of Texas but big deal. The only reason he became governor, president, and is able to get away with any misconduct in his life is because of who is father is (George Bush Sr.). So I guess what we are saying then is that no matter how one behaves, if their parents are rich and well-respected, their children are free from any accountability to their actions, get to use their parents good name (and money) to their full advantage, and get out of any military service that involves actual combat (if they so desire). The privledged few. This is fairness, American-style!

I can't say that I know all the details of what happened, but the whole election fiasco in 2000 seemed just a bit too convenient if you ask me. The one state in question (Florida) with the confusing ballot cards is governed by President Bush's brother Jeb and no one can see a conflict of interest here? I won't make any comments but just remember one thing:

Family always sticks together (unless of course you really hate your family)

The Bush Brothers don't seem to hate each other. The question to me is: Why would it just be Florida with that problem and no other state? My home state of New Jersey didn't have a problem and if it can be done correctly in New Jersey, then something is going on (afterall most people in New Jersey have toxic shock syndrome, just kidding. I always appreciate a good New Jersey joke). The citizens of the United States will probably never know what actually occurred and I suppose at this point it is all moot, but I think as Americans we have a right to know the truth no matter how much time goes by.

In the movie Fahrenheit 9/11, Michael Moore shows a connection between the Bush Family and the Saudis and, in all fairness, I can't say how accurate the film is. Anyone who reads this would have the watch the film and judge for yourself. Osama Bin Laden's cousin is a close friend of the Bushes. I don't have a particular problem with that. The United States has been dealing with Saudi Arabia for a very long time. The United States needs oil and the Middle East is where most of it is. The problem I have is that it seems that the Bushes and the United States government is indifferent or just "looks the other way" when it comes to the Saudis and their funding of terrorism. The simple reasons behind this: money and greed. According to the film, before George Bush Jr. became president his dad gave him an oil company to run. As owner Junior's company did quite badly till Junior made a very nice deal with the Saudi government. I don't know for how much but I wouldn't be surprised if it is in the millions (or billions) of dollars. All of a sudden, the Saudis and Bushes were the best of friends. Junior was even working on a deal with the government of Afghanistan on a pipeline that would cross through their country. The Taliban government was invited to the United States and came to visit the Bushes.

One really big, huge question crosses my mind at this point (and might also cross the minds of any readers as well) which is, how does any of this help the American people which is what the United States government is supposed to be doing? The answer: it doesn't, but it sure does help the pocket book of the Bushes and politicians in Washington. The proof of this is around us. If we are in Iraq and have secured the oil facilities, then why do oil prices continuously rise? If a major source of oil is now in the possession of the United States, then wouldn't that make prices start going down? We could have (and should have) stopped using gas burning automobiles 30 years ago but we didn't because it was always stopped by the US government. Why? Obviously people in our own government do not want us to stop importing oil.

All I know is that the US arrangement with Saudi Arabia is not making me rich nor the average American. The prices at the pump keep going higher and higher so someone is getting rich off of it at the expense of the American public. Perhaps the rapid price increase of gas over the last few years is to try to encourage people to use less gas, although I don't think it is working. It always seems that those people who are more fortunate (such as those in power) determine how the rest of the people's lives will be. They profit from other people's loss. There are always ulterior motives for why anyone does something and United States government is no different. Why our government does something is usually due to greed of politicians and not to benefit the people of the United States. Our government has only one agenda and that is to maintain power and control. That is usually the main mission of any government, and the US is no different. The question that remains is:

How far is our government willing to go to maintain that control?

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Corporate Worlds Away

As I work in the corporate world I discover many new things. One such thing I have discovered is that the corporate world is run by means of insanity (at least where I work). Case in point: Over the past year I have been feeling that my position hasn't been offering me much of a challenge (and basically beneath me) since I have past experience building web sites, computer audio/video production (with professional software), graphic design (Photoshop being my favorite), etc, etc. On a recent review I had mentioned how I would like to move on to something I am more suited for. I also made the company aware of my additional skills so that they can see that I am very computer proficient and have a high intellect. I met with my supervisor fairly recently to rehash the possibility of moving to a position in the company that is closer to what I am suited for. My supervisor informed me that my work performance in the field I presently am in needs some improvement and that before I could be recommended to move elsewhere I would need to do better at my present position. So let me see if I understand this correctly: before I can move from my present position which does not offer me the challenge I need (thereby causing me to not be as efficient), into a position I am clearly suited for and which would make for a much happier worker (thereby a more productive worker), I need to stay in my present position (although it is quite evident my talent would be more useful to the company elsewhere) and perform better.

I see...

Let the insanity begin! (although it has long since started here at "The Corporate Sanitarium"). It is just so ridiculous and as I write it, sounds even more ridiculous. Unfortunately it is true. Oh, so true. What does one position have to do with the other? If the bottom line with any business is dollars and cents (profit) and increased productivity usually helps to create such profit, then wouldn't it make more sense for me to be in a position I am properly suited for? Yet, you see this is how the corporate world works. It is not intended to make any sense. It is intended to be a dictatorship. A you-do-as-you-are-told-not-what-makes-sense mentality. It gets even better. Get a load of this: I am not permitted to go around my supervisor to someone over his head or in a department I would like to be in because that would be noted in my personnel file. The way it works is that I have to wait till my supervisor (and ONLY my supervisor) gives full approval for me to move upward or to something I prefer and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. I suppose could quit but then that only hurts myself. I even thought I could end my life over it (what can I say, the thought of remaining in this braindead position depresses me. However, it was only a passing thought). I suppose I could give my supervisor four flat tires, but that would just be childish behavior, make me feel even worse about myself, and what would it even accomplish? Nothing at all (and besides my supervisor is actually very nice, a tad misguided, but very nice).

I also meant to mention another tidbit of insanity is that managers are given leeway on things that other employees are not. For example, from time to time (for whatever reasons) I completed some assignments at the last minute. I was criticized for this, yet the managers I work with as part of my team do this same behavior almost all the time. They will tell me they need something printed only to make a last minute change in the presentation. I then have to add in the new information. What up wit dat? They get no criticism for this either. The only one who notices it is me and who can I tell? Not to mention my supervisor is on the same level with the other managers and will just let it slide since they are all in the same peer group. Insanity! Just plain fu*king insanity. There is no nice way to say it. Now I imagine some might say that these managers have a right to do anything they want. Wrong! They are supposed to be setting the example for the rest of us. Isn't that what older children (and adults) are supposed to do for younger children? That's how I was raised. Same philosophy here. Just because they are managers does not mean they can just do what they want. What's next, they get to start taking computers from work because they feel like it? What is wrong for me, is wrong for everyone. Otherwise what begins is preferential treatment, and then where does it end? Soon the company will start saying that only people of a certain skin color or nationality can do "this" or do "that". It is wrong no matter how you look at it.

Just because someone has worked at a company for 20 years as opposed to 2 or 3 does not give them the right to conduct themselves any different than any other employee. Having a special parking spot is understandable. The person should be recognized for dedication and loyalty. However, there can not be one set of rules for some and a separate set for another. I understand that that is how it is in the corporate world, but simply because it "is" does not make it right. It seems that people often confuse what "is" for what is "right". People are murdered everyday in the United States, does that make it right?

So here I sit in a position I am not "cut out" for and very bored with. I find myself looking for other things to do such as writing in my blog or taking a nap under my desk (which really gets me going later in the day, actually I was just kidding about the napping part. I don't really do that, but boy am I temped! I could bring my blanky plus some cookies and milk would be nice too. So much for productivity. However, here's to upper management decisions. I raise my imaginary glass of milk in your honor before I take my nap under my desk).

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Are We Really Free?

Time has flown by yet again. I try to focus on keeping my blog up to date but I get distracted by other endeavors and by my mood shifts. It has been quite difficult for me to maintain any kind of goals in life. Everything interests me yet I have no real passion. I wish I could choose to just "be" and not have to be forced into choosing a career. We fool ourselves into thinking we are free but are we really? If I want to buy an antibiotic because I feel a cold coming on can I just walk into a store and buy it off the shelf? No, I have to get a prescription from a doctor who is basically giving me permission to buy something that I already know I need. How does this make any sense? Why do I need permission from some stranger to get something that I want to take for my own body? So we are not completely free, even in the United States (especially in the United States).

Complete freedom in the United States is set aside only for the rich (particularly celebrities). They are free to do what ever they choose and not have to pay any punishment for wrong doing either. They simply use a high priced lawyer to talk their sentence down or wave a sentence altogether. A person who is poor or middle class, on the otherhand, is not afforded these privledges. So essentially with wealth comes freedom, and furthermore, if one reaches a high enough level of wealth then one is even free from having to work. So it is not really freedom for all, just for some

I guess my main reason for not wanting to be forced into choosing a career is simply due to the difficulty I have in choosing one. I don't know what I want to do even at the age I am at now. To me all careers sound so interesting yet I know that after I start working towards one of them I will quickly lose interest. It's generally been that way my whole life and I guess no one really noticed a problem. I knew there was a problem but I also have no way of fixing the problem. I believe psychiatrists are supposed to solve these kinds of things (but I could be wrong, I'm presently still checking into that). Perhaps I expected too much from the people that were supposed to help me. It's certainly possible. Unfortunately, I'm not sure.

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Better Living Through Chemical Altering of the Mind

As I have stated in previous posts I take medication and the list presently is:

An anti-depressant: Tofranil (btw, over the course of 20 years I have been on every anti-depressant that is presently manufactured; I find that I respond only to tricyclic anti-depressants as opposed to SSRI's which provide no relief at all).

An ADHD medication: Adderal (feeling no great benefit from it, at least at the present dosage).

An anti-psychotic (however in my case is just to help me be more calm since I don't hear voices in my head. The only voice I hear is my own and that does enough damage): Risperdal.

Sometimes I do seriously wonder about the effectiveness of these medicines. Case in point: my doctor gave me new prescriptions about 2 or 3 weeks ago for the medications so that when they run out I can get more; I already lost them. I lose everything. I never can really keep myself organized yet the ADHD medication is supposed to help me focus my thoughts and be able to concentrate. I would have to say (with just a touch of sarcasm) it's doing a bang up job! The worst part is, I can't help how I am. I already can imagine from most readers who do not suffer from disorganization that their response would be, "You can help it. You just have to be organized." My response is, "So can a cancer patient just use his mind to make his cancer go away? If they can, my God you discovered the cure to cancer!" I do believe that things can and are accomplished by setting one's mind to the task at hand. There are of course exceptions to the rule, as there are always exceptions to every rule. I have set my mind to winning the lottery and I have yet to win. Just because one set's their mind to something doesn't always mean it will happen. It's a start but it's not a guarantee. There are no guarantees in life except one: one day your life will end. That is the only thing you can guarantee on.

I have a fear of failure combined with a fear of success. This revelation came to me over the holiday week-end. I spend most of my time analyzing my life (past, present, and future. Yes, I already picture what my future is, and it is not pretty) and all the many millions of mistakes I have made and mistakes that were made for me by God or I suppose fate, as it were. I should give a shout out of thanks to God for given me depression, lack of self confidence, etc. (touch of sarcasm again). I mean after all without the ailments I might have actually been a success and where would that have gotten me (even more sarcasm)? Having a fear of success mixed with a fear of failure kind of "locks up" my mind like the way a computer locks up when too many programs are working at the same time. After all the brain is an extremely sophisticated computer. I believe in time, man- kind will create artificial intelligence although I see it as a potential for disaster. Anytime man tries to play God, big mistake (which is what brought us killer bees). It will still happen. It's inevitable, like the invention of nuclear weapons. The same goes for cloning humans.

As I see it, mankind tends to learn things the hardway. It's human nature, we all learn by mistakes. When mankind does eventually invent artificial intelligence and clones humans, they will turn on us and there will probably be a war of some kind. The reason for this is because of control. How do you control something that you create that has intelligence? You could limit it's free will, but not with a human being. Also with technology there are always gliches that crop up. So even if you create an artificially intelligent machine, most likely it will still want control of itself and, to be honest, it has a right to. Anything with intelligence has a right to freedom and self guidance. That is why slavery was abolished (at least in civilized nations). To enslave an intelligent being, albeit artificially intelligent being, would still be wrong.

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The Way I See Things (Tainted As It May Be)

As I work in the corporate environment, I see even more clearly how the system works and how blindly everyone becomes just a cog in this huge machine. If I didn't feel so sorry for myself perhaps I might feel sorry for everyone else. The system I speak of, of course, is the system of rules and requirements. As if life isn't hard enough, we (the world) make it even harder. How sad that businesses and corporations blindly follow these rules. It is assumed that if one has a degree, then one must have intelligence, and conversely, if one does not have a degree then one is a complete moron. I've known people with degrees who weren't very smart and people without degrees who were very smart. Bill Gates, the founder of Microsoft, does not have a degree and I would assume he is still very smart. Granted, alot (if not all) of his success was luck, essentially he was at the right place at the right time. The same thing applies to the guys who created the successful search engine Google. Many would most likely disagree with me, but to prove my point, suppose Bill Gates was born 10 years earlier than the year he was born or, for that matter, say he was born 10 years later than his actual birth year. If he was born just one or two years off than his actual birth year, most likely we would be sitting here using an Apple instead of PC's or maybe still using typewriters. If the guys who created Google didn't meet each other, then most likely no one would have any clue as to what "googling" is. It's all in the timing. Bill Gates met with the right people at the right time when the world was ready for personal computers. Sure there were companies who laughed at the very notion of personal computers. The guys who created Apple were laughed at by companies such as Hewlett-Packard which ironically is now a computer giant. If any of them tried their ideas in the 1950's, it obviously wouldn't have worked because technology wasn't at that stage. Does luck play a part in their success? Yes, of course it does. It plays a part in everyone's success. If you had the right parents, the time you were born in, and certain factors going on in the world. It all plays a part in the success of an individual.

Thanks largely to the movie The Da Vinci Code (which is mostly fictional hypothesis), we have all heard the latest uproar over artist Leonardo Da Vinci. Not many are aware that Da Vinci was also an inventor and even came up with the idea for the helicopter. Very few of his inventions were feasible during his lifetime, but had he been alive in the 20th Century, think of the possiblities. Da Vinci was still successful because he was able to fall back on his other abilities, i.e. his ability to paint. He was lucky he had that ability. It's all luck. He could've just as easily not had much skill at painting or maybe not wanted to even be an artist. I'm sure there must have been other skilled painters in his day, so he was also lucky enough to be recognized for his skill. It all comes down to luck. Some might say there is no such thing as luck yet I wonder how could that be when luck is all around us. I'm sure many of us see teenagers driving BMW's or Mercedes' that their parents bought for them. They certainly couldn't have earned it. They were lucky enough to be born into the right family. Of course many of them take it for granted and turn out to be spoiled little as*holes (and I'm sure even they would agree with me. People know when they have earned something and when it was just handed to them on a silver platter). My warning to rich kids who have everything handed to them by their parents: whatever you do don't take it for granted and don't think you are better than others. No matter how you look at it, everyone is on the same playing field. You can't take your parents' money with you when you die. We are all mortal beings and everything we have from our material possessions to our life itself, can and will eventually be taken from us by our own mortality. That is a fact. I can say with absolute certainty that everyone reading this (if anyone is) will die, eventually that is (and no, I'm not a psychic).

So where does being a rich as*hole really get you? It doesn't change the fact that you are still going to die, have to face your creator (that is, if you believe there is a creator) and be judged for your actions on earth. Believe it or not, I am not some devout religious person warning people of their sinful nature. I have done my fair share of sinning, I'm certainly not a saint. I was raised Roman Catholic but don't agree with the Church on many points. However, I do believe that there is a higher power who I refer to as God that everyone, including myself, will have to answer to when the time comes. I also think that the world can be a better place if people would just try to do so. Everyone doesn't have to like everyone, but is it really so hard for people to be kind to one another? Of course, being thankful for what you have and being respectful of others doesn't change the fact you will eventually die, but you can go to your grave with the feeling that IF (because after all, anything is possible in the Universe) you are going to be judged in the next life by how you behaved in this life, at least you can say you tried to be a nice person. From time to time people might not be nice to one another after all no one is perfect; people do make mistakes. The important thing is: to try to make the world better, not just think of yourself.

Sometimes I think people feel there is something wrong with sympathy or compassion for others. That it is sappy or unmanly, and I know where this mindset starts: at home AND in school. Kids learn it from their parents or it's because of how they are treated at home so the kids then develop low self esteem and then go off to school. While at school SOME of these kids with the low self esteem decide that being mean to other kids makes them feel better, even if just for a short while. The schools reinforce this anti-social behavior by generally do nothing about it (until of course a child comes to school with a gun because he can't take the cruelty anymore and either kills him or herself OR kills others and then him or herself). It's really the oddest thing. We would never condone this kind of behavior in the workplace (harassment, catcalls, insults, etc.) because of possible lawsuits yet we allow it to occur in school so it makes it difficult for the students who really want to be there to learn? Yeah, this makes a lot of sense. I say if there are kids in school causing trouble and who don't want to be there to learn, then let them go. Society does not need them. Goodbye and good riddance. Why should they ruin it for the kids who care about their own future, and who just want to do well in school? That's my question: why? Just let the as*hole kids go. Let them try to make it without school and if they end up dead on the streets, well it's their own fault, but don't let them control the kids who WANT to learn. It is not right. If the troublemaking children want to remain complete morons (probably due to their parents being brother and sister) then I say why force them to be in school? If their parents object then tell them, "Too bad. Your kid is an as*hole. He better learn to behave and treat others with respect. If he can't he doesn't belong here. He doesn't belong in society. You should have taught him better manners. Simple as that". School should not only teach math, english, etc. but teach the brain-dead kids how to treat others respectfully and to deal with their low self esteem in a non-anti social manner.

The reason schools have become so powerless (and only recently regained more power since the occurance of horrible shooting incidents) is because of the fear of law suits. Also because the schools really couldn't care less. It was always considered a normal part of growing up. "Kids are going to be cruel to one another". Wrong! Kids are only cruel to one another because no one is there telling them that what they are doing will not be tolerated. Kick the troublemakers out of school and let them see how far they get without school. It is always the as*hole kids that have to learn the hard way. In a way, corporal punishment should be brought back to shcools. If a kid gets smacked in the face for being disrespectful, he or she has a tendency to then show more respect. To monitor teachers and students behavior, classrooms would be under constant surveillence and all video recorded. If parents won't teach their kids proper respect for others, then the schools have no choice but to. Parents need to learn the hard way as well as kids. Teach your kid to respect others or there will be serious consquences. Kids today (and for a long time now) think they know everything. I find it amazing because I never was this way, even when I was young. I never thought I knew everything and, furthermore, I never wanted to bother anyone. I never understand why anyone would want to be other than that. I still find it so strange (and sick). I think that many adults need to be taught lessons in respect for others as well. Especially Internet users. How common it is these days to find people who want to be rude and obnoxious because they disagree with someone else's point of view or just for the sake of being so. It's like people have lost their ability of self control.

This is often the case with incidents of road rage. What would cause a normal law abiding person will turn into a homicidal maniac just over something like someone forgetting to put their turn signal on when changing lanes? Where did sanity go? A person

forgets to put their signal on when getting in front of someone else, so rational thinking dictates to shoot that person or to drive in front of them and slam on the brakes so they smash into the back of the car? People are so quick to temper and rage, and to taking things out on other people who have absolutely nothing to do with the REAL reason they are so angry. Everyone loses their temper with other drivers. People are human and humans have emotions. However, people on the road or on the Internet are letting their anger get the best of them way too often. Case in point: from time to time I use the monster.com Vent! forum to do just that, vent. That is it's name and purpose. When I was unemployed and having the hardest time finding work, Lord knows I needed to vent. I needed to vent somewhere where it felt pretty safe (couldn't afford a therapist, remember: no job, no benefits. Ain't it a great society we made for ourselves?). I kept my venting clean and I also use two different screen names (for a certain reason). It never ceases to amaze me how other users take such offense to the fact that someone needs to vent or what someone wants to vent about (and yet that is what the Vent! forum is for).

Although freedom of speech allows for someone to voice an opposing opinion, if someone isn't doing anything wrong in the first place then why would a forum user get offended by someone using the forum in the manner it was intended? Once again, it's a situation where someone can not control their impulsive actions (and no surprise that they are out of work. This person even admitted they have anger issues and their former co-workers thought they were an as*hole, so there you go). If only people would just think before they react or just try to act in a mature fashion. Realize that it is ok to offer sympathy, compassion, understanding, and care to someone else.

Maybe it is just too much to ask, yet these are the very elements that make us human.
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Learning the Hard Way

As I stated in my previous posts, my brother tends to have fits of uncontrollable rage. I wish I knew what triggers these fits. He has attacked me many, many times through the years, with the most recent attack on me in 1999. I know that with me his anger stems from jealousy (I hate to brag but I am much more physically attactive than him and I have a nicer personality) but he has lost his temper and gotten violent with others, sometimes even erupting at his workplace. As far as work goes for my brother he primarily does bluecollar work. He never went to college, but he did try community college for one day. Not much of a try but he did try. When he was tested he didn't score high enough in math so he was told he had to take a remedial math course.

I'll never forget that day. My father and I went to pick him up at the school and he seemed visibly upset. My father asked him in a nice way if something was wrong and, with much annoyance in his voice, my brother started relating to us about his low test score, the remedial math class that he has no choice in taking, and how he doesn't want to take it (I really don't understand why he would get so upset. After all Einstein didn't do that well in math either). So my father tried to keep him calm but my brother didn't want to hear it and when we were back behind the school, BaBoom! my brother lost it! His books and papers went flying in the air. I started picking up my brother's papers while my dad tried to console my brother as he was crying and carrying on over basically nothing. To see an 18 year old behave this way was quite disturbing but I wasn't surprised. I knew that when he got upset, the possibility for him to explode is quite certain. Even as my father talked to him, I grew very anxious. My brother always produced anxiety in me when he would get upset over something. Back then I even feared (call it paranoia perhaps) that one day he might just get a gun and kill all of us. I didn't know what to think. I don't feel that way now since I have seen some changes (minor changes, but none the less they are still changes).

As of August of 2005, my brother disappointed me once again. Last year in April my mother tried to commit suicide by overdosing, but then she had second thoughts, I guess, and called 911. She was taken to the local hospital and kept till she discharged herself. While there they took her off all her medicine and didn't put her back on anything. My mother suffers from a schizoaffective disorder. She tends to hear voices in her head and starts acting really strange. Not to mention she gets really nasty with people and, the only way to describe it, she starts acting like an as*hole. She will insult you and try to start an argument. She doesn't know what she is doing but it is very annoying (I grew up with the behavior) and can make people very angry. Not to mention very frustrated. My dad would try so hard to get her to sign herself into a mental hospital but she resisted, saying that there is nothing wrong with her. That it is the doctors and my father that have something wrong with them. This continued on and off for a few decades. There were times when she was just downright mean to all of us for no reason. I dreaded when she started to act odd because this meant that she was about to begin another "episode", and I really started to hate her. However, it wasn't her that I hated when she was like this, it was the illness that I hated.

This latest time, my brother was on his own in handling the situation since I live 1500 miles away and I didn't envy him at all. I doubted he was mature enough to handle the situation there; my gut telling me that something is going to go horribly wrong. My gut was unfortunately correct. I could tell just speaking to my mom on the phone that her behavior was irratic. Why her doctor didn't have her on any medicine I will never understand. Perhaps she was able to "fool" him. I found my moms strange behavior to be quite evident, and I don't even have a pHd in psychiatry. I would also talk to my brother on the phone to see how he was holding up and he would tell me of mom's odd behavior. He told me she was having conversations with no one else in the room and later on he told me that she also said things that insulted him. The mean behavior had begun but I was not aware of it at the time. I could tell that my brother was having difficulty handling her odd behavior. The thing about my brother is that he lacks patience and sympathy for others. It's almost like he doesn't see her as being ill but that this is her true nature, insults and all. I don't know why he would relate to her this way but he did. Everything she did and said just ate away at him. Plus on top of everything else, my aunt (my mom's sister) and her daughter (my cousin) would call my brother to tell him how strange my mom is acting. Later on he told me that they didn't even bother to ask how he was doing. Although my brother tends to put his own needs first before anyone elses, I think that my aunt and cousins should have showed at least a little concern for him (it's still not an excuse for what eventually happened).

I guess my brother felt under pressure from my aunt and my cousin calling to report my mother's odd behavior. I would too if I had to deal with that and come home to a crazy person everyday. I would also be depressed as well. The difference is, I would talk out my feelings with someone and seek out help. My brother tends to keep everything inside and blow things out of proporsion. He often lacks common sense. For example, if my mother isn't preparing dinner for him because she doesn't want to do it, then he can make something himself or just go somewhere and buy something. Instead he takes it to heart and it tends to get him angry. To be honest, a man his age shouldn't be relying on his mother to make his meals and do things for him. He is a big boy now. At some point in August of last year things just boiled over and my brother exploded again. He lost his cool over something my mother said and he attacked her. From what I can gather, these were th events leading up to the assault: my brother was on the phone talking to a pharmacist trying to find out the price of my mom's medicine (which she either wasn't really taking or wasn't working) and my mom was being very argumentative which is a common symptom of mental illness. She apparently didn't want to pay the price quoted over the phone so my brother grew increasingly frustrated with her. It was not at this point when he lost his cool but either later that day or the next day when she said something to him that set him off. It still is not exactly clear to me what it was that set him off but I do know that he was in the living room doing what he always does, reading the newspaper (one of his favorite activities). As she was walking down the hallway with her back to him she said something to him whereupon he leaped up out of the chair yelling, "I can't take it anymore"! He then ran down the hall and hit my mom from behind. She fell to the floor and he started punching her uncontrollably as a child might do. She yelled out, "You're going to kill me"! and it was at that point he stopped his assault. He then asked her if he could get her an ice pack but she said, "The Hell with you" and ran to a neighbor's house for help. The police were also called and I am assuming he was arrested. My mother also has a restraining order against him and he is not allowed to go home. Eventually my brother had to appear in court.

He called me after afterwards. He was staying in a motel in a town nearby till he could find a place to rent. I could tell he was upset and sad about what he did but at the same time he would say that he is the victim, not my mom. Even I can not believe he would say something like that. My brother doesn't even realize how lucky he was that he didn't end up in jail but I told him that he could have ended up there. My mom could have pressed charges. She had a bump on her head and two black eyes. I decided that I would go home to visit her for Christmas (2005). Unbeknownst to her, I also was also planning to get her into a mental hospital because I could tell from our conversations on the phone that she was not well (apparently her stupid doctor thought she was fine). I had no idea how exactly I was going to do this but I guess I thought I would figure something out once I got home. Once I got home I could see she was a mess. She would talk a mile a minute and change conversational topics before I could get 3 words out. She was manic. She had always been an expert at baking cookies but the Christmas cookies she made this time were all misshapen and a little burnt (on a side note, I still ate them because I love chocolate chip. I didn't get sick so I guess no poison in them).

The big question was how was I going to get her to admit herself into the hospital? As it were a stroke of luck came my way. Christmas Eve she stayed up all night and claimed she had diarrhea. Early Christmas morning she started knocking franticly on my bedroom door. She said that I need to take her to the emergency room since she was up all night with diarrhea. She was afraid of getting dehydrated. I didn't even shower and I knew this was the opportunity I was waiting for. After the emergency room doctor and nurse spoke with her (and both of whom my mom was very rude to), an emergency room nurse brought her to a room while I stayed behind to have a little chat with the doc. I explained the whole situation to the emergency room doctor and she said that a counselor will come talk with my mom to evaluate her. At my request, they also would make sure my mom isn't aware that it was I who asked for my mom to be psychologically evaluated (my mom tends to harbor resentment against anyone who has here sent to the hospital, even after she gets better). I also asked to speak to the counselor first so I can explain what has been happening. A number of hours later, the counselor spoke to me and then went to evaluate my mother. After about 10 or 15 minutes only, the counselor came back over to me to say that she can see that my mother is mentally ill and is going to have the hospital psychiatrist have a chat with her. The psychiatrist evaluated her as well and determined that she needs to be hospitalized in a mental hospital, just as I suspected. I was so relieved. She was going to finally get the proper help she should have gotten earlier that year. I visited my mom before I had to return to my home state since my vacation time was ending. I also kept in touch with her nurse so I could be informed of her progress.

As for my brother, he was ordered by the court to go to therapy for his anger and I felt it was about freaking time. How many years I had to endure his violent attacks and insults. I feel he should also be on medication. My parents didn't think much of my opinion that there was something seriously wrong with my brother, but my mom learned the hard way unfortunately. After my mom was released and determined to be well again by the mental hospital, I called her and she did seem better. She also apologized to me and said that she should have listened to my warnings about my brother's anger.

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Cain and Abel?

Cain and Abel

So let's see, when I last left off I was describing my older brother's apparently uncontrollable rage towards me, in particular.

I always assumed that my brother was "in my corner" (in a manner of speaking) simply because we were family. Little did I realize that he harbored feelings of jealousy, resentment, and,
perhaps as a result of the jealousy, an intense anger towards me. I mean, how could I know that he felt this way AND what did I do to cause it? I can not be blamed for being born and "raining on his parade". I didn't really have much choice in that area. I am also not to blame if he compares himself to me and feels that he comes up short in areas that I excel in. The problem with my brother is that he wants to be "better" than me in every and all ways. What "better" means I do not know. I guess it means smarter, more attractive to women, make more money, more popular, and the list goes on (just use your imagination).

As far back as I can remember I always felt that there was something he had against me. He was born in 1967 and I was born in 1969. Although my brother was just a young child when I was born, his intial reaction to me I find interesting and foreshadowing of his future general disposition towards me (in case you are wondering, of course I was much too young to remember this first meeting; it was later told to me by my mother). The day she left the hospital with me as a new born she had me in her arms and brought me over to my brother. She said to him, "Here's your baby brother". She told me later on when I was grown up that he took one look at me and his reaction was one of indifference. It was like no big deal, no big whoop. I have seen children even at young ages show affection or even say "cute baby" or even "I love you, baby brother" (or sister depending on the case). Even at the age of two and a half, my brother says and does squat. I find it to be rather foreboding.

As a young child I wanted nothing more than to be with my big brother (what can I tell you I didn't know any better). It was just an innocent normal desire of any little brother to want to be with his big brother. My brother hated me following him around our parents house and yard. The strange part is that he wasn't that much older than me. I could understand if he was 11 years old and I was 5, that he might feel embarrassed (although in the privacy of our parents house who's going to know if we play games or watch tv together). However, he was only two and a half years older than me. His violent tendencies towards me started during this time period. One particular time I was following him around, I followed him outside and he went into such a rage he shoved my face into a bush outside our parents house. I being a young child was upset and broke into tears while my brother ran away from home. My father went after him, and after finding him, took him to McDonald's. I don't mean to criticize my father's parenting but it's not exactly the punishment I would have expected. Granted McDonald's doesn't have the greatest food but I wouldn't call it a punishment (unless of course you are forced to eat it everyday, I suppose. well, that's getting off the subject). I have no idea what they talked about or if they talked about anything. Looking back I think I know what my father was trying to do, which was give my brother some attention because perhaps my brother felt like all the attention was going to his cute blond haired little brother. The trouble is, it also reinforces my brother's anti-social behavior. I believe because of this, my brother equated (albeit subconsciously) that if you go into a rage and act violently it gets you attention and solves your problem. That is the pattern my brother followed till the present day. Sad but true.

I always thought of myself as much more mature than him even when he and I were children. I had affection for my brother and thought dearly of him. I never tried to pick fights with him and just wanted us to act like buddies all the time. There was no reason to not get along. Unfortunately my brother was difficult and at anytime anything I did could irritate or annoy him, and provoke him into being mean to me. For instance, one time I was sitting harmlessly in the living room enjoying a cup of soda and he didn't like how I drank my soda. He yelled at me, "Whattya gotta sip it for? Just drink it"! When I went into the kitchen to get something I came back to find that he drank my drink which I had left in the living room. True, I could just go get more from the fridge, but the point is that I couldn't understand why the way I drank my soda would bother him so much. If it bothered him, why not just leave, go into a different room and not watch me drink? That's the continuing problem with my brother: that he wants everyone in the world to change to his liking, and it doesn't work that way. Besides, what harm was I doing if I like to sip my drink instead of gulping it down like a man dying of thirst? I must add, I also sipped quietly (although even if I was sipping noisily, he could just get up and go to another room). I admit one thing that can grate the nerves is a noisy sipper. Loud sips or slurps can be annoying, which coincidently is how my brother drinks. Apparently, he doesn't annoy himself. He would be mean to me and I think he thought it was funny. He also liked putting me down. For instance, I remember him calling me "sh*t for brains" (once again his feeling that he is smarter than me and his need to show it). I accepted his behavior as something a brother does to hide his real feelings of fondness and I figured in time he would grow out of it. I never had the desire to put him down or put anyone down for that matter.

I too had problems with rage although not to the degree my brother had (and which he still has). As we grew into young teenagers if my brother punched me, especially for what I felt was no reason, I punched him back and wanted to really hurt him (to basically give him what I feel he deserved). A childhood friend of mine who my brother became friends with as well, told me that he thought my brother and I would kill each other (figuretively speaking. I think). On the subject of childhood friends, generally speaking my brother never really had any friends of his own. I made friends with neighborhood kids who I met in elementary school and the Cub Scouts. When we were younger, I remember a group of kids that we played with who were in his age group that he knew from the Cub Scouts. In the family photo albums we have pictures of all of us playing together in our backyard. Eventually they didn't come around anymore.

I remember my first best friend. His name was Scott. Him and I even looked like brothers because we both had blond hair and blue eyes. I lived on a cul de sac and he lived on the street directly behind mine. His house was only two houses away from mine. There was a deer path that we could even take to get to each other's house. It only took a minute to cut through. It was so cool. We knew each other in elementary school, although I forgot how we came to meet each other. Eventually his family moved away and I remember we both felt sad that he had to go. He came back to visit every now and then but eventually we lost touch with each other. I still have wonderful memories I will never forget of Scott. He was the greatest. I loved playing with him and our toys. Although one thing I remember about him that makes me laugh (and is a bit gross) is that he didn't wash his hands after using the toliet. We were only about 5 years old so it is certainly understandable. Even at that age I tended to be rather fastidious about washing my hands after having a bowel movement. I didn't (and still do not) like the idea of getting any feces on my hands. I cringe at the thought. Scott would come back from the bathroom and resume playing with me and my toys. After he put a toy down and I picked it up to play with it, I would notice that it smelled like feces. When he wasn't looking I would take the toy to the bathroom and wash it off. I guess I was a bit of an unusual child.

Getting back to my brother, I want to mention that perhaps the comparison to Cain and Abel is a bit extreme but at times when he went into his rage it seemed like he wanted to kill me. I felt that he had an utter hatred for me. It often left me wondering why he wanted to spend time with me at all then. As we grew up, he wanted to spend even more time with me. It is like he can not stand to be alone for very long periods of time. Until fairly recently, he didn't like to do anything alone. There was one time when we were still living at home with our parents and I was sick with a fever that was over one hundred degrees. He wanted to go out and grab a bite to eat for dinner. He asked me if I was still too sick to go out and I said that I was (I really was). He quietly said, "Oh" and had a bummed out look on his face. I wondered why it was so important for me to go with him and why he seemed afraid to go by himself. After he walked away, my mother even commented, "He needs to get some friends". My brother had trouble making and keeping friends. As I mentioned earlier, my friends were his friends. Whenever my friends came over we would all hang out and do stuff together. Play video games, board games, sports in the back yard, etc. Unfortunately, it caused many fights, really obnoxious behavior from my brother, and evoked anxiety in me everytime we tried to do something with him.

For starters, he always had to win. If he didn't, look out! He would start to swear and basically lash out. This trend continued all the way to adulthood. Another problem was that he always had to beat ME. Nothing else mattered to my brother but winning, and in particular beating me. If he had to cheat to win, he would. He just could not face losing to me. As if it was a fate worse than death itself. I tried alot of times to avoid any competitions with him because he essentially stripped the fun out of it. We couldn't even be on the same side if playing against friends because he was always so overly critical of me, and it would just erupt into an argument. It was like there was no way to get through to him. He didn't want to cooperate with me or try to get close to me and be a good dear friend, as well as brother. I just do not understand him. He took pleasure when things went wrong for me. He didn't say anything but I could just tell by the way he acted. I think it made him feel more secure in a way about himself. He is very insecure and has the lowest self esteem. I thought my self esteem was low but his takes the cake. As a child he would even do things out of spite just to get even with me.

I remember one time my brother, my friend Pat (short for Patrick), and I were playing football in the backyard. It was winter time and I believe there was a bit of snow on the ground. I was about 14 or 15 years old and my brother was 17 or 18. My brother and I were playing against each other while my friend Pat played quarterback for both sides. This one particular play, I went out for really a long pass. Pat threw the ball and it went over my head in front of me as I was running towards one of the trees in the yard that represented the beginning of the end zone (I apologize to any readers who are not familiar with American football). As I ran and saw the ball in front of me, I dove out with feet up in the air and my arms stretched out making an amazing catch! Well, at least for me it was an amazing catch considering I never really considered myself athletic. I didn't make a touchdown but it moved the ball just a few feet to the end zone.

I had lost my brother behind me but not too far behind me. As I laid on the ground after this incredible feat (since I had to dive out in front of me to catch the ball I had no choice but to hit the ground on my chest, but don't worry I wasn't hurt), my brother runs from behind and as he is running past me, kicks me in the side of the head with the heel of his boot on purpose. I said, "Owww"! and I was also pissed because I knew he did it on purpose. My brother could have easily gotten around me without kicking me. I saw him go out of his way to turn his foot so his heel would hit me in the head, plus after I said, "Owww" he said (in a whiny tone), "Well, why did you have to catch it for"? He was mad that I caught the ball so he kicked me in the head out of spite. Real mature behavior from someone who is a young adult. See what I had to endure as a child? Unfortunately this kind of behavior continued from childhood to, basically, the present day (next year he will be 40 years old. Don't worry he is not married and does not have any children. I doubt he will ever reproduce).

Although this one event sticks out in my memories, there are others that are just as painful. One such incident involved my brother getting mad at me and throwing a knife at me. I think I was about 10 years old and my brother was 12. My family was finishing eating and I was still thirsty so I mentioned that I was going to get another Yoohoo Chocolate drink (it was one of my favorite drinks). I started to head for the refrigerator while my brother yells out, "No, you pig"! My mom tells me not to, but I go ahead anyway because I figure what's the big deal. I start to drink it and walk past the table where my brother is still sitting finishing his dinner. As I walk past while enjoying my drink I get about two feet from him when I felt something hit my back. It was his dinner knife. He threw it at me. He was so enraged over the fact I wanted a second Yoohoo, that he threw his dinner knife at me. I remember reaching my hand around and under my shirt to feel my back, and I was shocked to see that I was bleeding a little. The knife had punctured my skin, but did not go very deep. Being a little boy of 10 years old I started crying and screaming when I saw the blood. My dad who was in the dining room came over to see what the ruckus was all about. My mom told my dad what happened and saw the blood on my fingers which caused him to give my brother an angry glare. My brother said to my dad in reference to me as I was crying and still upset, "Shut him up". I don't remember if my brother was punished for throwing the knife at me. If I was my dad I would have grabbed him (not that I condone corporal punishment), thrown him in his room, and grounded him for an indefinite period of time. Plus I would seek some kind of psychiatric treatment for him because this is NOT normal behavior. I could have been seriously hurt and all because I just wanted another Yoohoo drink? I remember my dad saying something to my brother but his main concern was seeing that I was ok. He checked and tended to my injury and made sure it wasn't serious.

Perhaps my parents didn't really know what to do with my brother. I look back and do tend to think of him as a little monster, but there were also times that he and I had fun doing things together. It's almost like my brother has a duel personality. I had the tendency to have more insight into his character and psychological state than anyone else. I tried to relate this information to my parents but they didn't really listen to me or give what I told them any credibility. I think they might have felt that I was just exaggerating things because I am his younger brother.
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Where Does the Time Go?

I realize I have not posted anything new, but didn't realize that a month has gone by. That is part of the uphill battle that I have faced my whole life. My interest and attention wanes. Comes and goes as it pleases. One minute I am avidly interested in something and then the next I don't feel like doing it, and then my interest comes back, only to disappear again. I don't think this is normal. Especially when it is something you usually enjoy doing. I also think about things I would like to do and that I might even be good at, such as writing a screenplay (I have a few ideas) but I just can't get past the feeling of wanting to do it or dreaming about doing it. It never comes to fruition. Perhaps I am afraid to do it because I am afraid to fail; because I know (or at least I think I know) I will fail. Someone reading this might now think, "No wonder he hasn't gotten anywhere in life". If one does not believe in oneself how does one become something or succeed in life? Can one succeed in life if they don't believe in themselves or even feel like doing anything? I already know my answer to that question (hint: it starts with an "n").

Yet another part is my perception of time. Sometimes it is hard for me to realize how much time goes by. A month went by and I barely was aware of it. To me it only feels like a couple of weeks went by. Twenty years went by and it doesn't seem like that much time went by. What have I accomplished during that time? Not a whole lot. I spend time wishing I could go back and change so many things. Sometimes I even wish I could go back and somehow prevent my own birth from occurring if I had access to a time machine. Maybe I could go back in time to a point before my dad got married. I could become my dad's friend and convince him that having one child is much better than having two (since I was the second born). Perhaps even convince him to move out of New Jersey and head for the sunny shores of California. That way if I am destined to be born no matter what I do, at least I will be born somewhere I wish I could be and that could change my life for the better. Suppose I was able to go back in time and prevent my birth from taking place. Then I never would have been born. However, if I was never born then I never would have been able to go back in time in the first place to prevent my birth, and wouldn't my birth occur nevertheless? Quite the paradox.

This time of the year can be especially sad. My father's birthday is April 4th. I am quite happy he was born since he is very special to me. The sad part is that he passed away. My mother gets very sad this time of year not having him there with her. It is quite understandable. Last year around this time she was very sad and it might not have been just the fact that my father was not alive anymore. I was having a tough time finding work, the Social Security Department claimed I owed them $50,000 in disabilty pay I wasn't entitled to (in their infinite wisdom, I was diagnosed as disabled with mental illness by a doctor THEY sent me to), and I had about $100 in my bank account, not to mention the apartment complex I was living at was having me evicted since I was having difficulty paying rent. Although I am always racked with guilt (as a result of mental illness) I do not feel that any of these difficulties were my fault. I was job searching endlessly, to the point I was sick of searching. I sent out and hand delivered my resumes full of all the impressive fake information on them (after all, I wanted to GET a job, not get rejected so my truthful job history and education would not be much help). I figure if you can lie and get away with it and no one gets hurt, go right ahead. The corporations set up the standard, and I'm just living up to that standard the best I can and giving them what they want. It's all a pack of lies but I am giving them what they want. It's a win-win situation.

My mother and I talked on or around Easter of last year. We talked two times that day and the conversations were very pleasant. I kept the conversation upbeat because I was trying to think positively. The next day was a Monday and as I was getting ready for my temp job, my brother called early in the morning. He told me that she tried to kill herself. Apparently she also changed her mind and immediately after her attempt, she then called 911. She was in Somerset Medical Center's Emergency Room unconscience for a few days. Her blood pressure was low and I think they had to pump her stomach. He would visit her in the hospital and keep me informed as to her progress. My brother tends to be a self-centered, unsympathetic, incompassionate a**hole (if I may be blunt) so this kind of behavior was pretty impressive for him. Usually he does not offer much sympathy to anyone but expects all the sympathy for his own plight, whatever it may be. I theorize, that he feels (albeit subconsciously) that he is the center of the Universe and everything revolves around him. That his happiness and pleasure come before anyone else's.

It has always been difficult for me to grow up with my older brother. From his behavior through the years all the way to the present, he has acted incredibly immature and irresponsible. While growing up, I never really felt that his actions reflected that of an older brother (or a brother at all, in fact). He never protected me from kids that picked on me or hardly ever showed that he even cared. He DID help me to meet the high school psychiatrist and get assistance from her. I do give him credit for helping me to get in touch with people who help kids with psychological and emotional problems. He also did offer advice to me to try to help with the a**hole kids that gave me a hard time in school. Other than that, that was about the extent of his care and concern. Don't get me wrong, we spent time together doing things but looking back it was usually because he got something out of it. He didn't spend time with me because he wanted to do something nice for me. Even on Christmas and his birthday, if I didn't buy him a gift that he liked he would be bummed out the whole day. Yet the gifts he got me were nothing to brag about. I even found out that the gift he got me one year was just one of the free gifts you get when you sign up for a bank account. This wasn't even while we were teenagers but into adulthood. Even when I was on disability and had no money to spend I would do the best I could. He still wanted me to buy him a gift that cost $60 or $70 dollars, and the gift he got me cost him nothing!

I didn't even get any sympathy from my brother when I couldn't work due to depression. His general attitude (and his actual words, many-a-time) was, "Get a job". It almost seemed like he loved to instigate fights with me too. For instance, one time I was in my room with my back to the door as he came in. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him put something down and I turned as he started to leave. I simply asked him nicely, "What did you put in my room"? He then says with his usual crappy attitude in his voice, "Whatya gotta know for"? I responded, "Because I might like to read it". He then said something to me in reference to an incident earlier in the day where he failed to pick me up when he was supposed to. In that particular incident, he finally showed up at the school to pick me up after I had to call home to ask where he was. He doesn't even apologize for forgetting. I was very annoyed and I admit I was out of line because when I got in the car and we started driving off I asked, "How could you forget? Are you retarded or something"? He then back hands me in the face (which I didn't deserve) and I made a quick escape from the car. I didn't have my glasses since he had knocked them off my face but I was able to see fairly decent enough to get away. We hadn't gotten too far from the school so I ran to one of the school psychologists who I got help from and who was standing in front of the school. She took me inside the school and I explained what happened. She was nice enough to drop me off at home. As she drove off, I went inside to lay down since I was emotionally drained. One would think the story ends here, but wait there's more. I wake up to hear someone knocking on the front door. It was one of the school administrators. She had some of my belongings, books, coat, etc. She told me that some car came driving by the outside picnic area of the school and through all my stuff out of the car window. Yep, you guessed it. My a**hole brother. As usual he went into some kind of rage. I don't know any other way to describe it.

I will end here for now but continue this subject in my next entry.

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The Struggle From Within and Without

My mood lately has been up and down. Right now I have been feeling rather depressed over my life. One of the catalysts that sent me spiraling into a bummed out mood was an interview I had this week. The interview went great and is with the same company I already work for. It would actually be a promotion for me, and I have only been with the company for 9 months. I was interviewing for a more technical position and was really hoping to get it. The only word I heard from my supervisor who suggested me for the position was that they are still reviewing candidates. In other words, I can be pretty sure that I didn't get it. I just don't know what they didn't like aobut me. I thought the interview went fantastic. I told them in detail all the software I know and all my knowledge and it still got me squat. I just have always had black clouds looming over me since I was born. At least that is how I feel.

My mother has suffered from mental illness since her late 20's. Shortly after I was born in 1969, my father noticed she was acting quite strange. While I grew up I remember alot of her odd behavior, but some of her odd behavior was told to me through the years by my father, who passed away in 2002 from ALS. I miss him. I think of him quite often and wonder if he knows how I am doing. He and I were close but yet not as close as could have been. He was a great man and father. My brother and I always had plenty of toys under the Christmas tree. We never were physically or sexually abused. I did get punished or hit with a belt but only when I misbehaved. My dad and I would often spend time together talking about movies or technology. We enjoyed many of the same things and it made us very close to one another. I think my dad and I were always meant to be close because I remember as a little boy (age 4) when my little legs would get tired I wanted my dad to carry me. He would often joke to my mom that she carried me for 9 months but he carried me for years. I do remember how much I enjoyed being carried by him, especially on our trip to Disney World in 1974. There's a lot of walking to do and my legs just got so tired. We would go on a lot of family trips up and down the Eastern seaboard. There are lots of fond memories I have.

My father worked as an electrical technician and was the smartest man I ever knew. He didn't go to college but went to a technical school. During his lifetime he worked for RCA in the early 1970's and before that he worked at Bell Labs in the 1960's. While working at Bell Labs he created some of the circuit boards that were used onboard the first telecommunications satellite TelStar. There were actually 3 TelStars that were launched. One failed to make orbit, one successfully made orbit and one is on display at AT&T Headquarters in Basking Ridge, NJ or at least was for some time unless they moved it else where. He told me that he wasn't sure which one was the one that he worked on, but I like to think it was the one that made it into orbit. Either way, he made a mark in history. I'm proud to say he was my father. I wish I was more like my father. I would be much more of a success. he was Mr. Fix It around the house. he could fix anything and if there was something he couldn't fix he would read about it and then be able to fix it. I would assist him or watch him work. From plumbing to auto repairs to anything electrical, he could fix it.

Sometimes I get the impression my mom resents my brother and I for not being able to fix things like my dad. I take much more after my dad then my older brother, but I am not even close to his caliber when it comes to being able to fix things. I guess my mom wished we took more after him but it just wasn't our way and I wish she could just accept that. I don't mind her talking about his ability, in fact I too will reminisce with her about his skills. We all knew he was Mr. Fix It. In all honesty, my mother isn't harsh with criticism in any way (at least when she is in her correct state of mind), she just tends to look at the negative side of things more than the positive. Which brings me to my mother. Back in 1969 when my dad noticed my mom acting rather "kookie" (like she was a few beers short of a six pack), he brought her to the local mental hospital Carrier Clinic. Carrier was THE place to go back in the late 60's all the way to the 80's for mental health treatment. Recent cutbacks really caused the place to go down hill. Why my dad brought her there was because she thought the FBI was after her, she kept rearranging the pillows on the couch in the living room, she also wanted to give all their money away to the IRS (which isn't necessarily a sign of mental illness but when you just started a family and have two kids to feed plus a new house to pay off, it could be considered rather foolish).

My mom was diagnosed with schizophrenia which is basically a loss of being in touch with reality (not to be confused with Quadrophenia which is an album by The Who). However back in the 60's and 70's any mental illness doctors didn't understand was labeled "schizophrenia". Later on she would be diagnosed as suffering from schizoaffective disorder. Anyone who thinks mental illness doesn't exist or is the brainchild (no pun intended) of "quacks", has never experienced living with someone who suffers from it. I would have to say, in my honest opinion, that disbelievers of the existence of mental illness are morons. My mom's odd behavior was and still is due to mental illness, not being possessed by the Devil. During the course of my childhood she would go in and out of Carrier. The doctors would discharge her and she would be fine for a while, only to relapse and have to go back again. She even underwent ECT (also known as shock therapy, and believe me, try your best to avoid it). ECT has improved since the early days in the late 40's and 50's but I still think it a bit barbaric and the effectiveness rather questionable. I wonder the reasoning behind it. Maybe a doctor mentioning his new idea to his collegues said, "Hey, let's jump start a patient's brain with a high amount of voltage and see if it makes them happy. What's the worst that could happen?" I guess if it works for some I shouldn't say anything against it, but for my mom it didn't seem to help.

The worst (and I mean THE worst) aspect of my mom's particular disease was when she wasn't just merely delusional but also had a complete reversal of her personality. She would go from a kind motherly figure to hating us with a passion. She wouldn't make dinner for us, she picked arguments, AND to top it off she refused to go to the hospital because she didn't think anything was wrong with her (she felt everyone else, including the doctors, were the ones that had something wrong). During these times when her illness manifested itself this way, it was a living Hell. My father tried his best, I mean he really tried. He would bring her to the hospital and she wouldn't sign herself in voluntarily so a panel of doctors would try to evaluate her condition to see if she needed to be put in the hospital against her will. She would put on a "front" for the doctors to attempt to fake them out so they wouldn't commit her, and they would tell my dad there is nothing they could do. I would wait in anticipation for my dad to come home to see if my mom was with him or not. If he returned and she was with him, I would be so crushed and I would feel anger at the doctors. I would think in my head, "How could they do this to us? Can't they see she is sick? She is treating us so horribly and we can't live like this with her. She is making our lives miserable. Please just lock her up and throw away the key". I realize how horrible this must sound but it is very difficult living with someone who trys to pick fights with you and looks for any reason to criticize you with the intent of hurting your feelings. I am not exaggerating either. To top off that, I also had no escape. Where could I go? That is where I lived. These episodes happened off and I while I was 11 - 15 years old and I had no other relatives in town to live with. I was also picked on at school so I went through misery at school as well. My luck and life have one thing in common, they suck.

Once in a while there would be a doctor there who would see through my mom's masquerade and see that she needs to be in the hospital. When my dad would drive up the driveway and he was alone, I was ecstatic. My dad would tell my brother and I that one of the doctors saw through my mom's little tricks and could see she was ill. The doctor signed her into the hospital. I wanted to hug that doctor! Don't get me wrong, I don't hate my mother but what I hated was what the illness made her become. To me she wasn't the same person anymore while under the influence of the illness. She NEEDED to be out of society, out of harms way and most of all she needed to be in the hospital so she could not cause harm to those around her. She never ever caused physical harm but she caused emotional harm, and that is just as bad. Maybe even worse in some ways.

Under the law, no one can be involuntarily admitted to a mental institution unless they are a danger to themselves or others, but unfortunately the word "danger" does not include emotional torment. of course it should but I guess it would have to be captured on video tape and these days it most definitely could. While my mom's behavior during these times could be described as painful, I think the worst damage to me was my mom's negativity. Instead of looking on the sunny side of things, tt is in her nature to always look on the rainy side. My brother and I happened to inherit this tendency and it is difficult to control at times when things go badly for me, which feels like all the time. It clouds your judgement and how you see yourself in the world. I see constant failure but others might see something else. I wish it was possible to step outside my body to see what others see. Another family trait was actually something my father had a tendency to do. He was the type of man who grew up during the "John Wayne Era" and men didn't talk about their feelings. If you felt miserable or unhappy, you just kept it inside and dealt with yourself. He was depressed too but we never knew for the longest time. I wish he would have shared his feelings more. I loved him and cared about him. I always listened to what he said although I did go through a rebellious period and didn't always do as he said. My brother and I, along with some friends, did some crazy stuff. Stuff that still cracks me up today.

Whereas my brother tended to retreat to his own room and keep to himself most of the time, I tended to enjoy watching tv with my dad and mom when my mom wasn't ill. When she was ill I would retreat to my room because she would act too bizarre to enjoy anything. Since my dad kept his feelings to himself he was one to have words of encouragement for my brother or I. He loved us, cared about us, and wanted the very best for us but he as well as my mom, never encouraged us through the years. How is a child expected to feel confident in themselves and their abilities if no one lets them know that they can do anything they set out to do? I had no idea what I wanted to be or if I could even do anything. I still suffer from this difficulty.

I do not want it to sound that I am blaming my parents for the way I am. It wasn't my parents fault because they didn't do anything on purpose. Most of it was out of their control. It is the combination of all of the above elements that caused my brother and I to be the way we are. We had no confidence building, depression and severe mental illness in our mother, her negative personality and traits, not to mention my mother tends to be the nervous "antsy" type. Everything has to be solved right now. In other words, my brother and I inherited some of our disorders and we "learned" some of our disorders. The question is, can we unlearn our disorders? I think had my dad met some other woman who did not have the disorders my mother had, perhaps my brother and I would have turned out differently. It's all conjecture at this point. I guess it is something my brother and I just need to try to overcome. My mom can't help her behavior or thinking patterns anymore than my brother and I can't help ours but what is important is to try. To put up some kind of fight. I know I can't cure myself and need help to get many things done but I try and a lot of times I do fail. I do get scared to try but eventually I do try again. I hope to get back up on stage again and try some new stand up comedy material I created.

Comedy is one thing I really enjoy and I thank my dad for that. My dad and I did talk to each other and enjoyed talking about many things at length (although he wasn't comfortable talking about feelings or sensitive things which I do not hold against him) and we also enjoyed joking around. He had a great sense of humor and he appreciated mine whereas my mom was so serious (most of the time) when she wasn't ill. I'm glad I inherited my dad's great sense of humor and silliness.

I suppose it's what keeps me sane.

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A New Diagnosis & Perhaps A New Plan

The latest developments in my struggle against my disease is that it has been determined that I have a mood disorder in addtion to depression. I realize that this might be confusing (since it was confusing to me). I always thought that depression was a mood disorder. Depression does affect mood, but a mood disorder is somewhat different in that it involves extreme changes in mood, such as manic depression (now called bi-polar). Although I do not suffer from bi-polar (and far from it! I never clean the house till 3am in the morning. I'm lucky if I clean the house at all), I do have some of the characteristics and symptoms of it. My thoughts often change quickly from one subject to another (this is known as racing thoughts). Sometimes I find myself able to have sex a number of times a day, but then my mood changes and I can go weeks without really feeling in the mood. I have found myself very talkative at times (where I guess I talk too much but never really noticed).

Now I have started taking a mood stabilizer called Lamictal, 25mg a day to start. I also take Cymbalta, 30mg 3 times a day, for depression. In addition, I also take enteric coated fish oil pills with Omega 3. It seems that a high enough dosage of fish oil with Omega 3 (about 6000mg) reduces impulsive anger. Plus it helps my heart and cholesterol level, not that they are in need of help but it can't hurt. Along with a change in medicine, I also have other changes. I have been thinking of pursuing a Master's degree. This would help me to make even more money and lift my self esteem, if I decide to pursue it. I have my fake transcript all set to send to the school. I'm going to stick to what I know best, which is business.

It's all just reading and business theory. Basically, a bunch of crap (in my opinion). The reason why I think it is crap is because when you look at any super successful businessman, did they get their success by learning all of this? Take Bill Gates for example, he dropped out of Harvard to start Microsoft, "borrowed" the idea for Windows from the dudes who created Apple Computers, and now he is a billionaire. So my question is, how did he get so successful if he didn't sit through hours of business classes, such as Business Ethics? I don't get it. I think getting a degree in Business will get you a job, but it won't get you "ahead" in life. If you want to be rich, you need to think and do as Bill Gates. He saw an opportunity and he took it (literally). Perhaps what it really comes down to is being in the right place at the right time.

I wish I was that lucky. Usually I am in the wrong place at the wrong time. I never really feel lucky or blessed. I pretty much go through life feeling cursed and even hated by God. When you are imprisoned by depression and self doubt, it's hard to feel loved. I guess life is what we make of it but it is hard to make something of it when you don't feel like it. Everything is based on what we feel we can do, not just what we can do. I may be able to finish school, but if I don't feel I can finish then I won't and it reinforces my feeling that I can not do anything. What I need is a little sign from above showing me that I can be a success, and then I will believe in myself. I realize it doesn't work that way, but that is what I need and why life is so tough for me. Not everyone knows who they are or what direction to take or even cares. What these people need is assistance so that they can accomplish what others accomplish who do not have this disadvantage. This disadvantage is the equivalent of a child of an impoverished family wanting to go to college. Is it fair to say, "No you can not go to college because you are poor. Tough cookies". Of course it's not fair, so programs are set up to help so that everyone can go to college and not worry about not having the money to pay for it (and these days with the price of college, who does have the money to pay for it?).

Right now I have been considering talking to a lawyer about filing a lawsuit against the college I went to and where I was not able to finish. The school is responsible for seeing that every student has an equal opportunity and I was not given that opportunity so I would like a full refund. I was not given what I paid for. I plan to keep contacting the college till I get some answers. I will not give up on this because I believe it makes perfect sense.

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No Easy Answers

If one wants a well paying job, there are no other options but to go to college. Society offers no other choices to anyone. What if someone due to disability can not successfully complete college (although they want to) or does not have the skills that employers are looking for (such as organizational skills) or is unhappy and unsatisfied with low paying jobs? The requirements that employers look for are not fair for all. Some might respond by saying, "That's exactly the point, they're not supposed to be".

Then I ask, "What is to become of those who do not meet these requirements"? What options are available to them? Are they just expected to wander aimlessly with no direction till they just give up on life and finding happiness, and then commit suicide? Is that fair? Perhaps then there should be centers set up (such as suicide centers) that could end these people's pointless existence and suffering. I certainly would go and I could leave all my failure behind. There needs to be a fair opportunity for one and all. I know what readers might say, that life is not fair. That is true, however society should realize that we should try extra hard to make life fair for all because of that fact. If racism occurs in the hiring process, people say that that isn't fair (which I of course agree).

Playing Devil's advocate for a moment, I could respond and say, "Well, life isn't fair. I guess you should have been born a different race". It's the same exact thing. Just like someone shouldn't be treated unfairly because of the color of their skin, people shouldn't be treated unfairly because of a disability. Not to mention, no one can control what race they are born, just like no one can control if they are born with or later develop a disability. Just like affirmative action helped to reverse the damage done by racism in the hiring process, the same should be done for people with disabilities. I think if one can not meet up to the rules, then the rules need to bend or change. There needs to be other options available. What options? I do not know. I felt forced by society with it's tough as nails requirements and mentality to lie and cheat (I would even steal if I have to). I would do anything within my abilities to survive and to balance the scales that were imbalanced before.

Perhaps one way that could help those to finish college that are having difficulties is for the government to completely pay for that person's education, no matter how long it takes that person to finish, as long as they are diagnosed with a disability that interferes with day to day activities. Also they would pay the disabled person annually a reasonable amount to live on (eg 30,000). That way if the person is beginning to get up in age and still hasn't finished college, they can at least have a car and a place to live. This would also allow the disabled individual to retain a feeling of self confidence. If the government or tax payers get frustrated that the student is taking too long to finish and it is costing too much, then perhaps the student could just be given an "honorary" bachelor's or even master's degree from a prestigious college or university (perhaps ivy league) so that they can then move on to finding a worthwhile occupation.

I know this idea probably sounds absurd to most people, but how about living with the feeling that all you want to do when you wake up in the morning is put a gun in your own mouth and pull the trigger (now try going to college too, AND then imagine how wonderful you feel when you worked your hardest only to get your test back and find out you got an "F")(you might see that after a while you just want to give up on EVERYTHING especially life). I would give anything to be normal. I would sell my soul to the Devil than suffer with these feelings and I think the idea I suggested (about the government picking up the tab or perhaps even the educational institution) is a small price to pay someone who suffers with these set backs.

Believe me, it is a living Hell, and a living Hell I wouldn't wish on anyone. I'm sorry to bother readers with my mental garbage, but I just really get sick of hearing about how important it is to go to school and how employers like potential employees to have "this" or be like "that". Well, excuuuuuuuse me! Yeah, and I would love to wake up one morning and find out that my life was just some horrible nightmare but I don't think that that is going to happen anytime soon. Personally, I think employers are a bunch of dumbas*es and reform is needed in the business world. To me, it seems odd that we live in an imperfect world yet people are expected, even required, to be perfect. Hypothetically, if I had finished college but just barely finished with a low GPA, basically grades that are average or slightly lower than average. Would I have the same opportunities as someone who finished with a 4.0 GPA? I highly doubt it. My question is why? No one is perfect and can be expected to be perfect. Everyone has different levels of intelligence and, thusly it is unfair to measure everyone by the same "yardstick". If I held a basketball competition between two people and one of them was 4 foot tall and the other was a 7 foot tall professional basketball player, many people would say that it is an unfair competition. Really? Why? They are both able to jump and use their arms and legs. Why would it be unfair? Could it be considered unfair because one of the individuals has an advantage or better abilities than the other?

That's the world we live in. How is the 4 foot tall person expected to compete? Can that person force themselves to grow an additional 3 feet? There is nothing that person can do but fail that particular competition. My best advice to the 4 foot tall person would be to cheat (punch the 7 foot guy in the balls (if he is a "he") or trip him up, do whatever it takes to win). Afterall, that is the message our wonderful society tells us all. Win no matter what the cost. If you find you can not win legitimately, then one is left with no other option but to cheat because our society gives no other options.

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Fraud Is Such An Ugly Word

The next stage that I was about to set in motion some might consider unethical, while some might find it a brilliant solution. In actuality, what I was planning to do next was done only out of desperation and frustration with a heartless, uncaring system. Even more simply, I didn't know what else to do.

With stage one in motion, and friends of mine covering as former employers to reflect a more stable job history, the next stage was to give myself a degree. I had heard about fake degrees over the Internet and decided to do a little investigating to see what they were all about. I found a great site (I will refrain from mentioning the name of the site since I am not here to promote or advertise these kinds of sites) where I could order the paper for the degree, the security paper for the transcript, and a "template" that helps you set up the wording. After making necessary name changes, you print it out on your printer, and voila! You are instantly a college graduate and all for just forty dollars. Of course I actually did go to school for seven years so I think my "ol' college try" (please excuse the pun, it is hard to resist) at college should count for something.

Most employers will contact the school while doing background checks to verify your information. I managed a way to get around that which, unfortunately, is a secret I can not divulge for the simple reason that a magician can not reveal all his secrets (and no, not because I want to sell the secret to you for 24.95). I also do not want to encourage actions of this nature. Let's just say that the college I "graduated" from is not an Ivy League school. I do feel that education is important and young people thinking of going to college should go and really divest all of your time and effort into it. I know I did. I really wanted to graduate, it's just that I became "lost" and no one bothered to look for me. I wouldn't be surprised if some readers don't fully understand what I went through and think that I just copped out or that I am just lazy. Well, you would be wrong because mental illness (and coupled with chronic low self-esteem) is not being lazy, it's being ill. There used to be a well-known statement: No child left behind (unless of course you are paying for college and then nobody gives a crap).

Let's face it, it's a dog eat dog world so I did what I had to do. If hiring managers are heartless and corporations are heartless, why should I feel bad? Besides, it's a win win situation. I get a job which pays much better than the entry level one I would've hated which helps the company because my morale is certainly higher. I had low paying jobs in the past working retail and I couldn't give a sh*t about proper procedure. I would work at the register and if the item the customer was buying didn't get scanned by the register, it's their lucky day! Into the bag the item went, regardless. I would even tell the customers that if I missed something, I'm not going to worry about it but if they want they can go to customer service and let the store know that the item didn't get scanned and wasn't paid for. On a side note: strangely, not one custmomer seemed to mind getting their "lucky day".

With fake degree in hand (figuratively speaking of course) and phony job history, off I went. I felt like a new man and, as far as my resume was concerned, I was a new man. One other factor that helped was that I relocated to another part of the United States. I married (now divorced), and my wife and I moved. The move was actually because my wife wanted to start a business of her own and she thought that the new locale would be a great place for it. Things didn't quite work out so well and we never started the business. We found jobs in the mean time and I even became manager of a retail business. I wasn't real crazy about it because it didn't pay very well and there were no benefits. Times were tough for us and the marriage started to fall apart. She (my ex wife) had quite a temper at times and she had trouble controlling her anger. She would lose control and at times I would get punched in my head, face, back, probably elsewhere too but I can't recall. I lost count as to how many times it happened. Eventually I fell into deep depression and began to fall out of love with her. I didn't let her know because I didn't want to go back to New Jersey to live, there was nothing for me there, and I needed her income to stay. My plan was to try to find a job that paid enough that I could support myself on, and then move away from her and file for divorce.

There isn't much written about "battered husband syndrome" but I can tell you I am still feeling the effects a year after her and I went separate ways. After we mutually agreed things weren't working out we both decided to get a divorce. She went her way and I went mine, and we still keep in touch through e-mail. She is not a bad person, she just needs help. She would tell me after her rage would dissipate, that I need to know how to calm her down. I would think to myself, "Isn't that her responsibility? What am I supposed to do? Sprinkle pixie dust or wave a magic wand to make her anger go away?"

I struggled for a spell, had some part time jobs, even attempted suicide but didn't tell anyone and eventually managed to land a position with a Fortune 500 company. I make about 50,000 dollars a year. Not bad for someone who didn't finish college and the longest I held a job before this one was 6 months. At times, though, I still wish I had that "passion" for something that others seem to have. I would love to know what that feeling is like. To know what you want to do, pursue it, start doing it, and love what you do. It must be a great feeling.

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Flirting With Disaster (Falling Into the Cracks Yet Again)

In the late 90's I was living on my own, trying to make it in the big world. Without much of a direction to go in, it isn't easy. Some might be wondering, "Aren't there services to assist people like yourself"? Sure, and I was working with them but there was not much they could do (unless I wanted a job sweeping up or digging ditches for low wages, which is all I could expect). One such department called "Supportive Employment" in New Brunswick, NJ (a part of "The Division of Vocational Rehabilitation") places people with mental illness or emotional problems into jobs, and they offer a counselor to work with the person when stressful situations arise (So that you don't just walk off the job). I worked with a great counselor, Eric. Him and I really connected (I also considered him my friend) but we just hit too many road blocks to be successful at finding me a "decent" position at a "fair" wage.

The problem wasn't Eric's abilities. The problem was the department's policies which he had to abide by, such as the fact that they have to let the possible employer know what "Supportive Employment" is and what they do. Big mistake. I realize honesty is the best policy but not when you are trying to find a job for people who have mental illness, and their job history is rather spotty to say the least. Now I am finding that there are alot of people out there who recognize mental illness and can accept it, but when it comes to prospective employers that's completely different. Even if it is just a minor disorder and the person looks completely "normal" (eg, well groomed, no drool running down their face, etc.) it is still not going to be accepted by the employer. The simple reason: reliability, and to a large degree prejudice. The employer's feeling is that they have a business to run and do not want to run the risk that the person they hire with this disability will not show up or may show up in the beginning and then later on stop showing up. Of course this is against the law, but try and prove it.

My belief was that "Supportive Employment" was going to send me to school and obtain some skills, while I worked at night. So I managed to get hired by UPS for the Christmas holiday working in the warehouse in Edison, NJ from 9pm to 3am (big mistake. Why? Because it really sucked). The work was boring (very repetitive), a few of the supervisors were royal a**holes, no sympathy or "easing in" for new employees, and basically the company does not give a crap about it's employees. If you come late even once, you are fired. I was never late I can proudly say but I couldn't stand either of the two areas they put me in. The first area was truck trailer loading; the big 18 wheelers. My first night they put me in one all by myself. I realize it's not rocket science but it does seem counter productive to have brand new employees (a trainee) all on their own. If an airline used the same logic with commercial airline pilots, you can be rest assured that is one flight I'm not going on.

I realize that it all comes down to dollars and cents. They want to maximize profit and minimize spending. They also figure the person working there really wants the job so they will do anything and everything to keep it. Not so with me. I was also receiving disability for depression so if I lost this job I could honestly care less. I did care about people's packages, however. We were informed to put to the side any opened package that is leaking it's contents. I also found that I was the only one who practiced what we were told to do. The general attitude was no one wanted to be bothered with the broken packages and a lot of damaged and even open packages would just get shipped with all the other packages. Packages were not handled with care either. The packages are stuffed, punched, kicked, and anything else you can do to a package. If you ship UPS, be aware of this. I would assume FedEx is no better. The best you can do is use a lot of bubble wrap inside when you pack your item/s for shipping (and a little prayer never hurts).

I eventually had enough of this (and the insults, yes they insult you too) so one night I just didn't show up. I had called my girlfriend and I told her that I didn't feel like going and she said, "Then don't go", so I didn't. I did try to call the one manager, I think his name was Tom (he was pretty cool, the other manager Steve was an a**hole), and left a message to let him know it wasn't working out. I managed to last till around Christmas and tried to find something else I could do, with the understanding that I would be getting some kind of "rehabilitation" in the beginning of the next year. I started looking around at some area schools and found a program at Middlesex County College for graphic design. I liked using computers on my own and showed Eric some little projects I did creating inserts for audio tapes just using MS Word. He thought they were quite impressive and said that he could the department to purchase graphic design software such as Adobe Photoshop and Quark Express.

These software packages are quite expensive so I appreciated the department buying the software for me. The hope being that if I get familiar with the software I could get a graphic design job. The problem, learning this software on my own was proving to be rather difficult and although now I am quite proficient in Photoshop (I never did bother learning Quark Express), it took me at least a year to get teach myself just the basics. I would even go so far to say that there are probably some functions of Photoshop I still have yet to explore. My interest in graphic design was also beginning to wane, mainly because most of the jobs I researched wanted the prospective employee to have a few years experience and a portfolio which of course I didn't have. It was frustrating for myself and Eric as well.

We decide to fall back on the skills that I was immediately more proficient in, which added up to administrative assistant. Some of these positions can pay quite well and I knew that being an excellent assistant would be a piece of cake for me. Even though I had the computer proficiency, I did not have very much experience (6 months). I thought how ridiculous this requirement is when all you really need is a few months on the job to get the job down. Afterall, all you have to know is how to use a phone and use MS Office software and perhaps Lotus Notes (MS Project doesn't hurt). If you know how to do those things well, then you too can be an administrative assistant. Oh, but I did almost forget you need to be able to read, write, and able to speak proficiently. How could I forget those requirements?

I thought to myself, hypothetically speaking of course, if Eric was willing I could have him act as a former employer and put on my resume that I worked for him for a year or maybe even a few years. This would help me out tremendously. Unfortunately, he didn't find this idea acceptable but only because his hands were tied by the department's policies. I understood, I wasn't pleased by this, but I understood. I also knew that creating a resume with my real job history was not going to open ANY doors for me. Unfortunately, I was correct. Sometimes I really hate it when I am right. Eric and I had hit the end of the line. He tried the best he could and we got no where. Mind you, I still could've gotten a job sweeping up or picking up dog doo for minimum wage but I don't think anyone out there blames me for not wanting to accept these kinds of jobs when I have so much more potential.
By this time it was 2000 and I had been working with the "Supportive Employment" program for about two years. I also had technically moved out of the area (since my crazy roommate Emily "etrag" and I had gone separate ways, thank the Lord) and Eric was working with me because we had also become friends. He referred me to the "Division of Vocational Rehabilitation" (DVR) in Somerville, NJ to work with a counselor Tadd Maffucci. This dude was nice but he was really clueless, and a bit of a dipsh*t. One thing that particularly pissed me off about him was that he made a comment to me (and a rather rude one at that) about how I gave up with college. I told him I was there for seven years and that he has no right to comment about anything that happened then because he wasn't there. He didn't know me then or what I went through. I really hate it when people make a judgement, and they don't know all the facts. They make a judgement based on the faulty logic of:

"If a lot of people can do something, then everyone should be able to"

If we go by this kind of logic, then I guess it would make sense for me to say:

"Since over 1000 people (which is a lot) have climbed Mount Everest, then everyone should be able to"

Info on Mt. Everest

Of course, I am just using that statement to illustrate a point which is that just because a lot of people can do something it doesn't mean everyone should or should be able to, and that if some do not or can not that they are inferior to the ones that can.

The Somerville branch of the "Division of Vocational Rehabilitation" decided they couldn't help me so once again I fell into the cracks. I didn't know what I was going to do at this point so I decided to enroll in web development certificate program at Raritan Valley Community College and I would pay for it. I had no choice. I wanted to get some formalized training in web development and this was going to be my only way.

I do admit I didn't really feel like wasting my time (and money since it was my disability money) with the other courses that the school required that didn't really pertain to web development. The ones I did take, I aced. Like my Multimedia class and all my Web Development courses. After those were done I didn't feel like it was worth getting the certificate. I didn't think it would necessarily open any doors of employment but the main reason was because I wanted some kind of training that would quickly get me fully trained in a couple of months not years. That was the main reason I didn't continue. I was already 30 years old and wasn't getting any younger. The other classes were classes that the school throws in to make it into a "certificate program" and are not really needed to know how to do web design or development.

I started working at a very well known pharmaceutical company in the Records Department. My job was to enter data into the company's records database. They even had top secret documents stored there. I got the job through Kelly Services (yep, the temp agency once again). It was only part-time and I was only paid 10 an hour but at least it was something. Plus I had fun there like you wouldn't believe. My supervisor and I got to be really good friends. He is much older but such a great guy. He is a musician and I built a web site for him too. We would goof off a lot and download mp3's using peer to peer software. I even downloaded some great software. It was a lot of fun. Even my supervisor's supervisor was really nice and we all enjoyed each other's company. We all still keep in touch with each other too.

While working there 3 days a week, I heard about a program at Fairleigh-Dickinson University's "Webmaster Skills Certificate" program. It was for three months during the summer and you would learn the basics of web server (Cold Fusion) and web development like html and multimedia like Flash. It cost $800 dollars and of course I had to cover the cost. I thought it couldn't hurt. I wasn't sure if it would help. I learned some things and the web site I created on Fairleigh-Dickinson's server even got an award. If anything it gives me a minor feather in my cap.

While doing all of this, I thought back about the plan I had mentioned to Eric. I thought if Eric wasn't willing to assist me in my "little white lies", perhaps some of my friends might be willing to. So I asked them, and they were more than willing to help me out. Stage one of my plan was in motion, but something was missing. Sure a great job history is good but the piece de resistance was a degree. The next stage that I was about to set in motion some might consider unethical, while some might find it a brilliant solution.

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Not Looking for Trouble (But Somehow It Just Finds Me)

By now it was the late '90's and I was still searching. I was searching for a career path (although I still maintained an avid interest in my pursuit of becoming an actor) that would lead to that feeling of satisfaction one has (of course, I can only assume since I have never actually felt it but I have imagined what it must feel like) when one loves what they do. I thought that temp agencies would help me in my pursuit, but ultimately they didn't. They could get me positions that would pay ok but I knew I could do so much better (most positions temp agencies find are temporary and the hourly wage isn't very much, most of the time).

While working jobs with the best assistance temp agencies can provide, I also had other deep feelings and desires that drove me to search. Of course it was my search for love. Everyone wants and needs to be loved, and I was loved (and felt loved) by my parents, but I also felt an emptiness (I guess would be the best way to explain it). I didn't feel complete. I was lonely. In early '95 I had met someone when I was 25 (she was separated from her husband but I guess you could say, technically she was still married) at a support group (of all places) and we had a short lived fling. She was my first that I was intimate with. It was awkward and rather difficult since one of the medications I was on caused me to have difficulty maintaining an erection. The relationship was nice but not meant to be. Her therapist wanted to try to get her and her husband back together. I was very sad when I had heard this news from her. I knew she wasn't the love of my life but I wouldn't be able to see her anymore even as a friend. I eventually moved on.

I still wanted to have someone so I could feel more complete. I had joined a dating service "Great Expectations" and I would have to say that if anyone plans to join, don't expect much. It cost me two thousand dollars and all I ended up with was alot of rejections. Perhaps it was the type of women I asked out (I do have high standards), perhaps all women really are looking for their wealthy "knight in shining armor", perhaps a little of both, or perhaps, I didn't stay a member long enough (I was a member for one whole year). Who knows? Who cares? I don't. It's over with now and I vowed never to go back to "Great Desperations, I mean Expectations".

One thing I thought was that if I was to meet someone I needed to move out of my parents house. It just isn't excepted in American society, a 27 year old man living at home with his parents. Perhaps some might accept it but most women would probably think, "What's wrong with this guy?". At least that is what I thought (and for all I know, it's probably true). All I know is that I felt a need to move out regardless of what I felt others thought of me. I wanted to try life on my own and I felt it was time. I knew from the money I made (which wasn't much) that I would need a roommate.

At that time, I was attending a support group call "Emotions Anonymous". It was (and still is I suppose) a 12 step program to help with emotional difficulties (similar to how Alcoholics Anonymous helps with alcohol related problems). It was also a place to go and talk about emotional issues, and a chance to just meet others. There is where I met Emily (also known as "etrag", and who also likes the most horrendous music, i.e. cheesy heavy metal). She was a few years younger than me. At first I thought she was nice to talk to and be friends with but later on became a much different story. Etrag was one of those kinds of people that you could definitely say was a bit off center, but most would probably never realize it knowing her as a casual acquaintance. Etrag lived at home with her mom, dad and her younger sister (who was smokin' hot, by the way, but unfortunately was making wedding preparations).

Etrag and I got to be friends and we started e-mailing each other. One day she e-mailed me that her father is kicking her out of the house (her exact words). To be honest, I didn't really know her and I never met her parents so I had no idea what her parents were like. I only knew her for a few weeks maybe a little longer but I thought here is this very nice girl who is being kicked out onto the street by, perhaps, an abusive father (since I had no way of knowing) and she won't last a day out on the streets (not that I would do any better but I am a male). I really should have thought twice about getting involved with someone I knew only a short time and who I also met at an Emotions Anonymous meeting.

Apparently, although unbeknownst to me at the time, Etrag made it very difficult for her parents and hot younger sister to live with Etrag. She had some kind of problem with her younger sister. I remember reading in Etrag's journal that she had assualted and threatened her younger sister. Etrag was arrested by the police and spent the night in a jail cell. She seemed to have trouble controlling her anger and jealousy, most likely due to extremely low self esteem. There was more to Etrag such as (I found out later) that Etrag liked to mutilate herself with a knife. She would carve words into her arm like, "F**k You". Actions like self mutilation are a sign of a serious mental disorder, but I was completely unaware of this.

So her and I started to talk about being roommates and share an apartment together. We found a place that we both thought was acceptable and it was brand new too. We moved into an apartment in North Brunswick, New Jersey in April or May of '98. It's really not surprising I remember it because it was a living Hell for me. I don't remember exactly when things between us started taking a turn for the worse. She enjoyed punishing me from time to time. I think the first time she handed down a punishment to me was when I had accidently locked her out (and it was an honest mistake). She had gone out to the Emotions Anonymous meeting one night and I was in my room with my girlfriend. My room didn't have a lock on the door (yet) so I thought I better chain the front door of the apartment. One can still enter the apartment building, just not enter the apartment itself. I planned to unchain the door long before she got back, but she returned unexpectedly (which is not my fault, I mean honestly how am I to know?).

Now before anyone makes a judgement, if Etrag was home alone everyone would say that it is understandable for her to chain the door because she is a woman home alone. Well, I am a guy and if a criminal with a gun or a knife (and they do have them) breaks in, I can also be killed. Men are still susceptible to death. There never were any break-ins but I am just saying that things like that could happen anywhere. You never really know so it doesn't hurt to be safe. I chained the door for whatever reason, it's not a big freakin' deal. Except to Etrag. I heard her unlock the door, then attempting to open it, and then the sound of the door chain preventing it from opening. I then heard Etrag yelling from the apartment hallway. I flew over to the front door, it couldn't have taken but maybe 30 seconds or so. One look at her face and I could already see she was pissed. She asked why the door chain was on? I explained that I was in my room with my girlfriend and didn't know she was coming home early.

Now to a normal person, this would be an understandable reason. It was an honest mistake and afterall, it wasn't like Etrag was standing out in the hallway for half an hour while I was in the shower. She wasn't even waiting for 5 minutes. She didn't even have to wait 1 minute. She had no reason to be that mad, but she was. She walked away from me into the living room and while sitting down at her computer she stated my punishment as if she was the Queen of a foreign nation waving her hand in the air to issue her command. As my punishment, I could not use Etrag's computer till further notice (at the beginning of our friendly agreement to be roommates, she had said that her computer could be placed in the living room so that we could both use it to check e-mail, etc.). I have tried endlessly to understand Etrag's logic but I just don't understand it. I guess in Etrag's world, people don't make mistakes (or perhaps they do but mistakes are unforgiveable). I wonder if Etrag's rule about mistakes includes herself. I highly doubt it; she considered herself above any rules.

I had found that Etrag seemed unable or unwilling to offer any sense of compassion or sympathy for anyone else but herself. I remember before the first incident that gave her an excuse to issue her first punishment to me, that I was feeling down during my job hunt because a lot of jobs required someone with a degree and instead of her saying something to make me feel better, offering words of encouragement, all she could say was, "Yeah, not having a degree is really going to hurt you". In my mind I was thinking, "What kind of f**king thing is that to say to someone who is feeling down about that fact?" Etrag was a few sandwiches short of a picnic, in my opinion.

Unfortunately, the previous mentioned incidents weren't isolated ones. There was one occassion I left one dish (just one and only one) in the sink to clean later on after I got back from work or whatever I had to do that was more pressing, and because of that she decided to keep all of the dishes, glasses, and utencils locked in her bedroom. She eventually got angry at me again (but of course!) for some other thing I must have done and all the appliances went in her room as well. The funny part is, she thought that locking everything in her room would keep me from using everything, but I used to get past her locked door (which wasn't very hard to do) and use whatever I needed (I like to microwave my oatmeal in the morning so it's nice and warm, yummm!).

Even though eventually my debt to "Etrag's society" was paid back and she let me use her computer again, she would get mad at me for something and I would be restricted again. Eventually, I read in her computer manual how to open up the computer and essentially "make" the computer "forget" it's password. I outsmarted her, and the only reason I feel I had a right to outsmart her was that her punishments were unjust to begin with. She was basically on a "power trip" (and of course not to mention being a big f**king a**hole in the process). She was using me (and access to her computer) to have her sick fun "pulling my strings" like I'm her puppet (eventually I had had more than enough of Etrag's insanity and saved up enough to get my own computer, which happen to be way superior to her's).

Essentially, it was Etrag's way of giving herself confidence (albeit a false sense), power (once again, a false sense), and ultimately some kind of control in a world that all of us are powerless to control. However, Etrag didn't know how to deal with not getting her way and when she was angry it was basically similar to a child having a tantrum. Perhaps her parents didn't teach her or she was unable (or unwilling) to accept that you can't always get what you want. As a side note: I found it amazing that Etrag always felt she was more mature than me, yet I'm not the one sleeping on top of the toaster (watch out for the extra dark setting, yeowch!)

Etrag didn't just take her anger out on me, but she took it out on my friends as well. I had invited my good friends Ken and Tara to stay over (and why shouldn't I? I paid 50% of the rent so the place was half mine). She made them feel so unwelcome that they didn't want to stay there so they stayed with Ken's parents. She didn't even bother to try to get to know them! That's when I knew there was no going back; it was one thing if Etrag took her anger out on me, but taking it out on my friends who never did anything to her (and technically neither did I, when you really think about it) was another. I could forgive her for abusing me, but not my friends. That was beyond uncalled for.

I have to admit in all fairness that I wasn't a perfect roommate. I tended to be sloppy and have trouble with organization but it was in my own room and I would keep the door locked. The only sloppiness I did outside of my room was the one plate in the kitchen sink. Other than that, I kept my word to everything that Etrag and I agreed upon. On the other hand, Etrag didn't. She tended to have a problem with anything and everything I did. She felt I used too much toilet paper and quickly stopped supplying the bathroom with it. She would carry her own roll into the bathroom and then bring it back to her room (I would say just a bit peculiar and cheap!).

Now, I could understand if someone felt that their roommate played music too loud or the tv too loud or even used too much water, but when it comes to the area of the bathroom no one can say that someone else uses too much toilet paper. Why you ask? Because everyone has different needs. Maybe some else's waste (feces) tends to be a bit messier because of their diet. Maybe they don't want feces in their underwear. Maybe Etrag enjoyed skidmarks in her underwear (I tend to lean to this reason). Who knows? However, the point is that no one can make that call but the person who is actually going (making the poo poo).

During my time living there, unbeknownst to Etrag, I became friends with Etrag's boyfriend (I will respect his anonymity and not mention his name). It was quite accidental how he and I became friends. One day at the apartment I was home alone and the phone rang. I answered it and it was Etrag's boyfriend. He asked to speak with Etrag but seemed a bit distraught. I asked him if he is ok and we then began to talk. I don't remember the exact problem that had occurred since it was some time ago but essentially Etrag had done something to upset him (no surprise, since Etrag could drive anyone to drink). I told him that it's not him. That it's her without a doubt who reacts and acts abnormal (and I wasn't just saying it, it really was her). He told me that talking to me helped him to calm down. He was very grateful and we also agreed that we better not let Etrag know that he and I talked because she would most likely flipout on him (and probably me as well). It was nice to offer a helping hand to him. He was a nice person and was just with the wrong girl. I could never figure out why Etrag wanted a boyfriend. Most of the time she just wanted to be alone and I found out that she really didn't have much of a sex drive. I could never picture her expressing love to anyone (and God, I try not to! Let me just take a minute to get that image out of my head. Ok, moving right along).

Etrag's boyfriend also told me that Etrag would tell him lies about me. Etrag's biggest criticism of me seemed to be that I'm so lazy. Her boyfriend told me that upon hearing her say this he would think to himself, "How can he be lazy? He's never here". Which is true, I had a million things I had to do. To me, not washing one dish was not the end of the world; it could wait or she could certainly feel free to wash it herself if it bothers her that much (and she also knows where she can put it, to let it dry, that is). Her boyfriend also told me that he was there when she decided to put all the dishes in her bedroom because I left the one dirty dish. He felt too that it was strange that she would be so mad just because I left one dish in the sink (I think it's fair to say Etrag is a good candidate for anger management).

After I could not handle anymore of Etrag's immaturity, I found a new place to live. Etrag's parents (I suppose) did not like the idea of her coming back to live with them so they basically bought her a condo to live in since she certainly couldn't afford it (sort of a cage her parents keep her in that she can also let herself in and out of). Ironically, one of Etrag's biggest criticisms of me (and she had a lot of them) was that my parents were always helping me with everything (which they weren't; they only paid the insurance on my car). One time, in response to her criticism I said that her parents are paying off her condo for her so she shouldn't criticize me, and in response she tried to make up some lame excuse that made no sense that I can't even remember what she said.

At times when I think back over those events it does tend to evoke anger from me towards her, however I really do feel sorry for her and take pity on her. It also turned out that her Dad wasn't really kicking her out of the house. I met both of Etrag's parents and they were very nice people. Her Dad had said something to the effect that if Etrag is going to live under his roof, she has to behave accordingly. Saying Etrag tended to distort the truth is an understatement.
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Into The Great Wide Open

The year was 1994 and I had just dropped out (for lack of a better term) of Caldwell College located in the paradise of...Northern New Jersey. Well, actually at this point it was May and the semester had just ended. I finished the semester and just decided not to come back in the Fall so it might not be exactly dropping out. Contrary to what some might believe I had difficulty completing college due to my mental and emotional problems. For one thing, I often had difficulty concentrating. I also had no real drive or ambition, no "calling". In the beginning of my college life I had no clue as to what to do with my life and seven years later I still had no idea what I wanted to do with my life (Nineteen years later (from when I started college in 1987), as I write this blog, I still have no idea as to what to do with my life).

To be honest, and in all fairness to myself, I had (and still have) "ideas" as to what to do with my life but they were dreams built upon the wings of fantasies.

Ideas like:

• rock star
• actor
• astronaut (although that was more like when I was in the fifth grade)
• archeologist (this one was when I was in 7th grade and had just seen the movie "Raiders of the Lost Ark", and after all who wouldn't want to be like Indiana Jones. He's so cool!)
• poet laureate (ok, this one I just threw in because I thought it sounded good)
• video game creator
• radio disc jockey
• recording engineer

Perhaps some of these ideas were possible to obtain, but regardless of that fact, I had no confidence I could be any of them or even had an idea as to how to become them. It just all felt like it was too much work. It was over-whelming, I guess is the best way I could put it, looking back now. My feeling was that I just wanted to throw my arms up in the air and say, "I don't know what I want to do" (and I think I probably actually did do that or at least "mentally" did that).

I have done some acting (stage and independent screen projects) in the past and even some stand-up comedy. So I guess one could say that I have some drive and ambition, but is it realistic? Other than those and the others I listed, nothing else interests me. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if I didn't also suffer from major depression.

To pick up where I left off, college was over for me. I now was going to try to enter the work force. It sounds frightening to think about it and I've already lived through it. The best options I had before me was, in my opinion, retail. I didn't know really anything valuable about computers yet, and I didn't have one at home to use in my free time. There was also mail room work through temp agencies. I also didn't have much in savings, but I did live at home with my parents, so there was one saving grace. I mentioned before about acting I have done. Before I ended my academic career at Caldwell College, I had the pleasure of being in a play at the school. The play was Agatha Christie's "Ten Little Indians" and I played the character, Rodgers (the butler, and no the butler did not do it).

What's interesting to note is that I got into the play by accident. I never had any inclination of being in the play or doing any acting for that matter. The very notion terrified me. A friend of my mine at the college went to audition and asked me to go along with him. There wasn't a big turn out of auditioners so the director, who was also my history professor, asked if I wouldn't mind auditioning for a part. I was reluctant but my friend and the director encouraged me to audition so I did. I got the part and I found that I liked it. It was at this point that I felt that this might be what I would like to pursue. So after stopping my attendance (it sounds much nicer than "dropping out") at Caldwell College, I found some acting classes at a local community college, Raritan Valley Community College. I enrolled in the acting classes there and also got involved with plays there. At first I helped behind the scenes and then after a short time got cast in roles. I also did plays at Somerset Playhouse near Hillsborough, New Jersey.

During that time, I was receiving disability for depression. I would work part-time while going to acting classes. I would go over to the college (Raritan Valley) and use the computer lab there since I was a student. The World Wide Web had just came into existence and I became familiar with web sites (.com? What is that?) and e-mail as well as software programs (self taught). My very first e-mail address being with Hotmail (now I have too many addresses). Eventually I felt well enough to start working full time. Unfortunately the best I could do was a shipping manager position at a company in Somerset, New Jersey called NSG (they specialized in the manufacture of tiny lenses for CD players and such). I was called the shipping manager but there was no one that I supervised. Technically, I was the whole shipping department. The company at that time was rather small (but I suppose you figured that out already). I made a whole gigantic 8 dollars an hour, wow! Now I can retire early! Not quite.

We would get annual raises after our review. I never stayed long enough to find out if I would get a raise. I wouldn't say I hated the job but I definitely didn't love the job, but all the people there, except for one, were so nice. There was this one guy there who was hired to do construction. He was the biggest moron, jackass, and a**hole you could imagine. He loved to give me a problem. Whenever he would saw me (and I mean every time he saw me) he would do this really lame "Wayne's World" impression, you know, "party time", "excelleeeeeent" "whoa, dude!". I wasn't really sure where he was "coming from" so at first it was kind of funny (and I use the term funny in a very loose way). After a very short time it became extremely annoying and also clear to me that he wasn't laughing with me so much as he was doing it to laugh at me or mock me. That's a no no. I will not stand for that sh*t. He needs to grow the f**k up. I'm not exaggerating when I say that this dipsh*t needed some serious psychiatric help. I remember he flipped out at some truck driver who was making a delivery there. He claimed that the driver disrespected him somehow (it's not even worth remembering). What a crackpot, and even his partner felt that the guy's father must have really messed him up somehow.

I don't really know why he felt the need to harass me. Perhaps because he was jealous of me since I was young, had long blond hair, and blue eyes. Despite this, I still tried to talk to him and see if we could be friends. No such luck (but he was a big, dumb, fat, moron, a**hole anyway so why should I care?). I complained about him and he had to start watching his behavior around me, which he did. Oh, I made sure of that. However, the dipsh*t construction guy still loved to goof off and never do his work when the manager was away. He would talk to the ladies there, who worked on the lenses, and basically be a social butterfly (albeit the dipsh*t version). One day he just wouldn't shut up and I was trying so hard to train a new guy who was going to take over my job. I had had enough of the job after 6 or 7 months and I gave notice. Besides dealing with dipsh*t construction guy, I would also get tremendous headaches every Monday from stress. Shipments had to go out on Mondays and there would be alot of pressure.

I left and started other jobs that would last for a little while and then end, bouncing around, doing the job hopping thang, but all the whilst while doing these jobs my main interest was still being an actor. I wasn't sure what I should do as my regular job, though. I would still go over to the local community college (Raritan Valley) and use the computer lab there while doing plays. I also found jobs through temp agencies such as Kelly Services. I pretty much hacked around aimlessly in the full time job area. I also tried unsuccessfully to work with employment services and rehabilitation programs that are set up to help people with disabilities. The main problem being that my aptitude is too high for the kinds of jobs they find, i.e. working at WalMart or McDonald's. I don't want to say that these jobs are beneath me, but they are.

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Time May Change Me (But I Can't Trace Time)

To recap a bit. It was now the early 1990's. I was attending Caldwell College in New Jersey, recently having changed my major a few times. I originally started college with an interest in Communications but Caldwell didn't have Communications as a major so I chose Sociology with a certificate in Communications. The choice of Sociology eventually became English as my major (with the certificate in Communications) then I became a Business major dropping the Communications altogether. After Business didn't work out (and I never second guessed myself, once I have tried a major and didn't like it I never would try it again) I started thinking that computers might be the major for me. So I became a Computer Information Systems major. I also had to take some Business classes as a major in CIS.

Looking back at my time taking these Business courses, I remember some of the professors I had were the biggest, well, let's just say the word begins with an "a" and ends with a "hole". I can imagine that most readers would probably say that I must have an "attitude problem". In response, I would have to say (in a nice way) no, I don't have a problem with my attitude. I have a problem with people who are a**holes. The a**holes are the ones who have a problem with their attitude. For example, I'll never forget the one accounting professor I had, Alvin Neiman who ran his classroom like it was high school. I think on the first day of class or one of the early days he announced to the class, "Class begins at 9am. Not 9:01 or 9:05 but 9am. You are to be here at that time". He continued, "There will be no eating, drinking, or chewing gum in class".

Now, I had no problem with getting to class on time (in fact that was the part I enjoyed the most out of going to college; I just have to sit and listen) but my feeling is: this is not high school, it is college and we are all adults. Not to mention our tuition pays your salary so if we arrive late due to whatever reason i.e. traffic, car problems, health problems, or just our choice to get there when we get there or even not at all, it is our right to do so. Of course it is only fair that if a student arrives late, that they don't disrupt the whole class and that it is the resposibility of the student who arrives late or does not go to make up what they missed. I wonder if it would make a difference to the professor if this was a night-time Continuing Education class and we were all working full-time jobs in addition to going to class at night? Would it then be acceptable to come one minute late? It shouldn't make a difference. Everyone has other things going on in their life. Let's face it, our personal life and health (including mental health) can interupt our day to day activities.

This is the on going, all too common problem with our society. We don't allow people to be human, and it seems like we are unable or unwilling to offer sympathy, compassion, or understanding. Why is this? Is it too much to ask? Am I asking too much of our society to be more understanding? The way I look at is, we need to teach not only academics in school but teach the basics of life about having compassion and understanding of others. Humans are not perfect beings. We are susceptible to maladies and we make mistakes. My feeling is: big deal, you arrive late to class chewing gum, is the world going to end? Perhaps it was just the power went to the professor's head, who knows?

The Business classes weren't going very well so it was time again for a change. This time, however, the change wasn't all that different. I decided to change my major to Computer Science (i wouldn't have to take the Business classes). By this time it was 1994 and I had been in college for 7 years, but I wasn't always a full-time student and I also had taken a year off in 1989 to see what I could do in the work world. I worked two jobs, I did security from 6pm to 1:30am and then worked at Roche Labs from 2am to 10am. God, looking back I am so glad I am not doing that work now. Both were low paying and 3rd shift work is not easy to get used to (and I didn't really enjoy the work; although the one saving grace to my security job was that it gave me time to read some books that I liked). I would get home at 10am from the labs and I couldn't sleep. I went three days without sleep. I remember I started hearing things (I thought someone was talking to me, when in actuality they weren't). I would also find myself writing strange sentences that made no sense or didn't have any relevance as to what I was doing at that time. It was quite bizarre.

I also remember the summer of 1989 I worked for Merry Maids cleaning people's houses. I did the best I could do and I think I made people very happy. I remember I cleaned a toilet at one customer's house that had water stains on the inside porcelain. There is a special cleaner we use for that, which is a stone. I forget what kind of stone it is but it's just a little stone. It takes the stain right off. The only trouble is you have to stick your hand into the toilet (and I mean the part of the toilet where the waste goes, i.e. number one and number two). Of course I did wear rubber gloves but it was still not my cup of tea. I do remember the home owner commenting to my supervisor that the toilet looks fantastic or something to that effect. It did make me feel good and proud of myself that I made her happy. Even though it gave me that warm fuzzy feeling, I knew that this was not going to be a career for me. I wanted to go back to school and still try it in the hopes that just maybe it might work out even though I had no idea what I was doing.

However, it was now 1994 and I had given it the ol' college try (no pun intended). If I didn't really try before (and I think I did) I really tried hard this time as a Computer Science major. I went to the computer lab as often as I could to work on my programs for my Pascale class. Unfortunately I just couldn't get my programs to work and I remember another student would help me to get them working correctly. I just felt inside that I was going no where fast. I knew that I couldn't keep doing what I was doing. I decided to take a leave from college, with the possiblity in the back of my mind, that I might return someday. Of course I didn't know when and I even doubted I would ever go back. I just knew that at this time I needed to move on.

To what, I had no idea...

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Falling Into the Cracks

While in college (this was the late 1980's early 1990's)(it is rather difficult to remember exactly), I was attempting to major in English and get a certificate in communications. For someone (meaning myself) with no real interest in anything (although I did (and still do) love video games, tv, movies, sci-fi), a sufferer of depression, low self esteem, and a personality disorder, college academics wasn't going well.

At this point, I decided to give up on communications and major in, of all things, law. Actually, just joking. I decided to become a business major. This was the last thing I ever thought I would major in considering I had long hair, a problem with authority, and a desire to "buck" the system. Nevertheless, that's what I did. Not long after beginning my new major in business, I was in one of my business classes and the professor was going over what would be required for her class. One of the things that we would have to do is a presentation in front of the rest of the class. So much for being a business major. Although later on I would get "bitten" by the acting bug, I wasn't at that stage at this point. Public speaking was not an option for me.

After the business major, I started thinking that computers were probably the way to go. So I changed my major to Computer Information Systems. I was still required to take some business courses but not the one involving public speaking. I felt safe, relatively speaking, of course. A few years later on, I would find out after an aptitude test that I do have the aptitude of a computer programmer. However, at this time in my life my mind was undergoing some kind of synaptic chaos, would be the best I could describe it, and I had difficulty absorbing information. It was almost as if something was literally "blocking" my mind from learning the material.

I was also continuing to get help from my therapist and psychiatrist and even the college psychiatrist. I don't want to sound ungrateful to them but I often have to ask myself, "What help did they provide?" I was still not making any progress and still had no clear objective or goals. Basically, I felt lonely, depressed, suicidal (many times), had suicidal idealization, hoped that God would let me die in my sleep, feelings of all of this is too much to handle, etc. All I really was hoping for was a girlfriend. I wanted to be loved. That was my answer to all my problems. If I could find a girlfriend I would then have the strength and inspiration to carry on. I would feel "worth" something. I admit, at times, I also wanted to have a girlfriend so I could get laid. However, I knew I wasn't the "love-em-and-leave-em" type; I am just too sensitive.

The core of my desire for a girlfriend was loneliness; it would have been nice to have someone to go out with on a Saturday night. Just a little romance would have been really nice to have. Even by the age I was at this time (early 20's) I hadn't ever had a girlfriend; not to say I didn't try. I guess the long hair (albeit kept well groomed) and glasses were a turn off. I didn't have my first girlfriend till I was 24 and that was after I gave up on college (and also had gotten rid of the glasses for contacts coincidentally). One of the main reasons I went to college was to meet girls. I couldn't even do that right.

It wasn't until many years later on that I started feeling that my problems were rather over-looked; that I had "fallen into the cracks" and wasn't getting the proper help I needed. At the time of my college struggles, I thought that there wasn't any more that anyone could do for me and this was as good as it gets. I made it clear to the people that were supposed to be helping me how I was doing in school, how I was feeling, etc. I suppose they just wrote it down and made a "note" of it. With no one assisting me to finish college or providing me with some kind of vocational training, I assumed that if I was to expect any success, it was going to have to come from me. Trouble is, I have no "drive", I do not know how to get "drive", or where I would even begin looking for "drive", or ambition, or confidence, or organization, or that feeling of "giving a damn about one's life instead of wishing you could just be watching television (and/or movies; I'm not picky) or playing video games and somehow make a lot of money doing that and if you can't, then you would rather not be alive anymore".

In case anyone out there is wondering, I do realize that these feelings sound disturbing and not "normal". I remember, not too long ago, I called a crisis hotline to "vent" some of these troublesome feelings and all the volunteer could really say is that these feelings are not normal for a 35 year old and that there are places that I can go to where I can get help. I thought to myself: D'uh! No sh*t Sherlock, why do you think I am calling a crisis hotline anyway? To get the date and time? Of course I know the feelings I have are not normal. I don't mean to be too harsh on someone (and these were just thoughts that occurred to me; I never said it to the actual person) but don't you hate it sometimes when someone just states the completely obvious? I mean, how does that help me, anyway? I have been in therapy and had a psychiatrist since I was 15 years old, I have been hospitalized for trying to hurt myself and for having feelings of wanting to hurt myself; of course I know there are places I can go to where I can get help. Unless this person was referring to some magical, mystical place where they wave the magical wand and everyone's problems are solved and everyone is eternally happy (like an insane asylum, for instance); other than that, then I have heard of every kind of place I can go to for help. The problem is, I never find the help I really need. It is due to my endless problem of always falling into the cracks. Although quite some time has past and I have changed, these feelings are still a part of me.

They always will be.

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Introduction: Part 2 (I know, not the most original title)

So, let's see, when I left off I was in college and now an English major.

That didn't work out for too long, and my idea of getting a certificate in communications wasn't working out so good either. I was losing interest in it. I tend to lose interest in things and move on to something else. Usually I start a project and then fail to finish it, which apparently has been a pattern my whole life. The amazing part, and what I fail to understand, is that I was under the care of a therapist and psychiatrist. I was on an anti-depressant (I can't remember which one I was on exactly, but during the course of my life I have been on all of them from A to Zoloft). I would tell them how I feel and how I was doing. My therapist and psychiatrist knew all my deepest, darkest secrets. I hid nothing from them, i.e. all my doubts about college, what I want to do with my life (which, by the way, is still a mystery to me at age 36 (scary, huh?))

Of course my therapist and I spent more time together then I did with my psychiatrist, but most of my psychiatrists were very nice and liked to talk a little with me (only one psychiatrist I had as an out-patient was a complete a**hole. I think she needed a psychiatrist, I think her pHd probably stood for Pretty Horrible Doctor). So what remains a mystery to me is, could there have been more they could have, or should have, done to help me in achieving anything? That's what I wonder. I know I couldn't do it on my own. At the rate I was going I didn't know where I was going to end up. Living in a hospital being taken care of for the rest of my life? Living at home with my parents and working in a dismal, low paying retail job (no offense to anyone who works in retail, but I have worked in retail and I find it boring and low paying)? Or worse yet, I might just take my own life. I tried not to think about it or worry about it, but I wasn't succeeding in achieving anything I set out to do, I wasn't gaining any ground. This alone should have been a red flag for the mental health professionals that were supposed to be helping me. Well, all I guess I can say is: who knows? Eventually, I had to take matters into my own hands (and I will get into that in more detail later on)(don't worry it's nothing really really bad, it's actually kind of cool).

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Introduction

So here I am.

I am new to weblogging (more commonly known as blogging).

Apparently, I am finding out, blogs have been around for a number of years now and I wasn't even aware of it. I am rather surprised but only because I consider myself very web savvy. I taught myself html, some web design and web development. Eventually I decided to go for more formalized training at a two year college in my home state of New Jersey but didn't complete the program (I'll get more into that later on). I did complete a Web Development crash course at Fairleigh-Dickinson University in Madison, NJ.

Just want to also give a warning to any potential readers that I do have a tendency to ramble on about topics, so I hope you can bear with me. I also want to let others know that my writings here will be in its raw form, that I do not consider myself a writer and that I write as I feel the urge to expel any thoughts or feelings that I need to express. If I say something that perhaps makes me come off as an idiot or perhaps doesn't make sense to you as a reader, please forgive me and realize that I am just writing it as I feel. I will try my best to avoid profanity as much as possible.

In regards to who I am, I would prefer to remain anonymous. What I can tell you is that I am a male, 36 years old, I suffer from major depression (you might see why now I would like to remain anonymous) and other emotional difficulties, and I live in the United States. I used to live in New Jersey (where I grew up) but have since moved to another part of the country. I enjoy working with computers and pretty much all of what I know about them, is self taught. I never was able to finish college after I completed high school.

High school was rough. It wasn't rough becuase it was in a bad part of New Jersey. On the contrary, it was in a typical suburban area. What made high school rather challenging was because a bunch of other kids attending school didn't seem to like me very much. Perhaps they were jealous of me (I am 6ft blond hair and blue eyes) or perhaps they were just idiots and a**holes. I tend to believe it is a little of both. While attending school I also had friends, not a lot, but I had some friends. Some I am still friends with and some I didn't stay in touch with. I also had a dream, and that dream was to get the Hell out of high school and away from the a**holes as fast as I could. Other than that, not much else. Well, to be honest I wanted to perhaps get into radio or television. I loved music and had/have favorite tv shows. As far as my favorite subjects in school, I guess I would have to say: Lunch and going home. Around the age of 15 I started developing depression (and after all why not? Everyone needs a hobby) (By the way, I also have a strange sense of humor so feel free to laugh at my bizarre comments (or don't laugh because how will I know, you are reading this on the Internet; laugh for your own benefit, you silly))

Having a natural pre-disposition to depression (a close family member suffers from it too) and a personality disorder (most likely borderline personality disorder), and then on top of all that throw in having to deal with the typical pressures you face during adolescence (i.e. dealing with the idiot a**holes (if someone reading this was an idiot a**hole in school growing up, no offense but you really needed to get your head examined; I mean why would you want to make someone feel horrible everyday? I don't get it, never did and never will.)), you get a recipe for disaster. I made it, though. The idiot a**holes didn't stop me. I graduated high school, woo hoo! That was 1987 (remember I am 36 years old).

I decided to go to a small private 4 year college about an hours ride from my home town. It was a nice school, rather old but slowly modernized as the years went by. I made some friends with a lot of people there. Still had no real clue what I wanted to do, except maybe, perhaps do something in radio or television. Since Communications was not a major at that time at the school, I decided to major in Sociology and get a certificate in Communications. After hearing the news in Sociology class one day that we are expected to complete a 30 page research paper, I was like I can't do THAT. I thought, "How the Hell am I going to do that?" I decided to talk over my feelings with the professor.

The professor was a very nice woman who told me she would offer me some assistance, but what she didn't realize was that I needed her to do the whole thing for me! Not help me with it. I just knew inside that I did not have what it takes to do this paper. Worse yet, I didn't really want to do it. I didn't want to do anything. Why? I don't know. I attribute it to the fact that I have no real ambition. I do not have what is known as: drive or a passion for something. I just do not have it. I also lack some self confidence. With this in front of me, I realized that perhaps (just perhaps, mind you) Sociology might not be for me. So I did a change of majors to English. Needless to say for someone who does not do well or like doing papers, this was a BIG mistake. Might I also add, I have a lot of trouble concentrating so reading is something I tend to avoid as well. However, on the rare occasion I read, I do enjoy books and have read many novels by well known authors (some of my favorites are Sherlock Holmes stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle). I have had my aptitude tested, and I scored above average in intelligence. Strange. I have heard that Einstein didn't do well in Math, but he must have at least enjoyed reading. Not that I am comparing myself to Einstein (never in a million years!) but I do consider myself a reasonably intelligent person, restricted by this rather annoying tendency.

To be continued...

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