tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-186901262011-04-27T01:40:55.991-07:00redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.comBlogger471100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1158489728635594152006-09-17T03:24:00.000-07:002006-09-17T03:42:08.656-07:00

I realized that I hadn't posted anything in so long that it was getting embarrassing. I have been replacing a lot of the writing with photography lately, mostly because it seems easier at times to frame a moment than to craft one, although it's a dangerous trick to begin thinking like that I think. Photographs are seductive and much more difficult for me to be objective about. Still, typing

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1154322715381637632006-07-30T21:57:00.000-07:002006-07-30T22:11:55.393-07:00

It was hot. Everything is hot in Vegas right now, including the range. I was still thrilled to be there with my friend and so happy to be shooting once again. It has been way too long since I have been and life has been busy to say the least. Still, it was a lesson in why I shouldn't wait between visits to the range. I really didn't shoot that well.That may be an understatement. By the last five

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1153548193247388852006-07-21T20:43:00.000-07:002006-07-21T23:03:13.303-07:00

The woman I worked for and took care of in my last job passed away. She was found a quarter mile off the coast of Hawaii in the Pacific Ocean face down on her float. She was 36.She loved Hawaii. I hope that she fell asleep in the sun. She had a difficult life most of the time. Still, I will miss her.

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1153442590039763352006-07-20T17:34:00.000-07:002006-07-20T17:43:10.060-07:00

After a gentle prodding today, I decided to post about the job. It has been challenging to work again, to put aside the fear of the unknown, and to work in a regular office again. It also has been good for me to keep a regular schedule. I have picked up a regular coffee habit as well. All is progressing smoothly in my new job.They have noticed that I am picking up the tasks ok and seem to be

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1152305773500963262006-07-07T13:40:00.000-07:002006-07-07T13:56:13.516-07:00

Just when I decided to bitch about it, an interview turned into a job. Now I am assuming I will bitch about the job. Isn't that how things are supposed to work? I begin this foray into employment again on Monday and I am excited mostly about beginning something where I know little and can actually get paid to learn something. I can also use the cash to actually go and have some fun that I might

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1152126446813780222006-07-05T11:45:00.000-07:002006-07-05T12:07:26.830-07:00

Am I ready to flip the proverbial burger? Almost. Am I over the edge? Almost. Today, just as I thought I would actually go out and fill out any minimum wage application I could find, things finally began to break. But it hasn't been a road of many successes.The next time I quit a job because the activities of my employers are less than above the table, I may think twice. Regardless of where the

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1150565804878894782006-06-17T10:12:00.000-07:002006-06-17T10:36:44.896-07:00

A friend called the other night for other reasons. He happens to be the friend who introduced me to firearms."So, are you still shooting?" He was pleased to hear that I am. I'm sure I am like anyone else. I don't get to the range as much as I'd like for several reasons. The funny thing is, other people ask me this question from time to time, people I don't expect to ask. This makes me realize

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1150498894594383272006-06-16T14:46:00.000-07:002006-06-16T16:01:34.660-07:00

It has been six days and counting. At first I thought, "sure, I can go to a few meetings, it will all be fine." That was day one after the first meeting. That was after the sobbing and the fear and the apprehension of walking into a strange place where everyone could read the sign on my huge forehead that said "newcomer." That was really my second thought. My first thought was, "Oh my god, I

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1150134430443710832006-06-12T10:23:00.000-07:002006-06-12T10:47:10.486-07:00

It has been a while. Sometimes, writing has to take a backseat to living and figuring a few things out. I, myself, have figured out, through some help, that my own pain and confusion will diminish slowly. I know however, that I will never be able to change what happened to me and that I will have to honor that by holding my head up without shame. I am not responsible and I will never know why it

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1147025830225779932006-05-07T11:09:00.000-07:002006-05-07T11:17:10.240-07:00

I began having the conversations I've always been afraid to have with my mother. Sure, she failed miserably at first, guilty and mired in the past. I cried in a way that I haven't ever cried and then tried again, this time with more than some success. I also learned some things about my situation; like my brother denies the whole thing. In a weird way that freed me. For the past year I assumed

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1146255718891442822006-04-28T13:07:00.000-07:002006-04-28T13:21:58.906-07:00

i thought a lot about what to write here. It has been a year since I told my family what i experienced as a child. I knew it would never result in resolution like it does on television, but somehow I still have expectations that haven't been met. "Make sure that your family doesn't go on like nothing ever happened" was what my psychiatrist had said about the whole event a year ago. I have failed

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1144526423978190302006-04-08T12:41:00.000-07:002006-04-08T13:00:24.010-07:00

Happiness has hit with great force and I am so grateful. There are so many people who have helped me through in a multitude of ways and "thank you" feels so small compared to the large feelings I have. Hopefully I have been successful in communicating that in some way.I am enjoying the good, the feeling that everything is alright and I don't need to look ahead twenty steps to make sure that I

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1144326183442131432006-04-06T05:21:00.000-07:002006-04-06T05:23:03.456-07:00

A crazy work vacation, no wifi, no connectivity at all. I'm coming back . . . soon. Look out.

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1142644399273300762006-03-17T16:05:00.000-08:002006-03-17T17:13:19.340-08:00

Molestation is all over my tv. Oprah's talking to a football player who was molested as a child. I don't know why I watch, and then I do. He says it took his "manhood." I spend a lot of time angry with myself for not saying anything when it was happening. I could have said something so many times and didn't. I don't think I was afraid of my brother as much as I feared the reactions of the rest of

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1142048451127717232006-03-10T19:27:00.000-08:002006-03-10T19:40:51.146-08:00

This is basically a bunch of thoughts strung together. I feel the urge to post, but I have no one idea. Whatever. I’ll post them all.It’s strange when a friend acts normally. I find that most people are odd and “normal” behavior is actually extremely rare, almost mythical. I was just chasing this “normal” around and almost succombed to the insanity of it when the light went on. I appreciate that

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1140742561553929602006-02-23T16:34:00.000-08:002006-02-24T11:03:59.003-08:00

I dropped my car off to have the oil changed and then I walked next door to the range. I was already sweating before I even pulled the doors open. It was quiet inside. Apparently three in the afternoon on a weekday is not a busy time. The men behind the counter went through the usual questions; had I been there before, did I know what I wanted to shoot. I was really nervous but the answers came

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1140386797644726222006-02-19T13:56:00.000-08:002006-02-19T14:06:37.663-08:00

Sometimes I cry involuntarily when I type. I hate to do it. They run fast and hot right onto the keyboard, my hands, my shirt. This time I was typing an email to a friend about nothing really and the pressure behind the words just pushed the tears out and I feel like an ass. That or I feel like Holly Hunter in "Broadcast News" crying every morning before work. Good in the movie, bad if I'm not

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1140294029515497102006-02-18T11:52:00.000-08:002006-02-18T12:20:31.080-08:00

He's putting up shelves in the other room. I can hardly believe it. He even got up at 9am to be at Home Depot when they opened. I have waited a long time for this. I know that sounds ridiculous, but in our house there is a lot of stuff. Its verging on crazy in the office so he bought me an ibook yesterday to get me out of there and on the wireless. I am very grateful. He thinks it will help me

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1139867147608188202006-02-13T13:12:00.000-08:002006-02-13T13:45:49.883-08:00

Life tends to swirl in the toilet for a while before I think about going to the range. I'm not sure why that is since I find such a sense of empowerment there. Maybe that is why. It is hard to feel deserving of anything good when I am swirling.Today, with the sun shining a beautiful 70 degrees, I started thinking about going to the range. I had seen these practice Sig Sauers at Fry's (electronic

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1139200483728344692006-02-05T20:03:00.000-08:002006-02-05T20:39:36.746-08:00

Right now it is all pain. Pain, hurt, ache, pain in my head, heart, all over pain, no one will ever understand pain. I want to make it stop any way I can pain. The please make it stop hurt, hurting that I cannot articulate, that I don't understand myself.One said, I hold people to an impossible measure, hoping they will rise but knowing they will fail me. I know that is true. It is that and more.

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1138943392030632662006-02-02T20:51:00.000-08:002006-02-02T21:09:52.046-08:00

I look at your image, your smoking image, every time I come in here and see the computer. You are thinking in that shot, maybe getting ready to say something with your smoking arm's elbow on the bar. Maybe you're just getting ready to take a drink. The shot looks up at you from the ground, a little out of focus, making you bigger than life. Often that is how I see you.There is no apology really.

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1138764765167500792006-01-31T19:25:00.000-08:002006-01-31T19:32:45.180-08:00

Sure I like it when my favorite blogs post new stuff. Who doesn't? The problem is the reversal of that. I can tell by my site meter that people are just checking in to see if I have written anything new. I can't blame them. I do the same thing. So here is a new post for all of us:I feel pressure to write sometimes. It's not like someone is standing over me with a ruler or anything, but I do feel

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1138333873204376842006-01-26T19:50:00.000-08:002006-01-26T19:51:13.316-08:00

All is fine.I hear that drugs make you paranoid.

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1138321924979327822006-01-26T16:24:00.000-08:002006-01-26T16:32:04.993-08:00

James Frey has been kicked to the curb by Oprah. I wonder if he's going to stay sober. As for my own sobriety, I am wondering if I have lost a friend. Yesterday, while working hard to continue my binge, I returned a phone call when maybe I should not have. It is a friend who knows how I have been working toward sobriety. When he and I tried to have a conversation, I found it nearly impossible to

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1138228055819256232006-01-25T14:27:00.000-08:002006-01-25T14:27:35.903-08:00

Back to zero.

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1138090161003789812006-01-24T00:08:00.000-08:002006-01-24T00:09:21.013-08:00

I am testing Picassa. My friend, Pickett, took this photo. 

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1138060428443742432006-01-23T15:43:00.000-08:002006-01-23T15:53:48.533-08:00

How anonymous is someone when they spill everything but their name? My friend, Pickett, (who wanted me to use his name) has been begging me for an update. He tells me that he has become a fan of my blog. When discussing this, we began talking about the anonymity of blogging and how, sometimes, it feels a little dishonest and maybe a little ridiculous. My other friend, Mr. Slappyjack, disagrees.

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1137543947594188572006-01-17T16:15:00.000-08:002006-01-17T16:39:50.776-08:00

Today I went to the range. I went with a friend, not my usual shooting friend, and operated in the capacity of a person who shoots, not as a student. I followed all safety rules and I shot well. None of this is really the point, although I am happy with myself for going, for knowing exactly how to use the weapon and for being able to handle the situation without help.For the past four days I have

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1137493110680771952006-01-17T02:17:00.000-08:002006-01-17T02:18:30.723-08:00

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1137390995952862642006-01-15T21:42:00.000-08:002006-01-15T21:58:43.836-08:00

Today, a friend asked me to talk to his mother. He wanted me to speak to her about his current attempt at sobriety and what that entails for him. It was an odd request, considering we are both adults in our thirties, but addiction and recovery bring all sorts of people together for all sorts of reasons.I spoke with her over lunch and she is a lovely woman who is terrified for her son. She would

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1137043617855736902006-01-11T20:14:00.000-08:002006-01-11T21:26:58.283-08:00

I had first written a post about my job and then removed it. This was the first post I ever deleted from my blog and hopefully the last.I am going to try to write about my job again, but in a way that doesn't make me feel vulnerable to retribution from my employers. This is much less interesting, I know, but safer all around.I am a Personal Valet for an unmarried couple. The female, a disabled 36

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1136568809182732092006-01-06T09:25:00.000-08:002006-01-06T09:33:29.196-08:00

So I tumbled off of the proverbial wagon on New Years. I went out, just like everyone else in Las Vegas, and began drinking and then passed through that gateway into other things. It is never difficult for me to bump into that opportunity and on this night, it was even easier.I could waste time talking about how I wasn't "as wasted" or didn't partake "as much" but I know that none of that matters

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1136071708244299402005-12-31T15:10:00.000-08:002005-12-31T15:28:28.260-08:00

I spent the last four days at my mother's house in California. My mother is not from there. My mother grew up in Pennsylvania. I only mention this because the following post is about her opinions. Geography is sometimes relevant to things like opinions.My mother's roommate is my brother's mother-in-law. Read it again and it will be clear. My brother and his wife and their son live a few miles

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1135392700628848812005-12-23T18:32:00.000-08:002005-12-23T18:52:39.030-08:00

By some strange twist of fate, my packages arrived from my father with a small wooden baby jesus enclosed. Being a known atheist, this freaked me out a little because I thought that my father was preaching Christianity in some weird, silent, voodoo way. Talking to Dad is a task I never like and always avoid. If I wanted to know anything about the wooden Jesus, I would have to break down and call

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1135013580325322452005-12-19T09:21:00.000-08:002005-12-19T09:33:00.350-08:00

I am a medicated bipolar and I take more than a few things to regulate that condition. A few days ago I ran out of one of my prescriptions. I called in the refill and a few hours later, expecting to pay $7, was told that the prescription, in generic form, would be a copay of $50. FIFTY DOLLARS FOR A GENERIC. This wouldn't be such a big deal except that I had change my entire pill regimen three

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1134776853362696672005-12-16T15:26:00.000-08:002005-12-16T15:47:33.390-08:00

I keep trying to get a good night's sleep. Some people have a hobby or two, I have a bit of a quest. It is this quest for sleep that last night led me to drink. After more than a few days suffering from the local virus and doing very little other than hacking and blowing my nose, I decided I was going to go out and sit with my friend, the vodka tonic.I don't consider myself an alcoholic, but I am

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1134354491669127852005-12-11T18:13:00.000-08:002005-12-12T02:05:50.343-08:00

When I was at the range today to shoot with my trusty friend in tow to coach and accompany me, I found out that they will allow me to rent a gun and shoot alone. They allow this because the range is well manned and as long as I am not a foreign national, which I am not, it is fine for me to come in and shoot alone. In fact, Tuesdays are ladies nights where there is no range fee for women.Lifted

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1133654390120090782005-12-03T15:49:00.000-08:002005-12-03T16:02:57.590-08:00

It is the weekend again and I would like to go shoot. I figure I'll return to the .22 at the advice of so many, and work on my accuracy a bit while I jump and cringe as usual. That is, I will do all of this if I can find someone to go with me.I don't pretend to be a stable individual. I also don't pretend to want to use a gun to kill myself. Regardless of these two statements, I cannot go to the

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1133396410414333332005-11-30T16:06:00.000-08:002005-11-30T16:20:10.510-08:00

I've always held that blame gets you nowhere. In my mind, you assess the problem, find a solution and move on. Blame has no place in the fixing of things, or so I had always thought. Today, I had a bit of a realization after I left my counselor's office. Isn't that always the way? The hardest work happens right after you leave the damn place.While reviewing my feelings about my brother, the

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1133198684500991002005-11-28T08:57:00.000-08:002005-11-28T09:27:34.936-08:00

Yesterday I went to the indoor range. This was the second time I had gone there, so I felt a little more comfortable with the process and wasn't as scared by the fact that everyone working in there has a gun on their hip. I totally understand why. Still, it is so far from normal for me.I went with my friend and he decided to shoot as well instead of just helping me out. This decision was probably

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1132895131156412512005-11-24T20:39:00.001-08:002005-11-24T21:20:38.936-08:00

Sometimes when I post I don't think anyone will ever read it. In fact, part of the reason it is easier to write about the things that I do is because of this feeling. There is a flip side to this. If no one ever reads the blog then what is the point?So, today, after stuffing myself with the rest of America and watching some football and "The Family Guy" I returned home tired and weary and checked

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1132262318366741592005-11-17T12:55:00.000-08:002005-11-17T14:38:44.060-08:00

I used to be terrified of guns.I let myself be afraid of guns until someone came into my life and convinced me that I didn't need to be afraid anymore. Once I began my education of firearms, my nightmares absorbed the information too and used it against me in my sleep. My brother no longer went after me unarmed. I not only wanted to conquer an unrelated fear in order to grow, I then had to defeat

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1131905537813655332005-11-13T09:58:00.000-08:002005-11-13T10:12:17.820-08:00

There is always a moment when the decision is made to get high. It is miniscule, a crack in an average resolve, but when it shows itself, the "only one time, it's no big deal" justifications float through my mind and it is impossible to ignore. What my mind is telling me in that moment is, "you deserve to do this. You've worked so hard not to do this therefore you DESERVE to trash all of that

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1131691992935451542005-11-10T22:44:00.000-08:002005-11-11T09:28:59.976-08:00

I don't sleep very much. The reason, all explained in the last post "nightmares", keeps me from totally committing to falling asleep. So I spend a lot of time alone, in the dark and in my head. Unfortunately, no matter how much I try, my head continues to behave like an adversary.It is strange how my mind will attack me on so many levels. Can't sleep? It will make me not only think about my own

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1131325244594795932005-11-06T16:14:00.000-08:002005-11-06T17:01:56.690-08:00

I have nightmares.I fall asleep and they begin as soon as I hit REM sleep. Immediately I am transported to the bathroom I grew up using. I am in the tub and I am ten years old, trying to get the last bit of shampoo out of a bottle of Breck shampoo and I can smell it. The bathroom tiles are the same gold color of both the bottle and the shampoo. I am runnning the water and pulling the drain

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1131310459369509242005-11-06T12:43:00.000-08:002005-11-06T17:03:00.856-08:00

I have a friend who I spew things at regularly. More than regularly. Feelings, angst, humor, pain; all that stuff that most people either blog or keep to themselves unless they are drunk, I hurtle shamelessly at this friend. No wonder he's tired and depressed. Really.So, with the hope that I can give him a much needed break and give myself an opportunity to spew more globally, I have dedicated

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18690126.post-1131253371330896342005-11-05T21:01:00.000-08:002005-11-05T21:02:51.336-08:00

Saturday night can be a bitch. Expectations suck. I'm starting a new blog.Fuck.Pathetic.

redmemory1http://www.blogger.com/profile/11927981688550958044noreply@blogger.com3