CarlHoliday

Took it twice just to make sure it was trying to interpret what was going on in my head. Kind of got close on most of them, both times. Don't know what that means. But, since my current mind set is somewhere on the other side of normal, none of this means anything. Right? It was fun, though. Kind of scary, too. But, it's kind of like the Eight Ball. Do it enough times and you're bound to get the answer you want, even if you don't want it. Carl

I called my doctor today and we had a telephone consultation because he's the best doctor in the clinic and you have to be practically bleeding from several wounds to get a same day appointment with him. I figure we could do all the necessary shit over the phone. It helps, too, that, while he is probably only a few years older than me, he's not all that cute, but he isn't uncute either, but he's not my kind of guy, sort of. Okay, I don't have the hots for my doctor, but I could, maybe. He put me back in therapy, which is good. I'm off the Wellbutrin and back on Celexa, which worked pretty good a couple years ago. I quit Celexa because I'd heard Wellbutrin doesn't mess up the sexual function of the human body. I can say that Wellbutrin is good stuff. Initially, I started out on Prozac. Nasty stuff! Turned off the libido. Shut it DOWN! Not only I couldn't, but I didn't have any interest in doing it in the first place. I look at a cute guy and NOTHING! NOTHING! No feelings, no tingling, no nasty thoughts, NOTHING! I might as well have been a eunuch. Talk about chemical castration, Prozac certainly shut me down. No wonder they give that shit to teenagers. Celexa turned on the libido. I could look at guys again and get all those great nasty thoughts. The only problem with Celexa was the connection between the brain and the physical action. It was barely functional, at best. Not only couldn't I get it up, it didn't want to get up to begin with. My mind was going, "This is going to be fun. You're going to enjoy this," but it wasn't listening to anything my mind was saying. The signals weren't getting through. So, I'm back on Celexa. It really doesn't matter since I don't have anyone to share a sexual moment with anyway. So, why worry about nonfunctional genitals. If you don't need them, why worry about them not working. Sanity won out. Now, I have a chance to live. I don't drive right now. The wife is doing all the driving. I don't trust myself not to run off the road and hit that power pole over there. You see, I think if I did do something it would be one of those spur of the moment actions. One of those recognizing the opportunity when it came along and taking the dive. Only, I'm not ready to go. There's this big part of me that doesn't want to go out the next available exit. So, I'm staying off the road right now and looking forward to months of looking at cute guys and getting all those wonderfully nasty thoughts and knowing if the opportunity came along, I won't be able to do anything about it, not that I'm expecting anything of the sort.

Well, it's certainly interesting watching the numbers change, but even the authors advise the data is only approximations and their sources might be contradictory. Given the location of this nifty graphic, it's not surprising some of this information is eye-opening, if not scary. After all, it's meant to be. If you get scared enough, maybe you'll buy a DVD or even a book. But, thanks for sharing. Sometimes we need to be reminded we're the only ones who can save ourselves.

When I first came across GA, I was just reading the stories. Then I tried to make a comment on a story and found out you had to be a member to do that. So, I decided not to make a comment. (I admit it, I'm shy.) But, I kept reading and wanting to comment because DomLuka and LittleBuddhaTW are great writers and I wanted to show my appreciation for their work. So, I had to join. Things kind of snowballed (okay, a slow snowball rolling down a slope that is practically level) and I started posting stories. Now, as a Hosted Author, I have an obligation to step in now and then and prove I am a part of this community. Unfortunately, my regular schedule does not allow more than a few hours a day to step in and ongoing conversations are almost impossible. I feel, though, that it is important to participate, but considering the number of people who regularly participate in their regular communities by voting or going to council meetings, it's not surprising 52% don't post. I'm surprised there aren't more. There is a risk to posting. You might get noticed. If you're really shy or if you have to be here surreptitiously, getting noticed might be the last thing you want. To be a part of the community, though, you have to do a few posts now and then.

This is great, Sharon! I hope you make it this time, as I'm certain you've tried lots before. I did the patch over ten years ago and it's an experience I don't want to go through ever again. The only advice I can offer is it takes about 3 weeks after you're off the patch to get over the first hurdle. I hope you have support from family and friends because you're going to be the worst person in the world for those three weeks. I'm not going to wish you luck though. This is going to take all the willpower you've got. But, there is a benefit. One day soon you'll walk by someone and will immediately know they've just sucked on a death stick. You'll feel good about that because you'll know you smell like a human being while they smell like an ashtray; and, it doesn't matter how much cologne they splash on themselves, they still smell like an ashtray. And, remember to reward yourself every time you beat a temptation. You can do this!

Yesterday morning before leaving Corning, CA, I wrote a blog entry, but when I checked last night it wasn't here. So, either I didn't hit the right button and zoned out or the entry went to that place commonly referred to by techies as, "it's not supposed to do that." When you don't know blame the machine. Frankly, I think, due to my current state of unmind, that I destroyed the entry on my own. Things are not as they should be. I'm beginning to lose track of time. And, my decision making capabilities seem to be on the fritz. No, I didn't call to make an appointment, but when I get home tonight I'm going to call someone about what I should do. I'd rather be close to home when I ask for help. I don't know why I feel that way, but I do. All I do know is that maybe it's time for another happy pill because although I'm very good about taking the Wellbutrin, I don't think it's working all that well. Or, maybe it is and if I wasn't taking it I wouldn't be writing this right now. (Come to your own conclusion on that statement; believe me, I have.) Maybe I need a little additional help, but I won't know that until I call and talk to someone. I'd like to go to sleep right now, but I have to write. I'm working on a prologue to the Kevin project. It didn't go so well yesterday, but I went back today and fixed the errors and we're back on track. Things are so screwed up right now because I'm quickly losing the ability to function normally. I definitely need to call someone.

I didn't get a shower last night or this morning in Corning because I planned to get one tonight or tomorrow morning at the truck stop in Wheeler Ridge. Nice plan, except they're having a power outage here. And, the wind is still blowing. The big truck is rocking and rolling and I'm not even listening to iTunes. Luckily, I hope, it takes about a 70 mph gust to knock over a loaded big truck. So, it's really dark here and I'm not going to get a shower. They'd better get power by tomorrow morning because I need a shower. Well, I can fake it. I've done it before, but I'd prefer a real shower, if you know what I mean. The Kevin project hit a snag. Nothing serious, just a tiny bit of a problem. I'd thought it was going to take a total rewrite, but I don't think it's that bad right now. I'm working on a prologue to set some of Kevin's early history and introduce a couple characters who will have a significant impact on Kevin later in the story. Then I'm dropping the format option and maybe a few characters. I don't know for certain what is going on. You can't imagine how depressed I am; well, maybe some of you can. (I read blogs, after all.) I know I need to get back into therapy and soon. I've begun seeing things, again. It's unnerving because I know what I'm seeing isn't there, it's only my mind getting real confused on what is real. It's almost like it was the first time when I damned near went totally delusional and was so close to doing the final act that I knew I had to get help. It helps knowing you need help and aren't afraid to ask. The only thing I fear is having my medical card pulled. I don't think I'm that bad right now. I mean I should know, right? Or, is this just another manisfestation of a delusional mind? Could I be wrong about this and really need help right now? Maybe I need to get out of the truck. No, I think a good night's sleep should help. I've been tired a lot, lately. And, I'm eating too much, again. I guess I'd better stop because I'm beginning to make myself feel worse. Got to go, Joe just put up Chapter 12 of Tim and the Corsair. Looks like I'll have to work on my sanity tomorrow, which'll be good because I have a delivery in Santa Fe Springs tomorrow afternoon. I just love driving around LA.

There was a celebration this morning in New Hampshire. http://hosted.ap.org/dynamic/stories/C/CIV...EMPLATE=DEFAULT Slowly, but surely, one State at a time, we make the inexorable move toward acceptance by the complacent majority. There will always be detractors, haters if you will, but it's the couple behind the white picket fence with the two kids playing on the Big Toy in the backyard who will sway the argument in our favor. Be that couple two men or two women doesn't matter. It's the normalcy of their lives that makes the biggest impression. Yes, some want marriage now and they insist we use that word to confront all those who oppose us, but radical change is not often long lasting. Marriage, after all, is primarily a religious ceremony. Think of marriage as a fertility celebration as most religions have their origins in the soil and not how many Mercedes are in the parking lot. The key though is getting the State to grant the rights of marriage and call it a civil union. Take religion out of the license and you have another step to acceptance. Carl

Yeah, CJ, great classic cliffhanger resolution. And, the seeds have been well planted: Wilde getting Steve drunk for a night of what? The boys getting that needed break somewhere remote in Australia, um, what's in remote Australia? The demonstration of our capability? Then there is the biker protection and the future paparazzi war. And, Telluride is so pleasant that time of year. It's kind of good all this is happening because, well, Brandon is certainly in for some serious crashes, isn't he. All of this side action kind of keeps him out of the limelight. Or, does it? This was actually a rather nice chapter. Tied up all those loose ends from 19 and planted a few seeds for upcoming cliffhangers. Took care of a lot of domestic issues, too. Plus, everybody behaved themselves, pretty much. Too bad Eric busted his ankle, there are some great rock climbing sites east of Salt Lake. Carl

I know this is worth about as much as the paper it's not printed on, but I just finished reading every story in the Winter Anthology. Yeah, yeah, I know, so what? Well, I also went to each and every forum and entered a comment about what I liked about the story. I, also, sent a PM to one of the authors with some personal comments that I felt were inappropriate for the forum. (No, it wasn't something nasty. I liked the story and felt the writer could've done a better job. So, I made a few suggestions about improving future stories.) This isn't about going around saying, "neener neener neener guess what I did?" This is about being in a community of writers, readers, editors, and those other people who seem to do a very good job of making this thing work. I believe as a member of this community that it is my responsibility not only to write as damn well as I can, but also to read the other authors' work and entering a comment or sending a PM, as appropriate. Now, I know this is the holiday season and no one is doing diddly squat on their PCs and laptops because there's all this shit going on that's way more interesting than hanging around GA, but all of that is going to be over soon. We'll welcome you back with open arms and we won't yell at you if you don't comment, but we'll love you if you do. That's what being a member of a community is all about. Okay, I've jumped off the soap box and y'all can get back to doing what you do best. (Oh, by the by, I find it interesting that it took me almost a year to do my first 100 posts, but only just over a month to do the next 100. This thing can be addicting, but most of you probably know that.)

This reminded me of the teen flicks I used to watch on the ol' black and white when I was that age. (No, I'm too old to do the math, but it was pre-color.) The bad kid with the goody-two-shoes sidekick, only this time the sidekick doesn't die. This one would've certainly worked with James Dean and Sal Mineo. (Well, we already know they were friends and probably did things.) I can almost see James Dean lying there in the gravel amid the greasewood and prickly pear, with (Who? It's a small part, so it can't be anyone big, but you want someone with enough presence not to get overwhelmed by Dean.) a good looking cop, telling his tale while his life oozes out those three holes. There could even be a few goats munching on the vegies, just to give the scene that "desert" feel. Yeah, CJ, this brought back a few memories. His name wasn't Jake, either, and I wasn't Corey, just a hanger-on, someone on the periphery looking at them play off each other. They had something going and I envied Corey. Not-Jake didn't die, but he lost and went south. (Bad boys went south to Green Hill, the state juvenile facility.) Thanks CJ for a very entertaining, almost heartwarming, tale. A real tearjerker! Carl

It's midnight and I'm not sleeping. I'm not sleepy, either. I am cold, though. I was driving south on I-5 and needed to pee, but there wasn't any parking at the rest area. So, I drove to the Love's truck stop south of Roseburg. When I came out I noticed the air hoses under the trailer were not hanging by the spring. The service line had been worn through. Of course, if it had been the other line, I'd have been up the highway with locked brakes, not a pretty scenario. Needless to say, I wasn't going any further. The company sent out a repair guy and he fixed the leaky air line. When we tested the brakes to make sure there was a good seal on the repair, the guy found a leak in the ABS on the left side of the truck when I apply my brakes. I've been wondering why I lose so much air when backing the trailer and now I found out. Unfortunately, the company I work for goes home at the end of the day and there is no one to call, not that calling was going to do any good since there aren't any ABS valves in-stock in Roseburg. So, I'm still here. It's no big deal as I don't have to be in Southern California until Wednesday afternoon, but I was planning a leisurely run. I could be writing. The Kevin project needs chapters; AND, as happens when you're writing a project like this, my muse came up with a new scenario for the story. It's kinder and gentler, plus being totally wacked out. But, mostly I'm not sleepy. I read a story in the anthology and that helped, not that it was boring. It was the one by LostCause. If you haven't read it yet, please do. It's kind of sad, actually, but very good. And, please read my story, too. In fact, you should read all the stories in the 2007 Winter Anthology, all of them are very good.

That reminds me of the redneck joke I think Jeff Foxworthy has done. A young girl goes to her mother and says, "I went to the doctor and I have some good news and some bad news." Mother, "Well, I like good news better than bad news. So, me tell the good first." Daughter, "I'm six months along and the baby is doing great." Mother, "Hey, that is good news. So, what is the bad news." Daughter, "I'm not sure the baby is mine!"

For over thirty years I lived with the belief my father died from prostate cancer. He was too embarrassed to admit it, though. He called it hip cancer. And, my mother believed him, too. He even went through a bilateral orchiectomy, which was the standard treatment back then, without her knowledge. When my mother passed away last month, we found my father's autopsy report. His prostate cancer had metastasized to his aorta, but the cause of death was congestive heart failure, which he had been in treatment for a number of years. Of course, the necrosis in his liver wasn't doing him much good, either. I had my digital exam a few weeks ago and another PSA, which came in lower than the baseline test five years ago. I may not be in line for prostate cancer, but it's stupid not to get tested every year. Besides a finger up my ass really isn't that bad.

I'm on the road, again. Wednesday, I picked up a trailer full of Coke and took it to Redding and Marysville, CA. Then it was down to Modesto to pick up what I'm carrying now. Hopefully, I'll drop the trailer in Portland tonight and pickup another trailer headed south. I need to maximize my on-road time for the next few weeks. It was nice being off over Christmas; well, it was mostly nice being off over Christmas. The wife is sick. She has a cold. "My nose burns!" "You have a cold." "What am I going to doooo?" "It'll go away in time. Be patient." "I don't feel goooood. I coughed up a buuuunch of that phlegm stuff." "Thanks, I think I'll have breakfast now." Our son came out and spent the day with us. We took a ride down the back roads to Napavine for Christmas dinner. The restaurant is a little pricey, but there weren't a lot of complaints, as long as you don't listen to the wife. Her sandwich was too big and she had to take half of it home. We all have big plans for all the money we're getting out of dear old mom and her house. I'm looking forward to some quiet time getting undepressed. I'm trying very hard to keep everything on an even keel, but the storm in my head seems to be winning right now. I keep looking for things to make be laugh, but feelings don't last long enough. I've been seriously considering going away. (No! Not that!) A day doesn't go by when I think about how nice it must be to be saner. A couple days ago, I don't know exactly when, I was daydreaming about how life would be after ECT. Yeah, imagining myself brain damaged by medical intent. "We don't know how all that electrical stimulation works, but it seems to make them feel better." A rose by any other name... I'd like to feel better. I'd like to wake up and know it will be a sunny day, every day, no matter how much it rains. There's snow in the mountains. Right now, I might not have to put chains on going over Siskiyou Pass. Got to go. Do me a favor, think happy thoughts, you'll feel better for it.

Cummings diesel engine? That wouldn't be a Cummins would it? Big company, worldwide, lots of diesel engines, but no "g". I've heard of CLIFFHANGERS, but to put them on a CLIFF? Don't you have any shame? Sheesh!

To find something humorous, as that seems to be about the only thing that helps. Like: or, Merry Christmas, everyone!

The mouse pad gave out. Nothing lasts forever. We live in an era of programmed obsolescence. Use a mouse pad on a laptop too much and it stops working. Not the pad, the switches. Switch the switches, but they still wear out. So, I bought a replacement mouse. Its lifespan was a couple years and then it gave up the ghost and died. Not, the mouse, the cord. Plus, the USB plug-ins on the laptop are right next to the power connection. They interfere and the monitor flashes every time the laptop switches from AC to battery. Bummer! Now, I have a wireless mouse. Its USB plug interferes with the power input even more. Flash! Flash! Flash! The system can

Late to the party! That's me. I don't know why I waited, other than being too busy with my other stuff and waiting, waiting, waiting for LittleBuddhaTW to post the next chapter of "When I See You Again." Okay, this is a good story. No, really, I do have standards and those stories that don't "click" don't get read. When I buy a paper book (that's paper space book, not paperback book), and if it's not something I have to read (award winners, i.e., Pulitzer, Man Booker, etc.), I'll read the first page and the last page. We don't get to do that here, so the first page has to have that hook or I'm off looking elsewhere. I'm hooked on LTMP. Politician? Ron or Rich, definitely! Lyndon comes close, but he didn't like goats!

Hi. I'm the newest hosted author. I don't get in the forums all that much. It took me nearly a year to hit 100 posts. I might hit 200 before the year is out. Nice to have you with us. We're fairly harmless, for the most part, most of us, well, some of us. I'm safe, I think. Yeah, I'm safe. Where am I? Here. Last night I was over there, but tonight I'm here, as I will be tomorrow and the next night. After that, well, I'll be somewhere else, I hope. I answer to Carl, but I have a real name, too. You have to get to know me to get that one. There are a few here who commonly refer to me by that name, maybe you'll worm your way into my heart, too. I write dark stories. My characters do not fair well, but my newest story will be warm and cuddly, though some will certainly die. That's life, after all. You say you're a writer? I look forward to reading your stuff. If anything have fun while you're here. Carl

Okay, I've said this before, so if you're not interested or if you're put off by my incessant whining, you're excused from reading further. I considered commiting the ultimate sacrifice tonight. No, I did not consider offing myself. Get that out of your heads right now. I'm too F**KIN' chicken to do myself in. I can't stand the thought of experiencing a nanosecond of terminal pain. No, I considered going away for awhile. You see, the thing is, there might be enough money coming out of the settlement of my mother's estate to achieve the goal of nearly every debtor: DEBT FREE! Except for the house, but maybe that will be achievable, too, depending on how much our son will need to get a home of his own. Provide for your loved ones, then screw yourself into the ground. If I achieve that lofty goal, I may be in position to get some treatment for my depression. Some real treatment. You see, the depression is very wearing on my spirit. I think I have enough control over committing the ultimate solution, but I know my resolve is weakening. I want peace of mind. That's all I want. And, to me, that means committing myself to some form of severe therapy, which will mean cessation of my driving abilities. You can't be nuts and drive the big truck. I'm not nuts, yet, but I'm so close it isn't funny. You could say I'm one step from psychological oblivion. I can see that it would be very easy to take that step and be free of every worry I've ever had. Unfortunately, I still have some degree of responsibility toward those who love me, even if their love for me satisfies some selfish inner need to express love toward someone else. So, I'm safe, for now, I think. As long as I realize I have a responsibility to provide some degree of security to someone incapable of securing their own life, I think I'm safe from myself. On a happier note, I'm working on a Christmas story. I've written one every year for the past two years and I want to continue the tradition. This year's story is titled, "Merry Christmas Patrick." It's about a poor kid who finds out people love him, including the queer kid who is trying very hard to be his friend, just his friend. It's a Christmas story so there's no sex, sorry. Tomorrow night I have to take a load of dry groceries to Bend, OR. My dispatcher offered me this load when he didn't have to. At first I balked, but after thinking about the implications of turning down the offer, I called him back and said I'd do it. I am not looking forward to driving over the Cascade Mountains at night and having to put the chains on twice in each direction (if I go via US-26), besides having to drive down to Portland to pick up my truck and trailer. I told the wife not to expect me back until sometime Sunday. When I get back to Portland (after the delivery), I'll probaby sack out in the truck for awhile. No use in killing myself driving home. Also, if you haven't been by my forum, I'm looking for a volunteer moderator. If interested, be sure to read the request as you might be turned off by the job requirements. Well, got to get back to the Christmas story.

I don't think the guy has much to worry about. The statute seems fairly clear about the three year age difference. The most he could expect would be a civil penalty, but even that isn't assured. 261.5(e)(2) says the district attorny "may" bring action. That's just as good as saying he doesn't have to. If the girl's parent had insisted on punishment, then he might expect that course of action, but it's quite obvious from the media accounts the focus is on the celebrity in this instance.

I'm kind of picky about fruit cake. Maraschino cherries (red and green), raisins, and walnuts or pecans are my favorite ingredients. Soaked with Bourbon or Brandy is better than soaked with Rum, if I can get that kind, and if it is properly soaked. Personally, I prefer a soaked fruit cake to one with the liquor as an ingredient in the cake. Proper soaking takes time, something that we don't seem to have too much of these days. My mother used to make fruit cake, and for many years went through the soaking process, too. When she started working (When I was nine or ten or so and deemed responsible enough to be a latchkey kid.) the fruit cake became liquor free. Now that she's gone, I suppose if I want what I want, I'll have to do it myself or find a fruit cake that meets my requirements. I usually freeze my cake and enjoy it through the year one small slice at a time.

Definitely Tater Tots!

Yesterday, after I left our customer