Chapter four

Some things are too precious and personal to make public until years of life have offered the proper perspective and reflection into their impact.

Chapter three

The crushing disappointment with life is we don't receive any forward notice regarding the pivotal experiences before or while they're happening. It isn't until years later we  look back and identify exactly where things took an unwelcome turn. Sometimes events happen involving us at too young an age to understand or fully process its impact.
When I was fourteen I sleeve two days hanging out with a good friend of mine from church. We went canoeing with his dad and then I spent the night at his house. The next day we went to see the movie Twister and then they dropped me off at home. Five minutes later they were hit by a tractor in a freak accident and my friend died instantly. While I never felt it was my fault he died, it's hard to not feel responsible for them being where they were at the time. This event may have led to my not feeling like planning ahead or saving money was worth much thought. No matter the plans or large reserves you may have, sometimes a tractor with bad brakes comes down a steep blind driveway and crushes the side of your car and kills your son while he listens to a cassette of a comedy routine he hopes to perform at an upcoming talent show. Sometimes you sit at the dinner table for hours, spinning a nut back and forth on a bolt waiting for a phone call to find out which person died and which one lived. And every day you're glad you didn't drive to see why all the sirens were going down your normally quiet country road shortly after your friend and his dad left your house. Fourteen is just too young to learn about the realities of the world we live in. A person should be eased into reality slowly. Every three years after that event I lost someone-a friend at school in a drug and alcohol fueled car wreck, a Grandma, a co-worker, a grandpa that was very important to my formative years, then my parents divorced, then my last grandparent died. By this time I had grown crusty with defense mechanisms. I struggle to hold onto money of any large amount. I moved every year or less for ten years. I have few friends, though the ones I do have are very strong friendships. While these events may not be related its hard to think the first didn't affect the following.

Chapter two

Have you ever brought your head up from your normal plodding daily step as a horse harnessed to a plow and looked around accidentally? We're not supposed to do it, but when we do we recognize the absurdity of the situation. Weaker men than us have chained us to the machine in order to make more money for them. In much the same way do relationships work. Yesterday i realized again i have often been the strong shoulder for others to lean on, yet when i need the same there's no one around. Perhaps there is but i don't recognize them as such. Therefore, in times of need or stress, like always before, i turn to writing as a pressure relief valve. I've always felt i had a story to tell, but no way to fictionalize it and no way to tell the facts that would be of any interest. All I've done is ramble around, try to escape my inner demons and have a good time. I've done all three of those quite well. Even now, one of my favorite things in the world to do is drive around aimlessly with no direction other than ending up at home before i pass out. No high speed, no strong liquor, no particular place to go. Just going, and looking. I also enjoy having a task to achieve, especially if it doesn't require an inordinate amount of time. I don't think anyone will particularly enjoy reading my story because i didn't accomplish anything amazing or overcome any major shortcoming. All i did was live my life as i saw fit, doing what i wanted when i wanted to do it as much as possible. That's not much different from anyone else i don't think. Maybe what i did is a little different but it's not spectacular, at least by my estimation, but then again i was there.

Chapter One

We didn't have television so i grew up either entertaining myself with books or wandering around outside. I still spend most of my time looking around thinking "That's interesting" and moving along, never really investigating anything in depth but certainly kicking around in the leaves a bit.
My favorite author as a boy was Louis L'Amour. He wrote the same story repeatedly buy he was good at it. I grew especially enthralled with the brief biography on the rear cover of his books and accidentally mirrored in my own life. I didn't set out with any specific plan or goal, just a general desire to go somewhere i hadn't been and see some new things. Bruce Springsteen days there are two kinds of people, goers and stayers. I successfully avoided sedentary life for ten years after being awarded my freedom and have now surrendered to the inevitable. A vast majority of people stay the income bracket they were born into, and i believe the same holds true across all aspects of life. I'm raising a family, working a menial job, and trudging along just as hundreds of years of my ancestors did. It's acceptable given the history, yet completely terrible to reflect upon.