It has been made clear to me that the reality in which I thought I lived was an illusion. The things I thought were truths have been exposed as lies. The things I believed in have turned to water and slipped through my fingers. I have tried to maintain a sense of pride and honor and have found that the cost is far greater than anticipated.
I almost gave up. I almost threw in the towel. I was ready to concede defeat before that battle even started as I can not fight a foe that will not face me. I can not make peace with the "enemy" when they will not meet on neutral ground. When they will not acknowledge that I exist anymore. When they have turned their back on me without a word. People I thought were my friends have been shown to be otherwise. Personal relationships deemed "none of their business" How, I ask, can a personal relationship be none of their business?. The door was shut in my face one too many times this week and I didn't think I had it in me to continue. I don't mean in my life as a whole. I mean here, in this place that I have always sought solace and encouragement.
I had a post a few days ago, maybe some of you read it, it was up only a short time before I removed it. It was my farewell. It was my swan song as I had decided I could not continue with out the encouragement and friendship of my inspiration. Then I realized I was stronger than that. I was a better person than that. It took a lot out of me to admit the hurt and anguish and more even to admit I could stand up and say I will be counted if not by you, then maybe by others and certainly by me.
I hope others still find me here. If they don't I realize that's okay. I will find me here, as I always have. In these words and stories I will find myself, explore myself and push myself to reveal things that are hard, painful, funny, stupid, touching....whatever. I will trust that this is indeed my place, where I will stake my claim on my life. I hope others come along for the ride as I have enjoyed riding the comment train will continue to do so.
Jojo is back and ready to rumble.
9/21/2004
9/15/2004
Winds of change
The winds of change are blowing through my life
Hurricane velocity winds
I can barely stand
Against the onslaught of........everything
The fabric is torn, split, shredded
I want so badly to repair it
I want to sew up the holes
That I keep falling through
I wish I could turn in my cards
For a different hand
I didn't play mine well
I bet more than I had to lose
And now I am paying
For my hubris
I thought it mattered
I thought I was strong
I thought I was right
I thought it was about pride
I was wrong
Hurricane velocity winds
I can barely stand
Against the onslaught of........everything
The fabric is torn, split, shredded
I want so badly to repair it
I want to sew up the holes
That I keep falling through
I wish I could turn in my cards
For a different hand
I didn't play mine well
I bet more than I had to lose
And now I am paying
For my hubris
I thought it mattered
I thought I was strong
I thought I was right
I thought it was about pride
I was wrong
9/10/2004
Untethered
I am untethered, unhinged, unemployed. I have lost my place. The place I have always (for 15+ yrs) belonged. It was always more to me than a job, we were a family, there were only about 15 of us. I loved what I did and where I did it and I was (am) good at it. I have been cast adrift, pushed out to sea. I am more than heartbroken. I have been betrayed by people that I trusted, that I loved. I am hurt, confused, shocked. I am angry that it hurts so much. I am angry that I can't stop crying. I wish I could detach more but I can't. I am all raw nerve endings and open wounds.
I'm leaving now, don't know when I'll be back again, oh babe I hate to go........................................
I'm leaving now, don't know when I'll be back again, oh babe I hate to go........................................
9/07/2004
MINE (part one)
I have always wanted something that is mine. Not material possessions, I have plenty of those. I mean something I do that belongs to me. Something that is not a shared project or experience. Something that is just mine.
A few years ago I decided that I wanted to photograph local bands. I would tote my cameras and film with me to every smoky, crammed, cramped over imbibed bar where a band I liked was playing. I would make my way through the crowds with my camera held over my head. I would stake out a place in front of the stage or on the stairs and shoot away. Lost in my own "creative space" within the throbbing, jumping, drunken masses. I felt like I had found something that was mine. I was pretty good at it and I loved doing it. I got to know local musicians, they would mug for me from stage. My friend would come along and watch my stuff at our table and make sure I had a base of operations and enjoy the music while I photographed.
Then one night my girlfriend decided to bring her camera and try it. She also found it to be quite a rush of creative energy and decided she wanted to give it a go also. We would do it together. We came up with a name to call ourselves, even had business cards printed up. We were a team. We photographed all over the place. To see us taking up booth space, loading film, changing rolls, standing on bar stools and tables was nothing unusual. Of course local struggling bands don't have any money to buy photographs but they enjoyed looking at them and telling us how good we were. We had a few favorites. There are some bands (some now defunct) that we have hundreds and hundreds of photographs of. But the point is, it no longer was a me thing, it was now as us thing. A partnership, a combined effort. Until my girlfriend decided she liked Long Island Tea's better than she liked her camera and as the months wore on, she would get increasingly intoxicated at our "shoots" to the point that we could no longer talk to the band afterward because she was too drunk and that just made us look bad and her drunken ramblings idiotic.
We had a lot of fun. We saw a lot of great bands and heard a lot of great music. We took a lot of pictures. We, we we. It was no longer mine. It was ours. I don't regret teaming up with her, she was a really good photographer when she was sober, and an excellent printer. There is a part of me however that wishes it was, could have been, just mine. It makes me feel petty and selfish to feel that way, but I do nonetheless.
She got sober, I had a baby, no more smoky bars for us.
A few years ago I decided that I wanted to photograph local bands. I would tote my cameras and film with me to every smoky, crammed, cramped over imbibed bar where a band I liked was playing. I would make my way through the crowds with my camera held over my head. I would stake out a place in front of the stage or on the stairs and shoot away. Lost in my own "creative space" within the throbbing, jumping, drunken masses. I felt like I had found something that was mine. I was pretty good at it and I loved doing it. I got to know local musicians, they would mug for me from stage. My friend would come along and watch my stuff at our table and make sure I had a base of operations and enjoy the music while I photographed.
Then one night my girlfriend decided to bring her camera and try it. She also found it to be quite a rush of creative energy and decided she wanted to give it a go also. We would do it together. We came up with a name to call ourselves, even had business cards printed up. We were a team. We photographed all over the place. To see us taking up booth space, loading film, changing rolls, standing on bar stools and tables was nothing unusual. Of course local struggling bands don't have any money to buy photographs but they enjoyed looking at them and telling us how good we were. We had a few favorites. There are some bands (some now defunct) that we have hundreds and hundreds of photographs of. But the point is, it no longer was a me thing, it was now as us thing. A partnership, a combined effort. Until my girlfriend decided she liked Long Island Tea's better than she liked her camera and as the months wore on, she would get increasingly intoxicated at our "shoots" to the point that we could no longer talk to the band afterward because she was too drunk and that just made us look bad and her drunken ramblings idiotic.
We had a lot of fun. We saw a lot of great bands and heard a lot of great music. We took a lot of pictures. We, we we. It was no longer mine. It was ours. I don't regret teaming up with her, she was a really good photographer when she was sober, and an excellent printer. There is a part of me however that wishes it was, could have been, just mine. It makes me feel petty and selfish to feel that way, but I do nonetheless.
She got sober, I had a baby, no more smoky bars for us.
9/03/2004
Parental Justice?
After reading the post "God Help the Children" By lab munkay I was struck by the thought, what if there was parental justice? What if it was up to the parents or loved ones of the victims to decide what punishment the offender received? My first reaction is that vigilante justice would be the norm. I would want to beat the crap out of anyone that harmed someone I love. I would want them to suffer as their victim suffered. I'm not sure at what level you would prescribe this punishment. Not for petty theft and burglary, not that those are not serious but they don't carry the same emotional weight that a physical assault does. Or if the offender really was not capable of distinguishing between right and wrong. I mean for the people that are just bad, mean, evil, miserable people that leave a path of destruction, heartache and scars that never really heal through the lives of others.
I supposed first it has to be decided who actually meets out the punishment? Is there some organization of goonies that you send out to do your dirty work, under the strictest supervision of the "committee for family justice" to see that they don't get too carried away or do you do the deed yourself. I know I could order it done much easier than carry it out myself.
I started to think what would I really do? My first instinct would be a violent reaction. I would want them hurt, maimed, scarred for life. I would want them locked up in a tiny windowless room with no lights and chainsaw music 24/7. I would want to pull their fingernails out slowly one by one and listen to them scream. I would want to......... The list goes on and on and gets scarier and scarier. I think I am turning into one of them. I am turning into someone who would enjoy the pain of somebody else. If I sit by and let this happen does this not make me on the same level? In some way I think it does. Would it really make me feel any better about the crime they committed? If they had killed a loved one there is not enough pain in the world that they could go through that would be enough. Would it really help the healing process? Then I think of my son and what would I tell him? "Oh honey, it's okay you don't ever have to worry about that bad person hurting you again cuz I fixed him good". Finally I think I could not carry through because I know one thing for certain they will pay for their crimes in hell and I don't want to join them.
Our justice system is far from perfect and there are times when it makes my head spin how disproportionate sentences seem to the seriousness of the crime. I think it is a far cry from "make the punishment fit the crime". When a white collar criminal spends more time in jail than a rapist, something is wrong. I also realize they are doing the best they can with what they have to work with and I do not envy the people (lawyers, judges, psychiatrists, etc.) that make the decisions. I know deals are made and sometimes the impact of the crime on the victim and or their family gets lost.
A cry of "posse up boys" does not seem to be the answer either. I think a lot of parents would disagree with me and say "let me at 'em" but given the option could they really decide to hurt someone else? Lock them up, sure, but actually physically harming them with their own hands? If given the choice, the offender gets ten years in jail or you get to take out both knees with a baseball bat, what would the choice be? I wonder.
I supposed first it has to be decided who actually meets out the punishment? Is there some organization of goonies that you send out to do your dirty work, under the strictest supervision of the "committee for family justice" to see that they don't get too carried away or do you do the deed yourself. I know I could order it done much easier than carry it out myself.
I started to think what would I really do? My first instinct would be a violent reaction. I would want them hurt, maimed, scarred for life. I would want them locked up in a tiny windowless room with no lights and chainsaw music 24/7. I would want to pull their fingernails out slowly one by one and listen to them scream. I would want to......... The list goes on and on and gets scarier and scarier. I think I am turning into one of them. I am turning into someone who would enjoy the pain of somebody else. If I sit by and let this happen does this not make me on the same level? In some way I think it does. Would it really make me feel any better about the crime they committed? If they had killed a loved one there is not enough pain in the world that they could go through that would be enough. Would it really help the healing process? Then I think of my son and what would I tell him? "Oh honey, it's okay you don't ever have to worry about that bad person hurting you again cuz I fixed him good". Finally I think I could not carry through because I know one thing for certain they will pay for their crimes in hell and I don't want to join them.
Our justice system is far from perfect and there are times when it makes my head spin how disproportionate sentences seem to the seriousness of the crime. I think it is a far cry from "make the punishment fit the crime". When a white collar criminal spends more time in jail than a rapist, something is wrong. I also realize they are doing the best they can with what they have to work with and I do not envy the people (lawyers, judges, psychiatrists, etc.) that make the decisions. I know deals are made and sometimes the impact of the crime on the victim and or their family gets lost.
A cry of "posse up boys" does not seem to be the answer either. I think a lot of parents would disagree with me and say "let me at 'em" but given the option could they really decide to hurt someone else? Lock them up, sure, but actually physically harming them with their own hands? If given the choice, the offender gets ten years in jail or you get to take out both knees with a baseball bat, what would the choice be? I wonder.
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