So, what did we learn?

From the road trip, I learned the following:

1) I like Burgoo. That stew/chowder is the bees knees! And I like Mutton. Move over lamb, there’s a new meat in town.
2) A good road trip is all about the company.
3) Make sure the defogger works on whatever car you’re driving before you spend hours in it.
4) Being rich is no guarantee of good taste. (this explained a lot of Graceland)
5) Certain types of shrimp are more than capable of breaking a man’s finger.
6) My post divorce life promises to be interesting.
7) The reason Aluminum foil should not go in a microwave is because exciting the electrons in the metal can lead to electric arcing. And if you put soap in the microwave, it expands.
8) Small town America ain’t so bad.
9) No matter how obsessed you are with something, there is always someone who is more so.
10) Always be careful when jumping a creek, on wet stairs, or just getting out of the shower. Chief Falling Italian is watching!
11) Never trust a grinning italian, especially if he tells you that Burger king is running a special where if you walk up to the counter and say "I can spell Whopper" you will get a free cheeseburger.

“This is all Metropolis is in their world? Are these people nuts?” Plastic Man—JLA/Avengers #2

Well, gentle reader...when last we left our intrepid adventurers, they were headed out of southern Indiana after a rousing week of small town America, and into Illinois. I can’t speak for Spanky, Mrs. Spanky, and Java FooFoo, but there was only one thing on my mind...

Metropolis.

We had discovered on the way up to Newburgh that Metropolis was actually only about an hour or so out of our way. It turned out to be less than that, (Props to Mrs. Spanky’s Dad for the 411 on the alternate route.) but in any case, there was no way I was gonna miss the opportunity to visit the hometown of my hero, Superman.

Yes, Superman is indeed a fictional character, but this still meant a lot to me. You see, there is an old Chinese cruse that says, “May you live in interesting times”. Well, my childhood was certainly... “interesting”. It’s not like Mom and Dad were never there for me or anything mind you, or that my childhood was that terrible... Staten Island, NY, in the seventies and eighties was a great place to grow up. It’s just that life in our home presented certain challenges and struggles that more often than not left Mom and Dad with their hands full. I very seldom bothered them with the problems of my young life, and felt guilty somehow whenever I had to. To this day, the events in my parents lives that shaped the young Rob influence many of my decisions, particularly when it comes to my soon to be ex-wife. Anyway, the one thing I always knew I could count on, regardless of the emotional storms around me, was being able to lose myself in the fictional world of Superman. Over the years, Superman was always there when I needed him... his friends were my friends, his triumphs and failures echoed themselves in my life... and above all else Superman, like me, always tried to do the right thing. Superman was someone I could count on. Superman was my friend.

I had heard about the real-life Metropolis for years. The town truly embraces it’s comic book heritage, as evidenced by the twenty foot tall statue of the man of steel in the town square, the Super Museum on main street, and the Superman festival they hold every summer. There is a billboard as you enter the town that proudly proclaims “Welcome to Metropolis, Home of Superman”, and the town paper is even the “Metropolis Planet”! (Yes, I bought a copy) As we rode into Metropolis, I was positively giddy, and posed for a picture or two in front of the Superman Statue, before I headed faster than a speeding bullet to the Super Museum. (Only twenty feet away)

The Super Museum is accessed through its gift shop, which had a very impressive array of Superman merchandise for a Super fan to choose from. The funniest were the green painted rocks they were selling as “Kryptonite”. If they had had the silk Superman bathrobes in my size, I probably would have bought one... Instead, I got a key chain. Admission to the Museum itself was only three dollars. The Museum is the most impressive display of Super stuff I have ever laid eyes on. Every toy, statue, watch, clock, poster, or collectable I can ever remember seeing with the “S” shield on it was there, and many I had never seen before. There were also many props and costumes from the various Superman shows and movies. “WOW!” I said to Spanky at one point, “General Zod’s Boots! Cool!” Mrs. Spanky was downright bored, but muddled through as she could see how happy I was to be there. As we were leaving, I asked the guy behind the counter who the collector was, and he explained that it was his brother. We chatted for a bit (Once you got this guy started, it was difficult to get him to stop! If you tried to walk away he would just get louder!) and one thing that surprised me was that many of the more impressive pieces of his collection (A copy of Action comics #1, George Reeves original brown Superman costume...) were not on display due to insurance costs. (A copy of Action #1 recently sold for a cool quarter of a million dollars) After stopping at the drug store to pick up a copy of the Planet, all too soon we were back on the road again, bound for home.

"if there's a shining center of the universe, you're in the place farthest from it..." Luke Skywalker-- A New Hope

A fitting quote, I think to describe Indiana. The drive out of Memphis was a long one, through rain-soaked roads and highways, with limited visibility because of Spanky's* broken defroster. Even a dose of Rain-x Defogger stuff couldn't overcome the moisture created by four adults in a car for five or six hours. Mrs. Spanky** was extremely uncomfortable about the road conditions, as it was in similar conditions that she once rolled the same jeep I was driving. I tried to take this into considerations, and slowed down a lot more than is my nature, but I would still feel her clutch the seat behind me everytime I got off at an exit. As we pulled into Newburgh, it was dark, rainy, and nearly impossible to see... And effect made worse by oncoming traffic. We met Mrs. Spanky's Dad*** at the local American Legion**** Hall. Now, I immediately liked this guy, and I truly understand why Mrs. Spanky says I remind her of him. We spent the next hour or so having a laugh at MSD****** basically trying to drink his son in law under the table, while trading dirty jokes with me.******* MSD's favorite was the one about the Fuckawi Indians, which he insisted I repeat to everyone new we met over the course of our stay, and each time I got a little more elaborate with it********.

But I digress...

We went to MSD's house, where we would be staying while savoring the sights and cuisine of rural Indiana. First impression... Fish tanks.

Fish tanks everywhere.

Apparently, Mrs. Spanky's Stepmom creates aquatic environments for a living, and there were more exotic fish in that house than I think I've ever seen outside an aquarium.
Over the next few days, I kept proving to be quite the clutz. The night we got there, I slipped on the front stoop... The next day, I fell getting out of the shower... The day after that, I fell face first while trying to jump a creek... Then I got knocked in the head by the tailgate on the jeep. Mrs. Spanky joked that I had angered the spirit of Great Chief Falling Italian. Her Dad kept counting how long I went without nearly killing myself. ("Rob has gone 12 hours without an accident... Oh, wait... There he goes.") After a while, I found my footing, and all in all, had a great time. Got to know Mrs. Spanky's Family, got some great food, ate Burgoo and Mutton for the first time, and got to go for a really pleasant walk with FooFoo.

But the open road beckoned to me like a jealous lover... And Metropolis was only a few hours away...

To be continued. Same Bat-Time, Same Bat-Channel!

NOTES:(those little asterix thingies)
*Over the past few weeks, people have begun to ask me why I call him "Spanky" There are two reasons... 1) it sounds great with his last name, and 2)Although others will argue this point, he kinda looks like "Spanky" from the little rascals.
**Called Mrs Spanky because she's married to Spanky, of course...
*** Called Mrs Spanky's Dad because he's Mrs. Spanky's... Dad.
**** Apparently some paramilitary group bent on world domination or something... Good thing that the bar in the hall isn't portable, or we could be in some real trouble.*****
***** Kidding about that last comment. I salute our nations veterans!
******Mrs. Spanky's Dad... Too long to keep writing it out...
*******Yes, I know several dirty jokes, but this is a PG board...
******** Mrs. Spanky was the first to notice this, and her uncle said he couldn't wait to hear the final version at the end of the week. Here it is... "Many moons ago, the great Indian tribe, the Fuckawi, had no name... Their leader, Great Chief Falling Italian, Upon whose bones rests the home of MSD, told his medicine man that he must pick a name for the tribe. So the Medicine man, named "Walks in circles", left the tribe and entered the woods with his squaw to seek a sign from his spirit guide. Walks in Circles... Well, walked in circles for many sunrises, until he and his squaw finally emerged from the woods to see the whole tribe gathered before him awaiting his return. He walked up to the nearest brave and said simply, "Where the Fuckawi?" Goodnight... You've been a wonderful audience

"The Mississippi delta is shining like a natural guitar"- Graceland, Paul Simon

So, we intrepid four set out on our journey into the unknown on a cold evening from Jackson. Spanky, Mrs. Spanky, FooFoo, and your humble Webkahunah. More accurately, we struck out from Casa Spanky. I was driving, as my rotund buttocks are perfect for sitting in one place for several hours doing nothing. It was a 3 hour ride to Memphis, which really wasn't that bad, except that the defogger in Spanky's jeep was about as effective as trying to reverse the course of the Mississippi by peeing in it. So despite the Foggy windshield, we arrived in Memphis hale and hearty, if tired. After a good night's sleep, we struck out for Graceland. It was raining.

To me, getting to see the digs of the King was truly a dream come true, And I refused to let the rain dampen my spirits. To be honest, I was a little disappointed when I first walked in. There is a living room to your right, and a dining room to your left... Not exceptionally large rooms, either. Not even particularly stylish. The sofa in the living room actually reminded me of the one that was in my parents house fro many years... Very seventies, white, with a kinda "faux elegance" about it. I guess I expected more from the King. Still, the next stop was the Kitchen, and I could only guess how many deep fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches were made there. You then get a quick glimpse of the Jungle room before you head into the basement.

That's right, Ladies and Gents... I was in Elvis's basement. The basement has two really gaudy rooms. The TV room was in a yellow and blue motif, and there are three T.V.s. Apparently, Elvis once heard that president Johnson watched all three network news shows at the same time, and decided that he should do the same.

The next room was the gaudiest thing I had ever seen. To decorate his pool room, Elvis used 230 yards of patterned fabric. FooFoo remarked that "It was like being inside paisley" I felt so closed in... Like I was trapped in a poorly made leisure suit two sizes too small.

then you go upstairs for my favorite room... The Jungle Room. It should be noted that the Jungle room gets it's name from it's subtle jungle motif... Not from the green shag carpeting that cover the floor and the ceiling.

You can take the boy out of the trailer park....

From there, you actually leave the house, and move on to the colonel's office, and elvis's trophy rooms. The tour ends at his grave. It was a somber moment for us all.

Well, except for Mrs. Spanky, who looked bored silly, and was stoked about seeing her family that night. The Open road still beckoned... And with the rain stretching all along our driving route, I knew it wasn't gonna be easy.

To Be Continued... Same bat-time, same bat-channel!

We interupt this broadcast...

WARNING: IF YOU HAVE A LOW TOLERANCE FOR MY WHINING, SKIP THIS POST. -Dogs of Atlantis Management
The rest of the Road trip story will have to wait for a little while, as there is something I need to write about, if only to clear it from my mind for a while. I promise that we will return to our regularly scheduled levity after this post, and I swear it will be worth it.

As many of you know, I am in the process of divorcing my wife. What you may or may not know, is that I bear an enormous emount of guilt for this. Not anything like "I cheated on her" or "I didn't pay attention to her" guilt, or even "I never helped out around the house" guilt, which you might expect from a slovenly individual such as myself.

Nope, instead, I have the "I just couldn't cut it" guilt.

You see, Char developed a mental illness, and the major reason we are no longer together is that I don't feel strong enough to cope with it for the rest of my life. Mental illness has touched my loved ones many times during my stint on this planet, and I simply cannot handle it being someone as close to me as my wife.
I have done a lot of soul searching this week (hey... I was in rural indiana! what the F#@k else was there to do?) and I find this inability to cope to be a serious weakness in my character. Now, I don't want to hear "But Rob, that's certainly understandable" or any one of a thousand other platitudes I have listened to from well meaning friends and family since this whole thing began. Y'all are welcome to think whatever you want about me, but I find myself lacking here. What it comes down to is that I have deeply hurt someone I love because I couldn't cope with a defect in her personality. On a very deep level, there is a big part of me that cannot excuse this action, nor forgive myself for it. Maybe I took my vows too seriously, and maybe I just have an over-developed sense of responsibility, but I lean toward the idea that there is part of me that not only needs to feel like I've done the right thing, but that also thinks that bearing that albatross is worth it somehow. Maybe I still have issues with the illness in my family. Maybe it has to do with my own fears of developing one. A lot of maybes, too few answers, and a brick of guilt in my stomach the size of Rhode Island.

So, what do I do? I still obviously love her... I think about her all the time, I find myself wishing that she was by my side constantly, even if it's only to complain about something, and even after these many months I still find myself in stores holding things in my hand saying "This would make a great gift for her."

Silly, really.

One things for damn sure... the guilt I feel over this is gonna eat me alive if I don't do something about it. I can't move on with my life until I do... and I certainly can't give my heart to another if Charity still has it. I don't want to be one of those guys who whines about his marriage all the time, much less whines about his divorce all the time, but it appears that that's exactly what is happening to me. I don't want to feel selfish, but that's exactly what I have been. I don't want to feel regret over my relationship with Char, but I do. And I certainly don't want to be alone in this.

But I am, aren't I? And maybe that's what it's all coming down to here. My friends and family are wonderful, and I thank you all for being as supportive during this time as you have been, but I'm the guy that has to look at myself in the mirror each morning, and convince myself that I've done the right thing. I'm the guy that has to sleep easily at the end of the day. I'm the guy that has to come up with reasons to get out of bed each morning.

For the first time in years, I'm the guy that has to face my journey alone, and that saddens me.

"What a long, strange trip it's been"- The Greatful Dead, 'Truckin'

So, where have I been these past few days? Two words for you, gentle reader:
ROAD TRIP!
And not some mamby-pamby "hey, lets go to the beach for a day or two" either. I'm a-talkin a serious, fun, seriously fun trip into parts unknown. A road trip full of good friends, fun times, lotsa laughter, long hours behind the wheel of a car, just enough pranks and unusual events to keep it interesting, and of course nearly injuring myself a few times.
After all, what's a road trip if no one nearly winds up in the hospital, right? Especially your humble Webkahunah! But I'll get to that later.
First off... The damage:
States visited- Mississippi, Arkansas, Missouri, Indiana, Kentucky, Tennessee and Illinois.
American icons visited- Elvis and Superman (was this a Rob road trip or what?)
Things I can check off my list of things I needed to do before I die- Visit Graceland and Metropolis.
The players- Your ever so humble Webkahunah, Spanky the boy wonder, Mrs. Spanky, and Java Foo Foo

So, lets make with the documenting, shall we? This will probably just be part one of many, further proof of an excellent road trip. To begin, Originally, the road trip was simple... Visit Mrs. Spanky's Dad in Indiana. I was invited along as an afterthought, sort of a "Hey, you could use a few days in the middle of nowhere... wanna come along?" Kinda thing. FooFoo wasn't even on the list. But like with all good road trips, that was about to change. First change came when I realized Memphis was along the way... And it could be possible for me to finally go and pay my repects to the King. (Number five on the list of things I need to do before I die)Mrs. Spanky and FooFoo go way back, and so it was decided that after picking me up, we would have a nice lunch over at casa FooFoo before hitting the road. Over lunch, FooFoo lamented having not been invited along, so within an hour, FooFoo was part of the team. Gotta admit, that on the cool-o-meter, adding FooFoo had to rate at least a seven... As opposed to the coolio-meter on which it would rate a shiznit. Graceland, Three good friends, (one on the fly) and "The Pranksters Handbook" committed to memory. This was shaping up to be one Heck of a road trip, and we hadn't even started out yet.

Of course, by this time gentle reader, you probably have a few questions...
"The pranksters handbook? Where can I get a copy of that?"
"If the plan was for three, where will FooFoo sleep? And furthermore, if trix are for kids and not rabbits, what will this bunny eat?"
"Pay your respects to the king? I thought Elvis was alive and living under and assumed name in Des Moines!"
"Superman? Isn't he fictional? And what is with those tights, anyway?"
"What's with the freakin code names?!?"

The answers to all these questions will be answered in our next installment... Same bat time, same bat channel!

My photo to the right....

I know that a few of you read the comments others leave after my posts, and a few days ago, JavaFooFoo pointed out that my photo is a little... Dated. Reluctantly, I admit this to be true. I mean, I still pretty much look the same, especially when I wake up in the morning; (Note hair, and reference Keelee's reaction to such in my Christmas post) But FooFoo has a point... The picture itself is over 6 years old.

"So, ya big lug... Why do you keep it?"

Why, thanks for asking, unknown portion of my psyche. I keep it for a few reasons. One, I feel it captures my essence in a way most photos don't. I look laid back, relaxed, a little silly, and most of all, happy. This photo is a reflection of how I see myself in many ways.
Two, which many of you probably don't know (Although Ducky might, as I seem to remember him being there when it was taken) The photo shows me in the bed of a very attractive woman. What exactly I was doing there, I am too much of a gentleman to say... But it involved a lot of loud noises. (points to you if you guessed snoring!)
Three, the photo reminds me of a happier, more carefree time in my life, when the hardest thing for me to deal with was waking up in time for my noon class.

Anyhow... I don't feel that I take good photos. So, I issue this challenge to all you readers... Find or take a more recent photo of me that meets some, if not all of the above criteria, and I will replace the one in my profile with it, and make sure it's used on my next "Vote Rob" T-shirt, which you will personally receive one of.

Extra points to anyone who snaps a picture of me waking up in the bed of a beautiful woman.

New Years Day, 2005

Well, my friends, a whole new year stretches out before us, full of promise and possibilities. I hope that the coming year finds you and yours healthy, happy, content, and having much fun. I could write today about resolutions and such, but the only one I'm making this year is to find balance in my much askew life, and that's not so much a resolution, as something I'm gonna strive for. So instead, I figure I'll talk a little about Realizations. Everyone has them, although we oftimes ignore them. I'm not talking about things like "Sushi tastes good" or "wow, it's a nice day outside only five days after it snowed" I'm talking about the really profound ones that you know that if listened to, could change your whole outlook on yourself and your world.

Me, I've come to a few profound realizations this year.

1)There is always hope for the future.
2)You always have a choice.
3)We live in a miraculous world.
4)The hardest route to follow tends to be the right one.
5)Cheese has an expiration date.
6)Everyone has a different definition of "Family".
7)No situation is so bad that it cannot be cured.

I want to thank all of my regular readers for all their love and support this year. Hopefully, I'll be laughing a lot more in 2005, whining a lot less, and this will be reflected here in my musings. Happy New Year, Y'all.

Christmas playin with plastic tauntauns...

Don't I wish. The best I ever did as a kid was play with my millennium Falcon Christmas morning, while my Uncle (Mike, I think) played his Star Wars laserdisc. For you younguns out there, think of an LP sized DVD. The year was 1980, And I also remember it because that was the year my Grandpa (Mom's side) and Uncle (Dad's side) got me the same lego star destroyer that I wanted... It was a lego Christmas after all. In my mind, it was the most memorable Christmas ever.

Until this one.

2004, as many of you know, has not been a great year to be Rob. Christmas day found me alone, depressed, with plans to gorge myself on a 22 lb. Turkey. But as I sat down to eat, the strangest thing happened... I heard children laughing outside... And playing! Now, I know my neighbors have kids, but they never play outside... EVER! So, like the poem says, "out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I ran to the door to see what was the matter" Or something like that... I'm sure you get the idea... Anyway, it was snowing!

In New Orleans!

On Christmas day!

I couldn't believe my eyes! My Neighbor, Keylee, couldn't believe my hair (I hadn't combed it yet that day) It was Snowing! All at once, I felt like a child again... The spirit of the season coursed through my veins like I had been freebasing Christmas cheer or something. I went for a walk among the big, fluffy flakes, amused by all my neighbors, outside with their families, enjoying the first snow in new Orleans in over ten years. As many neighbors gawked, called loved ones to share this miraculous sight, and threw poorly fashioned snowballs at one another, All of the crap I've been through this year suddenly seemed meaningless.

It was Christmas, it was snowing in my adopted hometown, and I was the happiest guy in the world. Carefree stroller through A white Christmas in New Orleans. Proud recipient of an honest-to-goodness Christmas miracle.

Bing Crosby, eat your heart out.

Okay... Time to do something Profoundly stupid.

Sometimes dear readers, when life kicks ya in the nuts, you just have to say what the hell. I was sitting at home on Tuesday without much to do, when I decided to call Donald to see if he wanted to hang out. He did, but we were stuck for something to do. He suggested bowling. I Don't enjoy bowling much (once, I bowled an 8!) so I said lets drive to Jackson instead to visit Stacey and Drew. So we did. Throwing common sense, responsibility, and a touch of sanity to the wind, we took off for casa Sphieler not knowing for sure if they would even be home.

so, after the three hour drive, we sat in Stacy's driveway and called he to see if she minded having company. Surprised the crap out of her... It was great. Then we went out for barbecue, and had cracker barrel for breakfast the next day before heading home.

I feel so much better now.

One thing that this has shown me is that as much as I hate to admit it, my brother may be right. I do need a prolonged vacation. Soon. The stupider the better. Something to prove to myself that I am still in charge of my own life.

Okay... Enough already!

I'm lookin at you, God. You think I don't see you there hiding and giggling behind the sofa, but I do. I have really had enough of your messing around with my life for your amusement, you hear me? Capital E- nuff! I don't care for your freaking tests... I feel that if I have done something so wrong to deserve all this, there is no way that I have not atoned for it at this point. SO KNOCK IT OFF ALREADY! AND STOP F#@&ING GIGGLING AT MY MISERY! TAIN'T FUNNY!

Well the rest of you out there are probably wondering why I sound a touch upset. Long story short: Charity is in the hospital again, And of course she and I both blame me for it. I know... Not my fault... I was just looking out for me, right? Well, my selfishness landed her in the hospital... AGAIN! I found this out primarily because the hospital that she was being admitted to called me at work to get her insurance info, otherwise, I would still probably be boppin along in blissful ignorance.

I know that on some level that if Char can't be responsible for her mental health, then there is no way I possibly can be expected to be... But still, it bothers me that I seem to be the only one who genuinely cares what happens to her. So, if I don't step up to the plate with her illness, NO ONE WILL.

Now, the question is, does that automatically mean I have to? Does my obligation to Charity not only as her husband, but as a caring human being, a good Christian, and possibly her only true friend, mean that I put her needs ahead of my own happiness?

I am very confused... So I turn to the great male role models of our culture. Jesus would just wave a hand and heal her. Superman would try to help her, no matter the cost. Indy would kick some Nazi ass until he found an artifact which would solve the situation. Curly would wack her in the head with a two-by-four by accident. Nyuck, Nyuck, Nyuck.

Of course, the three stooges probably aren't the best role models in this situation, are they?

Oh, Brother.

Well, something interesting happened last night... I heard from my semi-estranged brother. I will admit, It kinda suprises me that I heard from him, but then again, I figure Mom probably had something to do with it.

I can hear that phone call now... "Ya know, your brother is having a really rough time down there, and it would be nice if you called him. LIKE, NOW!"

Ahhh, a mother's gentle persuasion. How do I know this? because every time something unusual happens in Jay's life, I get a similar phone call, and then I spend a half hour justifying to Mom why I haven't called sooner. Sheesh.

Anyway, I gotta give props to Jay; he did call. Of course, he then spent at least a half hour trying to persuade me that I absolutely need to leave town for a few days, despite me telling him that that wasn't gonna happen due to my life's circumstances.
Again, Sheesh.

Maybe it's the whole debate/forensics thing in him, but sometimes he just doesn't know when to let well enough alone. Proving yourself right should be secondary to making someone feel better, ya know? It amazes me sometimes how different we really are. I wonder if it amazes him, too.

Wading in the stream of conciousness

Well, I feel like writing today, and since my current screenplay is going nowhere, I figure a blog entry will help me get it out of my system. Problem is, that it's tough to write about something when you have nothing interesting in mind.

Robert Silverberg once wrote "Every day I get out of bed and step on a landmine. That landmine is me. I explode forth with ideas, dialogue, and exposition until I contain the whole mess on a piece of paper" Or at least he said something remarkably similar to that. As I get older I find my once photographic memory doesn't quite get the details right like it used to.

Anyway, I envy the man. It must be nice to know that whatever spouts forth from your brain is worthy of putting into words. Although, when I get up, I feel like I'm about to explode too... primarily because I usually have to pee.

Robert Silverberg I'm not.

So, writers block sets in as sure as the sun rises in the east, and I sit here typing out horrid cliches like that last one. Well, maybe not horrid, but certainly tired.

Anyhow, My life is still... Upsetting. But, I do think it's getting better. Sure this whole "impending Divorce" thing is hanging over my head and weighing me down to the point where I feel like just my hair weighs about thirty pounds... but all things considered, I'm actually doing pretty well. No heart attacks so far... and my finances are lower than I would prefer, but all in all I'm okay.

First time in weeks I've been able to say that.

Christmas is coming!

(cue little Japanese men running and screaming in terror)

Well, just like Godzilla, Here comes Christmas. The birth of Jesus celebrated, pre-packaged, used to sell everything from apple pie to razors, and wrapped up with a bow and a note that says "11th commandment- thou shalt not humbug".

Random thought- If it's Jesus's birthday, how come we get no cake and ice cream?

Well, I for one refuse to put up decorations this year. It's just me, and I see no point. I also refuse to be frickin jolly. I will not wear my santa hat, and I will not wrap any gifts for myself to put under the tree, which I am not putting up.

I will not suffer fools gladly this season, either. So, DON'T tell me "but, Rob... it's Christmas!" I really don't want to hear it. If I choose to celebrate the birth of the christian savor by cursing loudly at my chimney after downing several quarts of heavily spiked egg nog, that's my business. If my road to inner freakin peace has no exits labeled "Christmas cheer" that's also my business.

I'm sorry... I sound really hostile.

And that's not what the holidays are about. But, by the same token, they aren't about Santa, gifts, malls, presents, decorations, or even that sweetest of all mistressess, Egg Nog.

It's all about peace on earth, and goodwill toward your homies and honeys.

For shizzle, my frizzle. I've been watching MTV. Does it show?

So anyway, for the holidays this year, try not to get down on those who have no spirit, give em a hug instead. They, like me, probably need one.

Thanksgiving day, 2004

Well, once again this year, the time is upon us to give thanks for all that we tend to take for granted throughout the year, and many of us sit at the table in front of the turkey thinking about what we are truly thankful for. I'm spending this thanksgiving in Jackson, MS with my good friends Stacey and Drew. I know I probably could have fenagled my way into an invitation closer to home, but with all that has happened in the past few weeks, I figured I really needed to get out of town for a few days. To think, to clear my mind, to release the lingering guilt over the end of my marriage, and of course to reflect.

For me, thanksgiving throws me into an exceptionally reflective state, and I guess that's kinda the point, right? So, with all that has happened over the past year in my life, what do I have to be thakful for?

1)My health. No heart attacks so far. Although my friend Lauren pointed out just the other day that I could have had one and never know about it. Like I don't have enough to worry about, now I've started saying to myself "oh, NO! I feel fine! I could be having a heart attack!"
2)My carrer. Things going exceptionally well at the lighthouse lately, and the higher-ups seem to think I'm reponsible. Who knew?
3)My Friends. Through this difficult time, they have all been there for me in every way possible. I could list folk by name, but I don't want to leave anyone out. Y'all know who you are.
4)My family. We may be disfunctional, but when I think about how my "immediate family" has suddenly changed with the breakup, I realize that my parents and brother are a damn fine bunch. There are fences there that need to be mended, sure... but at least they aren't fifty feet tall and electrified, like the one with my mother-in-law.
5)Lastly, I am thankful that despite how she probably feels about it, Charity is getting the help she needs. The psych ward is no place to spend a holiday traditionally reserved for family, but I know that it may be for the best. I just hope that through the haze in her mind right now, that she still realizes how much she is loved...

Well, Happy thanksgiving to you and yours. May your blessings exceed your expectations, and may your turkey never be dry.

How did Doogie do it?

Doogie Howser, I mean... the guy would sit at his computer week after week, with something insightful to say. Me, I'm lucky if I even sit here typing, much less offer some true insight. Maybe this whole Charity thing just has me down to the point where I'm losing my creative spark and sparkling wit, But maybe I just need better writers.

Still, let's try the whole insight thing this week, and see where it goes, shall we? After all, my last "insight" entry was pretty funny... ("life is short")

This week's insight: No matter what direction you think your life will lead you, it will invariably have ideas of it's own.

We are just passengers in the car of life, folks... and someone else is obviously doing the driving. If I could go back in time, say fifteen years, and explain to my younger self all that has happened from living in New Orleans, to Char's illness, to the eventual breakup of my marraige, I doubt I would believe me. (much less the idea that I was testing a time machine)

In fact, I would assume that the time travel thing had driven me thouroughly mad, and would check into "wacko" insurance. So, of course, when I was twenty or so, I know what phrase would have convinced me... "Someone else has the keys." You see, one of Pop Cerio's fave cliches is "life is like a car, and you are the driver". Well, mine's a lemon, with a sadistic drunk behind the wheel.

I need to take away the bastard's keys.

10- If "A" Then goto "reaction A"

There are times in all of our lives when ouside forces conspire to unravel the carefully woven tapestry that is our lives. What I like to think makes us all unique is how we react to that unraveling.

But that's hardly true, now is it? We all seem to be hardwired to react in a very specific and predictable way to the outside stimuli we all face on a daily basis.

For instance... if you get hit in the face with a pie, your reaction would probably involve the following...
First, you would wipe your face... and be angry. Second, you would smile, and see the humor in it. Third, you would look around for another pie to exact your revenge.
My point is, we all would react to this situation in roughly the same way. maybe a little more angry, maybe a little more jovialy, but the undercurrent would always be the same.

But why?

Does "stimulus A" always have to mean "response B"? or is this just some form of conditioning that we have all been indoctrinated to? Why does getting hit with a pie mean we should laugh at the idiocy of the situation? and Why is the appropriate followup another pie, and not say... a shotgun?

Not that I've been hit by any pies lately.

Still, recent events in my life have started me thinking about this principle. Other, perhaps more relevant examples would be things like "if girlfriend or wife cheats" response is "end relationship"... or "If you get hit by a car" response is "you must sue regardless of injury"... or even "country attacked by terrorists" response "must go to war with everyone"

I think the true test of a person's charecter is how often they Don't go with the "response B". So, in the intrest of science... try this for a day: every time something happens that would make you say, angry, ask yourself "is this the only reaction I could have?" Let me know what happens.

So, what can I write about in ten minutes?

I have ten minutes before I must leave for work. So, when not much funny is going on in my life, I tend to write in the "stream of conciousness" style... bear with me, okay?
Not much funny has been happening to me of late. Char is gone, and I am alone, reading up on divorce law. I told her that if she ever needs anything, I will be happy to provide it if I am able to do so, but her Mom of course disagrees. (quelle suprise, non?) The other day, I got into a shouting match on the phone with Her mom that really unsettled me. I know it's her daughter, but she is having trouble accepting that our marriage simply isn't working out. she said some pretty horrible things to me... much worse that char ever has... and I just lost it and tore into her... New York style. I know I have it in me, but it's an animal I don't let out too often, and never without being really pissed.

The "New York" in me is vicious... and knows exactly what to say to totally pull the rug out from under a verbal attacker. My comments are not only biting when I get like this, they downright draw blood. I felt bad... not because of any injury I may have caused my Mother in law, but because Charity was right there, watching me do it.

Go figure.

Curve ball- Warning! serious topics ahead.

Sometimes, I just have to write. I write to clear my head, to hash out ideas, to cheer myself up, and to just get it out sometimes, when life has me by the proverbial balls.

This week has proven to be one of those times. I'm normally pretty good at keeping the happy face in the face of overwhelming sadness around me, but this week has been different. It's just too much to bear.

To begin with, My marriage is going through a difficult time, and more than likely will not come out of it intact. There's a lot more to it, but suffice it to say that neither Char or I are really happy with the way things are, and when that happens, change is inevitable. She's moving out tommorow. Perhaps our marriage was a mistake, i mean, we still are madly in love with each other... but as a close friend of mine recently said to me, "a marriage is not just about love." There are some serious issues that I simply cannot forget, get around, or otherwise forgive anymore.

Char is going to live with her mom. Trouble is, Mom ain't doing so well. A few weeks ago, she found out she has spots on her liver. For those of you that understand the implications of that, well... lets just say that it's difficult telling someone that you know may not see next christmas that her daughter's marraige simply won't work. I really love that lady, and she doesn't deserve this... but I know that after two failed marriages of her own, she does understand. She just worries about her daughter's ability to get by without her.

On top of that, two very close and dear friends have suffered a devestating loss, one for which I can only imagine the pain that they are going through right now. They both read this blog regularly, so guys... know that my thoughts and prayers are with you despite my plate being full.

Times like this for some reason, always make me think of my aunt Vita. This lady has had some of the toughest experiences I can think of... Unable to have kids, she adopted my cousin, who died of a brain tumor at an all-too-early age, and she herself has been diagnosed with M.S... But through almost all of it, She always was a rock, and one of the toughest people it has ever been my pleasure to know. She would always say "it's a test." And I suppose life is a test...

I just hope I pass.

"another day goes by, a fork stuck in the road..."--Green day, 'time of your life'

Well... My life lately has taken a few interesting turns, and I am continually suprised at where life takes me. I always like to feel like my life is kinda like driving a car, choosing your path along the way, but as I get older and "wiser" I realize more and more that it is far more like a darkride roller coaster (much like Disney's "space mountain") You think you know where you're headed, but it's all hooey. Things happen to you and yours that always change the plan, weither you like it or not. Sometimes I think the best we can do is just hope that the guy who laid out the path you're stuck on truly has your best interests at heart.

I can see God in the planning phase of it now..."I've got his great roller coaster idea... of course no one will survive the fifty foot cliff it runs off of, but what the hey.... Hey, is that Rob guy outside? he'd be perfect for this one."

But I digress...

There are a few forks that came up this week, most having to do with my carrer. I promised I would not bitch about said career, so I will just say this... I think everyone's carrer has highs balanced by spectacular lows. I had a great high early this week, and hit an amazing low yesterday.

"Fifty foot drop anyone?"

So I sit here, contemplating the future of my carrer. Do I follow blindly in hopes of success? or do I jump off the roller coaster now? Another interesting twist that came up this week is that I applied for a part time gig as a paranormal investigator.

I know... the buisness cards alone will be worth it if it comes through. Anyway, all this brings me to what is really on my mind right now.... My relationship with my brother.

"warning... serious topic ahead... please keep your arms and hands inside the car at all times, and enjoy your ride."

I know... I went from "a" to "24" there. I suppose a little explanation is in order. You see, The carrer issues led to the paranormal thing, which lead to me talking to mom about it last night, (you have to know her), which lead to her apparently telling Jay, which lead to the e-mail I got from him this morning after almost a year of not speaking to him.

Follow? Good. Let's move on. My relationship with my brother is... strained. Not for any really good reason, either... it just is. I believe that as we have gotten older, our paths have just diverged is all, and we have developed into two very different people, with very different outlooks, motivations, et cetera. This in and of itself is not a bad thing... The problem is that I don't feel that we would be friends, or even associates at this point if we were not brothers. There's more behind it I suppose... I mean, Jay can be mean, pig-headed, and more than just a little condesending, as well as arrogant and downright rude. I just don't enjoy his company, or the way he makes me feel about myself in his presence, so I choose to avoid him.

I can only assume that he feels much the same way, as the last time I checked a phone works both ways. Again... in and of itself not a problem, but my Mom is distressed at the fact that we don't get along. Mind you, She hasn't spoken more than a few words to her brother Joey in years, (for much the same reasons), but I'm the bad guy for not getting along with Jay. Interestingly, I figure mom must have shared my little analogy with Jay, because his e-mail read in part, "we are not mom and joey". He's right... we're Rob and Jay, with our own unique problems, perspectives, issues, and coping mechanisms. One of them happens to be to avoid each other.

I know what you're thinking... "You must be this emotionally mature to ride this ride." Hey, it works for me, okay?