Feedback Fun

Criticism polishes my mirror. - Rumi
A hammer smashes it. - BS

The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over the same way and expecting a different outcome. This notion has been with me for as long as I can remember. I heard it first in my youth, either from that manic blonde lesbian and her insanity stopping infomercial, or a relative in the program. And when an Irishman references the program, he means AA.

It dawned on me a short while back that I was a practicing Insanist. I know I am monkey butt nuts, but insane? It surprised me. The realization came to me while looking at a handout from Wizard School. The handout detailed the path to manifesting success. The point that struck me was receiving feedback, adjusting my plan accordingly and taking action. Feedback? Hmmmmmm…..

Feedback wasn’t new to me, just what to do with it. In the past I would store it in my memory bank to use later as a judgment, give a big "fuck you I know it all" response or ignore it entirely. As I’ve detailed I am making strides to venture out of my comfort zone* and into the world, so new skills are needed. Using Feedback to my advantage is a skill that rings a big bell for me.

I could take any number of examples from my prior life, so I'll use none. The Universe kept saying "Hey shithead, this isn't fucking working. Are you happy? Getting what you want? No? How about trying something different, a new approach." I'm not being hard on myself, I do realize life is perfect, even when it sucks sun baked egg salad flavored arse. Yet I had a good run, no, a great run, at ignoring the Universe. She'd write, call, shake, rattle and roll me, but I would just not answer. I was fucking busy being miserable. And for those of you who've not been miserable for long stretches, it takes a lot of time and energy. It's a full time job, and I was working a double shift. Who had time for feedback assessment, I was to busy being a victim of my circumstances.

I was frozen by my thoughts. I am embarrassed to write that I was worried what others thought of me, in the smallest and the biggest of ways. I would lie to myself and others to appear more together, and that would take the wind out of my sails. So I had very little feedback from the Universe. And what I got, I generally ignored and operated out of fear. My world became very small, and I suppose “safe”. By safe I mean the aches and pains were dulled to manageable levels. Exactly what I needed at that time. I need that no longer.

I've been practicing this new skill, actually listening to the feedback and taking actions based on the new information. The key is taking action. To get feedback, I must take action. How can the Universe provide guidance if I am sitting around waiting for something to happen? It can't, trust me. I sat around for years, taking little action and I received little feedback.

Jolly (yes pet names are okay posts at BS), my courageous beautiful Mom's dog is a great example of getting feedback, taking action, getting feedback and trying something else, until in works. He is constantly taking action and seeing what happens. Someone tells him no, or pats him on the head, either way he takes it in and keeps on moving forward, toward his goal. I’m sure his goals aren’t just to drive my Mom bonkers, just to get what he wants. Like sleeping on the couch, or going for a walk, or having a snack, or checking out what’s so interesting atop the dining room table. And he trusts his heart, people give him feedback, and he tries a new way to achieve his goal. Being cute and furry really helps his cause I've noticed.

That is an important point, no not the furry cute part, the part about trusting myself, trusting my heart. The old adage, opinions are like assholes, everyone has one, comes to mind. Sure it's all part of the big picture, yet I have to be vigilant on who I share my dreams with. Hopefully they want what is best for me, yet only I know what my heart truly desires. That is not to say I need to be a secret squirrel or ignore what is said, just a realization that only I know what is for my highest good.

My eyes, ears and heart are open to feedback. It comes in all shapes and sizes, it comes to me in every moment from the Universe. I just have to keep looking, continue to be brave, take action, and trust my heart. Knowing that there is no right or wrong, just opportunities to grow and trust. And have fun!!! God have I been taking myself very serious lately, part of the story I am releasing. I am no longer insane, just more and more bananas.

Love, Light, Laughs and Bacon Sandwiches,
BS


*There really isn’t much comfort in a comfort zone. A new name is in order. The terror zone? The numb zone? The walled off shut off obsessive about everything and nothing zone? The unconscious zone? Nope. None of those work. Hmmmmmm......... I'm smelling an opportunity for some reader feedback!

Fuck You God - Maintenance Work

Dear God -

Fuck you. I hate you. Nice work. Proving to yourself that you are all powerful? That insecure are you? Well I am here and not going anywhere. I ache all over. I want to rip my heart out of my chest, it hurts too much. But I can take it, is this best you can do?

I cry out in pain and you let me struggle and strain and resist on my own. You abandon me?! Is that your way of saying I'm ready for the next level of healing? That I am strong enough now to go deeper, to explore more of why I am here and how I operate? Another reminder to let the ego go and get to my authentic self. Great. I guess I didn't get the memo and you needed to bash me over the head. Thanks.

Yeah yeah I hear you. I'll do the fucking work. The work I wasn't doing. Thanks for the getting me back to work. Happy? I love the salt you've thrown on to the wounds. It's perfect. A little spice is always nice. I've got some other ways you can hurt me, but you seem to be doing a great job without me, so I'll just get to work. Prick.

With love and a healthy dose of anger,
BS

It's not all sunshine and lollipops at the BS headquarters today. I suppose the note above to God may have clued you in to that. I know God has not abandon me, I know she's always with me. I'm just a wee be in upset, so I thought I'd let her know I'm on to her and her antics. (She continues to push my buttons, even as I write this she is smacking me in the chops. Spiteful bitch.)

It's been a sad scary past few days for me. And the old devices to mask the pain aren't working anymore. God knows I've been trying to salve the open wounds. I've tried a few beers; herbal remedies; manipulating folks to take away the pain; and none of those things are working anymore. It's just me here with a heart full of pain and a head full of venom. I want to take away the hurt and suck the poison from my thoughts.

Fuck me. It's time to roll up my sleeves and get to work.

Maintenance work. The nitty gritty nuts and bolts WORK that I know I need to do to heal these aches. It's time to open up my tool box and use some of the tools I have. Tools I've shared with you. Today is a day of great beauty through the pains. It's a day where I can take charge of my life and not blame, not someone else and not myself. Today is a day of opportunities. An opportunity to wake up from my nap and take charge. Prove to myself that I do have all that I need right here inside of me.

Fuck yeah it sucks in this moment. And I will more than likely have more days like this, days where I forget to use my tools, days where resistance gets the better of me. Days of autopilot numbness. I loathe the "Oh it's all so perfect, each moment is exactly what we need as we grow in the loving" types. It may be true, but life ain't easy all the time, so sell your Hallmark greetings somewhere else. This is Bitter Spiritualist Country, we learn by falling down and getting back up. They have their own path, from where I stand in my judgment, they can blow it out their ass. With love of course, always with love. Fuckheads. Yes today is a beautiful day, and yes today is a day I want to smack someone in the chin to share my pain.

So I encourage you, the BS faithful to use your tools and not wallow in misery and feeling sorry for yourself. Yes I've written it before - all the advice and genius words of wisdom here are true BS. Truly they are for me. I just like to share my thoughts and feelings with you all for some sick holier-than-thou narcissistic reason. And I'm not ready to look into that. I worry that once I do, I'll stop writing to you all and I know you all crave my brilliance too much for me to pull the rug out from under you. I'm not a spiteful god, I am a humble god.

I am signing off and taking the opportunity to open up my tool box. First thing is an anger letter, I'm going to write a note, get all these things out of me, on to some paper then burn the fucker. Send it back to where it came. If I'd done that before this post then I'd probably have written to you about puppies. (Puppies are cute and lovable! There I've written all that needs to be written about puppies.) So I've used my anger as fuel - Great job. Then I'm going to practice some more positive self talk to remind myself I am doing great things for myself. Maybe even write myself a permission slip and have some fun.

I am going to trust and move forward. I am going to use my tools. Hey I might even find some fun if I'm not too careful. Yes I highly recommend you look back at some of my old posts and see if anything resonates with you and your process - AND CLICK ON SOME OF MY ADVERTISERS SO I CAN CONTINUE TO RACK UP THE BUCKS. See even in my despair I am now hustling to create a richer fuller life. And a shameless plug or two never hurt anyone.

To you and your daily upkeep, I remain,
Bitter

Reading The Signs From The Universe

I am seeing signs from the Universe more and more, and I am attempting to make heads or tails of these messages. Some signs are easy to understand, others a bit confusing. I'll share a few, but certainly not all of them, my fingers would cramp if I typed them all. And you my reader would be bored, there’s only so much narcissistic dribble even you my loyal masses can take. Full of myself? For sure. Boring? Never! So here's the highlights:

Idling at a light last week, I let a woman pull out (saintly act), giving a school bus the opportunity to pull in front of me. A NPR (Liberal Prick!) story about how dangerous it is to drive a bus in Guatemala on the radio. The reporter mentions the old Bluebird buses imported from the US at the same time the bus pulls in front of me, yup with Bluebird right smack there on the bumper. Later that day a friends post inspired someone to write Bluebird as a comment. Hmmmmm? Am I suppose to go to Guatemala, I have been putting it out there that I want to visit Central/South America. Or is the Universe saying nice work for letting the woman out in to traffic?

That night I was at home watching Season 4 of "Lost", I had been hearing this new noise in my house. A beep every now and then. This was the second night I heard it, after some investigating I discovered in was my Carbon Monoxide detector telling me his battery is low. I took it down to quiet it. I was half watching "Lost" when the sound starts again, the exact same sound. I know I've pulled the battery from the detector, and I'm freaked. It was on the show. It got Jack out of his office so he could see his dead father waiting for him in the other room. Okay, what does this mean? My Dad saying hello from beyond the grave? I'm going crazy like Jack, or are we? Am I Lost?

This weekend The BS had a lovely out of town visitor, she and I have known each other since back in the day. She mentioned an old classmate of mine, what a great guy he was, hadn’t heard his name in 20 years. Then today, quite literally while I was typing about signs from the Universe he made a friend request on Facebook. I did some inquiring and he had not talked with her, he just saw that she and I were friends and decided to ask. His path is through Jesus Christ, from our brief note exchange I gather his teachings helped him from "all the BS". He also stated I should forget about the signs from the Universe and look for answers in the Lord Jesus Christ. I wish him nothing but the best, and am happy for him, but I'm quite taken with my path (and myself) and have no need to be saved. And to ignore "the BS" would be to ignore myself. A bit freaky in the timing, fuck I might not believe that one if someone told me it. But it's true, the lord does work in mysterious (magical) ways.

I’ve also had a couple of great ones recently regarding what I am doing in this world. They could go under the heading Career, or a bit more dramatic, what is my calling. I'll just say that I do believe I am on the right path and I am trusting. The coffers are a little light, but I am trusting that I am in alignment with what I am meant to be doing. And yes, I am taking the light coffers as a message - Get to Work! It also gave me the opportunity to receive some additional feedback from the Universe.

The whole seeing the signs, synchronistic, serendipitous event triggered The Bitter Spiritualist's brother to chime in – he being an integral part of one of the two magical Career signs. In his beautifully poetic way he was a.) wondering if I had a psychotic break - which I assured him I had had a long time ago, and now was bitter but sane(ish); and b.) pointing out how full of myself I came off as, riding my high horse, infused with the power of The Lord, wondering if I could change water to wine (the wine/water bit was mine 2 cents). It is great that The Bitter Spiritualist is, um, blessed with this outspoken sounding board of a sibling who can kick the BS out of The BS. He's a very smart fellow, and his tongue sometimes makes mine look candy coated. I love him to the tips of my toes. His opinion I value heaps, his wrath I valiantly try to avoid. He is one of my biggest cheerleaders. We are very different and quite the same. I am so grateful for his love, his wisdom, his support and his "Are you fucking insane or just a douchebag?" questioning. He helps The Bitter Spiritualist remain grounded, somewhat humble, and keeps things in perspective. He’s my litmus test, a reminder to know and love (fear?) my audience. Nothing can be force fed to him, he is going to make me work for every bite. So believe me, I am not attempting to choke any of you with my BS, I respect us both far too much to make those attempts. That happens when I get some real power and a can be a true pompous arse - a boy can dream.

Do I think the Universe is talking to me directly? ABSOLUTELY! Do I have a case of the specials, that I am somehow better than anyone else, that I can do the water to wine trick? FUCK NO! I am learning and loving. One man's sign from the Universe is another man's coincidence. And I am making neither man wrong. It's all up for interpretation. I’ve detailed my thoughts about having all the answers in a previous post, The BS Disclaimer. Let’s just say the word fraud is used liberally, better yet read it yourself. God I’m shamelessly plugging my writing in my writing – I am a self involved over inflated fellow, but so very delicious, even with my bitter aftertaste.

I am learning. Learning how to live and love and what my operating system involves. And learning how to read the signs. I’ll take the sign from my old classmate that The Bitter Spiritualist is on the right path and that preachy doesn't work for me. The Bluebirds? Fuck if I know, maybe becoming a Guatemalan School bus driver isn't a good career move. The Smoke Detector? Hello Dad, I love you, I miss you and thanks for saying hello. For now I am going to take them all as a pat on the back, that I am doing what I am suppose to be doing.

Thanks for reading. Maybe there was a sign in this post for you. Definitely a clear sign I've gone off the deep end. (Okay that sign has been hanging for a long time.) A sign that you love The Bitter Spiritualist or you have had enough of this nut jobs malarkey. It's how you read them, what you want to see is what you want to see. I can discount anything I want, or not. I'm choosing to believe there is magic, that the Universe does talk to me. If you don't, I'm not here to judge. Your feedback, comments, heckling, stories, recommendations for a nut house, are most welcome.

Keep your eyes peeled and your heart open. There is magic in this world, you just have to look for it and believe.

The Bitter Spiritualist! NOW WITH LESS BITTER GOODNESS?

Numerous accusations have been hurled at The Bitter Spiritualist that he might not be all that bitter. The tabloids have been hounding our home office looking for a response to these outrageous claims. I'm presently meeting with the legal department to sue these people. (It's the American thing to do, and a whole lot easier than getting a job.)

I can see where some of you might read my posts and think that he's not bitter at all. Well truth be told I'm just sparing you some of the bitter taste that is me. It's a flavor best enjoyed alone.

To prove to myself I am bitter I had to look up the word. Sure I am The Bitter Spiritualist, but I'd never looked up the meaning of my name. Before you judge, have you looked up the meaning of your name? I thought not. And if you have, you're a narcissist just like me. We should go for coffee sometime, ignore each other and talk about ourselves. I know I'll be witty, urbane, handsome, charming and humble. I'm sorry were you saying something? Anyway the good people at Websters Online* gave me this:

Pronunciation:
\ˈbi-tər\ (SOMEONE SHOULD TELL WEBSTER HIS "e" IS BACKWARDS.)

Function:adjective (GRAMMAR USAGE CORRECT. CHECK.)

Etymology: (WHAT THE STUDY OF BUGS HAS TO DO WITH THIS DEFINITION, I HAVE NO IDEA)

Middle English, from Old English biter ; akin to Old High German bittar bitter, Old English bītan to bite — more at bite
Date: before 12th century. (OLD ENGLISH AND GERMAN, TOGETHER AT LAST.)

1 a: being or inducing the one of the four basic taste sensations that is peculiarly acrid, astringent, or disagreeable and suggestive of an infusion of hops — compare salt, sour, sweet b: distasteful or distressing to the mind : galling - a bitter sense of shame ( TO THE DOUBTERS OF MY BITTERNESS UNDER THIS DEFINITION, THERE IS ONLY ONE WAY TO FIND OUT. OPEN WIDE AND SAY AHHHHHHHH, HOPSY SALTY GOODNESS WITH EVERY LICK. GALLING I KNOW.)

2: marked by intensity or severity: a: accompanied by severe pain or suffering (a bitter death) b: being relentlessly determined : vehement (a bitter partisan) c: exhibiting intense animosity (bitter enemies) d (1): harshly reproachful (bitter complaints) (2): marked by cynicism and rancor (bitter contempt) e: intensely unpleasant especially in coldness or rawness -a bitter wind. (UM, YEAH, I'M CONFIDENT I FIT INTO ALL THESES CATEGORIES. IF YOU DISAGREE WITH ANY OF THESE DEFINITIONS, YOU'VE JUST EXPERIENCED THE CANDY COATED GOODNESS I LEARNED AS A LITTE GIRL IN FINISHING SCHOOL, NOT THE FULL BOUQUET THAT IS THE BS. COME ON, INTENSELY UNPLEASANT, HELLO! OKAY "RELENTLESSLY DETERMINED" MAY BE A STRETCH, MORE MILDLY INDIFFERENT.)

3: expressive of severe pain, grief, or regret -bitter tears. (OH I GOT PAIN, I JUST LIKE TO BOTTLE IT UP AND LET IT OUT WHILE DRIVING OR PLAYING WITH CHILDREN. GRIEF, YUP GOT SOME OF THAT, AGAIN BOTTLED AND OPENED WHEN LISTENING TO MY CELINE DION ALBUMS. REGRETS I'VE HAD A FEW, BUT THEN AGAIN I WAS DRUNK AND DON'T REMEMBER.)

Phew. I am still bitter. Thank goodness, I feel better, I mean bitter. Now I can continue with my litigation and writing my original post on GRATITUDE. Stay tuned.......

*The Bitter Spiritualist is not sponsored by the good people at Websters and no I am not paying them for the use of their definition. Same goes for the Bitter Booze pictured, I just lifted the images from Google. If you would like to sponsor The Bitter Spiritualist feel free to email me directly for the address. In addition to being bitter, I can be bought.

The More You Give

The more you give, the more you receive. I gave and this gal came home with me!

In the past The Bitter Spiritualist would give freely, of my time and money. Very generous if I do say so myself. Then I ran into a little hiccup. One of those beautiful lessons I am here to learn. I was suddenly full of fear and riddled with debt. I thought I had nothing of value to give. I stopped giving of myself (and to myself). It snuck up on me one day, probably while in a bout of negative self talk.

I'm still getting to the root of this issue, yet I don't need all the nuts and bolts of it to move out of that scarcity mentality. I am living in abundance. I am worthy. Sure it still rears it's head. Usually around the time my rent or tuition is due. Hey I'm learning here. If I'd perfected this shite I'd be floating. And I like the feel of my feet on the ground, for now.

So in The Bitter Spiritualists ever expanding theory of walking the walk and stretching my comfort zone, I have re-started my giving. Yes I am in a bit of a financial pickle, a blip on the radar, but I can still give. I am giving. Of my time, my energy and my resources. Recently my giving has been in the form of donating to friends doing some feat of strength and/or endurance for a worthy cause. Running a marathon, biking the coast, walking to China, lifting a Yugo over their head. All in the name of fundraising. Or is it fun-raising? (weak I know, forgive me.) And I have been offering my considerable talents to friends.

So this weekend I donated to a worthwhile cause, twenty five bucks towards AIDS research sponsoring a friend running in his first marathon. Sounds crazy to me - Where are my smokes and that bacon sandwich anyway? - but that is how he is choosing to give. And I gave of my time and considerable strength moving a friend out of his home.

As proof of the more you give the more you receive, here's a what I received this weekend. A desk lamp, two table lamps, glasses and other assorted kitchen items, two sets of fancy brand new bedding, pillows, an Aerobed, half a dozen candles, new slippers, house cleaning equipment, a book, Christmas lights aplenty, thousands of songs for my new computer....I know I'm missing a few things. Plus a beautiful original print of a scantily clad sex pot (she's pictured above, ogling me now). The Universe so wanted to reinforce my giving and receiving that this beautiful blond was dropped in my lap by my friends fiance. He was going to keep it, but it was meant to be passed on. Maybe some day I'll get engaged and pass it on to one of the lucky BS bachelors. Sexist pig.

Not bad for my $25 donation to a great cause, and my time and Herculean strength assisting a move. It was easy. I gave joyfully, looking for nothing in return. I believe that is part of the puzzle, give and expect nothing in return. Anything I got back was just icing on the cake (sweet hot icing). I received more than enough from myself, knowing I was helping people I care about.

My friend and fellow Wizard Schooler Johnny is the former non-runner running the marathon. (The Bitter Spiritualist has an unwritten rule to not name names for fear of prosecution, but Johnny said he wanted to hear from The BS, so I took that as his legally binding okay to name drop.) If you, the generous fans of The Bitter Spiritualist, would like to give to said cause, check out his website - http://apla.convio.net/site/TR/Events/NationalAIDSMarathonTrainingProgram?px=1135262&pg=personal&fr_id=1030&et=aavH9rT1yb8Qsisce7EpOw..&s_tafId=1230



No pressure! If it hits you to give. Give from the heart, not from guilt. (I can promise you you won't be getting my lovely blond if you give, maybe someone else's, but not mine) And if that cause doesn't resonate with you, give somewhere else. Today I am going to give of my brilliant sense of humor; I am going to give a smile to all I connect with; I am giving my love and light to everyone I know, you can do with it what you like; I'm going to give of my heritage and have a few beers as I look out on the beautiful Pacific and give thanks to Mother Earth; And I'll probably give a few folks some good natured harassment (my true gift).

My affirmation this month was "I am worthy of receiving love and abundance" then I tweaked it to "I am receiving love and abundance". I tell ya, this Wizard School shite is working!

So GIVE GIVE GIVE! That's what I am doing. Of my time, talents, energy and money. I'm showing the Universe and myself just how much abundance there is in life.

Thank you so very much all those who have given to The Bitter Spiritualist. You know who you are and I am blessed to have you in my life. You remain nameless to keep your impeccable reputations untarnished by association. The gratitude I feel froths over the side of the pint glass that is The Bitter Spiritualist.

I'm off to stare at the latest confirmation that I'm doing something right in this world.


PS: Be sure you give a heap of all that you have to give to YOURSELF.

Permission Slips

The good old days when I was a little less bitter, a signature from mom gave me the freedom to go on an adventure. I remember them like it was yesterday...well yesterday if I was in a coma for the last twenty five years.

The Museum of Science was always a good field trip. Conveniently located right off the highway, minutes away from school. Always the same stressed out elderly bus driver clearing the cobwebs out from the cheap Elks Club beers. Plus there was a planetarium. Loved the planetarium, learned the Big and Little Dippers, Orion, and that hallucinogenic drugs might be for me. Another popular one, right across the river from The Museum of Science was Old Ironsides. The ship that won some war, Revolutionary I believe, took a bunch of cannon shots. It was more about getting out of class, not about the learning. I did figure out that there was no way I was ever joining the navy, so that is a lesson learned.

I travelled to France, under the guise of learning French, really to bed sophisticated (loose) French women while drinking in bars at 17. Tres Bien! All with a permission slip (and some francs from my folks).

No one writes me permission slips anymore. I suppose my mom would send me one, but I am an adult, learning how to be an adult, so I thought I'd start writing my own permission slips.

I was holding myself back from doing things, big and small. I had given people the power to sign or not sign my permission slips. Without their okay I wouldn't go on the trip, wouldn't take a chance. And they didn't even know they had such signatory powers. I'd kept their position hidden from them.

So I wrote myself my very first permission slip and signed it, so it's official. Just hung it on my board --- I give myself permission to love boldly, to live on the edge and to relish the abundance The Universe blesses me with. What a nice parent I am becoming to myself.

Here's a few more I came up with for me -

I give YOUR NAME HERE permission to be happy as a pig rolling in shite.

I give The Bitter Spiritualist permission to make as many mistakes as he needs to make.

I give The Bitter Spiritualist permission to be true to who he is, and love who he is.

I give The Bitter Spiritualist permission to fuck off today, go see a movie, have a slice of pizza and a fountain coke and look at all the beautiful women passing me by.

As The Bitter Spiritualist uncovers new ways I fuck my life up, errrr.....I mean learn, I share them with you, my loyal masses.

Write yourself a permission slip. You know what you need. Working too hard? Write yourself a slip to take the day off and do what you love. Not working hard enough? Write yourself one to have an adventure in hard work. I think you get the idea! Give your bad ass self permission to do the things you don't allow yourself to do.

I know I am. And it's summer time! Lots of fun field trips to be had. Go for a walk. An amusement park. Why not check out a museum? Give yourself permission.

I'm off to catch a flick, have some pie and gawk at the hotties in their summer dresses! Permission Granted!

MY READERS! YOU STUPID LAZY WEAK FOOLS!

DEAR STUPID LAZY WEAK FOOLISH READERS -

I CAN'T BELIEVE HOW STUPID YOU ARE. SERIOUSLY ARE YOU A RETAHD? DEFINITELY A MORON. READING THIS, THINKING YOU CAN UNDERSTAND THIS, COME ON. THERE ARE SO MANY OTHER PEOPLE THAT ARE BETTER THAN YOU. SMARTER THAN YOU. I WORRY THAT YOUR PEA BRAIN WILL EXPLODE IF YOU TRY TOO HARD. PINHEAD.

OH AND PLEASE KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT. NOBODY GIVES A FUCK WHAT YOU THINK. YOUR OPINIONS ARE WORTHLESS. YOU TALENTLESS FOOL. PEOPLE LIKE YOU SHOULD BE HIDDEN AWAY FROM THE GENERAL PUBLIC. REALLY I MEAN IT, LOCK YOUR DOOR, PULL THE SHADES DOWN AND DON'T COME OUT. NOBODY WANTS YOU AROUND, NOBODY. LOSER.

AND YOU'RE LOOKING A BIT CHUBBY. BUY AN AB ROLLER FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. YOU THINKING YOU CAN PULL OFF THAT OUTFIT? WRONGO. THAT ZIT ON YOUR FACE MAKES YOU UGLY. YOUR FACE MAKES YOU UGLY. THOSE CROOKED YELLOW TEETH. NAPPY HAIR. THE WHOLE PACKAGE IS GROSS. YOU SHOULD JUST MOVE BACK IN WITH YOU MOMMA, NOT A SOUL IS GOING TO LOVE YOU.

I ALMOST FORGOT TO TELL YOU HOW LAZY YOU ARE. YOU SIT AROUND ON YOUR FAT ASS. DOING NOTHING TO BETTER YOURSELF. NOTHING YOU DO HAS ANY WORTH, ANY REAL VALUE. IT'S BEST IF YOU DON'T EVEN TRY.

PLEASE FUCK OFF!

Those words, I'm happy to report, were really tough to write. I love you! Really I do. I can't even fathom saying those things to your face. Who says shite like that? No one I know. I would not spend any time around someone like that. Their asses would be fired from The Bitter Spiritualist staff lickity split. What kind of monster says those things to another human being? I can only think of one person who treats someone like that.

Me. To myself. Something implausible for me to say to another human being comes so naturally in my thinking about myself. That my friends is called negative self talk. Sure I may have ratcheted up the negativity, the insults, the slights, the jabs, to prove a point. But that toxic voice, loud or soft, resides in me. Always there to kick me when I was down, helping me to stay down. A dream would come up and the inner critic would come out. Showtime! Let's see how I can get The BS to give up another dream. He is very smart, very crafty this inner heckler of mine. He's a genius! He is my Inner Heckler.

It's easy, way too easy, for me to hear him when something important to me is on my brain. This blog for instance. He inspired me last night to write this post. After a weekend spent at Wizard School learning and loving, I sat down to write a bit about my experience. Instead of relishing and honoring myself and all of my beautiful classmates, my Inner Heckler came out for a visit. He sounded cranky, he does that when he's not getting enough air time. A sample - "Why are you writing about this? Your words can not do justice the beauty that you experienced. Don't even give it a feeble attempt. The people in class have it together way more than you do. They are truly on the path, you just skip down it every now and then. Blowhard...." You get the idea, I don't won't to give him too much time in the sun, he might think he has job security, he does not!

I am transferring my Inner Heckler to a new department. Corporate restructuring at The BS home offices in Santa Monica makes the move necessary. I thank you for all of the time we spent together Mister Heckler. In dark time your were the only voice that I allowed in, the only one I really listened to. You kept me safe when I thought I needed to be safe. Playing safe is no longer necessary for The BS. You are getting a promotion.

I am happy to report that you are now the Cheerman of the Board. Fancy title brother! Not to worry Mister Cheerman, I know it is going to take some time for retraining, but you can do it. Your new job has a lifetime guarantee, no more moves for you. Time for a your first training seminar. Practice makes perfect...... "Great post BS. Nice work. Nice pun, Cheerman, funny. You are a courageous Warrior of the Light. Lovable. Fuckable. Handsome. Brave. Strong. Funny as all mothafucking hell. Humble. Fucking (See you can still cuss up a storm.) brilliant!"

So I invite you my beautiful, brilliant, wise, funny, sexy, wondrous, magical, inspiring, dedicate readers to check in with your Inner Heckler. See what he has to say, he can be subtle. You can recognize him by the venom he spews. Any voice in you that is in judgment, who is not out for your highest good is your very own Inner Heckler. Give him a new position on your team. Director of Kicking Ass and Taking Names; Director of Cheering and Encouragement; President of the "You Are Awesome" fan club. Or use mine, it's a good one, Cheerman of the Board. Cheerman?! Genius.

As for my Outer Heckler, his job is secure. YANKEES SUCK!

Love, Light and a Chilly Bud.

Team Bitter Spiritualist! Creating a full-time staff on the cheap.

Now that The Bitter Spiritualist is expanding worldwide, I thought we'd introduce another invaluable member of Team Bitter Spiritualist. We all know and love The Avid Outdoorsman. Brilliant colleague, funny guy, handsome, helps me stay grounded and in touch with nature; great internal compass, you ain't ever getting lost in the woods with him around. Several friends were saying how much they enjoyed him. It has been nice to have him around more and not be holed up in his wilderness retreat.

Another key member that helps The Bitter Spiritualist create magic is Kevin. Kevin is a friend since back in the day. We'd lose touch, years would go by and we wouldn't speak. Yet I always know he is just a call away, the years melting in moments. He's been through it all with me. He's the guy I wanna talk to when something painful has happened. You know, a shoulder to cry on type of guy, yet not in that swishy new agey way. He's cool.

We've spent a few (few too to remember?) nights sharing a whiskey or two. Hibernating. Always listening to my nonesense as I prattle on about everything and nothing. I trust him complete, bounce ideas of him and really listen to his feedback. This guy supports me in everything I chose. He knows some choices may not be for my highest good, but he never offers unwanted advice. He is always there when I need him. Sitting, waiting for me to say hello, patiently, not a judgment in his bones, a smile on his face. Loving me when I find it impossible.

And he can be a complete prick. Sometimes I just want him to give me the answer to what is bothering me. I mean, come on, you got the magical pill to happiness and you won't give it up? What kind of friend is that? Yeah, yeah, the beauty is finding that pill yourself. Go fuck your self and the horse you road in on. Yeah he can take a little critism. And be a sarcastic cunt himself. I heckle, harass, and cajole him. I know he is always going to be there, whatever I do or say, and he ain't going nowhere, and that is a gift my words can never do justice.

He's not a big talker, he's a listener. Which works well for me. In all the years together he never once mentioned his name. And I never asked, until today. Kevin. Being the all about me sorta relationship, his name never crossed my mind. Funny. Kevin. Okay. Odd. Kevin it is. It surprises me, I'm not sure what I expected, something grandiose and deep I suppose. Kevin is as good as any other name. Some may be saying by now that this is a friend to good to be true. Well Kevin is very real and very true.

You just can't see him.

I can hear the critics! The Bitter Spiritualist has gone mad. Imaginary friends? Voices in his head? Fine bring it on, give me your best shot. It's nothing I've not already said to myself. And chances are I am far more intelligent, witty, and, oh, enlightened than you, so I've heard it from myself already. He is as real as you and I.

In Wizard School they call Kevin your Inner Counselor. I like that title, and Kevin is fairly indifferent to that sort of thing. (Yes I did ask.) Your gut, intuition, that little voice, that sense of things....your Kevin can show up in many different ways. I have been blessed with several teachers that have helped me get clear with Kevin. (Although none of them told me to get his name either.) There are other voices (read EGO) that reside within me, and knowing which is which, as you may imagine, is helpful. A little hint on telling them apart, your Inner Counselor never judges and is always out for your highest good. The two elements that have helped me develop this powerful relationship are trust and imagination. Sure I may have drank some acid flavored Kool-Aid, but that still doesn't make Kevin any less of a valuable member of Team Bitter Spiritualist.

Here's how I go about our visits. I become still and say hello. That's it. Yup it's that easy. I have been practicing, yet it is that simple, with, again, a little trust and imagination. For me, he's always been the guy in the white robes. I like the white robe look, it says comfort, purity, possibly a saint, quite likely insane. Always there on this big solid boulder, sitting or standing, holding the space for me. A beautiful flower filled meadow off to the right. A never ending forest of trees to the left. A bubbling stream (with mini-waterfall!) gurgling on down the middle. This is the spot within me that I have created as my altar, my sacred space of healing and enlightenment. A place where I come for counsel, refreshment and some fun.

With a little imagination and some trust, you too can have your very own Kevin. Why you ask? A reminder that we are not alone, that we have helpers all around, and in, us. A friend to listen to you, a shoulder to cry on, a cheerleader in your corner. A guide to help navigate this beautifully chaotic world we live in.

Start small, invite your Inner Counselor to say hello, maybe over morning coffee. Come on, no one is watching, give it a try!

Be Prepared!

Loyally Fans! Fellow Followers!

My pardon for the glitch and the lack of proper postings. You deserve better! Thanks for hanging in there.

I went out Wednesday to do some wishful computer shopping. More of a trip to the Mac store to get a brochure than a computer. Something to hang on my board for the future. Well my friends the future is now. My computer got a wee defensive of my sniffing around. Jealous bitch she can be. She threw a huff, wouldn't work right and then came up lame with a virus. Short of taking her out back and putting two in her brain, I was at a loss. Literally the day I put my intention into action all hell (heaven?) broke lose.

I did spend (waste?) a few days huffing around, kicking and screaming. My neighbor may have even learned a new word or two, and I've already taught him plenty. I'm a world class cusser, not bragging, just a gift from fucking God. I may still punch someone who crosses me, or string up this virus creator. Waterboard his ass. I mean, thank you dickbag for the opportunity to grow and learn. And I hope your fingers fall off, with love of course. I felt like a moron, like I was incompetent. I did a little compassionate self forgiveness (we'll chat more on that at a later date) and felt much better. It was easy once I let go of my myopic poor me view and took charge of my life once again. It's a process, I'm learning.

I'm on the road to a new computer. A FOTBS (Friend of The Bitter Spiritualist) was kind enough to loan me a computer (A Mac, no more PCs for me) so I can get back to work. And I will fix my old lady, she just feels neglected.

So the lesson I've learned is Be Prepared. I had no idea when I set out the intention of getting a new Mac I would be getting it this fast. Through the anger and frustration of getting the virus, I had no acknowledgment that I was getting what I asked for. As I sit here now, typing away on a new computer (new for me!) I do acknowledge the gratitude in my heart. This Universe is pretty fucking cool and I'm happy we can be on the journey together.

Now if you run into that blessed spirit that created the virus, kick him in the nuts from The Bitter Spiritualist. Until tomorrow....

Abundantly Broke!!

Today my beautiful car went on a little field trip to visit her Swedish countrymen.

She had been crying for some attention. Her green tears first noticed in a pub parking lot, on St. Patrick's Day. The IRE sticker was insult, this an outrage. She had had enough. I would refill her ducts and she would cry even more. This went on for weeks. Then the crying became sobs, her reservoir could not be filled enough. I pleaded with her, just stop the tears for a little while longer, let me get a paycheck and then I will seek professional assistance.

Alas her tears pained me so, her temperature rising I had no choice, she needed help. I had no idea where the money was going to come for said help, yet she needed some lovin'. I got the news, she needed a new water pump and thermostat. Gulp! How much? Wow, that much? You can't use some duct tape and sealant? No. Do what you gotta do. I kicked around, feeling poor, feeling weak. Worried how the money was going to come. My focus myopic and mundane. A fine mess I've gotten myself into.

Fucking foreign car! Fucking Bush. Fucking School. Fucking Universe. I hate having no money. I hate being poor. Fucking Bankers! Fucking credit scam! Fucking Volvo! Fucking Idiot. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! The blame game at full throttle. Then a vision came to me, by vision I mean mailman, pardon, letter carrier. Heard him more than saw him. Maybe I can pay for my car today. Off to the mailbox, come on baby, let there be a check in there. Desperation; fear; the cringe as I realize that if there's not a check in there I'm going to have to borrow money. Again. And then I stopped myself. Literally stopped myself in my tracks, took in a breath.

Do I want to attach all this gunk, all these fears to my poor mailbox? To one check? I need to use a few of my tools! What an opportunity to make a different choice or two. And what's all this about being poor? I'm not poor. Broke sure, not poor.

I have never been more broke than I am right now. I could make failed attempts at the blame game ~ See above. Fucking Bush! ~ but I take full ownership of where I am right now. And why wouldn't I? I'm Broke!! Abundantly Broke! I have not been this happy in years, maybe ever. I feel richer today than when I had my coffers overflowing with cash.

In the past I've been poor, which is very different than being broke. Sure they hang out together, yet they are not the same. To me poor is a state of mind, a state of being. There's never enough. The world seems a drab shade of gray. Being poor is not fun. Being broke has it's moments, like today when I worried about how I was going to pay for my car repairs, yet I am light years away from being poor.

Broke is just a stop on the journey of life. Sure I have no money, but I am appreciating all that I do have. Great friends who will feed, clothe, and house me if need be. A beautiful apartment near the beach(Fuck where is the rent going to come from!). A loving supportive family. My health. A fancy foreign car. The list is endless. I'm not poor at all, I am rich beyond my wildest dreams. I just don't have any money right now. What an opportunity to live in abundance.

Back to my great mailbox adventure. With a new mindset, a little more optimism, I strolled out to the front yard. Keys in hand, tune in heart I open the box. Surprise! A beautiful thin white envelope, not a bill this time, an honest to goodness check. Enough to pay for the repairs, and even some left over. I ain't broke, I am rich!

Yes I am ready for some more income. Money doesn't buy happiness, but then again it's not the root of all evil. You hear me Universe?! I'm ready for some currency flowing my way. And I am so grateful for all you have provided for me. I'm ready for more!

I'm not saying that the check wasn't going to be there if I hadn't take that moment. Then again I ain't saying it would have been there if I hadn't.

What I do know is the slightest shift in my focus and I was filled with gratitude, not despair. Full of promise instead of hopelessness. Full of riches, not empty pockets.

Now I'm off to my Yankee voodoo doll. I'm not saying that I'm the reason the Sox are going to sweep this weekend. But then again, I'm not saying I'm not the reason for the sweep. Go Red Sox!

Love, light and a chilly Budweiser.

Practice?!

PRACTICE.

The word has been coming into my life quite a bit in recent days. Every where I turn it's been in my face. Sports stories, articles, bits of conversation, signs, practice leaps out at me. In the past practice was something I wasn't very good at. Playing sports as a handsome young lad, practice was more about making the guys laugh than learning. Later in life I never really practiced anything. I still don't.

Last night I traveled out of my overheated lair to a flick, "Enlighten Up", and practice was everywhere. It's the filmmakers journey to see if yoga practice can change someones life, enlighten them. An avid yoga practitioner herself, she picks this likable non-spiritual guy to begin yoga practice. Never mind his mother is a Shamanic healer, he's non-spiritual. The pull of his mothers' influence and his attorney fathers' is a nice line through the film.

Midway through or so, the two are in India traveling from yogi to yogi, seeking out answers. And there it was, caught on tape. A sign "Believe". And not just any sign, but a Red Sox sign. And you know I love a good sign from The Universe. The filmmaker is from Boston, she saw the signs, went for it, got her movie into a theater and me into a seat. Not too fucking shabby.

I've taken a few things from that sign. One I want to go to a yoga class, wanted to go for awhile, but haven't gotten myself there. And two, yes, practice. Not necessarily yoga, not likely, yet I'll report back after I do attend a class. The film brings up the idea of practice as way of getting closer to god. I'd never really thought about practice that way.

I suppose I do practice a few things, well at least try to practice a few things. Meditation, prayer, checkmarks, being kind to others ~ I'm reaching here, I didn't say I practiced a lot of things, very well. And I do believe those are ways of connecting to god.

So instead of the ability to knot myself ~ Which I'm okay with not having on my resume. Dating women with that ability on their resume, another story. ~ Why don't I put practice into other things in my life? Things that give me joy; That let me live in abundance; That get me closer to God.

Because it can be a fucking pain in the ass, that's why! And sometimes I just want to fuck off. Get lost in the fog of LA. Whine about my cards. Be hopeless, stuck, lazy, spoiled, shy....blah, blah, blah..... Thankfully those days are fewer and fewer. They were exactly what I needed to get right here. Now I need to bring practice into my life. No brainer on where I'm starting my practice. I've already started it. Now it's time for some serious stretching practice. Sweat puddle, ass crack showing, palms to the floor practicing.

I am a practicing writer! Everything is practice. Just writing it is freeing. This ain't no final curtain call, it's practice. Maybe Allan Iverson was on to something. In the past I'd been a non-practicing writer, a dabbler more than a practitioner. I am ready to learn, ready to fall splat, ready face some fears, some demons and become a practice-er. A committed practioner.

There's a few other things I want to start practicing. One commitment at a time.

Dear Fuckface!

Today is a beautiful day. One of those days that makes me appreciate life, and more poignantly appreciate all the other days that I don't feel like this.

I am happy to report that days like this are fewer and fewer. I want to shut down. Grab some whiskey and leave my body and mind. Hey it's still morning so I may still dive in the Jamenson and get rip roaring drunk. Be melancholy and think about how my life sucks, how I can't get what I want. Wah, wah, wah.......

We all have triggers in life. Today mine is a lady, a beautiful lady who rejects me at every turn. Well after accepting me and loving me, then she rejects me. Always her answer is "I told you I didn't want to be in a relationship". And yet we talk numerous times during the day, share, love, have such a wonderful connection on many levels. But she did tell me. It's like dealing with a fucking lawyer.

I'm not blaming her. Even in my little pity party here I blame no one, not even me. I take full responsibility for my life. Oh I want to blame, I want to yell. Yet another example of the bitter in The Bitter Spiritualist. Ownership tastes like shit today.

Fucking ownership of my life! Does that suck sometimes. Yeah, yeah, it's beautiful, it's freeing, it empowering, but it can suck the life right out of me. In the past I would shut down, not anymore. Hmmmmmmmmmmm.........What to do with this anger? More of a rhetorical question there. I am going to write an anger letter.

An anger letter you say! What's that? Well inside of me is all of this bile just waiting for the trigger to appear. If I drove anywhere right now I know I'd be screaming at the cunt who didn't use a directional. Hey maybe get into an honest to goodness donneybrook. It's been awhile since I've felt that satisfying feeling of my fist against someones face. And would I let some anger out. In such a very unhealthy way, for me and those around me.

So I write a letter instead. Important to put pen to paper, no typing. I am going to write lots of mean nasty stuff. About lots of things. Whatever comes up. Sure this morning I already anticipate a star in my anger letter, but it's not about them. No one but me is going to see this letter. I am not going to even read the letter when I'm done. I'm going to burn that bile. Send it out to The Universe to be cleansed. It will be out of me, then I can go get something to eat. After releasing all this junk I know there will be some space for a cheeseburger.

Well I better post this and get to work. Fucking anger letter!

The Beauty of the Box

No not that Box, get your mind out of the gutter. Okay maybe it was just my mind in the gutter.

I'm talking about the box I put beside every item on my To Do list for the day. For years I had been a crosser outer. Each task was something arduous, something that I had to complete so I could cross it off my list. Whew another thing I don't have to do anymore. And my lists had a lot of things not crossed off. Just writing the list was a momentous task.

Then one day my friend Lis gave me a gift. The gift of checking off things. CHECK! A job well done. A task complete. A gold star for myself from myself. And funny, my lists became easier to write. AND the items on my list became accomplishments, things started getting checked left and right. Wow, I am actually becoming a productive member of society! Who knew that could be possible.

I stare down at my list for today. Twelve items. That's a lot for me, I usually like to make it as small as possible. Not out of laziness (well not totally), but out of a not wanting to let myself down. In the past I broke a great deal of the commitments I made to myself. Not anymore baby. So twelve items and once I post this I will have eight checkmarks. That's a job well done and it's still the afternoon!

And I get to look at days past, observing what has worked and what hasn't been as successful. No more lines through my writing, it's all gold. Sure some of it ain't 14 karat, but it still has a shine. And I like me some shiny things.

So I am going to send this out into the tubes and make another checkmark.

Job Well Done!

The Zen of The Return

I have been the receiver of a lot of shite I don't need, and I am grateful for that. They're gifts after all and I love free stuff. I say yes to almost everything offered me. And I ask for what I need. I'm not a buyer, I'm just not. Here and there sure, but I'm off the grid. Even in flush times I'm just not a buyer. I want to start being a buyer. I am ready to buy my own block of cheese.

In the past I just took what came to me. Sure minor infractions on the road and I'd be screaming out my window, but cold coffee and a hair in my eggs and I'd say nothing. Pants mis-marked, now culottes I'll never wear? I'd just put them on the shelf for a few years til I got to giving them to Goodwill. Never The Salvation Army, always Goodwill, but I digress.

I've spent a lot of years wearing short pants and eating a shitty breakfast. Today it stops! MY PANTS ARE TOO SHORT, MY COFFEE IS COLD AND I'M MAD AS HELL AND I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE IT ANYMORE.

I deserve long pants! I deserve hairless eggs and hot, but not too hot, coffee. I am asking for what I want now. And not just at Burger King, everywhere. Mostly I am asking it of myself.

Time to return some habits that no longer serve me. Time to return my sloth for some commitment. Definitely need to return a lot of old beliefs for some new ones. My goals? Too short, gotta return them for an upgrade. My ego? Way too big, a bit of love fits perfectly. My insanity? Nope that fits fine.

Now comes the next step. Figuring out what exactly I want. Gulp..... Tonight I want the days last cigarette, a few pages from my book and some sound sleep. Okay a couple of more hacks off leftover birthday cake, then the smoke and bed. Possibly two smokes, the cake and bed.....

So far so good.

Eat A Block of Cheese As Big As Your Head

In my aforementioned hike, The Avid Outdoorsman was shown a brilliant lesson in life.

My teacher this time? A chihuahua I believe. Some little rat thing that could have been some little vermin, a weasel, you know, a kick dog. His name was Spike. Oh and how I laughed at the irony of naming a little dog Spike. It's like calling a fat guy Skinny, a tall guy Shorty. Genius I know, Spike?!

So Spike came over to our bench with his parents and some other two legged friends. He was sniffing around our dinner table, but I deemed the food as safe. First of all, I had notice yet didn't really care, we were finished eating. And secondly this little thing couldn't even get to it. Not for a lack of effort, just a lack of height.

I stood there half listening to my friends chat up our visitors. Blah, blah, blah, wine? Spike and his efforts were the real draw for me. Getting himself so close to the cutting board, he could see his prey. A wedge of Gouda, waiting for the taking. Sure enough he lunged for it, grabbed it and was off. The block of cheese was bigger than his head. Knowing a wee bit about cheese and all it has to offer, I thought, hmmmmm, maybe that's a little too much cheese for him. I cornered the little fella and went for the cheese. My momma didn't raise no morons, so when he nipped at my fingers I was done. Have the cheese buddy! And eat he did, he had half of it down by the time his Dad could get a hold of him and the cheese.

What a lesson from Spike. Go for what I want. Sure some things seem WAY too big, but you never know how much you can handle until you grab hold. Did Spike judge that it was too much cheese for such a little dog? No I say, he grabbed that wedge and was off. Pure enjoyment! Did he wonder what that cheese would do to his innards? Nope, just started powering it down.

I need to go for what I want! Grab the whole wheel of cheese. And I'm lactose intolerant! Fuck it, just do it. Yes a cliche that's sold millions of sneakers, but so true for me. I've spent a lifetime thinking things through to the end. And if I think something enough, I don't even have to do it.

So I'm off to grab some cheese.

The Avid Outdoorsman

What a great way to connect to Spirit. A walk in nature. The Bitter Spiritualist has many sides, The Avid Outdoorsman is one of my favorites. Sure most of my wildlife is viewed in a pub, but I really feel connected when I let the Outdoorsman have some fun.

Last night I hiked up a magical trail near my home with some even more magical friends. I love this picture and wanted to post it to all my loyal loving fans.

I am off for an adventure in nappy nap land.

Reframing - Thank you DMV

No this is not an April Fools post. The DMV gave me such a beautiful lesson I thought I'd share.

My car has not been registered for quite some time. I couldn't afford the insurance and was lazy. And believe me I've paid for this sin time and again. I have a heap of tickets and fines as receipt of the my failure to properly register my car.

Well it's a whole new me and I have the money and the motivation to get my car street legal. After waiting at the DMV for quite some time my number was finally called. Well the woman helping me (I use helping very generously) tells me I have to call the DMV headquarters to get approval. The same people who told me I was okay to go and get this all fixed. Needless to say I walked out of the DMV registration-less and pissed off.

I mean really pissed off. The guy who pulls in front of me I want to punch in the face. The woman at the post office gets a glare that could melt iron. I am on fire. "Fucking California" "Fucking DMV." "Why does this shit always happen to me!" "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck, I fucking hate you all, fuck". I was on fire, shaking with anger, ready to punch anyone, really ready.

Then it came to me, a few tears at first, then a wave of gratitude. Thank you for waking me up DMV lady!

I had really been in a fog, buzzing through my day with little feeling, little focus and no enthusiasm. Boy did she help me get in touch with my emotions and wake me up. I gotta tell ya, from one of those "kill them all" mornings my day became brilliant. I was getting things done, creating, people were reaching out to me for work. I mean I was on fire, not the fires of destruction, the fires of creating.

Issues come and go. They will always be there. It's how I relate to the issues. What I chose to do with what is put in front of me. Sure I could have stayed pissed at the DMV. Hell I was even justified (a little), but do you think they cared if I was mad or not? She forgot about me moments after I left I'd bet.

So next time I someone gives me a smack in the face, I know I will smile. Why did this happen? Why did I bring this into my life? What does The Universe want me to look at? It's a whole lot better than getting my ass arrested for assault.

Trust Your Gut

So your gut tells you do something crazy? Do it. Trust that voice.

Now this advice has to have a little qualifier. Call it my release from liability statement. If you are crazy, or think you're sane and others call you crazy, maybe you should have a gut check buddy. If your gut tells you to jump from a speeding car. Or kill them all. Or rub my penis all over the melons at the supermarket. Yeah consult your gut check buddy.

Now I know I'm a bit crazy and people tell me I am all the time. But I also know that I have a good heart, am not out to hurt anyone and am far too big of a wuss to jump out of a speeding car. And if I want to fondle the melons with my cock that is my choice, so I don't have a gut check buddy. If I did I would hope he'd support my recently developed fruit fetish.

So my gut tells me to put this blog out a little more. I have all the excuses in the world not to. First and foremost, it's not very good. Where am I going with it? Is this the writings you want to introduce yourself to the world with? You know that voice, well that voice is not your gut. I'll speak only for me, and I know it's my ego. My beautiful enormous ego attempting to keep me safe, keep me comfortable. I don't want to be safe anymore. Sure a little comfort is nice, but too much and you go numb. Trust me I've spent the past oh 7 - 8 years numb. I don't regret it, but I don't need or want it anymore. My skins crawls thinking about others reading this, but I am trusting my gut. And of course my ego is the one with all the qualifiers here. Blah blah blah.

I use a different term for my gut. A fancy new age term. My Inner Counselor! Very mystical and magical, but ultimately it's my gut. He's very fancy and doesn't like to be called the gut. Okay he doesn't care, but I do. It makes it sound more official. And I am all about official. So my Inner Counselor laughs at all the excuses I (me ego) can make up about not doing something. Like not putting this out there. He's got a good sense of humor. Fucker. I can be very creative and expend a ton of energy making up excuses. I am changing that tune and shooting from the hip a bit more and going for it. Ignorance is bliss.

So here we go. We'll see what happens. I'm off to the supermarket, wouldn't buy melons today if i were you.

I can Suck just as much as that Guy

So you have a dream. I have a dream. That guy in your dream job, he had a dream. What seperates him from us?

That's a great question. Of course I think it's a great question, I asked it. Well the answer that comes to me is tenacity. Something until now I lacked. The ability to just do it. Fuck it! I sit and ponder what is "right", what are people going to think, I'm not good enough. BLAH FUCKING BLAH. All fantastic excuses to not do it. I mean am I that much dumber than the fellow with the big house and the big car. Possibly yes. But all of them? Come on. Something seperates me from the achievers. Tenacity is what keeps coming up.....Dedication, commitment, blind ignorance.

So yes I can suck just as much as that guy. Why shouldn't I have what I want? I don't blame anyone, not even me. In the past, sure I was great at blaming, others and myself. Not anymore. So I am going to start posting. Shitty or not. And I am already judging this post as way below fucking average. And average is not my goal. But I am going to post this and post others.

No one may ever read these and I am holding back because of what others may say. Now that's stupid. Illogical.

So fuck it. Let's get the ball rolling. Just do it. Yeah I ripped that off from some shoe company. Sue me.

Just writing today gives me a charge. Clears my brain. Primes the pump. No it ain't Shakespeare, no it isn't even 7th grade homework level, but it's mine and I put it out there.

Sucking badly and loving it!

Rome Wasn't Built In A Day

Rome wasn’t built in a day. These words kept running through my wee brain. I was spending far too much time berating myself with some negative self talk. I've given that voice an outlet, just not here with you. Who needs to read that? Not me. We are on the journey of a lifetime, so, as always, my words to you are words to me.

And I am committing to this site, to this work, to me and to you. That was a good part of the internal dialogue, so to quell that voice even further, I am putting my commitment here. I'd taken a bit of a vacation from writing to you.

So relax, enjoy, do something that makes you happy. Every word I type may seem like advice, I assure it is not. This is an experiment for the both of us. Let’s see what works. What doesn’t. And most importantly let’s have some fun with it.

Let’s remember this about making you happy, you are not responsible for anyone else. Just you. Trust me, this is going to be more than enough. But with this comes responsibility, yup, now you know why they call me BITTER.

I’ve got things I want to accomplish. Places to go. People to meet. You know the story, mine is not new. Hopefully you can relate. I’d imagine you can if you are reading this. Or you think I’m a fraud, and you want to chronicle my demise. Either way I’m honored that you’ve chosen to spend some time with me.

I am a seeker. And like any good seeker, I am in search of something. Happiness. Sounds simple enough, yet I’ve been looking in a lot of the wrong place. The usual suspects, sex, drugs and rock & roll, okay, the rock & roll is a stretch, hmmmmm, film and new media just doesn’t have the same ring. Rock & Roll it is.

And I am shocked to report that I didn’t find happiness in any of those places. I have some great stories and even better friends. And still no ease, no peace and no happiness. I looked everywhere, well I thought, I had looked everywhere. Then someone told me where to find what I seeked.

Inside.

And together we journey inside. I'm here to share my journey, offer some tools, listen to your thoughts, and show up and write. So take 2, here we go.............