Pick My Lock and Finger My Tumblers

Every day is the first day of a new year. Old Ted Lange and all that jazz. Ok, sure, I stayed up until midnight. I settled on Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve spectacular ... I watched Ke$ha, whoever the Hell she is, spew her lack of talent upon millions of captive revelers. I marveled at Dick Clark as he mumbled through the last hour of an hour of a decade. Not even Nostradamus could have written a quatrain fortelling such a monumental reunion of not one, but two pillars of twenty-first century greatness such as Backstreet Boys and New Kids on the Block.

Yet, despite all of the mind-boggling spectacles associated with the ticking of a Rolex as it coordinates with the Gregorian calendar, I remained unimpressed.

Label me a party-pooper if you will. I just happen to view every day as a beginning of a new year. I'll never stand in a throng of revelers bent on ushering in a new beginning while lamenting the failures of 364 days passed. Nor will a throng of revelers ever stand with me tomorrow as I share my own insights of a new life after 73 hours of supposed renewal.

Here I sit, nearly 48 hours after the ball dropped and I continue to wrestle with the demons that plagued me before Ke$ha sang horribly in Times Square. My new year started today. It's also going to start again tomorrow... and the day after that, and the day after that... yadda, yadda, yadda ...

Psst... pssst .... I have a secret I'd like to share with you. Don't tell anyone ... please, it's kind of personal ...

okay ... I have a couple of issues that sometimes have issues with me.... shhhhhhhhh .... it's a secret.... There are times when I surrender all reason and control to those things that will put me in that place...that place where I am one with myself...that place where I can express myself freely without recompense.

Most can't understand being a slave to an inner self who requires a key to be set free... yet that key is jagged and slices at innocent parts of yourself in order to free the inner being that you are.

My own self, well, it has a keyring. Much like a janitor's keyring at your local department of sanitation, my inner keyring holds keys to doors that I've never opened. Most of the keys on my keyring require a frustrating amount of jiggling or simply don't work at all. That's what I get for finding myself at a Wal-Mart tool departrment.

Yet, my master key, a skeleton key, no less... well, it is one that I cannot seem to lose. I cannot lose it beacause, to this point, I cannot find anyone, or anything, that can reset the tumblers in my lock, my life, so that a new key can be cast.

My key works or it doesn't. A key that doesn't open a door is worthless. Sure, the door that my master key opens allows access to a room that is dimly lit. But, the key works and will most likely always work because it is a Master key that allows me to access a part of myself.

How does this relate to New Years? Thanks for sticking around.... Every new year celebration is an opportunity to discover another master key. More importantly, just because another master key is found doesn't mean you discard the other master keys. Master keys are skeleton keys ... skeletons are comprised of many bones and without one the rest are weakened. Keep your master keys on a single ring... good and bad. Use them when you need them and forge new keys when necessary...

By the way, a skeleton key forged for the darkest rooms of a life are the most valuable ... without that key there is no way to distinguish the teeth of a key that opens the door holding light...

Sounds hokey, sure... but this new year.. today, tomorrow ... embrace that room within you you wish to discard... that room is what makes you 'you'....


.... huh? what? you're still here? ..... my insightful thoughts ended up there ... You must really hate me, dontcha? Wha..?... What is the key to my closet, you ask? Will it make you feel better about yourself if I reveal the tumbler code to my inner lock? I'm all about helping others, really ...

What is it that I, Jeffrey Brunk, need, or percieve to need, in order to be Jeffrey Brunk?

Hell, it's a new year ... a new day. Ok, here it is...

I need acceptance. I need forgiveness. I need love. I need laughter and I need to make others laugh.
I need my parents... and my sister.
I need Pam.

My master key is red wine. My inner self hides behind a door that only red wine can open. Am I proud of that? No. Am I aware that there is a greater part of my psyche that lies dormant until senseless sensibilies are numbed? You betcha ... I have always known that my master key required a synchronized turning, much like the launching of nuclear weapons ...

Before you decide to judge ... I know that I'm bi-polar, duh. I've lived through Hell with meds. Been there done that. I know that I self-medicate. I also have a genius IQ.. 24... hey, for where I grew up, it's pretty damed impressive...

I write to survive. I drink red wine in order to write, to survive. One of my master keys is red wine. Another of my master keys is writing. One is potentially life-threatenting,  the other is potentially life-expanding. But, for me, one cannot exist without the other. At least for the moment ...

My weakness is your strength ... my key may be a digit in your combination lock ...

There ya go ... don't force it if it doesn't fit.