Sunday, August 26, 2012
Yelps from the Closet: Elmer, The BiPolar Bear, Chapter 1
Yelps from the Closet: Elmer, The BiPolar Bear, Chapter 1: Elmer was quite the bear. He was big, he was intimidating, He was white and hairy and full of himself. Elmer loved life. He considered him...
Elmer, The BiPolar Bear, Chapter 1
Elmer was quite the bear. He was big, he was intimidating, He was white and hairy and full of himself.
Elmer loved life. He considered himself the biggest, baddest bear ever createted. He was, afterall, a polar bear. Able to live through the harshest of conditions, Elmer knew of his limitations yet knew of his own ability to survive, no matter the conditions.
Elmer was the bipolar bear. Big, hairy, white and quite sure of his invulnerabilities. Long claws, sharp teeth, the mind of a killer and a disdain for any creature smaller than himself.
Yet, the wildlife surrounding Elmer scoffed. Why fear a bear with the mind incapable of determining what to kill for food and what to spare? After all, Elmer considered otters cute and unworthy of dying, no matter how hungry he might be. Yet. elk... well, elk were fair game. Cocky, antlered bastards.
Elmer thought too much. Always thinking. Not like the 'Bi' polar bear who jumped at the chance to gobble down anything, Elmer was a bipolar bear with a heart of gold and a mind of lead that often caused him to go hungry as a resulf of indecision.
One day, during October, as ususal, Elmer felt a change in his demeanor. No longer comfortable with the role he played as the big, hairy white bear expected to catch fish and. well, be the one to sustain other's happiness and survival, Elmer grunted 'arrgh, ummph, ooga booga/....which translates to 'fuck it, I'm not a pawn to anyone'.....
So, Elmer, without consltation, decided to become a grizzly bear....although a white, unusual grizzly bear.
There are no white grizzly bears. But Elmer was now a grizzly bear. And, he educated the grizzly bears that bears are bears, despite color. White, brown, black... bears are bears. Bipolar or not.
Elmer was never accepted into the bear community outside of the cold, icy world in which he lived. The other bears couldn't understand how anoher bear so different could ever even imagine being part of the bear world.
Bears are intelligent creatures. Bipolar bears are exceptional creatures. The rest of the bear community doesn't understand and is quite ignorant, eating nuts and killing squirrels.
Elmer is doing just fine. His scratchings will soon be available as a book describing his difficulties living amongst the outside bear communities.
Elmer loved life. He considered himself the biggest, baddest bear ever createted. He was, afterall, a polar bear. Able to live through the harshest of conditions, Elmer knew of his limitations yet knew of his own ability to survive, no matter the conditions.
Elmer was the bipolar bear. Big, hairy, white and quite sure of his invulnerabilities. Long claws, sharp teeth, the mind of a killer and a disdain for any creature smaller than himself.
Yet, the wildlife surrounding Elmer scoffed. Why fear a bear with the mind incapable of determining what to kill for food and what to spare? After all, Elmer considered otters cute and unworthy of dying, no matter how hungry he might be. Yet. elk... well, elk were fair game. Cocky, antlered bastards.
Elmer thought too much. Always thinking. Not like the 'Bi' polar bear who jumped at the chance to gobble down anything, Elmer was a bipolar bear with a heart of gold and a mind of lead that often caused him to go hungry as a resulf of indecision.
One day, during October, as ususal, Elmer felt a change in his demeanor. No longer comfortable with the role he played as the big, hairy white bear expected to catch fish and. well, be the one to sustain other's happiness and survival, Elmer grunted 'arrgh, ummph, ooga booga/....which translates to 'fuck it, I'm not a pawn to anyone'.....
So, Elmer, without consltation, decided to become a grizzly bear....although a white, unusual grizzly bear.
There are no white grizzly bears. But Elmer was now a grizzly bear. And, he educated the grizzly bears that bears are bears, despite color. White, brown, black... bears are bears. Bipolar or not.
Elmer was never accepted into the bear community outside of the cold, icy world in which he lived. The other bears couldn't understand how anoher bear so different could ever even imagine being part of the bear world.
Bears are intelligent creatures. Bipolar bears are exceptional creatures. The rest of the bear community doesn't understand and is quite ignorant, eating nuts and killing squirrels.
Elmer is doing just fine. His scratchings will soon be available as a book describing his difficulties living amongst the outside bear communities.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
All a blur
It's all a blur anymore. There's no set directives, only feelings and a belief that what I do and say is right, or wrong. Usually right.
I have no direction I have no reason to move ahead. I once was told that I had a mark upon me that set me apart from most everyone else. At the time, I felt it. Now, I wonder. I've become a loving caregiver while sacrificing myself. Yet, I know that my sacrifice has a purpose.
My losing the love and respect of mh children must assuredly have a purpose if not, I'm simply a worthless, unneeded human being
But this isn't about my offspring. This is about a deep-seated desire and pulling to help others who suffer from the ones in life who don't appreciate us, our intelligence and our ability to look beyond the present.
Call me crazy. It's ok. I am crazy. Every great mind who thought outside ghd box was crazy. Einstein curie, newton the list goes on and on.
I'm holding a genius IQ. yeah, me. Go figure. Mh mind never stops. I drive Pam and those around me crazy. That'd ok too. Normal Is boring. Normal makes one talk about food and galas priced. Normal shows up at the office five minuted early on order to show fhr'boss that you're committed.
Be committed. Commit yourself. Spend a day and dont talk. Just listen and learn. You'll wonder who's really crazy. Surprises come in fruit cups.
I have no direction I have no reason to move ahead. I once was told that I had a mark upon me that set me apart from most everyone else. At the time, I felt it. Now, I wonder. I've become a loving caregiver while sacrificing myself. Yet, I know that my sacrifice has a purpose.
My losing the love and respect of mh children must assuredly have a purpose if not, I'm simply a worthless, unneeded human being
But this isn't about my offspring. This is about a deep-seated desire and pulling to help others who suffer from the ones in life who don't appreciate us, our intelligence and our ability to look beyond the present.
Call me crazy. It's ok. I am crazy. Every great mind who thought outside ghd box was crazy. Einstein curie, newton the list goes on and on.
I'm holding a genius IQ. yeah, me. Go figure. Mh mind never stops. I drive Pam and those around me crazy. That'd ok too. Normal Is boring. Normal makes one talk about food and galas priced. Normal shows up at the office five minuted early on order to show fhr'boss that you're committed.
Be committed. Commit yourself. Spend a day and dont talk. Just listen and learn. You'll wonder who's really crazy. Surprises come in fruit cups.
Monday, August 6, 2012
Vacation, Man-tits and Management
I'm in Tennessee. On vacation. In Tennessee. No beach. No surf. No 'special' taxi drivers. No music without a banjo. Tennessee, a land time forgot only after it forgot West Virginia.
In my last post, I mentioned the gentle roar of my wife, snoring beside me as she slumbered. Tonight, the gentle snoring is less pronounced, yet, on an airbed to her right sleeps my sister. My sister, who obviously has a deviated septum and a wonderful knack for calling elk to our window as she sleeps.
Yet, again, this is vacation. And, I'm thankful that my sister is able to share at least a small amount of time with us here in the land of Deliverance and man-boobs. Yes, this is the land of obesity. Man boobs are as prevalent as pine trees and molasses here in Tennessee. I know that as I've aged I've padded my midsection with a few pounds of survival fuel, but here in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, I'm surrounded by survivalists who plan on living off body fat for years after the apocalypse.
However, despite my observations at the inhumanly intolerable indoor waterpark here where I reside, I'm not going to write about the effects of Big Macs, french fries, gravy and ballpark franks. The sights, smells and visions that will haunt me after this week do not compare to the horrors of what has preceded this vacation.... the sights, sounds and experiences recently thrown my way as a result of, *gulp* , my job.
I know, I shouldn't even be thinking of my job while on vacation. Hell, I'm a bar manager, I shouldn't give two shits and a can of ravioli about my job in the first place. Especially while I'm in a place like Pigeon Forge, Tennessee and the land of DollyWood. Oh, and you readers who look at me and judge me for not caring about my job while you're out of work... well, too bad... there are jobs out there. Climb down from your pedestals and find something beneath you if need be. Not everyone makes a huge salary but jobs are out there (my political rant for the day).
I might not be the highest-titled manager with my employer, but I am the one with the most insight and the highest intelligence. Sure, I don't wear a tie, and I never will again, but what I have to offer is immeasurable compared to what less-experienced, less intelligent and less self-important morons have to offer. I have always had a disdain for incompetence and it hasn't been until recently that I've repeatedly been bombarded with not only incompetence from management but lack of respect for my abilities.
Again, I'll never claim to know everything. I'm not my ex-wife or a member of the GOP. But, I'm no dummy. either. And, I'm no pushover who will accept a word from management as being concrete without actions to back up what management says. I seem to have developed a big mouth that has both made me a black sheep with management and a vocal proponent of rights amongst my co-workers.
I'm no different from anyone else with the exception of a few jail stays, arrests, mental ward visits and 'supposed' suicide attemps. As a result of age and experience, I refuse to accept anyone attempting to walk over me and deny my authority in a position that I've clearly earned and worked hard to attain.
Can you relate?
So, as I sit here late at night, straining to hear the keystrokes as my sister and beloved wife call to the wildlife here in Tennessee as they sleep in blissful peace, I will ponder how I will face my future Seven days from now my future will either be changed positively or negatively. It all depends on the man in the monkey suit sitting behind the desk and how he reacts to a man who's ego and intelligence exceeds his own.
Yee haw. Bring on the banjos. This is 'Deliverance' at it's core. Survival of the fittest.
In my last post, I mentioned the gentle roar of my wife, snoring beside me as she slumbered. Tonight, the gentle snoring is less pronounced, yet, on an airbed to her right sleeps my sister. My sister, who obviously has a deviated septum and a wonderful knack for calling elk to our window as she sleeps.
Yet, again, this is vacation. And, I'm thankful that my sister is able to share at least a small amount of time with us here in the land of Deliverance and man-boobs. Yes, this is the land of obesity. Man boobs are as prevalent as pine trees and molasses here in Tennessee. I know that as I've aged I've padded my midsection with a few pounds of survival fuel, but here in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, I'm surrounded by survivalists who plan on living off body fat for years after the apocalypse.
However, despite my observations at the inhumanly intolerable indoor waterpark here where I reside, I'm not going to write about the effects of Big Macs, french fries, gravy and ballpark franks. The sights, smells and visions that will haunt me after this week do not compare to the horrors of what has preceded this vacation.... the sights, sounds and experiences recently thrown my way as a result of, *gulp* , my job.
I know, I shouldn't even be thinking of my job while on vacation. Hell, I'm a bar manager, I shouldn't give two shits and a can of ravioli about my job in the first place. Especially while I'm in a place like Pigeon Forge, Tennessee and the land of DollyWood. Oh, and you readers who look at me and judge me for not caring about my job while you're out of work... well, too bad... there are jobs out there. Climb down from your pedestals and find something beneath you if need be. Not everyone makes a huge salary but jobs are out there (my political rant for the day).
I might not be the highest-titled manager with my employer, but I am the one with the most insight and the highest intelligence. Sure, I don't wear a tie, and I never will again, but what I have to offer is immeasurable compared to what less-experienced, less intelligent and less self-important morons have to offer. I have always had a disdain for incompetence and it hasn't been until recently that I've repeatedly been bombarded with not only incompetence from management but lack of respect for my abilities.
Again, I'll never claim to know everything. I'm not my ex-wife or a member of the GOP. But, I'm no dummy. either. And, I'm no pushover who will accept a word from management as being concrete without actions to back up what management says. I seem to have developed a big mouth that has both made me a black sheep with management and a vocal proponent of rights amongst my co-workers.
I'm no different from anyone else with the exception of a few jail stays, arrests, mental ward visits and 'supposed' suicide attemps. As a result of age and experience, I refuse to accept anyone attempting to walk over me and deny my authority in a position that I've clearly earned and worked hard to attain.
Can you relate?
So, as I sit here late at night, straining to hear the keystrokes as my sister and beloved wife call to the wildlife here in Tennessee as they sleep in blissful peace, I will ponder how I will face my future Seven days from now my future will either be changed positively or negatively. It all depends on the man in the monkey suit sitting behind the desk and how he reacts to a man who's ego and intelligence exceeds his own.
Yee haw. Bring on the banjos. This is 'Deliverance' at it's core. Survival of the fittest.
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