A day with a princess and the royal family.

The beloved Meathead and I were kidnapped in the very wee hours of the morning yesterday, or, as some would say, in the night. As I was awake anyway I minded little. We were forced to endure the tortures of grilled foods and great company. Oh, what horrors we faced. Like troopers though, we did not back down nor did we ever give up! We consumed the meats, what MUST have been several pounds worth. My colon hates me but my tummy loves me for it!
the coversation was truly a nightmare, what with all the laughing and catching up. Once again, the horrors! OH!! And lets us never forget the nightmare of the , wait for it.......TICKLING!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AAHHHHHHH!!!! The memories are too much!!!(SOB).
Ok, I've recovered, let us continue. The betrayal by my best buddy was almost too much when he failed to protect me from those wicked tickles, I'll not mention any names oh furry and tailed one....
There was, however, one enjoyable ray of light. One that helped me through the darkness of the great food and better friends, The Princess. AH yes, The Princess Emma! She and I, her Prince Kevin, the handsome, smart, strong, handsome, witty, handsome, brave, and did I mention handsome?, Prince Kevin, took on the evils of the world to save the innocent!!! We rode the length and breadth of the kingdom, fighting trolls, witches and care bears.... ok, maybe not care bears be we sure would have had any got in our way! We also befriended and learned about a certain large grasshopper. If you ask the Princess she will show you that this grasshopper was about a foot in length or more. We played with Ruby the dragon who stayed in my shirt pocket, we threw a ball at the beach. She and I constructed our castle, complete with a moat and draw bridge and towers. We stalked the elusive crickets in the wild, uncharted yard. We flew across and above the land, we sat , we walked holding hands, making small talk that only a four year old and an adult with the mind of a four year old can conjure. It was a wonderful day. There was a certain beautiful someone who was missing, but was with us in heart. My Queen.
Today the royal court travels to the wizard of the scalpel to tend to the king's leg. It was bitten off by a shark but is getting better. If he would have taken MY advice and rubbed salt in the gaping hole in his leg, it would be all healed today. So few people listen to my advice though, it's weird huh? At least he is getting better, although slower than if he would have listened to me and my extensive medical background. Salt and dirt does wonders!!
B and I are back in our cave now, the smell of cooking flesh still fresh in our nostrils and the feelings of arms around us in hugs fresh in our minds. This day, this cool Autumn day, will be long remembered.

A special morning at the park.

This morning was the sort of morning that poets dream about. It was cool, almost crisp, and clear. There was a light fog coming from the heavy dew on the grass. The stars were bright, so much so that you felt you could see into the future with them. There was the smell of late blooming flowers, so sweet it would make your teeth hurt to smell them. Soon, the sun started to lighten the sky and the birds awoke to sing the day awake. First the cardinals, then the jays and grackles. Then, as if on cue, all sorts started calling, announcing to the world that they were still alive. The geese and ducks glided across the surface of the calm water, fluffing their feathers and dipping their heads in the wet mirror that reflected and moved under them.
The sun crested above the tree line and colors exploded across the land B and I stood on. The squirrels, their cheeks stuffed with pecans and walnuts, ran up and down the trees, stowing them for the winter that is sure to come before long. The cool air is strong in our lungs. That slobbering beast beside me and I sat watching, peacefully, as the morning rituals of the those park animals took place.
We completed several revolutions of the parks' trail and, grudgingly, set about a very round-about way to the house were we sleep. While walking along the river to exit the park I noticed a very large bird swooping in to land on a branch. It was an unusual color that I noticed to be the dappling of a juvenile but had the four and a half foot wingspan of a bird a great deal larger than the native hawks. Curious, I dug out my binoculars and had a much closer gaze at the details of the youngster. As he, or she, was only 40 feet away or so, I had a nice look. A nice, long look. I watched as it flew off after a duck, an adult duck that looked so small next to it. Then another duck, and another. It hunted with the awkwardness of youth, but persistence of an adult. I took out my handy little bird book, the one with the photos, not drawings, of the birds. Sure enough it was in there, big as as the sun that rose only an hour before, a juvenile bald eagle! Right here in Stephenville at the city park. Possibly, likely, an early migrator to the North. Old enough to be on its own, young enough to not yet have found a mate. In any event, beautiful, like the rest of the morning spent with my constant companion, Bruno.

A mixed up mind or a confused coconut.

Being bi-polar often times sucks the ass. A smelly, hairy, greasy, zit-filled ass. Every night I get ready for bed and wonder who will wake up tomorrow. Will it be the neurotic, paranoid, can't-leave-the-room guy? The anal attentive neat freak cleaning the toilet with a toothbrush? (Not my toothbrush mind you!) Will i awake to the depressed lay-in bed-all-day guy? Or, the worst, the furious bastard that hates all things personality? I never know. What's worse is the length of time between these people varies. Could last a day, could last a couple of weeks. Personally, I prefer the manic, wild idiot, though even I get tired of this one. The constant chatter from my mouth and in my head that never seems to be connected to each other wears thin on my nerves, yet I cannot stop it. Some days I don't even notice what I'm doing...until I see the bank statement! If I have money, I often spend it without thinking. Impulsive purchasing on a budget larger than I have access to often bodes ill for me. Then again, when I start thinking of a purchase I will talk myself out of it.
Then there are the voices and noises. Oh what fun to go around all day looking for that fricking noise that eludes one all day! Or to keep looking to see if anyone else hears what I, or my mind, thinks it hears. Meds do help keep things manageable, most days. The best defense I currently have against tripping over the cliff of insanity is my dog, Bruno. I can always count on him to lighten things up. When anxiety clubs me in the head, he is right there to put his head under my hand to calm me down. When the "noises" become worse, I look at him to see if he is listening to something or someone to determine if we both hear it. Imagine if he heard things too! That would be funny as hell, sad, but funny! It has taken some adjustments, but he and I read each other pretty well and rely on each other for comfort and security. I think we are both better for it. He no longer a risk at being put down for lack of a home, I at a lesser risk for being put down due to lack of sanity. Make no mistake, I still lack sanity, I just cope better with it now. Or without it, depending on which side I look at. We, dare I say it, complete each other. That is so corny you could plant it, but it works. Together we are a little less un-complete. Besides, without my bed, where would he sleep?

The walk, again.

Once again I have been thinking, no dreaming, of "the walk". A walk-about as it is know in Aussie land. I mapped my route out of Texas to Northern New Mexico were I will be briefly before hitting Colorado and the Rocky Mountain trail to Canada. The Texas to N.M. is 157.5 miles or there about. If I can log 20 miles per day, that is only 2 miles per hour at 10 hours a day, I can be to my first destination in N.M. in about 8 days of travel. Add for unforeseen events and it could be 10 days or so. If I calculate for Bruno marking like he does then we will arrive in New Mexico in just under 8 YEARS! Just kidding Big B. We both pee every few steps, must be a dog thing. Anyway, 2 miles an hour is very doable for us as we average 3 to 4 on even terrain. Sure the days will be long, but interesting and of course there will be breaks for rest, grub, and just to look at things. The trail over the Rockies, if that is the path we travel, will take much longer due to the terrain and elevation but it is something I would love to do!
Some of the gear needed is pricey, emergency radio for weather reports, solar charging panel, and some camping gear to name a few things. Those can be purchased a little at a time due to lack of funding and e-bay is a wonderful thing for finding these things at reasonable rates. The thing I run into is lugging supplies. For myself it is no big issue, but for my dog owner, Bruno, it may just be an issue. I would need space for his food and they do not sell his brand of food in anything smaller than 30 pound bags. That is a lot of space! No way will that fit in my pack with all the other needed gear. I have considered a pull cart and this sounds like a keen idea....until the mountains. Then the trail is uneven at best and not exactly smooth. Tugging on a cart at that altitude and terrain might take a while. So now I must find a new idea. I could sure use some help brainstorming this problem. Any ideas that any of you have would be a great help....possibly. I know some of you and answers like storing the food in your bum may pop up. I have already thought of this and concluded that the food will NOT fit, thank you very much! It may also turn out that I must adjust our route to a more subdued trail avoiding the mountain paths for roads.
In any event I need to remove this chair from my duff and get B and I out the door for our morning hike. Can't get ready for the trip by eating chocolate and playing on this thing....DAMN!

Just Ramblings

It is raining,YES!! While I do enjoy a good wet it does prove a bit dull for the Bruno Dog. He will play in it, but not much. So we sit inside bopping around, He on the futon, I here with my Tazo Zen hot tea. Exciting, I know.
My meditation practice has been going well I believe and I enjoy it. I can open up to myself and be honest with myself without beating the crap out of myself mentally. I can observe feelings and emotions that arise inside of myself to better understand them. About the only problem that I have at times are my legs falling asleep after about 30 minuets and by the time the hour is up, I cannot feel one or both of them at all and must wait for the circulation to return so I can stand. Second is that my mind is like a squirrel, it's all over the place. I get distracted easily and often have trouble focusing on any given task at a time. Some sittings are better than others with the concentration, other times I spend an hour chasing my mind around. Give and take I guess. I enjoy the quiet, just sitting and letting things be. no worries for the moment, no task or appointments, just breathing and observing how things appear and disappear.
I would like to find a yoga class and start practicing some of that. I enjoy a good stretch, so long as I don't have to try to put my feet over my head or up my ass. I'm not near as flexible as I once was.
Well I have a whole day of not doing anything so I'd better get to it.

Humor in a graveyard.

This morning my human took me to the graveyard for a walk in the cool morning air. It is a nice change from the routine walks to the park as the smells are different and there are lots of trees to mark. It is relatively quiet considering it is at probably the busiest traffic area in town. There always seems to be a nice breeze blowing in the mornings and it is rare that there is anyone else around, living that is. Today the human saw some marking on a headstone that gave him a right chuckle. He told me it was funny, maybe it was, human-types can be weird. On the marker of the remains of one woman that lived to a mature age was carved the words " I tried broccoli and didn't like it." Some how this was funny to my human as he explained that most humans like to have there lives summed up in a few words on their markers. A testimony to their beliefs. I believe that this woman did not care much for broccoli.
Have a great Labor Day weekend and keep wagging your tails!

Belonging

The rains finally blew in and with them I've seemed to calm down.....a little. It is a unique sensation to awake with the smell and sound of rain and getting the first days' nice, long stretch and yawn in. Makes me want to go back to sleep just to awake all over again.
I was ask if I felt the way I described on my last post were I lived previously. I had to think and be honest with myself and the answer was 'yes'. I have never felt as if I truly belong anywhere except out in the "wild". The forests and woods help to provide me with a sense of calmness. In the quiet, natural sounds I can think. My head quiets and I feel at ease and peaceful. Among nature and with animals I feel as if I belong. As if it is my "place" to be out there.
One reason that I am aware of is out there I cannot hurt anyone. Nature expects little and I know what to expect of it, the unexpected! I understand nature and animals, it's humans I cannot grasp.
This is through no fault in others. I have been made to feel most welcome among my close circle of friends. They are more family than friends and I love them dearly. However, I have always felt as if I were intruding, a burden and in the way. I have felt comfortable for short periods but never at..home. The feeling is even worse in public or in towns. Most of the time when I am around large crowds I get angry and aggressive. The noises and smells of the people start to close in on me, to suffocate me. I start feeling the need to escape, to lash out and yell "Stay away"!! "Don't fucking touch me"!! and "Shut up"!! I feel the anxiety building in me now as I type this. Just the thought of a mass of stinking, noisy bodies pressing in on me starts to obscure and cloud my thinking. Logic slips away and I picture myself striking them, trying to get out.
Wow, That guy is screwed up! I fear that I will become violent again. That is part of my life I have tried to keep behind me. I have injured enough people, physically and emotionally, to last a life time. And it always seems that I do so to those I care most about. You know who you are and, sadly, so do I. It is a heavy weight on myself and others to know that I will eventually break down and lash out mindlessly again. This is no "poor me" type crap, just simple truth. I am constantly taking steps to try and remedy this, but like most important things with overcoming negative self ideals and beliefs and habits, it is a most difficult task. But no matter how many times the rocks of reality start to slide on the mountain of life, I will continue to climb until I reach the top. What else can I do but continue? I know no other way. Not giving up, no matter how much I wish to, cannot be an option again. i always think, just one more sunrise. One more morning listening to the birds sing and watching the squirrels play. One more deep breath. Breathing, that is key.
Always remember, Just breathe.

Slogging Ever Onward, But To What?

Bruno and I go for walks and jogging almost every morning. We mark our territory, check out any new smells, and enjoy being outside among the birds, squirrels and other animals. There is no better way for us to begin our day than to have the wind in our faces stretching our legs. As of late it is not the motivation to go for that outing that I search for each morning, it is gathering the resolve to return. As soon as we cross the bridge at the park to return to the house, we step back into the world of Man and the smell, no, STENCH of pollution from cars and the ever crushing noise of people going everywhere and nowhere at the same time. At the park, the morning joggers/walkers greet each other with "Good mornings" and "Hellos". Outside of the park, it is all about the self and rushing to do those all important task that requires people to be rude and nasty to each other. Is there a manner barrier that surrounds the park and ends the moment one leaves it's borders? I actually look forward to greeting those regulars out to torture themselves for health and those I have yet to get to know at the park. Why does my attitude towards people change when I leave? Yes, I too am guilty of using the manners barrier of the parks confines. What changes for me? I still say hello and good morning, but it feels different. Forced, almost, and uncomfortable. I am not sure what changes in them or me, but I will search for the answers to this mystery.
As for the return to the house and the world of Man, I turn around and slog ever onward, but to what?