What Lies Beneath

There are things known and there are things unknown, and in between are the doors of perception.-Aldous Huxley

You know, I think all my years of studying phychology have twisted my brain around. It's as if I have this power now to see everything as it actually is. And believe me, it is not a power I would want anyone to have.

Over the years my relationships whether friends or lovers have become more complicated, but mostly due to my suspicions. Normally by a few weeks in I feel like i've brought a knife to a gun fight. I'm one of those people that never says anything bad about people that came in and out of my life. They came in for a reason, and they left for a reason, and hopefully I learned something from it. On the flipside however, it is an entirely different story. It's like being surrounded by people with concealed weapons.

Ask yourself, how many times have you ended a friendship or relationship, and suddenly words are thrown like daggers? They are not intended to maim, they intend to kill, they are short, and they are vicious. Where do they come from? Where do they harbour? How long have they been there? Do you sit at dinner in a nice restaurant where you compliment someone on how lovely they look tonight and they are actually thinking "Yeah, whatever you shallow asshole?" Do you walk hand in hand at a beach and they say what a lovely day they are having but really thinking "I wish he would just shut up already?" (These are just examples, not real, I hope.) Are the words thrown at this point intended, or the heat of the moment? I don't know. What do you think? This is why I shut so many people out of my life. How can you possibly go back when people say such things? How can you look them in the eye, and take any of their words with any sincerity?

So that's it for me, just had to get that off my chest. But tonight, when someone is sitting across from you, or lying beside you in bed, stop and ask yourself what are they thinking. Don't do that "what are you thinking" thing that woman always do, because we hate that. Just ask yourself.
Two Aldous Huxley quotes in one day. I know a little over the top, but nothing but the best for my readers.

It was one of those evenings when men feel like truth, goodness, and beauty are one. In the morning, when they commit their discovery to paper, when others read it written there, it looks wholly ridiculous. -Aldous Huxley

The Kelowna Trip or How to Trash Your New Truck in 24 Hours

Well, the birthday went by pretty quietly. I went on a bit of a tear on the weekend, so by the time the actual day came around I was pretty worn out. I had to leave to Kelowna at 6 the next morning, so I had to use the last shread of good judgement I had left from my 39th year.

There was a lot of anxiety leading up to the trip. The Coquihalla Highway was closed the morning before due to hazardous driving conditions, and even at the best of times it isn't the greatest.

I set out as planned at 6. I was amazed at the time I was making, I was on the Port Mann Bridge in 12 minutes. Normally at least a 30 minute feat. The sun started rising as I climbed into the mountains, a most beautiful sunrise that words could not describe. The song above was playing (just thought I would throw that in there.) The roads were perfect, no ice, no snow. I made it door to door in 3 hours. Anyone that can beat that is more than welcome, i'm still tring to get the black stuff from my steering wheel off of my hands. This was a bit of an experiment between my boss and myself. He figured it was more cost effective to drive up than fly as I normally do. I must say, and yes this is a total slam of Air Canada, with the normal delays and driving to the airport yada yada yada, it would take me 3 and a half hours to fly to Kelowna. Kind of disturbing. But here is the kicker, and i'm sure it will be fun on the conference call on Monday. The Coq. is covered with gravel as everyone knows to help combat the snow. The windshield, my hood, my headlights, my bumper, shot. Probably around $2000.00 in damage, not too cost effective, but we'll see how that goes over.

After I took care of business, I wandered over to my sisters house where they had a bit of a surprise birthday party for me. The kids were still hopped up on Easter chocolate, and bouncing off the walls when they saw me. I hit the Toys 'R' Us on the way over and told them that the Easter Bunny had given me some more booty to give them, but, they would have to wait. So obviously for the next hour, I had each of them wanting to tell me a secret, when I would lower my ear to them it would all be the same statement. "Uncle Johnny, I talked to the Easter Bunny, and he wants you to go to your truck and get our gifts, he's mad you won't give them to us." I still managed to skirt the issue until after dinner.

So we had dinner, and the cake came out. Bryson the youngest thought he would take another stab at it and told me he had another secret. I bent down..."the Easter Bunny told me to tell you that my mommy didn't make this cake and the lasagna is a frozen one from the store...and you should give me my gift." I swear, this kid must have gone to my seminar on how to burn your parents. So then they brought out the big card that the kids had made with all of their "poems". As with all of us at that age, they are either stuck with the "roses are red" line or a knock knock joke. Sierra had "Roses are red, violets are blue, did you know that, we really love you." awwww.. Parker was next with "Roses are red, violets are blue, today is your birthday, just for you". And then once again, Mighty Bryson steps to bat..."Knock knock. Who's there? Violets. Violets who? Violets...can you smell them!! I just found my new pick up line.

After we cleaned up,I helped Parker with a Science Fair project for a little while until the kids settled in with my sister down in the sunken living room. I was just listening in as I was reading an e-mail. Parker found 4 more Easter Eggs behind some DVD's on the fireplace. My sister said "how long are you guys going to keep finding these things, you would think they would all be found by know?" Not really paying attention, I just started talking while I was reading my Blackberry. "You know Heather, the general idea is that you count how many you hide, and then you know how many are left...DUH!!" The room went silent, my sisters jaw dropped to an almost impossible angle. It seemed like time froze for a moment...the awkward silence was just long enough for a lightning bolt of fear to race up my spine. My sisters stare narrowed and hardened. And then the words trickled out of my niece's mouth like drops of water from a downspout. "Mommy....are you the Easter Bunny?" My sister resting her head in her palms and sighed "oh my god".. I meanwhile ran for the door...hearing my name, thats right the whole John Christopher being yelled from behind. My Mother walked in and asked what was going on, I just said " i think Heather want s to talk to you, I have to go", and contined my dash for the door. Heather knowing the house better than I, already had me blocked.

It took about an hour of back tracking, but I think the kids believe in the Easter Bunny again. As I was leaving, Heather gave me the standard "please don't come back...especially for Christmas." line and I was on my way. Good times.

Birthdays, Mourning, and the Passage of Time. In no Particular Order

A few things to cover today. I've taken enough meds to ensure I don't feel anything so hopefully i'll be able to get through this.

First off, a sad note. Meadow, my daughter's lab passed away yesterday. I did not know Meadow personally, but i've heard the passion in Miley's voice when she talked about him. He had been there for almost her entire life. From her first steps, through her first words right through to her first date. He faithfully raised her as only a dog could, and was there for her at all times. Through stormy nights and broken hearts he was there, and she will miss him, as will I.

So Meadow, I thank you. A poem for you, rest well.

If it should be that I grow frail and weak,

and pain should keep me from my sleep,

then you must do what must be done,

for we know this last battle can't be won.

You will be sad, I understand,

but don't let grief then stay your hand,

for this day, more than the rest,

your love and friendship must stand the test.

We've had so many happy years,

what is to come can hold no fears.

Would you want me to suffer? So,

when the time comes, please let me go.

Take me where my needs they'll tend,

only stay with me until the end,

and hold me firm and speak to me,

until my eyes no longer see.

It is a kindness that you do to me,

although my tail it's last has waved,

from pain and suffering I have been saved.

Do not grieve, it should be you,

who must decide this thing to do.

We've been so close, we two these years,

Don't let your heart hold any tears.

Part 2

Do you know what you were doing exactly 1 year ago? I do. I was sitting on a park bench in front of a Macy's at Victoria Gardens in Rancho Cucamonga. It was one of those cool California mornings with a soft drizzle that beaded up on my bronzed legs as I sipped my Starbucks patiently. I sat there for about 5 hours with frequent visits into Macy's where I would keep buying shirts I rarely wear (there is one though that I put over my eyes everynight in a useless attempt to combat my skylight), then walk to the car, throw them in the trunk, and return to the bench. It was a friends birthday, and in my great expectations stupidity, I was trying to surprize her, (it's not as crazy as it sounds, her shopping habits are legendary, and I figured my odds were fifty/fifty. It turns out she was there, but we didn't see each other.) Anyhow, the drizzle provided me a perfect reflective day, cleansing almost. We don't talk anymore, and I miss her. I miss our conversations. We had one of those rare friendships where we almost always knew what the other was thinking, and if we wanted, we could easily finish each others sentences. It used to be that I could just think of her and the phone would ring, and there she would be. The last six months i've almost had an aneurysm a few times, concentrating on the phone, hoping it would ring. It never does. Happy 37th Dawn. And now a poem for you.

A Dozen Roses

A dozen roses I give to you my friend

A gift that seems so small

But they represent so much

Our friendship most of all

A rose for the friendship

A rose for the touch

A rose for the trust we share

Our sharing means so much.

A rose for the kindness

And the deep caring you show

A rose for the comfort given

When i've been feeling low

A rose for the laughter

How it makes your eyes shine

A rose for the dreams we share

Its amazing how they intertwine

A rose for the deep respect

You give to me with ease

A rose for the love we feel

And how you wish to please

A rose for your compassion

That has helped me in so many ways

A rose for bringing me sunshine

That has brightened all my days

The last rose is the best

For it stands so proud and tall

This rose represents you

My favorite one of all

Lastly, its my birthday on Monday. The big 39. I spent about a half hour in front of the mirror this morning, you should try it sometime, be brave though. The age is rolling in like a high tide. The grays are starting to invade my crop, like some unwanted weed in a mustard field. The lines now stretch out from my eyes, my eyes, my tired eyes. Scars now cover most of my upper real estate, its like some type of macabre treasure map. There is the gash in my temple from the "Schloss Laderheim" incident of 1987. I invited Mike DePhiffer to "hit me with his best shot", which he did with his ring finger. As they were stitching me up at the hospital, I could her my mom saying "my baby, aren't you going to give my baby anything for the pain?" The nurse replied "I can assure you Mrs. Hartwick, he is not feeling anything." There is the scar on my thumb where I crashed my go cart into a tree and got the steering wheel stuck on my hand. It took three orderlys at the hospital to pull it off. There's the mark where Trevor Aaron decided to shoot me. Several from where the dog decided I was a jerky treat when I was 10. And a bunch more from jumping my bike off a cliff when I was 12 trying to land in the creek, and landing in a rose bush instead. All part of a rich history. A party was planned, but I have declined. It's funny but I just didn't want to be let down, so I cancelled it instead. Well, that's about it. I know there aren't any paragraph breaks. A blogger problem i'm sure. Thats my story, and i'm sticking to it.

Running on Faith

A beautiful song. Sometimes I actually think I wrote it.

Roughing it at the QV

I'm in beautiful downtown Victoria again, and no the shoulder is not better but I just thought I would check in and maybe post a vid. The QV has felt a little guilty about a fracas we had a few months ago, and has decided to give me a lovely suite once again. So a little pay per view at the Sticky Wicket, and hopefully I won't get too consumed in the shape i'm in to enjoy the luxury.

Broken Wing

I know most of you think I have just been my usual neglecful self when it comes to this blog. But ahh haa!! not true. After my last post about my wonderful day at the batting cage, I woke up in the morning with a most unbearable pain in my arm. Being the procrastinator I am, I finally made it to the doctor yesterday. I never thought I would have a doctor describe something to me as catastrophic, but he did. Apparently I had some damage up my back and shoulder from an accident years ago. My little trip to the cage basically destroyed what I had left of a shoulder. So no more writing for a long time, he figures minimum three months, and possibly a year. I guess I can post vid's now and then, and I will try. This typing with my left hand has already taken me 40 minutes. So until I can get rid of some of this pain, I will have to leave you with this.

Broken Wing

I can't fly anymore

I was never meant to

I can never soar

With my broken wings

The words I sigh

Are lost in the wind

I cannot reach the sky

With my broken wings

The thought are turning

Deep inside my soul

Tears in my eyes are burning

Because of my broken wings

To heaven I cannot fly

I am held down by despair

Why do I even try

I have but broken wings

I walk my steps alone

I have nothing

Nothing to call my own

Except my broken wings

I have a hole inside of me

it consumes my mind

I cannot fight myself free

Hampered by broken wings

There is no one who will care

Or protect me

From others when they stare

At the angel with broken wings

I live without a spark

Walking in solitude

Treading lightly in the dark

Dragging my broken wings

I can't fly

I can't see

I can't die

I have but broken wings

The Good Ole Batting Cage

Today it was my time for my monthly visit to Maple Ridge. As i've said before, music is essential on this trip, it is one long monotonous drive. Roman got some Time/Life discs i've been plowing through for a few months now, and there were a couple I hadn't heard yet.

I wrapped up business fairly early as I always do there, small dealer. On the way home I always stop at the Maple Ridge Batting Cages. Nothing clears your head like smacking some balls around. Of course this time of year there are not many people who do it, so the guy next door at the driving range normally rolls his eyes as I walk in. He knows then and there he is going to have to get up off his duff, put down his bowl of Chef-Boy-R-Dee du jour, and waddle across the parking lot and open the cage for me.

Its a beautiful layout there. The cage faces right out onto Golden Ears Park with nothing blocking the views, it's like you could park a ball right over the mountain range. Maybe I could do it with Clemons trainer.

Anyhow, the cage backs right onto the parking lot, so whenever i'm there I pull my truck right up to the back and play some tunes. It's never a problem, in the middle of winter i'm the only one there.

So I never really looked at the cd, I just popped it in. First tune that came up? As above, "Love Will Keep Us Together" by the Captain and Tennille. This is a "very" little known fact, but as a child, when all my friends wanted to be policemen, firemen, and astronauts, I wanted to be the Captain. The guy just oozed cool to me. Yes, I even had the outfit, and I can't tell you how many women would fawn over the little boy in his Captain outfit.

You have to really dig this video. Man, they were worried about Ashley Simpson lip synching, these guys are ballsy enough to not even use microphones, ahh the 70's.

It was followed by "The Most Beautiful Girl" by Charlie Rich (you should check out the vid for that one on you tube as well, i'm far too much of a moron to post both), "Daisy Jane" by America, "Rhinestone Cowboy" by Glen Campbell and on and on.

Cheesy as hell? Oh yeah! But as I sat on the hood of my truck while downing a sub-standard hotdog and looking off into the mountains, I reflected to myself, "not a bad day, not a bad day at all."