Archive for the ‘Blogging’ Category

Sitting in my office, jamming to some tunes suddenly from a far I hear feet shuffling on the freshly waxed floor. A smile comes across my face, because I know soon I will see my best friend Dale Brown. 
Through the Taoist point of view Dale had reached the rare state of enlightenment, where he was able to see the world through the eyes of a child. I am aware that this state was partially contributed to his illness, but none of that mattered. The brief moments where we were able to interact was always the highlight of my day. It is amazing how we seem to appreciate things so much more when they are gone.

It was the day before Thanksgiving 2009; I spent most of the day by Dale’s side. His biggest fear was being alone I held his hand, and tried to tell him that he is not alone, and everything is going to be ok. I feared that he was so far in the process that he was not able to hear me.

 Dale had just recently been taken off hospice, so he did not have someone by his side, on this day he seemed more alert then the days before. He had spent most his days just laying in bed, on this day Dale was moved out in the common areas in what I call the “death chair”. I call it this, because the residents who sit in this chair pass soon after.

When the day came to an end, I saw him sitting there, I said my goodbye’s knowing in my head that this would be the last time I would see him. There was so much I wanted to say to him, for some reason it did not come out.

I received the text on Thanksgiving eve that he had passed, looking back there are so many things I wished I would have said. I wish I would have given him a hug, and told him exactly how much he meant to me. I wish I told him he is loved.

I still hear shuffles coming from the hallway; I look up with a smile waiting to see his smiling face. I never see it, it has almost been two months and I still have not talked about it, accepted it, or discussed my feelings.

I did not intend on forming any relationships with the residents I work with.  Dale came into my life at a point where I needed a friend. The conversations we had were delusional, yet very personal. I could be myself, I did not need to hide my disease or who I really was, and neither did he. His smile was infectious and always brightened up my day.

He was here my first day at work, and in my mind I thought he would be here for many years to come. I hate that I never took the time to just sit back, and be mindful of the moment. I am angry and sad that I will never get that chance again. I am regretful I did not let him know the impact he had on my life. I wanted him to know that even in death he will always live on in my heart. Even as I write this my eyes well up in tears, yet I refuse to feel through it. I refuse to accept and let go.

Since his passing my days seem empty, and my heart breaks every time I hear the shuffling, only to look up and see that it isn’t him.

Repost. I still miss Dale, and know he had very few people in his life that cherished and loved him for who he was. I know Dale would pass no judgments on my own mental health. Miss and love you.

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I don’t belong in civilized society less my madness be spread to the masses. Over the last few years the madness has become impossible to hide let alone deny. If my madness is factual and cannot be denied than what Kierkegaard is saying is the acknowledgment of my madness will inevitable perpetuate the insanity. 

I cannot tell you how many times I have heard the positive self talk advice which is usually followed by the statement “fake it until you make it.” This statement encourages denial and self deception. 

Prior to my complete mental breakdown I lived in a reality of self denial and false realities. 

Day after day I wore the mask of the masses, until I no longer had the strength to put one on. As I have stated in prior posts this shift occurred once I discovered emotions, the evil which lives in all of us. I cannot contain my crazy because I lack a social filter. This deficiency causes me to stay locked away alone in my home. Isolation is like throwing gasoline onto a fire. 

A recent example was getting thrown out of stamp dealer store. This dude was being a dick, what’s worse is I was fully aware of his strategy. To make a long story short this man was not expecting nor appreciated the verbal vomit of honesty spewing from my lips. I don’t know if it was my honesty or my liberal use of the word “fuck.” The end result is being permantely banned from this establishment. My honesty being without a filter almost got me arrested. 

The Pandora ‘s box of my insanity and the curse of seeing the truth of our society, a society blinded by complacency and ignorance. Most great minds are plagued with madness, they must have faced the facts of their reality and still have the courage to use it as a tool to enact change. 

The following link leads to the face of true evil.

https://coms.doc.state.mn.us/publicviewer/OffenderDetails/Index/254746/Search 

To the great majority the day of our birth is a day for celebration! It’s a time for cake, presents and countless Happy Birthdays on Fake Book… sorry Facebook. Unfortunately there are many people who view their day of birth far differently. For people like me we mourn the day of our birth and becomes a huge trigger into madness. 

I was talking to my dad and he expressed regret for not serving as an infantry during the Vietnam War. He was a specialist, and was redirected from infantry. I could hear the remorse in his voice and the swelling of his eyes trying to hold back the tears. I wondered the consequences in our time line had my dad been in the infantry and died. I know my birth would not have happened. I realized this made me sad, angry, and resentment. Wishing for this alternate reality to be my reality. 

The moral to this story is don’t wish people happy birthday because you never know the intense pressure you just put on someone.

https://coms.doc.state.mn.us/publicviewer/OffenderDetails/Index/254746/Search

I was advised to stay quite while as a family we went through hell and back thanks to this piece of shit my daughters life has been changed and damaged by him, and not writing about this has been very difficult. Over time I plan on telling this story although for the sake of my readers I will reframe from posting one long drawn out post. 

If you want to see the predator who took my daughter and I in to his home during a very fucked up time. Mentally I was fucked, all the while this man who was supposed to be my friend and as he called it we are a family like “My two dads.” One of the things that eats at me is he systematically kept me sick and fucked up on purpose to groom my daughter. 

I want it to be noted I am an overly honest person when it comes to writing and the posts to come will be from eyes and I will be painfully open, but out of respect to my daughter any details regarding my her and this douche fuck will be limited to “grooming.” 

I will attempt to unravel this cluster fuck in future posts. 

I was looking at myself in the mirror today hoping my reflection had changed by seeing this changed reflection I may be able to not see the ugliness I try to deny and lie to myself and everyone else I don’t even recognize when I am looking at I don’t know if it’s even me the window to my soul lonely and lifeless I wonder if this is my vision of the future who the fuck knows certainly not this joker in the mirror

I apologize for the lack of punctuation in this post. I am trying to use talk to text, because my mind runs a million miles a second and I can rarely keep up which hinders my number of posts.

I have a question for my readers which I would love feedback about. I have been told I should start a vlog or podcast of my fucked up ramblings. After people hear me go on and on about Random shit jumping around from one topic to another I always think to myself I wish I had used this material as a post but all is quickly forgotten.

Should I try vloging or start up a podcast?

It’s been awhile since I wrote Graceful Dancing, ideally I would like to say my life has improved, unfortunately logic proves in an ideal reality the word or concept of ideal wouldn’t exist. Therefore ideally is linguistically a lie wrapped in other linguistic lies such as hope or faith. We need to find some comfort no matter how delusional in order to cope with the reality in which we live.

Reality is a ruthless bitch who shows no mercy to the inhabitants of our vast universe. For the millions of people who are swollowed by reality there are millions who overcome and thrive. I have attempted to thrive in the reality I exist, but have been fractured within her madness. The most recent is being evicted, I am unsure how to make it through this one.

Those of you who have been reading my words know the various dreams and aspirations I have had, unfortunately you know I failed. Ever since chaos invaded my only safe place my life has unraveled and shattered into a million pieces. I still hold onto delusional dreams of being more than I am. It’s the only beacon of light in a world of darkness. Throughout the nightmares, within fractured chaos something has slowly emerged into my dream becoming true.

I have become codependent on this dream. The website is almost up. I will be starting a new blog on WordPress and another on YouTube. Once the website is up the printing options available will increase ten fold. But it still needs to go live which who knows if that will happen. My urgency to obtain curency is my top priority. I have turned to Facebook and offering coupon codes for those who like my page to get coupons for 50% to 75% off the entire store. Desperate times my friends.. for those of you who suffer subscribe to this blog I will cross post for awhile until everyone has subscribed to the new blog.

I have to try to keep out of the darkness. I have been to the hospital far to many times this year.

Graceful Dancing

Posted: May 16, 2015 in Absolute Truth, Abuse, Aging, America, Anxiety, Arguments, Atheism, Atheist, Bi-Polar, Bible, Blog, Blogging, Books, Brainwashed, Change, Charity, Charity Foundations, Christianity, Church, Community, Confessions, Coping, Corporate Culture, Crisis, Crooked Politicians, Culture, Death, Debates, Depression, Diary, Dilemma, Dreams, Duty of Care, Dying, Elderly, Emotional Abuse, Epic Battle, Ethics, Evil, Faith, Family, Fear, Forgiveness, God, Good, Good-byes, Greed, Grief, Haile Selassie, Insanity, Inside My Mind, Jesus, Journal, Lies and broken promises, Life, Lists, Living in fear, Logic, Love, Mania, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Minnesota, Misc, miscellaneous, Moral Theories, Morals, Motivation, Mourning, Nursing Homes, Opinion, Pain, Personal, Philosophy, Politics, Prayers, Progress, Psychosis, Quotes, Random, Random Thoughts, Rants, Reform, Rejection, Rights, Sadness, Self-esteem, Self-Help, Self-image, Social Debates, Social Injustices, Society, Sorrow, Spirituality, Stress, Suffering, Suicide, Suicide Note, The Bible, The Bucket List Foundation, The Philosophy of Quotes, Theology, TheRandomArtist, Thoughts, Treatment, Uncategorized, Unity, Verbal Abuse, Work, Work Environment, Writing
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The choice of letting go and saying goodbye is never easy, yet the decision to hold on is even harder. I have let go of hopes, dreams, relationships, redemption and written my goodbyes many times in the past, but every morning I regret my choices and my decisions to hold on… This was the beginning of the post I was working on last Saturday, what was to follow was going to be my final words then swallow every bit of medication I had and finally be at peace. Instead I ended up in the psych ward at Abbot where I stayed until yesterday against my doctors and others advice. I didn’t see the point in staying, all they did was drug me to the point where all I could do was sleep. I was at a crossroads where I knew whether I chose to stay or go I was leaving in worse shape when wen I went in. When I walked out of the hospital and reality came crashing down on me I knew right then and there that I fucked up choosing to go to begin with, yet again regretting my decision to hold on. So I am back where I started but with a bit more inner strength then I had before because I received a mental vacation, but seriously how long will that last? The answer will come in the next week or so as I sit back and see how everything plays out between my job, dream, finances, and relationships. I feel I am at the point where depending on how these things play out will determine my future.

My life is riddled with mistakes, and regrets each one adding to the greater mound of shit called life. At this moment three key things come to mind, keep in mind this is not in chronological order of importance.

  1. Failing at fixing all the problems at the nursing home I work at to improve the quality of life of the residents I have grown to care for so deeply.
  2. Giving up on my dreams of becoming a writer or an artist.
  3. Not finding redemption for the countless number of lives I have destroyed in my 35 years on this earth.
  4. Not following through with shit on November 26th.

I think what it comes down to is acceptance. I need to accept that I won’t ever be more than I am right now. I have to finally accept I won’t ever be able to help the residents where I work. I don’t know what’s worse giving up on my dreams or trying to redeem myself by helping people just like me who can’t help themselves. I have done shitty things; I have poisoned and hurt everyone and everything I have ever touched. Many of my poems touch on this concept of being a “virus.”

For over six years I have worked so hard to make up for all the pain and suffering I have caused by reducing the pain and suffering the residents at the nursing home I work for by the hands and decisions of the very same people who are supposed to care for and safe guard these residents. There are many good hearted people whom I work with who carry this burden of failure, if any of them are reading this they know the deep sorrow and feeling of helplessness of not being able to give these guys the proper quality of life they deserve.

I have been in business with and covered up things for “business associates” who wouldn’t hesitate putting a bullet in your head, but being involved with and covering up for an employer who is a non-profit and allows vulnerable adults and employees to be harassed mistreated and discriminated against is far worse in my eyes. There are many people at the nursing home I work at who see the same things I see but do not act; as Haile Selassie so eloquently put it

Throughout history, it has been the inaction of those who could have acted; the indifference of those who should have known better; the silence of the voice of justice when it mattered most; that has made it possible for evil to triumph.”

All of the people involved in my past life and unfortunately as of late too much of my current life chose “the life” and in the end we all end up in one of two places, we deserve whatever end to our means no matter how horrific or painful. Our residents on the other hand do not deserve the means that transpire until their end comes.

This is my apology to the residents that have come and gone who failed to receive the proper quality of life they deserved. I am sorry that I can no longer continue to fight for the change needed, it is destroying me. My old associates showed more mercy delivering people to their end, than the people I work for now. The people employed by this company who care are used and pushed until they break while the predators are allowed to continue to prey.

Non-profits are not supposed to be run like a criminal organization where fear and intimidation rule. Non-profits are supposed to be built upon something called “Duty of care.” If any one of the “criminals” who work at this nursing home is reading this let me define what duty of care means.

“Duty of care is the moral and legal obligation to attend to the safety and wellbeing of those they serve, those who work for them and others who come into contact with their operations.”

Now to wrap things up there may be some people who do not understand what the title of this entry has to do with the content. Below is a Youtube link of Justin Furstenfeld performing the song “Graceful Dancing.” After hearing his introduction to this powerful song, and seeing the familiar emotions during his performance I decided to check myself into the hospital which drastically changed the content of this post. For that I thank the artist and the person who posted this video.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fCFpgfvPGZo&list=PLIWCEQoVmfdHIakN42xTrXYjPnE6I3EHB&index=55

 

I am sorry for my website looking different,  I am in the process of trying to update it, it’s not going great thus far. Just sitting here listening to music trying to hold it all together.

It feels cleansing and painful to just sit and cry. I am not ashamed that I break down, I just prefer to do it privately. 

I wake up every morning wishing I didn’t, and just hope I can get through the day. What kind of life I’d that?

 

Decaying Faces

Decaying faces

Buried in decaying places

Chasing dreams in empty spaces

Stench of death embraces

That which the light erases

Displaying those decaying faces

Replacing the traces

Of those decaying places

Those rearranged decaying faces

Lost alone in decaying places

Those dreams you chased in empty spaces

Reluctant to believe in warm embraces

Popping pills to find something that erases

A lonely walk that leaves no traces

The decay displacing those funny faces

Oddly drawn to those dark places

Where decaying faces erase the traces

Of empty spaces

Where death embraces

The places and empty spaces

Where light erases

The truth behind the decaying faces

Faces changing places

The memories it erases

Funny faces

Empty spaces

Decaying faces

Hidden in decaying places

Embracing those empty spaces

Erasing the traces of happy faces

By: TimLundmark

 

I enjoy philosophical riddles, and I spend far too less time working on them. The reasons do not matter. I am confronted with one riddle in particular day in and day out… Why have I not or cannot kill myself?

I have gone through my fair share of suffering, and for most of my life battled with the will and desire to no longer be alive. I have many times and still want to die. I do not want to exist. So why at this moment with how I feel and have felt I must ask myself. Why am I breathing and writing this?

This has been a philosophical puzzle that has plagued and tortured me. I have come up with many theories, reasons, and excuses for why I have not.

No point in running the list. What I came up with and I feel so blind for not figuring this out. Its our primal directive to survive. Its ingrained within us and drives everything. This directive is so powerful that I cannot overcome or find the courage to end my suffering.

To me logic and reason would dictate that ending suffering is the only thing that makes sense. Every other theory I have ever had about why I am still alive stems from this roadblock.

How can this override clear logic and reason of not wanting to suffer? How can this seed allow us to self deceive ourselves against the logical course of action. How and at what point can this will be broken down?