and to another give my seat, for that's the only painless feat

Not with a bang or a sigh. Nothing will mark its coming. It happens slowly; is happening as you read this. Pieces get lost, misplaced and replaced over time, until the puzzle is finished and gone at the same time.

But my eyes are still open, watching it all fly away. Where is my complacent smile? When did the laughter stop? How did all this crap get stuffed into this tiny place so quickly? ... have to breathe. The pain by my eyes will stop once I close them, but the pain behind my eyes can still be seen.

Reality blurs. Momentary sense of my mortality. Will anyone want my memory, like all the other treasures I have lost? The temporary darkness that rules my thoughts tells me No. With no one to argue the point, why should I think it a lie?

Still, with all this blatant thievery, I try to find something to laugh at, to bring a partial warmth to the small place left inside. Feeling this, the pain and the lie of the smile I try to show, means I still own this part of me, no one has stolen it from me .... yet.








Ciao

What it is and what it ain’t to be real

Dear Janet,

Every day I get up, I have a decision to make. Do I keep seeing our Daughter and continue to put up with how you treat me? ... or do I say the Hell with it all? I've gotten over you, ok? Can you please stop the hate?

Our Daughter is the most important thing in my Life. So, the choice is clear. But how can I keep on going on, not knowing what is happening with her in school, being tentative of calling to talk to her, not knowing if you will answer and fill the room with hateful comments, hearing my young one tell me she does not want to be your Mailman anymore?

Right now, it would appear, I am just a walking wallet. If someone were to ask you who your daughters Father was, would you tell them he's a jerk? Would you tell them I call your house and leave answering machine messages, telling you to grow up? Telling you if you don't, you wouldn't be seeing our Daughter anymore? Would you tell them how I stopped letting you know when Parent-Teacher interviews were? Or when her school plays were? That, even though the school won't send home anything to you, I won't send over a simple newsletter every now and then, just to keep you up-to-date on how she is doing, as much as you have asked? Would you tell them I kept our daughter from seeing you for over a year? And the first thing our daughter said to you after that year was "I missed you for that whole year, Daddy?"

No, no you wouldn't. That's what *I* have been saying. I wish it weren't all true.

At first, I wanted some sort of apology for all this. But I know you don't realize what you are doing. You.just.hate. Maybe, if I could understand why you hate so much, all this wouldn't be happening? Is there something *I* need to apologize for to make this stop? Have I missed something?

The last time we spoke, you said I don't care. If I didn't care, would I choose to stay where someone is making me feel like a loser 24/7, so I could be the ONLY thing I can be now?

A Father.

please ... no more hate.






Ciao

don't you worry you'll find yourself, follow your heart and nothing else

Hi. My name is Hugh MacEachern. I have a Daughter named Amber Jane, who does not live with me. I was married for 7 years, been single for 8 years and have been on this earth for 35 years. My ex-wife despises me to the point restraining orders had to be put in place so she would stop calling me but I get along great with her new boyfriend. Both my parents died when I was a teenager and, being the youngest of my family, my siblings and I do not see each other much, out of disassociation.
I do not take pills or stick needles in my arms. I do like my rum, a little too much at times. I have worked at my current job for almost 3 years now and am trying hard to see the forward motion in it. I was baptized Catholic, raised as a Jehovah's Witness and do not actively practice either religion. I have a tattoo on my left shoulder, a very bad cover-up of a girls' initials I knew a long time ago. I can recite the alphabet backwards and juggle small objects.

These are facts. I know them because they are true.

... and because late at night, as today turns into yesterday, I think of all these things and wonder if it's all 'for something'.






Ciao

And although my eyes were open, they might just as well have been closed.

"Floating through time, like an ageless statue
Moss collecting in the shade and lines running through my brow
Not really here anymore, existing in the Past, unable to create new memories, no matter how hard I try
All there is is silence." - Hugh MacEachern

I want to start this entry with one sentence. I am not gay. I like women.... ALOT! I just have all this frigging baggage. It's bad enough that I can't even pick up the really, REALLY desperate chicks. You know you're messed up when a crack-ho says "Yea, maybe not, ok?"
So, what else? Ok, got a new 4x4. It's like Bigfoot's evil twin! Can't wait til Summer... hell yea. AND, got a nice little promotion at work. Less work, more pay, niii--iiice. Also, my Daughters Grandfather (Poppy) is now on speaking terms with me, after almost 10 years. Why? "Because I want to be your Daddy's friend" :)

Still waiting for her though, wherever she is. I'll always be waiting, til the dust turns to rain.

Ciao

Did that voice inside you say I've heard it all before

8:43 PM Matt: http://www.lostinbrittany.org/dotclear/images/2007-06/camiseta_geek.jpg

me: Did you hear 'em talkin' 'bout it on the radio

Did you try to read the writing on the wall

Did that voice inside you say I've heard it all before

8:44 PM It's like Deja Vu all over again

:|

8:48 PM Matt: wtf?

me: you know what I hate about people? Their inherint ability to do what they always do, over and over, completely blind to their ways, what they are doing, and the stupidity of it all

If people would only STOP

Matt: Ummmm.

me: NO STOP

8:49 PM thank you

Matt: You ok, brother?

me: ok, I'm not done

If people would only stop being idiots and just say "Ok, you're right, I'm sorry", this fucking world would be a better place, and I would lose this damn

fucking

sick feeling

8:50 PM you have NO IDEA what total shit is

I wish someone would, but it's all relative

relative to what we see and our tolerance

and my tolerance has been tested so damn much, My saint Mother would have been kicking ass and taking names by now

8:51 PM it's all I can do not to get the fuck out of this chair, march out the door and start swinging

Ok, I'm done

weird ass picture link btw

GAY

:|

8:53 PM Matt: So, the next question is : You had voicemail when you got home?

8:55 PM me: meh, I'm over that now, having only the cat to yell at and sitting here when the shit storm started, followed by a not-too-timely PM from you meant YOU got the full frontal instead of the cat getting chased

9:05 PM Matt: ROFL

me: I'm a liar btw

Have I mentioned that?

Yup, big FAT liar

9:06 PM you can stop reading now, if you want

really, all this is just nonsensical jibberish anyways, yammerings from a liar should be ignored anyways

and I lie alot! WHOOO BOY

Ok, Head of maintenance enforcement and I talked 2 years ago

she's an old woman with a walker

anyways

9:08 PM it was decided that I would make an attempt to pay off the arrears for my child support for the year i wasn't allowed to see Amber through giving up my GST cheques

9:09 PM so, from then on, instead of a tri-monthly cheque, I got a tri-monthly reciept, informing me how much was withheld because of a Family Orders act

fair enough

9:10 PM Matt: ok...

me: I tell bitchface's meatpuppet that, who calls maintenance, gets told that they have not recieved anything and that I am a liar, liar liar pants on fire, getting his cheque on a chicken wire

AND SPENDING IT

YUP, SPENDING IT, BUYING CRACK OR SOMETHING

anyways, this kind of goes against the reciepts I have, and the arrangement me and walker-lady had agreed upon

9:11 PM so, I try to call taxation

they don't answer

so I go down, in my little-to-no-gas vehicle to talk to someone at taxation about this

9:12 PM they, of course, give me a number I can call (from right in the building) to ask about it, because they don't know

Must be on crack or something

and, of course, I call the number, being an idiot, and ask if I can find out where my GST cheque is going

Matt: Hmmm... this reminds me of how much I love our govenment.

9:13 PM me: and they immediatley tell me I need to call the GST centre, here's their TOLL-FREE #

WOOOHOOO! TOLL-FREE???? WHOLY SMOKES! HOW AWESOME!

9:14 PM I call, hands all sweaty with the excitement of calling the all-mighty, and all knowing GST centre #, the knower of all, the # that it took me a week and 3 mutants to get to

and I get a busy signal all morning

that's ok, that's cool

NOW I have your #, bitches, I KNOW where you are NOW

9:15 PM I'll just spend Monday calling you, until my ear goes deaf

so, I go to work, all's good, everythings great

I come home, and the dAMN LIGHTS FLASHING ON THE PHONE, CAPS LOCK AUTOMATICALLY CAME ON, HOW CONVENIENT

9:16 PM stupid meat puppet, "Hey Hughie. It's Frank. Call me when you get this message"

"Hi Frank"

"Yeah, so, I went down to Maintenance Enforcement and they told me that they have not recieved anything. You lied to us."

9:17 PM "Gee, that would mean this reciept I keep getting is lying to me, what a runaround, eh?"

"Yeah, oh wait..." sound of either a cat getting fucked in the eye or a mouse exploding over and over

"Yeah, and Janet says yada yada yada yada drone drone.. script speak much?"

9:18 PM "Ok, you know what Frank, I want to apologize to you. It''s kinda obvious (I have cut out alot of me trying to talk but getting over-talked by the damn mouse explosions btw) that having you as the middle person here isn't going to work."

9:19 PM "Y'see, being civil is about talking and being heard, kinda hard to hear me when that mouse is exploding in the corner, isn't it?"

"...yup..."

9:20 PM "Ok, so, I don't want this to offend you but, you don't have to be the middle man anymore, ok? Janet's going to have to find someone else, ok?"

"How am I going to say this w/o sounding like the meat-puppet who doesn't know fleas from lice?..."

"Oh frank, you can do it, just say it, you big ol' newfie you!"

9:21 PM "Why does Janet have to find someone? Why is it up to her?"

"heh heh heh, good boy Frank! You actually said something using your own words! HERE'S A COOKIE!"

Matt: ROFL

9:22 PM me: "Ok, the reasoning is because a long, long time ago, there was this guy named Hugh, who needed someone to speak to his exploding mouse, y'see?"

"So, he immediately said 'I know! I'll ask the govt!! They will know!"

9:23 PM "And you know what they said Frankie-boy? There is no such thing as you are asking for, but!!!! HERE'S A TOLL-FREE # YOU CAN CALL FOR FREE LEGAL ADVICE!!!!"

"YA! I KNOW!! I WAS ALL LIKE 'WHOA'!!"

"But, I got collected, and thought logically, whom else could I ask?"

9:24 PM "Well, to make a long story short, 3 brothers, 2 sisters, 1 aunt and nameless friends later it was decided that no one wants to, nor cares to talk to, an exploding mouse for me"

9:25 PM So, it was fortunate that she assaulted me with the door that day, frankie. if it weren't for that, you wouldn't have been selected by me and the police to be the middle man!"

"And, well, as you can see, nothing can beat an exploding mouse, it's damn loud!"

9:26 PM "So, I have done my part. No more. I either want peace, or nothing"

WOW

I SO RANTED

DID YOU SEE THAT?

IT'S LIKE A DAMN BOOK!

Ok smoke break, gotta read this yammering pack of lies

9:29 PM Matt: It is a book.

I'd post it online, but no-one would get it.

9:30 PM me: Who do you vent to when shit gets too hairy, man? Just curious

anyone?

9:31 PM Matt: Random people on the internet. Or I write poetry.

9:32 PM me: fuck

it's all messed up

the world that is

9:33 PM Matt: Yeah brother. The world is messed up.

me: where's my damn manual for this shit?

9:34 PM Matt: I lost it.

9:37 PM me: "Hey Frank. See this reciept? Ya, it's dated January 2008. It says 'We have withheld the GST/HSTC because of a court order under the Family Orders and Agreements Enforcement Assistance Act". ... I do NOT like being called a liar. I do NOT want an apology for you two calling me a liar either. You know what I want? I want this little "Hugh's a loser-liar" act to stop. I mean, it has been almost 10 years now, ok? That's it. That's all I have to say. Bye"

just practicing man

Matt: Do it up. :-D

9:38 PM You'll feel better.







Ciao

From now on our troubles will be miles away

"Love is what's in the room at Christmas if you stop opening presents and just listen."
Bobby - age 7

Almost year end. Let's review!



Downs

• My little GoTruck has died.
• Old girlfriend has shown me the line.
• I'm working roughly 12 hours a day.
• And for the 6th year in a row, I'll be alone Christmas morning.

Ups

• I'm still alive.

There, that's out of my system, ... well, a bit of it. Relatively speaking, I'm not doing too badly. Not that anyone cares or that it matters to anyone else but me. When you think on a "relative scale", everything boils down to "1"'s and "0"'s. Pass or Fail.

Even though it is not statistically sound that clinical depression cases rise around the Holiday season, it happens. Most are easy to spot. Listless, isolated, focused on what is driving them insane. Most are... others, like me, after years of living with it, have adapted, shifted and created a new lifeline, one filled with the sour, empty feelings. Left alone long enough, anything's possible....

What do I want for Christmas? Something material? That's an easy one. I want what only one person has ever given me. I want someone, "anyone" to give me physical proof (not more words, sayings, quotes, theories, etc) that someone cares. Substantial, tangible proof that I am doing all this FOR something.



...or a new truck.






Ciao

True

Waiting. Waiting for what though? The road is still fog-covered and the windshield hasn't been cleaned for years... you can get used to seeing things out of focus over time apparently. Lacking. Missing something important. Only really me when I sleep, but the dreams tell me otherwise.

Yesterdays tears cannot be cried again, they don't exist anymore. Mourning my memories and predicting the future. Destiny making me react against my wishes.

Silence. That is all there is. Wanting and hoping and believing and a million other useless words that mean nothing. What there is is not named. Cannot be named. Those that have seen it, lived it and known it cannot speak. Their minds are elsewhere. In the past.

I hope you are well, my friend. I hope you woke up today with random, frivolous thoughts in your mind, spoke words that didn't have to mean something. I hope you don't wander past the wall. Things there are best left in the dark. Unnoticed and unknown, by all but me.






Ciao

No one's really sure who's lettin' go today

I thought it would hurt. Hearing about you that way. But it didn't. Was I distracted by something and it just didn't sink in? Or maybe it did, but the me "Now" just doesn't care. I hope it isn't the latter. I wish it wasn't the former.


Not that it matters. Because it should, but it doesn't.


I'm just glad it does hurt, somewhat. I haven't died inside if the pain still stings. I'm just numb. In shock maybe. "Reality cheque please!"
I heard a woman's tears of happiness today, because I did what no one else did, or could. I listened to and heard her. Her name was Eleanor. Contrary to popular belief, there IS a major difference between the two, and how each person interprets that is different. If I was dead, inside-out, I would have become one of the overwhelming masses that only hear the words, not the meanings ... only say the words, not the meanings. I'm glad it stings, it means I am still alive.

.....being alone..... being alone only hurts the person involved, no one else. And there are many, many Eleanor's' in the world, waiting for someone to listen, waiting for someone to hear them. The hurt isn't all that being alone consists of though. Being truly alone is being yourself. The only person that can hurt you, is you. The only person that can help you, is yourself. By listening, and hearing. Understanding.

To Hell with the hard ass. That's a mask. A shield made from broken dreams and sour memories. If you somehow look past that wall, the emptiness is never ending. I have my walls, my masks, my shields ... but they are made of the memories of "getting over" the emptiness. The only thing behind my mask is me.

This only leaves me with one question.

Why can't people listen with more then just their ears?






Ciao

There used to be a time when you were everything

Some people you just have to let go. I am saying this, however, with the knowledge that a monkey has of the Sun. He knows it's there, but doesn't fully know what it is. You would think if I knew nothing about it, it would be easy, wouldn't you? You'd be wrong...
Why do I wear my heart on my sleeve? Why can't I just accept? Is there something wrong with me? .... No, I don't think I'm any different from anyone else. Apparently I feel the sting more then others, or maybe I just let the sting in more. Or maybe people these days don't appreciate being mentally unbalanced and emotionally normal. Thankfully, I have my own will, and I have this facet. Writing.
So, I've been a 3rd wheel, a bur in the side, and the person you never knew. Of those three, the 3rd will be the one you will have to get to understand, my unforgotten memory. Because you don't, you won't and you obviously never will get it. You don't understand how hard it is to never give up on anything, all your Life, and then realize one day, after beating your head against that same wall again, that the things you are committed to are slowly killing you.
Now, what to do? Do I turn the page, tear it out and burn it, do I leave it on the ground and hope I never see it again, or do I recycle it? Maybe this is the page, maybe I've already turned it over again, and now I sit here, writing all over it "THATS IT! I'M DONE! NO MORE!!"

Now, I will leave it here, and when I see it again, I'll remember.





Ciao

I'll see you on the dark side of the moon

A smile from a veil

We're not the same person we were yesterday. We won't be the same person tomorrow that we woke up as today either. But the fleeting moments we share, lived in our memories as we go about our daily existence, give us a chance to travel back in Time, to a place where the air was different, the light brighter.
I wonder, Dear friend, if you remember the same way I do. If, just the thoughts of those days, bring those things days for you. Bring them back so richly that you can taste the air and cover your eyes from the light.
I won't say I miss you all, I do. But, to speak honestly, what I miss has a name I cannot fully comprehend. It is almost like I miss the experience, but bigger then that.

I miss the world.

You are all still out there, though, products of your yesterdays, seeds of the Future. And you are all here too, in memory. The glass memory I hold of those times, those places. Those things that make us and have made us.

To Mark - I'm still alive, I hope you are well too
To Andrea - Be happy please
To Kevin - Thank you for being my friend
To Melanie - I want to miss you
To Chris - I'm sorry
To Charlotte - You were right

To everyone else? I miss you all...






Ciao

I'm the loudest one laughing at the saddest wake

I guess most people don't understand me, those that would take a moment to try. I'm constantly trying to piece myself together as well.

One thing I know, I *need* humor.

Ok, let me explain something. A long time ago, a very close friend explained to me something very important. "We all want money, free time, gadgets and doo-dads. But we don't need them to live. If we go without air, we die. If we go without human contact, we don't die, physically, we die mentally. Do you understand?"

So, I don't just "want" humor, I need it. Without it, things get Black and Grey. People lose their tactile relativity and things get out-of-focus. I haven't tried going for longer then a few weeks without it. I usually end those periods of time, laughing like a freaking maniac at something very, very bland. laughing like I was going to have a heart-attack. These laughing bouts usually end with tears.

It's almost like going underwater and getting your foot stuck under a rock. You fight and pull at your foot, all the while thinking "O frig, o frig, I'm screwed". Your vision gets bleary as you try not to breathe in the water that will replace the air you need and inevitably kill you. Finally, after freeing yourself, you frantically swim back to the surface and, as soon as you break, your body screams in air, violently. Trying to get in as much as you need, 'til your eyes water.

So, if I seem off-kilter with the things I say and do, it's just my way of breathing, my way of keeping alive.





Ciao

It's been so long since I've been home

"Hello 2 A.M.. What thoughts do you have for me tonight?"

"Well, lets get started with work, why don't we?"

"Ok, what about it?"

"Isn't it funny that you try *so hard* to put all of yourself into your job but you can *never* really talk about what you do? Isn't it sadly ironic that, even though you're pretty proud about how you **** **** ****** ***** ** **** or how you **** *** ******* ***'* ***, you are not allowed to discuss it openly with others?"

"Ok 2 A.M., we're off to another bad start tonight, I see. Let's switch topics, ok?"

"Sure buddy, anything for an old friend. How's your social life? Met anyone new & exciting?"

"sigh"

"Oh, that's right! You're still going with your whole 'hermitization theory', aintcha? How's that going, anyways? Learning anything new about yourself? Opening up any doors?"

"You know something, 2 A.M.? Sometimes I think you only come around to make the new day worse before it even begins."

"Oh c'mon, man. You know you need me. You know that without me, you would never realize how quickly things have gotten out of control. Or how you really want to do things out of the ordinary but don't. Damn man! Without me?... you might actually get some decent sleep at night!"

"Ok, listen. We can talk but you're gonna have to pick something that is appropriate, ok?"

"........ how's your little one?"

"Yup, knew it. You are getting too predictable, 2 A.M.. You can stick around for a while, if you want, but I'm hitting the hay. Turn out the lights and lock the doors when you leave, ok?"

"Ok pal, I always do, don't I?"







"Ciao"

The most loneliest day of my life

Woke up this morning, with just enough time to start burning a new kids movie for the young one, before running out the door for work. The girl at the corner store sold me my pack of smokes, like usual, filling up 5 minutes with inane chatter, consisting of mostly nothing.
Work drags on for the most part of the day, sitting at my little desk, with my little chair and my little computer, staring at the screen and trying hard not to lose touch. People talk to me and I respond, filling their moments with mostly inane chatter, meaning nothing.
Going home now, watching the cars drive past, wondering if the people in those cars are feeling as lost as myself. I make a wrong turn and wind up back there again. Why can't I remember where I live? Idiot.
Finally home. Cats hungry, messages from people I don't know on the phone, computer tells me another DVD's done. I should eat, I suppose, but I don't. I usually don't, why break tradition?

And now, here I sit, elbow to knee, just like last night, wondering if you're out there.






Ciao

Fearlessly the idiot faced the crowd

We all try, we all fail ... not all of us notice. Its true that we learn from our mistakes and experience makes us wiser but I think I'm better off for the time being not noticing the failures.


Something is telling me to just sit back and chill out

I remember back before it all changed. Living was all about laughing and never looking back. Through a Gaussian filter I see it all now though, and Time has a way of playing with the facts. Its best if I don't try to change what is behind me back there, and just keep it saved in my memories, my own way.

So now, here I stand. Just woken up from a sleep that seemed to never have a beginning. Yesterday is just a blurred image, becoming more and more obscure as the layers of dust settle on it. But yesterday, I woke up much the same way as today. If this is acceptance of morality, why won't I remember it tomorrow?

Because Life is ever-changing. And I am standing on 12:00 AM.








Ciao

The check's in the mail

Simple communication. It can be SUCH a useful thing, can't it?
Ok, lets backtrack here. I work 2 jobs, 1 full-time, 1 part-time.
With me so far?
Good.
Ok, so, Full-time job pays me on time. They always do, direct deposit & such. I spend what I have to and am short about 150 bucks for rent.
YIKES!
But thats okay! ... why? Because I have a part-time job, thats why. And with the hours I spend working with them, after the full-time job, I have just enough to make up the difference for rent and get groceries.

"Yeah, Mister landlord, sir. Here's 3/4 of the rent. Can you drop by tomorrow at about 6. I'll have the rest for ya tomorrow"
"Hey Mister Assistant to the Boss. Give me a call when the check's are done tomorrow, ok? About 5:30? The checks'll be done around then, right? .. cool."

Tick Tick Tick Tick 5:00 Tick Tick Tick Tick 5:30 Tick Tick Tick 6:00

*Ring Ring*

"Hey Mister Assistant to the Boss, check's done yet? What? Not 'til tomorrow? Wh-what? The Boss said he would call me about it? ... yeah, I got to pay rent ... at...at 6. No, nope he didn't call me... wow, I don't think he SHOULD call me... um, what am I..... WOW, I have no cigarettes, no gas..... He's out playing POOL? Yeah, I have to stop talking about this, I'm getting mad and I want to yell, ok?"

*click*


Simple communication.
Useful but little known tool in the eyes (and ears) of the absent-minded.






Ciao

he tries to please them all, this bitter man he is

As normal as it all gets, its still kind of permeated with thoughts. If I had amnesia, I'd probably be content, but unfortunately I have memories. Some good, some bad, most in the in-between area of "just there". Keep thinking that it will be like the stories say "...and on his death bed, the blind man said 'I see...' and then passed away."
The least I can do is to stop trying to correct old passages of time and do what I can now. I'll make mistakes, ... everyone does. But I'm living right now.

In all that I've done wrong, I know I must have done something right...

Well, little girl, summer vacation is almost over. Tomorrow morning, I have to give you back to Mom. I know the place is going to be so much more quiet when I get home. Maybe I'll just drive around for a while, at least until that feeling leaves.

We had fun though, playing hide and seek, imaginary adventure games, watching movies, laughing and giggling at silly things. Now, after just tucking you in and kissing your forehead goodnight, those things are just memories. Picking up your toys from the living room, unplugging the bathtub and putting your clothes into the hamper ... I'd say I wish we had more time, but I know there is never enough time.

Everyone has problems, little one, and it takes a big person to accept those problems and sort them out. I wish I could accept the fact that you don't live with me. I dearly wish I could stop the pain I feel inside when you have to go away ... the pain that is that voice in the back of my head saying "You are missing something in your life right now."

I love you, little girl.

Carved In Stone

Song Of The Moment

I don't think I have given up on "looking for someone". Fact of the matter is, I am not looking for anyone. I want to meet someone, someone that will bring the light back. But, I have seen alot and I don't think I can watch any of that again. I already know how the storyline ends, most of the time.
One of the best books I have ever read (the five people you meet in heaven) explained it the best. I've had some good times. I've made differences in some peoples lives; some good, some not so good. And now, that that is all said and done, I'll sit and wait for ... well, ... for whatever comes in the end.
After all, whether you believe in Heaven or Hell, the afterlife, cremation or the Great Nothing, we all will meet again someday. So what if my life is secluded. At least it's not filled with the stress and trauma of dual-emotions battling it out. Don't you think its better to be lonely and hope-filled then to turn around to a warground-past and try to live with it?








Ciao

Can you say brainwashing?

Song Of The Moment

Taken from The Men’s Rights Manual for Divorce

"The elemental bond that links fathers with their children is the subject of ancient poetry, biblical legend, and even diplomatic stand-offs. Remember Homer's epic saga of Odysseus and Telemachus? The New Testament tale of the prodigal son? And of course the Elian Gonzalez case.

Xavier Quinta was born on June 24, 1998 to Bennett Vonderheide and Wendy Flanders of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. But the relationship went sour and the couple separated.

In February 2003 the judge awarded custody of Xavier to his mother, ordering that he spend two days a week with his father. But Flanders soon decided to ignore the judge's order, at first restricting visits to only two hours a day, and then thwarting all contact for months at a time.

But that wasn't enough, so Flanders schemed to alienate Xavier from his father.

According to the contempt motion, Flanders first withheld information from Ben, refusing to advise him about school programs, teacher conferences, or even the name of the kindergarten where Xavier would be attending.

She then fabricated multiple allegations of abuse, a claim of fear being the only proof she needed. Then she used these unproven accusations to show Xavier that his father was a perp. On the advice of counselors, the father once made several telephone calls to the child. The mother then claimed those calls amounted to harassment. The district attorney later dismissed the ridiculous charge.

Next she resorted to outright manipulation. One day Flanders informed the father he wouldn't be allowed to see his son for Christmas Eve. Then she had the child dress up in anticipation of the father's visit. When the father didn't arrive, she used that as proof the father was a deadbeat.

And finally, Flanders violated a key requirement of the custody order that neither make "derogatory comments about the other parent." Instead, she waged a campaign of calumnies, repeatedly calling Ben a liar and abuser.

Once Xavier introduced his father to his classmates as, "This is my Daddy -- he is filled with hatred and anger" -- a phrase that a five-year-old boy is unlikely to come up with on his own.

But as Xavier grew older, he began to realize that he was caught in the middle of a high stakes tug-of-war. He said he didn't want his mother to control him, and much to her dismay wanted to spend more time with dad.

That gave Vonderheide his opening. He decided to stop the mother from turning the child's transfer into a screaming confrontation. At the next visit, the father sat calmly on a bench, and cast his best "I'm not sure what game you're playing but I'm not interested" look. Problem solved.

Once accused of being "the worst dad in the world," Vonderheide pointed out to his son that Saddam Hussein and Osama bin Laden had killed thousands of persons. "So I'm at least the third worst dad in the world," dad humorously concluded.

Last month Wendy Flanders was found guilty on three counts of making false statements to law enforcement officials, fined, and placed on probation. And Ben Vonderheide's record was expunged on many of the counts against him. The battle cost him $350,000 in legal expenses.

This Sunday, 8-year-old Xavier will be spending Father's Day with his dad. They plan to play laser tag, go for a hike, and maybe take in a movie.

Father and son, reunited."


There's ugliness in this world. Ugliness that sometimes people cannot see. And even if they did, they wouldn't be able to comprehend it because it is not theirs. The above story hit home for me, due to having lived it. And I guess I am posting it here as a reminder to me of all that has come and past.

Ciao