Blog (noun) a website containing a writer's or group of writers' own experiences, observations, opinions, etc., and often having images and links to other websites.
As I have gotten older, different people in my life keep telling me I should write about my experiences, a kind of autobiography. I’ve resisted for a long time, telling myself that doing so would be the height of conceit. But maybe spending some time at the keyboard of my computer writing about my life, past, present and future will be for my own benefit. One of the side effects of having been in psychoanalysis is learning that taking your thoughts and articulating them through speech or writing sometimes will help you sort out your random thoughts into a coherent idea.
Today, after a really bad sleepless night, I find myself with an unfocused anger running through me. I was engaged to be married to a wonderful, beautiful woman after a two plus year courtship (in which she courted me far more than I courted her) and she and I were to have gotten married this month.
However, on January 3rd, she and two of her family were killed in a tragic accident –
and a part of me died with her that day. Part of my anger, I know, is tied up with the
loss of her and the collapse of all the dreams and plans we had made for our lives together.
and a part of me died with her that day. Part of my anger, I know, is tied up with the
loss of her and the collapse of all the dreams and plans we had made for our lives together.
Another piece of that anger comes, I believe, from the fact that I spent 27 years of my life as a member of the U. S. Army and am an unabashed American patriot. The constant babbling about the evil, tyrannical Federal government from Tea Partiers and Confederate flag waving states-righters and Obamaphobes sickens me to the point that I fantasize kicking their teeth in, then wrapping them tightly in their “Don’t Tread On Me” flag or their Stars and Bars, pouring gasoline on them and setting them on fire. (Only a fantasy – I’m too anti-violence to go that far). But the thought that I spent a substantial part of my life, risking life and limb, so that a bunch of un-American whining crybabies can now try to destroy the country I love sickens me.
Maybe I will feel better after I eat some breakfast….
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