For a while, I've been saying that I'm old (remember: it's not the model year that counts, it's the mileage).

Well... I've finally got some proof of it (and quite frankly, this should have happened 8-10 years ago). I'm starting to go grey.

I've had 1 grey hair since middle school. A few weeks ago, I noticed 2 more. This week, another two. Considering that most of my family started going noticably grey around the age of 30, I think I can expect quite a few more grey hairs rather soon (relatively speaking).

It's about damn time. I've wanted to go grey since I was a kid. Of course, back then, I expected it to be the hair on my head... and well... that's mostly gone now. Oh well. I'll just have to settle for a grey beard.

There was, inside of me, a place from where the words came. It was a place of darkness, pain, and confusion. It was a place fragrant with the smell of whiskey, and rank with the flavor of hope. It was a place wrapped in razor wire, slicing my flesh with every move. It was a place lit with the oily fires of loathing and desperation.

It was a place that lead me to the face of evil.

It was a place that terrified me to my very soul... and wrapped me in the comforting warmth of self-hatred and despair.

It was a place lined in mirrors reflecting back the worst of what I was.

And there are nights in which I almost wish to return.

For it was from that place the words came. They sang a black lullaby which calmed the passions of my soul.

Now... There is no darkness to fight and embrace. There are no demons to rip the passions, screaming from my chest. There is no pain to pull the mind and spirit and body into one. There are.... no words.

They were like the sweet burning amber across an addict's lips; a brand on the soul, a fire in the throat.

And now they are little more than dust. A memory of the great fire that once burned within me.

I once had the power to shape words... all it cost me was my sanity and my soul.

And I sometimes wonder if, perhaps, it was a small price to pay.

I laughed so hard at some of these that I couldn't breathe. And I've never been in the military.

Skippy's List

I'm dealing with some weird and serious computer problems (my power supply is apparently altering the frequency (Hz) of all the power in my house), and can't keep my computer plugged in for very long without some *really* weird and scarey side effects. So, I'll not be online a whole lot for the next day or three (shipping time is 1-3 days for the new power supply). I'll be on at work, but not evenings or nights.

test

One of the few truths in life is that nobody controls your life except you. There are, and always will be, situations which are beyond your control. But your reactions to those situations are entirely within your control.

There are those who can, and will, offer to help, but they don't control your life. They can't make it good, and they can't make it bad.

It took me quite a few years to gain the wisdom and insight to understand this. And one of my greatest frustrations is that I can't pass that wisdom and insight on to others. I can't make them understand that they hold their destinies in their own hands. I can't show them the path of Zen: There is no good, there is no bad; there is only how we react to what is. We control our selves.

There are millionaires--men who can have every worldly whim satisfied with only a command--who put a bullet through their own brain. And there are men who fight every day for the barest necessities of life, yet go to bed with a smile on their face, thanking God for the bits He has given.

It's not surface--smooth or rough--which defines the Path. It's where your foot falls.

I look at myself.... 37 years old, alone, in a mundane job with no prospects of advancement, half a life--a passion and a failed career--lost behind me, living like a hermit... and I am at peace. I have few friends, but those I have are ones I can trust. I have few possessions, but those I have, I know I have earned.

Am I where I want to be? No. But that doesn't really matter. I am wise enough and honest enough to know that where I go in life is up to me. I see people who have a loving partner, good friends, and a golden carpet laid out before them, complaining about the cruelty of their lives. I want to give them my eyes. I want to lay my years upon them. I want to pull them out from themselves and show them the `verse from a new perspective--a perspective that isn't mired in self-doubt and the comfort of pain.

It's disconcerting..... sometimes saddening... to look at those who cry about the cruelty of their lives, and know the gold-paved Paths they refuse to see.

If you want to understand the Zen, if you want to know the Buddha and walk upon the Thousand Paths, you must first learn to see the Path upon which you stand, and admit that the only force which controls the next step of your foot..... is you.

Just a quick update to let both of you who read this that I'm still alive.

I've been busy working on Geek Niche stuff and renovating the house. I've started on the kitchen cabinets. It looks like they won't be as bad as it first seemed. The paint comes off rather easily with the heat gun, and it just takes a little scraping and some quality time with the sander. I'm not sure what the wood is--it looks to be somwhere between birch and pine--but it's beautiful. Gorgeous grain, nice light color; it's going to look *so* nice when everything is stripped and refinished. Hopefully, I'll get the last bit of sanding done on the one cabinet door I've been working on (it takes about 3 evenings per door, it seems) and I'll get a picture posted. Real wood in the kitchen will improve the look immensely.

I can't wait until I can rip out the ugly-ass linolium in the kitchen and get down to the hardwood floors in there!