You Gotta Have Friends


The question of how or why or what kept me holding on through my darker years has been one I’ve given a lot of thought. This post is for my close circle of friends, my second family. These are the people who played a very vital role in keeping my hope alive. I feel that a proper acknowledgement and explanation about how much they mean to me is in order. There have been times I’ve mentioned it to them but they are deserving of a better, more complete answer. Some will be mentioned by name in this but not everyone. This is not intentional of course. You will know if this post is about you. Continue reading

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Add-on to ” The Start of a Turn”


A few months after my suicide attempt I had a very vivid dream. I was sitting at a table with three artists discussing tattoo ideas. We went through design after design, from idiotic tribal to detailed depictions. None however related to me personally. My view is that a tattoo has to hold its importance forever. The artists wanted to know what in my life would meet this requirement. I told them about trying to hang myself and how it had affected me. This is the last drawing I saw before waking up. Continue reading

The Start of a Turn


This is going to be hard for some to read. I must point out that this post and The Anti- Christ post deal with events that were hard to go through but changed the direction of my life. It should be made clear that these events do not encompass who I am but lessons I have overcome and learned from. The Anti- Christ incident was a turn for the worst in my life, this next one started my life down a different road. Continue reading

The Anti-Christ


St. Andrew’s Catholic School….. fuck!

If you attended any catholic school as a kid, you know that at least ninety percent of those kids aren’t Catholic any more. Not one person I know from St. Andrew’s is still Catholic. It’s not surprising though considering the goal of St. Andrew’s was not to nurture your spirit and help a person grow in their individual talents. Rather, at least to the students, the goal was to break your spirit, wash away your individualism, and force you to fit into a mold of what god thought you should be. There was a strict dress code. Your uniform was not allowed to have any labels on them, your socks had to be white, your hair groomed. I was sent home and suspended for having labels, not to be allowed back until I got a new uniform. The justification was that this one small label on the back pocket of my shorts would cause others to be jealous. It was fucking ridiculous. We had chapel every Friday and during lent did the 14 stations of the cross on top of it. Basically, I developed the skill to tune out for extended periods so time would move faster. Continue reading