Sleepless night

Its two in the morning and I can't sleep. I'd like to think its just something we all go through at this stage in our lives. Anxieties about bills, jobs and clowns. But not me. Its not something I do on a regular basis. Not that I don't worry about those things, because Lord knows I do. Maybe even more than I should. But I don't loose sleep over them.

No, this sleepless night is due to the fact that in just a few hours I'll be on a plane traveling halfway across the world for a two week vacation. Something I've never done before. I'm not sure if I'm nervous because its something I've never done before, or if I'm excited because its something I've never done before. Either way it keeps me up.

The hallway light provides just enough for me to see the night. Its become an oversized night light for the clown. I hear the sounds of the shower in our bathroom. It has a slow drip coming from the head. Drip...drip....drip. It reminds me of other things around the house that need fixed. The ceiling fan spins above me as it always does. I try to follow just one blade with my eyes without success. I'd have it on year round if she'd let me. My thoughts take me to when I was a kid laying in bed at night. I'd lay there on the top bunk of our bedding tower and listen to whatever my older brother decided on listening to that night. Sometimes we'd listen to music, other nights old radio shows like Abbott and Costello, or Burns and Allen. I remember how I hated it so.

But tonight I think. Think about my trip and my family. I think about the opportunity in front of me. Think about despite my fears and reservations its an opportunity that for me, really is once in a lifetime.

Soon the sun will be up and things will happen fast. Last minute items to pack a.d finally checking in at the airport. I'll worry about if I packed enough. I'll worry about her and the clowns. Deep down I know they'll be fine, buy I'll still worry.

I guess whether we like it or not, its time. Wish us all luck, we're gonna need it.

J-Tony

I'm an International Criminal

Yes that's right, I am an international criminal.

So if you remember a month or so ago, I mentioned how my company was sending me to Japan for a little  vacation right? So in my efforts to prep for this trip, I've been getting my affairs in order. Not like writing a will or anything, not those type of affairs. I mean, you don't think I should do something like that do you? I mean...never mind.

OK so anyway, I went to the bank and told them about my plans. When I leave, return yada, yada, yada and asked them kindly to not put a stop on any transactions during that time. That's the last thing I need while I'm gone is to have my bank account froze because somebody thought they were helping my out.

So I did the same thing with the cell phone. The DW decided that she wants to be able to reach me directly if she needs to while I'm over there. Originally I gave her the numbers to the local gentleman's clubs in Japan and just told her to ask for the drunk American, but apparently that wasn't good enough. Said she need to be able to reach me directly; in my pocket. Again, I explained to her that she's been reaching in my pocket since the day we met...my humor was not appreciated.

Anyway back to me being an International Criminal. So we go to the local Verizon store to explain the situation. The little girl behind the counter says is shouldn't be a problem, and she just needed to make a few calls and we'd be on our way.

So Verizon girl calls customer service, and a few minutes later asks me, have you had your identity stolen lately?

To which I reply, Um No.

She gets back on the phone for a few more minutes then back to the DW and I. She begins to explain that my phone number is on the Hot List, and proceeds to ask me questions about cloning my phone, apps I've downloaded, and some other questions all the while typing away.

I have no idea what cloning is, but apparently hackers do it to get information, and according to her sometimes people do it to their own phones (again, not sure why). Now you would have thought that the deer in the headlight look I had on my face would have been enough to convince this ding-bat that I had no idea what she was talking about, but apparently not.

Again, she's back to the customer service line. Now at this point my DW is giving me the look that mothers give their children when they've knocked over the entire end cap at the grocery store. You know the one that says, What the hell have you done now? Yeah, I was getting that look.

After about 20 to 25 minutes, Verizon girl gets off the phone, and assures us that I am now set up for international calling. And when the DW and I asked how my phone got on this Hot List, she couldn't give us a straight answer. Of course the DW was bound and determined to find some answers.

Turns out after calling customer service directly the DW got it all straightened out, and  found out that Verizon girl did it all wrong. In fact the customer service department had no idea what the Hot List even was......Or maybe that's just what they want her to think.

J-Tony

Can a box change your life?

We walked toward the car and there in a bush, almost hidden out of sight, was a box. Not addressed to or from anyone. Just an ordinary box. Or maybe it was anything but ordinary.

We noticed it and immediately began to discuss this simple unknown. We came up with scenarios as to what might be in this mysterious box. My thoughts take me to past movies I'd seen with similar story lines. A secret box or letter that someone is to afraid to open. Three or four people all with different views and ideas of what to do with it. A group that starts out united, but quickly becomes divided.

Sometimes the fear or anxiety of the unknown can drive people crazy. I even think about the mythical being Pandora.

We talk about what might be in the box. Ideas such as money, videos, death; material possessions dominate the conversation.

But what if it was something more? What if in that little box were answers? Hope? Love? Direction?

We left that day without ever opening or attempting to open the box, but I haven't forgotten about it. I haven't stopped thinking about how things may have changed had we made a different decision.
What if I'd taken a shot and opened the box that day? Would it have changed my life? Or someone else's life?

What about you, what if you saw that box. You gonna open it?

Just Write

It's Coming to Get Me....

Can't sleep. Not sure why. I'm to tired not to. I blame it on daylight savings.

I hear a clown get up. It's her turn. At this rate I'm sure I'll get it soon. It wasn't pretty with the first clown this past weekend. We were both up all night.

She's already up and starts the clean up. She has sick clown duty during the week. I feel sorry for her, but not sorry enough to trade her places. I feel sorry for the clown. I'm not sure which one it is. I don't want to know. I'm tired and I have to get up early. I hear them in the living room. She makes her a makeshift bed on the couch, and gets herself set up in the recliner. It's a terrible sleep I know, but that's what parents do. Good parents anyway. Isn't that the basic function of a parent? Being there for them to clean up the mess?

I lay here, my knee throbs. Even in the middle of the night it hurts. She comes in the room. I pretend to sleep. Not moving. Barely breathing. When she leaves I think back about a younger me. Think about how I got to the point in my life, this point, where I have a bum knee. What's next, telling stories of when I walked to school up a hill?

Footsteps race across the hard wood floor. I soon hear the sound of Ralph. I know it's coming for me. It's out there. Waiting. I have the fear of a teenager in a horror movie knowing that Freddie or Jason is coming to get me and there's not a damn thing I can do about it. I don't want it. I can't get it. Not now, not ever.

J-Tony
Just Write

It's Over...

It's over. My first thought is now what? How do we move on from this, more importantly, how do I move on?

We've been together for the last fourteen years and all I can think about at this very moment is myself. What am I gonna do? I know you have feelings too, but I just can't bring myself to understand those feelings, or pretend that I care at this point.

I know that our parting ways are for the best. At least that's what I believe. That's what I have to keep telling myself anyway. That it's for the best. I suppose only time will truly tell.
They say that time heals all wounds. But what about the self inflicted wounds? Does time cure those? They say that I'll forget about you a little more each day until eventually it will seem more like a dream than a life.
I know that life goes on and the sun will come up tomorrow, but for know I want to just sit and remember who we were. What we were.

And tomorrow? Maybe tomorrow I'll start thinking about the next season.

So good luck to you Peyton Manning, and thanks for being our Quarterback.

Signed

Indianapolis