Search

Simple yet Sweet

A Blog for Traveling Souls

Just A Thought: When it Rains it Pours…

Have you ever noticed how when it Rains it Pours?

You know, how when that first shit snowflake drops and then they all start to flurry around you as if God was shaking up your snow-globe?

I mean Jesus man! It’s really starting to pile on and it’s getting heavy. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.

There’s only a couple weeks left to my semester but I have so much to do and the stress is incredible.

I’m working a million hours a week at a job that doesn’t pay nearly what I’m worth, today my car got hit in the left side headlight and the bumper I just replaced 6 months ago needs to be replaced again, I ran into my ex Girlfriend on Monday, and to top it all off the Credit Card companies wont stop calling for their money.

I even got a $25 parking ticket over the weekend; see what I mean?

This week has been a challenge to say the least. Talk about a shitstorm!

I feel as though my life is moving faster than I am but at the same time things are moving too slow. I know where I don’t want to be however I’m having a difficult time seeing where I want to be.

I’m regretting my decision to go back to school Full-Time this year but I need to graduate already. It’s taking me way to long to get this degree done. Between switching majors and taking classes here and there I feel like I’m still miles away from earning my BA.

I’ll get there eventually. Life is hard but exciting.

This will have to be short because I really need to finish some Homework. I’m shocked I had it in me to write this article in the first place, i’m having an anxiety attack over here lol

I wish I had some good advice for you guys today but I’m all out of inspiration. I’ll leave you with this piece of wisdom:

We’re all in this together and once you’ve hit the bottom it can only get better so hang in there because your’re worth it! Oh, and keep your sense of humor alive 🙂

Stories from My Life: Saturday Mornings at the Methadone Clinic

I’m not sure what’s worse, getting up at 5am or working at a methadone clinic?

Lucky me I get to do both.

That’s right, I’m the Saturday Morning Security Officer at the clinic down the street. It just might be a new low, and I’ve had some pretty terrible jobs.

My Saturday starts off as I walk out the door half awake and half disgusted. I follow the canal down to Wareham before the sun comes up. The roads are still wet from the rain we had last night and the air is salter than the rim of a margarita glass . It’s warm but heavy.

It’s always deary here in the boondocks of south/eastern Mass and I’ve always associated the place with this mellow sad kind of feeling that doesn’t seem to change with the season.

Today I arrived to work around 5:40am which was a little early for me but I wanted to get in before the crowds started to gather outside the main entrance.

I wasn’t early enough apparently because there were already at least a dozen cigarette smoking, old sweatshirt wearing Werther’s originals blocking my way inside. One of the guys spits on the ground and just misses my shoe and laughs “Sorry Officer I just though your shoe could use some shinning” he smiles and his top denture plate falls out. I knock on the window and the nurse lets me in.

The lobby smelled like feet, marijuana, and gum disease.

When I tell you that this is a bizarre group of people that’s understatement. I’ve seen everyone from pink haired old ladies in leather to some guy who exclusively wears a dirty brown worn-out trench coat and a cowboy hat. I once saw a patient using his golf wedge cane to hit someone over the back of the head in a parking lot brawl.

If I had to describe the majority of the people I’ve seen in one sentence, It would be that they are lost, confused and most of the time just looking for someone to listen to them. There personal stories are just as unique as the character.

I purposely made mental notes to remember some of the wild conversations I heard well on duty.

It was a big dysfunctional family reunion and I later came to understand that this was therapy in a way for most of the folks. I’d hear things like “Heey, what’s up Jimmy?” In-response,  “Not much boss, just got out. I can’t remember the last time I had a summer where I wasn’t in the big-house”. One day a regular came in with crutches, his foot in a cast, and both knees wrapped. Someone in line asked him what happened and he simply said “I got stabbed 14 times and shot in both kneecaps over the weekend” the guy in line says “Well at least you had time to grab some coffee you son of a bitch”.

I thought to myself, at some point you’ve got to ask yourself what am I doing with my life? When is it time to slow down?

Out of all the shit I’ve seen and heard at this place, the worst by far was when patients brought their children in. Call me old fashion but there’s something seriously wrong with the image of children crawling on the ground at a Methadone Clinic. That’s just me, but you’ve got to remember, I’m the one who’s seen people spit blood on these very floors.

I wish I was making this stuff up but it’s unfortunately the truth, these are the stories of my life, and although not very glamorous they’ve taught me a lot.

The biggest lesson I’ve learned is that in order to be happy you have to be grateful for what you have, and sometimes what you don’t have.

On my very last Saturday shift I swear to God, I almost had to escort two nurses out of the building because they got into a heated argument over a movie reference from “Groundhog Day”. The patients in line were cheering them on, “Fight, Fight, Fight!!!”.

I’m grateful to never have to step foot in that place again.

Just A Thought: Coffee Flavored Ice Cubes?

My Iced coffee is watered down :/

Wouldn’t it be nice if all ice cubes were made of the drink they were supposed to be in? It would solve the problem completely. No more unsatisfied iced coffee lovers, no more pain, farewell problems!

Just kidding lol I’d still find something to complain about. We’re such an unsatisfied species in so much as we could never have enough to feel whole.

We’re always painting unrealistic pictures of where we want to be well all the while forgetting how amazing it is that our human race is even alive to begin with.

All we are are specs of dust spinning around on a planet warmed by a dying sun!

But that’s what keeps us going I suppose.

“America runs on illusion”! Put that on a DD cup!!!

I know I’m a hypocrite believe me. To prove it let me vent about my troubled life…

As I write this post my Toyota Camry sits on a slab of tired asphalt contemplating life. Yes, my car has seen better days and in all honesty I’ve been pretty rough on her.

I call her the “Green Machine” because of the simple truth that she just keeps going and is a nice olive green. Right now she’s probably at 230,000 miles or so. Oh the trips we’ve been on together, the fun we’ve had, she kinda had to grow up early if you know what I mean.

I know, sad.

It’s a grim day, or a “wet dream” but not in a good way. There’s about an inch of water pooling up under my drivers seat and I have no idea why. If I still had my lifeguard cert I’d probably have to start guarding on the weekends again! 

My muffler is all rusted out and it’s on the ground and I’m all most certain rats have started eating away at my wires etc. I’ve put so much money into this car over the last year. I’m wicked pissed!

This is life or death people, my problems matter!!! Someone get a hold of the universe because every-time I call I keep getting a guy named “Tom” from “Minnesota”?

I kid, but It’s bad folks, it’s quite bad…

Maybe now you can see why I really don’t think it is too much to ask for coffee flavored ice cubes?

March 27th, 2017: Just A Thought…

I was thinking about what it takes for individuals to make an impression on us. Why do we hold on to some people and let others go so easily?

Does loves taste ever really disappear, or does it simply store itself away for those times when all you want to do is eat toast and never leave the house?

Why do we hold on to the pieces & shapes from our past? What’s in it for us?

I wish I knew the answer.

I still hold on to the image of a girl I only dated for maybe 3 months. For some reason, in my mind, she was the perfect girl for me, she was the one that got away, and I was the one responsible for my unhappiness.

It has probably been well over a year since we were together but I still hold onto the thought of her and the thought only becomes more intensified as time goes by.

I know that this is unhealthy, but Like aged wine the kiss only gets sweeter.

Did I miss my chance, did I miss my one shot at love? These are the questions I ask sometimes at 4am as I look at the ceiling in the darkness.

I even think of her on the good days which lately, are more often than not, but, although clouded by my foolish hopes and dreams, I did get one thing right.

I am responsible for my own unhappiness and I have taken full responsibility for it. We’ve gotten quite comfortable actually, I think I might have to call things off though, it’s grown so incredibly needy.

I’ve come to the realization that if you love someone, that love never really passes away it just stays in that moment, a ball of energy suspended in time never fading and always lasting.

This thought puts me back to sleep when my demons come crawling and gives me the courage to tell unhappiness where it can go.

I simple say “it’s time we see other people”.

Follow for Weekly updates!

Cheers,

B.

Stories from My Life: The Eulogy

They say that everything happens for a reason, that it’s the journey that makes the trip, that life is like a Highway or something along those lines. Believe me I’ll be the first one to call this out as cliché horseshit, but hear me out.

I was working a security gig at a hotel when I realized that this sentiment had some backing to it.

I’ve always had dreams of going on the great American Road trip with awesome people or just alone.

I’d play nothing but “The Eagles” and “The Grateful Dead” as I put the miles behind me. It would be like the movies; a coming of age story where a boy finds out the meaning of everything and discovers who he is.

I’d see the country up front and personal. I’d meet strange and fascinating folks and come to the realization that we’re all kind of the same.

At least that’s how I’ve always imagined it, but life usually happens regardless of your planning to live.

It was around 12am as I sat at my post on the 3rd floor of this hotel. I’ve had a lot of random jobs in the past and this was just another to add to the collection; nothing special.

I’m not really sure how everything lead up to that point and if you told me I’d be sitting there a year prior I probably would have had a nervous breakdown.

In my naive mind, for some reason or another, I thought I’d be somebody by then. I would have millions of dollars and be living in the Hollywood Hills with a beautiful girl by my side, you know, because I worked so hard for it. In case you didn’t get that, I was being sarcastic.

Anyways, here I was having a lovely evening of isolation. It was pin-drop quiet whereas I could hear my heart beating and the blood pulsing through my veins.

I was alive.

There was a a class of middle school kids staying on that floor and I was to make sure everyone stayed in bed and didn’t try to pull a fast one.

Yes, it was quite the task. Honestly, I would have rather been dumpster diving in hell.

We had a night auditor who lost her trail mix one night and decided to give that a try but that’s a story for another time lol.

The room I was posted at was the only room that wasn’t occupied by the school group. I later came to know the occupant fairly well. His name was Mike, just like his father. He was just staying the night and was in tough shape.

I found out he was in town for his fathers funeral. He hadn’t seen him in years and he was having a really hard-time writing his eulogy that was to be read at 10am that morning.

He got down on the ground and just started crying his eyes out. He told me about what a good guy his father was and how everyone always respected his old man. He told me about the barbecues and how his dad “lived like a thousand miles per hour” (He lived for the party).

He was so upset that he throw an alarm clock into the wall of his hotel room (he later went to the 24 hour Walmart, bought some plaster and paint, and I helped him fix it).

I had my computer with me and I offered to help him write the eulogy, I didn’t really think about it I just offered. I thought it was the right thing to do.

As we both sat there in the hallway, he lit a cigarette and offered me one. I don’t normally smoke but It just seemed right. It was a strange scene that not even Pablo Picasso could have painted.

It was surreal, and I felt that it was supposed to happen. 

Mike told me that his Father was a strong believer in the fact that all things happen for a reason and he was sure this was the work of his dad. I’d like to believe that’s true.

It took me four hours to help him write that eulogy but by 4am it was done.

I’ll never forget it.

Here’s the Eulogy I wrote that late September night:

My Fathers Eulogy (Mike Ryan)

My name is Michael Ryan and we are gathered here today to say goodbye to my father, Mike. I was very close with my father. He was the man! He always looked out for his kids and always had our best interest at heart. Whether we were camping out on scusset beach, skiing in Killington, VT, vacationing at Kerwin’s house In NH, in Daytona for bike week or down at Disney world, he always made sure his family had a goodtime.

If you knew my father, you would know that he lived for the party! He was the life of the party! He was literally the biggest party animal I’ve ever known in my life. Whether at work or at home he knew how to bring life into lifeless situations or circumstances, my father loved to laugh. It didn’t matter who you were or where you were, he could get you to enjoy yourself; even at a funeral. He could bring out the best in people.

Our summer day trips were the best. He would say Mr. Mike “we’re gonna go fishing today”. I would get excited and grab the canoe. We usually went to the north river in Pembroke, Ma and would go as far as we could till the tide changed. My father would talk about life well throwing back a Bud Weisser.

I cherish those times I spent on the water alone with my dad. It’s funny, I never remember catching a fish, not once. I was always the designated paddler on our way back, but it didn’t matter. We were having fun and we were together.

He had this way of showing you things. I never really got it back then but I get it now. He would guide you to an answer, he wouldn’t make it easy. I remember one time when we were at my Mother’s house (a house my father built from the ground up), we were working on some crown molding. I noticed that there was a quarter inch gap at one corner where the crown molding meets. I said to my father “Pop, what’s up with that gap in the corner?”. He just said “I can’t see it from my house”. I would always get mad and say he was a “has been” when things like this would happen. He never reacted; he was calm and cool and just pretended everything was fine.

He would always play things off like he didn’t know what I was talking about even though he did. If I couldn’t fix something he would step in, but for the most part he would let me figure it out for myself. He was good like that. Later in life I realize this was just his way of making sure I took pride in my work; never leaving anything overlooked.

My Dad wasted no time with putting me to work. He said “you’re working with me this summer on the construction site.” and that was that. I worked alongside him all of that summer. It was 1995 and I was 15.

This was my first job ever. I can’t tell you how much I learned with my old man that summer. He taught me how to be responsible, how to solve complex problems, how to be a leader, how to have a good work ethic, and most importantly how much fun it is to load 160 sheets of drywall to the second floor with Cousin Dennis.

He gave me that sense of accomplishment that many never achieve. I worked harder than I ever had before, but I wouldn’t give up that experience for the world. I can’t tell you how gratifying it was.

Another thing my father taught me was to always have respect. Not just for yourself but for others. My father treated everyone with respect and dignity; both on the site and off. I remember his cookouts every Friday at noon; legit every Friday hamburgers, hot dogs, and beer.

I could talk forever about my dad. I could tell you about all the Bruins games and the Pats games he took me to. I could tell you about the time we slept with two Harley Davison’s! It’s not what you think I promise.

I could tell you about how my Father loved Elvis. He wouldn’t let us kids touch the radio Sunday mornings. That was the Kings time! He was there for me at my confirmation, throughout my high school career, and even got me into the union when I was 18. I can most definitely say that I would not be the man I am today if was not for my father.

Although my dad spent the last years of his life in Florida, he kept in contact with all of his kids. He loved his kids. It didn’t matter what was going on. Nothing ever got in the way of that love! We spoke to one another frequently. He lived life like a thousand miles an hour! One hundred percent or nothing! All in!

My father made the best of things and I loved him.

Written September 30th, 2016 on Floor 3 by Security Officer Prentiss



Follow for Weekly Posts!

Cheers,

B.

March 21st, 2017: Just A Thought…

I just overheard two boys that couldn’t be much more than 8 years old laughing hysterically.

I looked over to see what was so funny and saw that they were looking at the front cover of Bill Clinton’s autobiography “My Life” all the while whispering about how he had some “hard” choices to make lol

Man, I can’t stop laughing right now… kids know a lot more than we give them credit for.

I wonder what it would be like to see the world through their eyes again?

Wouldn’t it be nice to go back and really live!

When you were a kid it didn’t matter what was happening tomorrow, or how much money you had. It was all irrelevant.

All you worried about was whether or not you could go on that play-date with Andrew or go on that field-trip to the museum of science.

Having fun was all that you thought about and living for the moment was all that you knew.

I know that’s how It was for me, for a little while anyways.

There must be a way that you can still be an “adult” and not lose that “childlike” way of looking at things, that look that makes things so clear and brilliant and easy; not complex.

Because lets face it, we’re all going to die someday and the problems are never going to disappear.

We’re always going to have major obstacles in our way, monstrous issues that we most face at every turn, but it’s how we choose to look at them that will make all the difference.

You know, the more I think about it, maybe the problems are all part of living. How boring would life be if you never had anything to work for? Never had a challenge to overcome?

Maybe nothing makes sense to you right now, but maybe that’s the point? Maybe it’s not supposed to?

All I’m saying is that our existence wouldn’t seem so unforgiving, so difficult if we just let it all go and said “Fuck it” I’m not going to take this so seriously anymore! I’m going to look at my life through the eyes of an 8 year old.

And I don’t mean that you should stop caring about your life, I’m saying that you should stop caring about the things you can’t control in regards to your life.

You’ll be a lot happier, believe me.

Follow for Weekly Posts!

Cheers,

B.

 

March 18th, 2017: Just A Thought…

Just a random Saturday at the library.

It’s intimidating being around all this knowledge old and new.

Can you imagine the time that went into every dream and fictional lyric that now sits patiently awaiting a reader?

A good portion of someones life went into making something that others would hopefully gain from someday. How selfless is that?

Put yourself in their shoes. You’re at your desk writing away, you love what you do but you have doubts that anyone will ever want to read your work, but regardless you continue to craft your great novel. Think about the faith you’d have to have!

I want to be like the great writer, never wavering, always keeping my vision close in sight. Never allowing doubt in to plague my progress.

Who wants to be the writer who gave up and never published their work out of fear of never being read?

I’d much rather be the one with 500 pieces of work to my name and only have one read ever hundred years!

Just remember that no one cares why you didn’t do anything with your existence, they want to know what you did do.

I’m so much more afraid of what fear will do if left comfortable, left with too much time on its hands, left to consume my greatness.

I challenge fear every single day because I know that one day I’ll win and have complete control over my life. I refuse to let my light be diminished by fears shadow!

With that said, I challenge you to do the same.

Follow for weekly posts!

Cheers,

B.

March 16th, 2017: Just A Thought…

At the moment I’m sitting at my computer on some bench at my College. The building I’m in used to be an old rope factory back in the day but was restored years ago leaving only the original flooring for the most part.

The rumor is that the building is haunted? I don’t know about all that. I’ve only ever heard the screams of students before a midterm exam 🙂

It might sound weird but I have really grown to like the smell of asbestos lol I think I’m addicted.

When I look down to the floor I can see the nails and the depressions leftover from machines and tools used when the factory was still operating. I often wonder how some of them were made, what stories they have to tell, each line and valley?

I feel like we are the same in a sense. When I meet someone for the first time I try to look for those “lines and valleys” formed from the past. What experiences have made this person who stands in front of me who they are? I look not only out of curiosity but more as a means to better understand the person; to better relate.

Just like the century old floors that now lay beneath my time traveling feet, everyone is unique. It’s so important to also realize that everyone has different ways of looking at the world.

I have a close friend that I’ve known for a longtime and I wouldn’t say we’re really similar at all. He’s a military, crew cut, right-wing, straight-laced, white tee-shirt kinda guy. He incredibly honest though and I love him for that. He wants to become a police officer (keeping my fingers crossed for you brother!).

I’m pretty much the opposite; I’m more of an academic. I try my best to stay out of politics as much as possible and I’m really loose when it comes to a regimented schedule.

The thing is we both understand each other and can appreciate our differences, that’s what has kept the friendship alive, I’m sure of it.

If I leave you with nothing else, remember this: You don’t have to agree on everything to be in a successful relationship, in fact I think the most successful relationships are the ones where you don’t. It’s so important to appreciate and respect our peculiarities and overall uniqueness!

I’ve found this mindset key to understanding others and participating in mutually beneficial conversations as well as sustaining long-lasting and healthy relationships.

Well that came out of nowhere, I guess I should do my homework now huh.

Who would have known a floor could tell you so much?

Follow for weekly posts!

Cheers,

B.

March 15th, 2017: Just A Thought…

Today has been a rough day.

I was called to a meeting and ambushed by Rodney Dangerfield, you know the actor who played in 1986 summer comedy “Back to School”? I wish that was true lol

I have a hunch he wont be winning an “Oscar” for his performance.

The primary difference from the movie was that my main antagonist was a lunatic of a Hotel manager who was like Dangerfield but without the sense of humor, and that’s were the story went out the window.

Someone fire the screenwriter please, they suck at this!

I felt bad for the guy actually, he seemed pretty miserable and boy was he overweight. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a heart attack on the way to work and didn’t realize it.

I never understood why people got to be so mean and stuck in their ways. I mean think about it? This guy wasn’t this way when he was born right? Or was he you could argue I suppose.

I’m letting this run away with me. What I want to say is that as of right now I am 100% unemployed and I’ve never felt more free in my life!!!

The responsible or sane person would be worried beyond belief am I right? They’d be thinking about their car insurance, or their rent, or a sandwich etc.

I have this strong urge that I was made to be more, made to do more, made to set an example! I’ve never felt more certain about anything in my life.

Once you feel this connected with the universe there’s no turning back. I know it will answer my financial needs.

If feeling this positive means I’m insane then call the mental institution cause I don’t ever want to feel “well” again!

Follow for weekly posts!

Cheers,

B.

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑