Why?

Strange people seem to always be drawn to me. I don't know why this happens. My mom always said that I have inviting eyes. She said that I don't look away when a strange or troubled person approaches. My sister said that I have a Familiar Spirit. She explained that people who have demonic spirits are attracted to others that have the same problem. I prefer to agree with my mom. I don't particularly like the idea of being possessed by the devil.
Yesterday I was at Walmart. I hate that place because of all the screaming kids. I must admit though, it is fun to people watch there. The outfits shoppers wear are amazing. I don't understand why any woman would think that showing her fat belly would make her look more attractive. Mexican women wear halter tops that leave their huge stomachs out there exposed for all the world to see. It is disgusting. They really think that they look good prancing around Walmart while their six kids aimlessly run around through the racks of cheap clothes. Sorry. That is a whole other story. And I digress. I was at Walmart looking for some towels to buy for my nieces birthday.
I found some thick white towels in the huge, long rack that lined the isle. I had gone through different sizes and thicknesses in search of the perfect towels. It was a major ordeal. I thought that it would be an easy task, but I kept second guessing myself. Was this towel thicker than the last two? Would they fall apart in the washer? Was white the right color? It is hard to pick out a gift for a girl that has excellent taste. My niece is an interior designer. Finally, after forcing myself to make a decision, I loaded the towels, washrags and hand towels in my shopping cart and headed for the extensive row of cash registers.
I needed to go to the restroom, and I couldn't wait through the long line at the only two, of twenty, registers that were open. I parked my cart at the end of one of the closed registers. I headed, as quickly as my feet would move, to the Mens Restroom. While sitting on the tissue covered seat I thought about my gift selection. Towels are not very personable. Do they express my love for my niece? Would she think that I was dumb for not buying her clothes instead? I couldn't even consider that thought. I am a gay man. I cannot buy a beautiful girl clothes at Walmart. I know that I should know a lot about girls clothes, but I don't. I guess that I did not get that part of the gay gene. My mind was racing from one thought to another. I needed to focus on my purpose for going to the restroom. I will not go into the details. After washing my hands, (Yes I always wash my hands with plenty of soap) I rushed out the door and passed the crowd of customers swinging their buggies my way.
Where is my shopping cart? I looked all up and down the wide isle to see if someone had pushed it somewhere. Maybe someone had mistakenly pushed it to one of the cashiers. They probably were reaching for a bunch of bags of Doritos while their kids were knocking candy bars off the rack and down to the floor. They were distracted after stepping on the candy bars and grabbed the wrong cart. After a quick search of all the buggies in the two open lines, I came to the conclusion that an employee must have taken my abandoned cart back to the huge rack of towels. I was frantic. I had to get back to the isle as quickly as I could. If the employee had already loaded the towels up on the shelves and walked away, I would have to start my search all over again. I couldn't remember which white towels were the ones that I had so painstakenly selected.
As I entered the isle, I was extremely relieved to see a rather large bellied man talking on his cell phone while fondling my pure white towels.
"Excuse me sir," I said ,"but you seem to have my buggy."
He turned to me, and in a loud tone of voice said, "I am talking on my phone."
"Yes. I can see that, but you have my towels. That cart is mine."
"Oh really," he shouted. "I didn't see your name on it."
"Do you work here or something? If not, this is really weird that you would take my cart."
"I am on the phone talking to my friend about these towels, and you will have to wait. I am doing a price check to see if I want to buy these."
"Look. Those are my towels. I need my cart back. Do you have some kind of problem or something?"
"You are extremely rude. You can have them back if you say please."
I looked at him in the eyes and could see that they were twinkling at me. Oh god! This fat nut is trying to flirt with me. Should I be nice and say "please?" Or should I just grab the cart and rush away with it? I was ready to punch him in the stomach. He was a fat slob of a gay man. His sweat covered,flabby, fat, hairy arms rested across my towels as he waited for my response. The anger, held deep in my body, was about to explode. I was ready to let this asshole have it. Quick thoughts of what I would call him as I punched him rushed like a furious locomotive through my angry brain. I could feel my shoulders drawing up into hard knots. I was completely aware of the tension,held tightly, in my body. I questioned myself: "Is this worth it? Why should I let this jerk do me this way? He is causing my blood pressure to rise so high that I can feel a burning sensation in my face.
My sight traced down at the towels with his laptop purse on top. They fallowed up his gross arms and into his face, that was covered with a giant grin. Suddenly my heart pained for the poor attention wanting man. His eyes spoke to me. They were saying, "I have you over a barrel. You have to talk nicely to me if you want what I've got. In that brief moment of recognition of another persons need for attention, I truly felt sorry for the poor guy. Immediately the word "Please" jumped out of my mouth.
I looked for his reaction. I expected him to take the lap top purse out of the buggy and walk away. He would feel elated because he had gotten a stranger to be nice to him. That would be OK with me. It wouldn't hurt me to let this poor soul feel good for a brief moment in a long day. I might even say "Thank you", as he walks away.
He didn't though. Instead he said, "Say pretty please." At that point,I grabbed his purse and shoved it up over his arm. I grabbed the buggy and headed for the registers. "What a freak," I said under my breath. "Why are they always so attracted to me?"

Getting Back To Sleep

I have problems sleeping.I think that a lot of us do as we get older. Most of my friends have to take something to make them fall asleep. As children, we had no problem going to sleep. Jimmy said that he read an article about sleep problems in adults. It seems that our bodies have more melatonin when we are young. When we get older we don't have enough melatonin, and that causes us to have problems going to sleep.
I have tried everything on the market to help me get to sleep. And most of them have worked. They worked good in the beginning. But after a few months their effect seemed to ware off. Taking double the amount was the only thing that helped me go to sleep.
Nyquil became my best friend. One good shot, and within thirty minutes my head was cradled into a pile of pillows. It was such a good feeling to have the last strange thoughts of the night. I knew that the more weird my thoughts became, the closer I was to La La Land. After a few months though, one shot became two, and then two became three. Three had the reverse effect on me. Instead of going to sleep, I would lay there for hours in what I like to call 'Funky Town'. Funky Town is a place where people who are high on Nyquil go when they have taken too much and still can't fall asleep. It is a place where your weird thoughts come at you faster and faster. You laugh out loud at the bizarre thoughts. Then you laugh at yourself because you are laughing out loud. After a couple of hours, the thoughts slow down and you fall asleep. The next morning your head is in a thick fog. And it stays there until after noon.
Benadryl replaced Nyquil as my drug of choice for sleep. It has the same ingreadients as Nyquil, but not the alcohol. It was cheaper too. Taking three seemed to work good for about six months. Three then became four. Four became five. Adding Melatonin pills helped after that. Two beers added made it the perfect combination for a good rest.
Jimmy, my partner of twenty-five years, said that stress caused my sleep problems. His massage therapist, who is very spiritual, said that my sleep problems were a result of my unresolved issues. According to her, I was not releasing my anger and resentment like I was supposed to. He told me about a spiritual exercise to do before I go to bed. I tried sitting still on the floor with my eyes closed. My legs crossed, Indian style, and my palms turned up as I lay then on top of my thighs, I would take deep, slow breaths. As I released my lungs full of air, I would say " I forgive the universe of all that is wrong with it". On my next push out of air I had to say "I forgive myself for all that is wrong with me". The third breath being released, I had to say " I ask that the universe and everyone in my life forgive me". On the fourth breath, I had to say " I love myself , and I am a good person". I had to do this over and over for at least fifteen minutes each night.
It was working. I did feel much more peaceful at night. The stress seemed to dissolve away, little by little, as I repeated my mantra each night. It didn't put me to sleep as fast as the medicines and the alcohol, but I truly felt better about myself and the world. I was doing something good for myself.
After a while, I realized that I still needed the Benadryl to help me go to sleep. I had lowered the amount that I was taking. That, along with my meditation did well for me for a while. Benadryl turned into Nyquil. Then Nyquil and two beers did the trick. I continued my spiritual exercises each night.
I could not concentrate on what I was supposed to say as good as I could when I wasn't medicated though. Maybe if I repeated my mantra faster, I wouldn't get so confused. I did that for a couple of nights, trying really hard to focus and mean what I was saying. After that, I tried doing it at a very slow pace. That seemed to work better. What was I thinking? One night, after three beers and a shot of Nyquil, I found myself saying " I forgive Barbra Streisand for destroying the universe". After saying, " Kenny Rogers. Stop singing while you forgive me for the universe," I was forced to rethink all of this meditation stuff.
Jimmy's new massage therapist told him to tell me of another easier exercise to do at night. I was ready for something new. This one involved writing my worries and thoughts on a piece of paper. I had to write only things that came quickly to my mind. It seems that if you focus too much on your problems, you have a harder time letting them go in the next step. I trusted what Jimmy's massage therapist said, but I still wasn't going to take a chance at not getting a good nights sleep. I did the usual and took a shot of Nyquil with two beers.
The next step was that I had to go outside and hold the paper in my hand. I would light my lighter, and say "I release you to the universe", as I guided the flame toward the paper. In a split second the paper had melted into a bunch of black ashes that floated up above me. As they slowly drifted back down to the dirt beneath my feet, I felt nothing. I didn't feel any kind of release at all.
After that night, I decided to add my own twist to the exercise. Instead of saying " I release you to the universe", I would hold the paper in my hand and yell at it, "You go to hell. I hate you. You don't mean shit to me. Now, I release you to the universe." As a good, warm and fuzzy feeling rushed down my spine, I would release the fire from my grip as I would quietly say " You dissolve into the universe. And you are not a part of me anymore." One more loud scream at the floating ashes seemed to add the right touch: " You die. Yea, that's it. Just float away you asshole."
The results have been amazing. I still take sleep medications at night, and sometimes with alcohol. But, doing this exercise each night has forced my brain to unload itself from all the negative energy. I sleep better knowing that I have done the right thing for myself. Early in the morning as I pick up sticks or pull weeds in my yard I speak to the neighbors as they hurry about to their cars. I feel so sorry for them. They don't know my secret. "Hi neighbor.It is such a beautiful morning. Have a good day." They are so uptight. They don't even look at me as I speak to them. It is almost like they are avoiding me on purpose. I don't know what that is all about. They are so weird.

It's All About Me

Some people are so into themselves. What ever happened to caring about others, and putting them first. We should all take our turn in life. We will have our moment in the sun, eventually. I try to put myself aside and, put others first everyday. It actually comes naturally for me. You see, I was brought up right. My momma always recited The Golden Rule : Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. This rule is not just about actions. It is about being considerate, and allowing people in our daily walk of life to walk a few steps ahead of us. You see, when you let other people do the talking, you are actually being the better person for putting your own ego aside. The ego is a strong thing. The minute we are born, we are selfish. We want our mothers milk, so we cry. We want our diaper changed, so we cry. We want to be held, so we cry. As we get older we learn to do other things to get attention from those around us. And the more attention we get, the more we crave. We are so into ourselves and our own needs, that we stay focused on our on reflection in the mirror. You see people at red lights, gazing into their rear-view mirror admiring their hair and lovely facial structure. They turn their heads from side to side and up and down to get a good look at themselves. They have to make sure that every angle of their face looks as beautiful to others as it does to themselves. Such vanity is appalling. I never do that. Some people have to be the center of attention at all times. They break into conversations and try to make it all about them. As they blabber away about themselves, they reveal just how insecure they really are. It is just disgusting the way they act. I am so glad that my momma taught me right. Being so secure in myself, I have no problem letting other people be the center of attention. It's just the nice thing to do. "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Momma would be so proud," I say to myself each day as I mess with my hair while looking in the bathroom mirror. I don't keep looking though. And I definitely don't turn my head all around like those other people. I promise. I'm just not like that. I tried to explain this to the ten people in line behind me at the grocery store. They were very interested in what I was saying. Some of them began to whisper around to the people beside and behind them. The line of five people in front of me wouldn't even turn around when I talked to them. Not even as I raised my voice. See. I proved my point. They obviously were the center of their own universe. And being brought up right, I let them be that. After my third attempt to tell them my thoughts of how self-absorbed some people have become, I gave up. They were so into what they were doing that they would not even turn around and look at me. It's just so sad . I am so extremely happy with myself that I am not that way. You see, I don't know if I stated this before, but I was just brought up right. I hate even talking about myself, because it takes time away from others who might want to say something about me. Just getting a little off my mind. Charlie

The Produce Department

Working at a grocery store was so much more work than I thought it would be. And people can be a real pain. I thought that I would get to use my knowledge of the benefits of different fruits and vegetables. I could picture myself helping people pick out the foods that were good for them, and warning them of the stuff that was bad. " No Mrs. Treadway (I would get to know their names because they appreciated my head full of knowledge and my gentle way of guiding them to the better foods),you don't really need to be eating all that corn. Let's just put that back and find something more healthy. You know that corn is nothing but a starch. You could just eat a spoon of sugar and it would be the same. You need leafy greens. They are full of antioxidants. And these carrots will help your eyes."
That didn't happen though. Instead, I had an old diabetic Jewish lady come in and boss me around and talk down to me as I cut her sample after sample of mangoes so that she could pick the right one. After running back and forth from the kitchen to the pile of mangoes, she decided that she didn't want one after all. What she really wanted to do was to eat a plum that she plucked out of the center of the neatly stacked rows that I had just finished working on. Keeping me busy, cutting her mango samples gave her the opportunity to sample all kinds of fruit while throwing the pits and seeds back onto the beautiful rows that I had worked so hard on. "Somebody needs to clean up this mess," she shouted as she rolled her buggy out of my department and towards the bakery. When I went to see what she was talking about I stepped on a plum. Pulling the plum from the center, she had set the other ones free. They were free to roll down the rows and onto the floor where peoples' buggies smashed them into a mush. I had just cleaned the vinyl floor, and it was spotless. She did not even say thank you to me. I silently promised to myself that the next time I saw her in my department I would run and get a bunch of boxes of Maxi Pads and laxatives and hide them in the bottom of her buggy. But that wasn't enough. I would slide six ears of corn in there too.