Crazy Days

***CRAZY DAYS***

The past few days have been crazy for me and my family. They may have had an impact on my creative life, they may not have. Either way, if I don’t write this journal entry, I feel like it’ll be a wasted opportunity. Make of these three stories what you will.

***DALE***

This past Friday, my step-dad Dale was taken to the emergency room for flank pain. The hospital did all sorts of tests on him to find out why and it turns out he has a massive kidney stone. They’ve tried to flush it out of him, but the stone is too big to pass through, so earlier today, they had it surgically removed. As of now, I haven’t had an update as to how the surgery went, but I imagine Dale will just want to relax and take it easy when he’s finally discharged from the hospital. He can watch all the basketball and detective shows he wants with Sitka sprawled across his lap. I’m positive about his ability to recover from this since he’s had worse and survived that. I just hope he’ll be in a laughing mood when I do impressions of him and his funny dialogue during car trips.

***RAT INFESTATION***

Ever since the start of this year, it’s been the Haines-Temons-Stevens-Wilson family going to war with wild rats, who have invaded our home and came out of the woodwork whenever they damn well wanted. We’ve had rats in our kitchens and bathrooms mostly and over the last few months we’ve made progress with curtailing their population. And then a few nights ago as I was trying to sleep, I saw a giant rat running around in my room looking for hiding places. It ran behind my mini-fridge, behind my computer desk, underneath my TV stand, and across my bookcase. Naturally, I was so scared that I lost sleep over it. We tried to trap it last night, but the little fucker didn’t take the bait. I know what you’re thinking: how can an animal lover like me condone trapping wild rats? You should probably ask the same question to anybody living in medieval England during the black plague. Except you can’t, because they’re fucking dead!

***CHILD LURING***

Earlier today, there was an incident in which someone in a blue truck with an extended canopy drove around our neighborhood looking for little kids. A police report has already been filed, but the only information we’re missing is the driver’s license plate. I have a twelve-year-old niece named Reina who likes to walk to the convenience store and the school playground every once and a while and I’ll be damned if she becomes the next Jaycee Dugard. The truck shouldn’t be too hard to find, so I hope the police catch this asshole before he actually succeeds in kidnapping a little girl.

***CONCLUSION***

The thing to remember during these “crazy days” is that if you believe you can get through them, you definitely will. While these three stories are still in the process of resolving themselves, I’m confident that things will be back to normal in no time. I’ve got a creative task list a mile long and I’d love nothing more than to knock the items off that list like a wild motherfucker. We can do this, people. We can do this!

***COMEDIC QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“Excuse me, sir, can I see your driver’s license? No, sir, I don’t need a beer and I don’t think you do either. Mr. Foxworthy, do you know why I pulled you over today? It concerns the vehicle you’re towing behind you. No, sir, it’s not against the law to tow a boat, but we do require you put it on a trailer. Can you ask your friends to get out of the boat please? I don’t give a damn if the fish are biting, I said ask your friends to get out of the boat. Hell, you dropped a skier about a mile back there.”

-Jeff Foxworthy doing an impression of a patrol cop pulling his dad over-

***POST-SCRIPT***

One of the ways you can get through a hard time in your life is by enjoying comedic moments whether they’re from Jeff Foxworthy, Bill Engvall, George Carlin, or any other source of giggles and chuckles. I hope that Jeff Foxworthy bit was to your guys’ liking. Keeping with the theme of positivity, I saw Ghostbusters last night at the Regal Cinemas and it was fucking awesome!

MMA Dreams

I used to think that professional wrestling was the most criticized sport in the world until I started watching mixed-martial arts around the time when Brock Lesnar became the UFC Heavyweight Champion. In only a short period of time, I’ve seen all the negative aspects of the sport: homophobia, transphobia, misogyny, poor sportsmanship, cyber-bullying, unwarranted criticism, premature referee stoppages, squirrelly judging, what more can I say? There was even an incident at UFC Fight Night: Henderson vs. Khabilov where a fighter named Jason High shoved a referee after his fight was “stopped too soon”. Mr. High was cut from the UFC shortly after.

Despite all of these negativities, I still find MMA to be fascinating, which is probably why I continue to have dreams about doing MMA about as often as I have dreams about going to school. In my own subconscious, I’ve had matches with the best of every weight division. I up-kicked my way to a KO victory against Chael Sonnen, I right hooked Pat Barry into dreamland, I called out Matt Mitrione after another triumphant victory, and I even locked Nate Diaz in a kimura and made him tap out. If I insinuated that these claims were true, people would say, “In your dreams!” And they’d be right too, because these exciting MMA moments only happened in my dreams.

Truth is, if I actually tried the intense exercise regimen these fighters go through day in and day out with my clunky body, I’d pass out within seconds. My greatest claim to athletic fame is walking to the grocery store every morning to buy either a pound of popcorn chicken or three one-liter bottles of Diet Mountain Dew. Whenever I’m not “training like a champ”, I’m usually eating an oversized meal at McDonald’s or Wendy’s, usually consisting of 20 chicken tenders, the biggest burger they have (without the bun), and a large unsweetened iced tea. Not exactly the athletic lifestyle a typical MMA fighter leads.

Deep down in my subconscious, I know even though I don’t train like an athlete, the thrill of having a long winning streak and being cheered on my thousands of fans is exciting. The fight itself would be even more exciting, provided I wasn’t in the cage with a “grinder”. Perhaps these MMA dreams are a manifestation of my need for excitement.

Given the limited resources I have at my disposal, I have only a few ideas of what would constitute excitement. Writing is always an adrenaline thrill I love, especially if there’s a fight going on in my stories. Going to see an action movie at Regal Cinemas is exciting as well, my most recent one being Godzilla. If I didn’t want to go out in public, I could just rent a movie on my Roku, this time my most recent viewing adventure being the first “How To Train Your Dragon”. If I’m feeling particularly frisky, I could read “A Million Little Pieces” by James Frey, which is both depressing and exciting at the same time.

The activities mentioned above are just temporary fixes, though. Once I do them, they’re done forever. I know, I know, there will always be books to read, movies to watch, and stories to write, but that doesn’t mean I’m getting a permanent high from these things. There’s too much of a wide gap of boredom in between activities. If I can find a way to shorten the gaps without turning my mind into a melting puddle of exhaustion, that would be excellent.

The sleeping dreams and waking fantasies I have just might be the answer I need for filling the boredom gaps. Thinking is the best way to travel and who travels more than an MMA fighter? I could go to Brazil from my beddy-bye and elbow my way into a Performance of the Night award. I could go to Chicago from my treks to the grocery store and guillotine choke my way to my 15^th victory. And as long as we’re talking about Chicago, I could get a slice of deep dish pizza after I’m done cutting weight.

I just thought of another reason not to do MMA in real life: cutting weight. I have a hard enough time losing weight and staying away from fatty foods. If all the water was drained from my body, I still wouldn’t make the 265 lb. heavyweight limit. That, and my opponent would be awarded a KO victory automatically after I pass out on the scale. I can still dream, right? I can still exercise my subconscious creativity and make some kick-ass stories out of it, right? You’re damn right I can!

　

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“Geezers need excitement. If their lives don’t provide them this, they’ll incite violence. Commonsense. Simple commonsense.”

-The Streets rapping “Geezers Need Excitement”-