Organic

Infrequently, but often enough, I question my motivation to continue writing. More infrequently, my inspirations are confirmed by a reader that isn’t already a friend or a Facebook acquaintance, or a friend of a friend, etc. Don’t get me wrong, I love hearing that my work benefits people or at least amuses, but I often wonder how far these posts travel outside my circle. Well, quite far it would seem.

On Thanksgiving after leaving Roseville and my family behind for the day, we drove to Oak Grove to spend the evening with Amanda’s family, some of whom I’d never yet met in our time together. This is our second turkey day together and I’ve met almost everybody but It’s always a little nerve-racking meeting new people because I never know what they already know about me. In one case, it was everything.

A relative of Amanda’s struck up a conversation toward the end of the evening I added myself to in which she confessed that she had been reading my blog, even since before I had met Amanda. “What!?”  I’m sure I exclaimed. Yes, a cousin-by-marriage—from a different state—of the woman I’m dating had been reading  a series of blog posts I had written a while back when she realized that the content of the posts were her very own family. It dawned on her slowly—as the posts played themselves out—that the scenario I was outlining was too familiar and she confirmed with another family member that it was in fact true.

We talked about the blog, the book, how she related to the content of the overall theme of the blog and my life, Jews, mustaches, and we vaguely fought over a pooping dogs calendar during a dice game. I won the fight. Well, I won the calendar, there was no fight. But, I do own the calendar, so… It was a pretty standard night. If you are reading this post, I want you to know that it means everything to me that you found this blog, and it means even more that I got to meet you and your husband, and that we will surely get to talk again. You have inspired me. Thank you.

We released our E-Book just over a week ago and we aren’t millionaires yet. I’m largely disappointed but understanding that Oprah hasn’t reached out hitherto, but I’m sure she will someday soon. A few days after we released the digital book, it became available as a paperback and I got to see one yesterday that my biggest fan Amanda purchased, and I was humbled. I’ve written hundreds of posts, hundreds of thousands of words, and I’ve seen them published on Facebook and Blogger, but nothing is like seeing your own words in ink. It’s surreal. It’s magical.

I’ve imbedded a couple permanent links to the book in both formats somewhere on this blog page so it will live on forever. Currently, our paperback book is #75,219 on Amazon’s best-seller’s list and the E-Book rolls in at #126,302. It’s not bad considering Amazon has millions of titles, and we aren’t anybody famous. I think my goal of selling 1,000 books was a little much, we aren’t even close to 100 yet, but we have eternity. So, please buy our book and support independent publishers and authors!!!!

During this holiday season, many people will be imprisoned. Some of you may know an inmate you haven’t written to in a long time. Maybe you have resentment, maybe you’ve just been too busy, but either way, maybe now is the time to jot down some words of love and encouragement which will help somebody get through an otherwise shitty day. Many prisoners are locked down 23-hours per day, and mail is one of the few things they have to look forward to. I know I felt better every time there was an envelope sitting on my bed after we shuffled back from chow. Ten minutes and a pen can change somebody’s day.

The E-Book

I want to tell you all that I worked incredibly hard to make this thing possible. In a way I suppose I did because I lived the life that is the major subject of this book, but to turn those first few hundred posts into a book was all the work of people more technically intelligent than me, and a mother with much more experience in well grammar and edit good job. I can write what I'm thinking and feeling, but I passed college English with a B and use Microsoft Word to find big-word synonyms for expressions I expend else recurrently.

This post will be rather short, as it is intended to be an advertisement for the book that I have written about for a while now; for years, actually.

My hope is that not only will you buy the book, but you will read it and see that it is not just a story about recovery, redemption, and pain, but a great story about life. This isn’t just relatable to people in recovery or those who love them, it’s for anybody who likes to read.

I want you to buy it, read it, share the link to it, and rate it. I will never ask you to rate anything ever again, I promise, but good reviews can lead to more sales and really that’s the idea of writing a book.

We are fairly certain this isn’t going to make us a million dollars, but I think it’s a reasonable goal to sell 1,000 books with a side goal of making this paperback-available someday soon. So far, we are 986 books short of our goal, but it’s been live less than 24 hours.

So, here it is: This is the link to the Amazon Kindle version of the book, with more to follow. Please share this post on Facebook if you are a long-time follower who has read from the beginning, or somebody new to the blog. Every share helps. The Kindle app is free on Google Play, and the book reads nicely on a cell phone, laptop, or tablet.

Here is a link  to the paperback version, also available on Amazon.

Today is Thanksgiving, and it's the day we show gratitude to each other for what we do selflessly in our lives. Today I'm being selfish because I want to sell a book. I don't do this often because it's not worth it in the long run, so my next post will surely be about helping others and showing up with an attitude of gratitude. Happy Thanksgiving! 

Probably, I Won't Die Soon

I had my yearly physical yesterday, and it looks like I’m as healthy as I should be for a growing young man. I recently turned forty, and I guess I just assumed the doctor would put a finger in my butt, but he asked if anybody related to me had prostate cancer, and I told him that I only knew my maternal side but nobody in my family had prostate cancer that I was aware of. He never asked, so I never suggested that we check. I think we were both comfortable with our unspoken solution to a problem that probably doesn’t exist. We are both problem solvers.

They did draw blood. I do not like having my blood drawn, and I had to lie down and I asked the nurse to use a butterfly needle which she did. As always, it was painless, but my fear isn’t about the pain, it’s about the blood or the needle, or I don’t really know what. This is the fourth time in my life I’ve had blood drawn and it’s only ever told me that I don’t have A.I.D.S., I did have Salmonella, and that my bad cholesterol is a little bit high. I didn’t pass out, but I felt very nauseous and I wanted to run. The nurse calmly asked me about my Thanksgiving plans and talked me down as I’m sure she has hundreds of people like me. She was exceptional at her job.

The Doctor told me that as a result of my bloodwork—and he went over a ton of numbers that I didn’t understand—that I had a 2% chance of having a heart attack in the next ten years, which he said was a good number for somebody my age. He said that the computation doesn’t account for exercise, which I do frequently, so I was in pretty good shape—no pun intended.

He then told me to take off my pants and he fondled my genitals and told me to cough. He said it was standard procedure but I shouldn’t tell anybody. He then lit a candle and said that it actually was necessary to do a rectal exam, and I ended up having what is referred to as an involuntary orgasm. 

Now, as a writer, I am prone to works of fiction on occasion and that last paragraph was mostly that. Every physical comes with a junk evaluation, even in prison. In fact, in prison, it was a lady that did the evaluation of my penis and testicles. I will illuminate the fact that this was an elderly woman and she was just as indifferent about the situation as I was, but still, I never would have guessed that in that environment they would allow such touching. Well, it’s all over now, but it’s nice to reflect on old times.

I should probably keep an eye on what I eat more than I have been. Exercise is only a part of the whole, and I am only as healthy as what I put into my body, which is a lot of sugary and buttery foods. Those food groups are delicious, and I need to find ways to say no to the fats, and yes to foods including and other than salads and rice I can eat that will fill me up and not leave me craving for snacks. Fruit, vegetables, grains, all of the things I normally eat sparingly will now have to be consumed at least twice per day in a meal. I say this but who knows if I will stick to it, especially with the holidays coming up.

Speaking of the holidays, I should take a moment to say how grateful I am for this life and my loved ones. Five years ago I had no relationship with the people that I do now, and I was missing a lot. I didn’t even know the people I live with, and I feel truly blessed to be a part of their lives. Every little thing in my life was uprooted and transformed to create a new being capable of so much more than withering away and dying. I am grateful for this chance at my new life, and I will continue to take steps necessary to keep this new way of living that I never thought possible.

Each day for me is a gift. I shall open each of them carefully and cultivate a habit of being appreciative for everything I receive.

I’m constantly trying to improve on what I have achieved and earned over the past few years. I don’t succeed in my goals every time, but I keep trying.

About a month ago, I submitted a job proposal for a position that I believe could be created at my work, with the hopes that I would be promoted and given more responsibility and of course, more pay. I outlined my idea well, and reading it back I see so many uses for myself that could still be added to the pitch, but it’s too late. Last week I was sat down by my boss and an H.R. rep and told no. No more responsibility, no more pay. It was disappointing, but certainly not the end of the world, but no.

I lived in a world of failure for too many years to let something like this get to me. In fact, when I was asked to work an extra day next week, in addition to being denied a day off request for the day after Thanksgiving, instead of saying, “Fuck right off,” I said yes. Because I am now part of the solution in life, no longer part of the problem. It’s often easier to wallow in the “what could have been’s” rather than to continue forward and look for more opportunities to advance myself.

In that meeting, they showed interest in keeping me there for the long-haul by inquiring of my interest in further training of an ambiguous nature. I say that because even they didn’t really have an answer for what that meant yet, but that I would be considered for some advanced training. Maybe they will train me for Space Force?

The old Vince would have handled this rejection differently. Actually, the old Vince never would have tried to advance or think of something to be proactive in career advancement. I spent years being unhappy in every area of my life especially in my work. I love my job now, and I work in a field where the work is plentiful, and if things do stall or get stagnant, I can move around to another restaurant, or maybe even move into a different vocation which would be quite challenging without any type of degree or certificate, or knowledge of anything beyond cooking and writing. I’ve written for almost five years for free, so I think I’ll stick with soup, for now.

I wrote in my last post that this writing thing could turn into something more significant. It’s already published, but not in the form of a book. Every day for a few weeks now it seems we have been making some tweaks, revisions, and adjustments and it seems like a painfully slow process, but realistically it’s taken almost five years to get to where it is now, and we are so close. I really want to show you all the cover we came up with. It looks like a real book. This is an example of how long success can take, and how broad the definition can be.

Even though I don’t currently get paid to write, someday I might. Even though I didn’t get the promotion I invented at work, someday I might. The point is that we should try to be happy with what we currently have, and if you can, try to do a little better. If people don’t let you do better, do it anyway, not for money but for yourself.

I hope at least some of that made sense.

I’ve just come inside from hanging 210ft of Christmas lights around 2/3rds of the house and a tree. I was lucky enough to have had hooks already in place from the previous owners, so all I had to do was move my ladder about a hundred times to get the result I hoped I would. It’s not even Thanksgiving yet, and I am the first person in the neighborhood with lights up. Suck it, neighbors, Vince is in town and it’s Christmas all year now. This is because it’s likely that I will never take down the lights; they are permanent now.

That’s all for now, it’s time to feed the girls and settle in. The snow is coming, winter is here. It’s Christmas, bitch.

Big News

The midterms are finally done with, and Facebook is quiet. No gloating, no boasting, just pictures of kittens and couples. The holidays are fast approaching, and I hope everybody is done with their arguing, and ready to enjoy the lights and love of the various annual denominational fests, or whatever you choose to do with your time.

I’ve celebrated Christmas and Chanukkah growing up, and will continue to participate in both. I only celebrate the latter with my mom, but it has been a tradition for as long as I can remember, and hopefully someday soon, the girls will get into it as well. I’m sure they will soon realize that they will get another set of presents, and maybe even want to learn a little about another culture. In our home, we will celebrate Christmas, but it’s all just for show. We will get a tree; pretend Santa is coming, decorate the house inside and out, and exchange presents with pictures of sleds and reindeer on the wrapping paper. It’s not a religious thing for us, but it’s important for the girls because… presents. I guess that’s really it. Hmmm. I’ll have to think about that one.

 

 

I’ve been writing for over four years. My mother has been writing in this capacity for as long. We started a blog together, and we blog separately now, but the beginning was important. I believe that I’ve mentioned a few times that someday, the first year or so of our blog could be transformed into an e-book. Well, through a lot of hard work, dedication, a computer scientist, a copy editor, and time, the transformation is nearly complete. No kidding, before Christmas this year, my mom and I plan to publish and publicize an internet-based book with a little (a lot) of help from some great people. I’ve said it before, but I really mean it this time. I have in my possession the entire thing minus a few finishing details in e-book form. I would love to show it to you, but I’d much rather you paid for it. So, when the time comes, I will most definitely provide a link for you to do just that.

 

 

That’s about all I have for today. Winter is coming and there will be plenty of time to sit inside and write, but for now I need to be a responsible adult and get some laundry done. This is my exciting life. But this is so much better than doing laundry in prison.

 

Over the Hill

Well, I’m forty. It all happened so quickly. It seems like just ten years ago I was pissing and shitting in my pants; probably because it was.

The day before my 30th birthday I was at the local bar and I had a quick necessity to defecate. The bathroom was occupied, and so was the ladies. I decided I could make it home so I grabbed some bar napkins and headed out. About half way there, I felt it come out. It was liquid because of my sophisticated diet of malt and hops, and there was a good chunk knocking at my already lubricated door. I stopped in the middle of the road. I knew if I took one more step, I would shit even more down my leg. And then it happened, and I just let it go. There was a point where I knew I could make it the rest of the way home, so I cut it off and walked with both a stagger and a limp up my stairs and into the laundry room where I took off my pants and went directly into the bathroom to finish then take a quick shower. In less than ten minutes I was back at the bar with a different pair of pants, nobody asked why.

On my 30^th birthday, I lived in the southeastern Minnesota town of Lanesboro, and at 7:30am, my good friend came down from Fountain with a wiffle-ball set and a case of beer for each of us so we could open up the Parkway Pub at 8am, then play drunken alley baseball behind my apartment building. The plan was a success, but I quickly became a puddle. Tequila shots at the bar in the morning lead to an early afternoon nap every time. Although I was generally in a blackout state at the end of any given day, before noon was less common and I remember waking up in a fog with plenty of daylight to spare, and I had the thought that it could still be my birthday. I needed to celebrate.

I was in my apartment, so I knew I had to make it to one of the local businesses that I was still allowed in to take a shit because I was all out of napkins. You see, back in those days I didn’t care about anything other than gambling, drinking, and weed. Accessories like toilet paper, toothpaste, and soap were not to be found unless there was a special occasion. I also had no laundry detergent, so my streaks and my spills were always visible from my last blackout, and I was in a steady state of deterioration.

This wasn’t even my bottom. I lived like this for years and I was wholly okay with my lifestyle. Other people seemed to like me, so I just kept on living in that breaking-point state. For years I somehow survived myself through drinking excessively, doing every drug I could find for free, being broke on payday, and recklessly demolishing my image with local woman with whom I would assuredly try to make time with in my stupors, which I would always hear about later.

My early 30s were just like my mid to late 20s: somehow I didn’t die. Finally, I destroyed myself enough to get back into hard drugs which were the catalyst for my transformation, of which you have read so much about over the years.

Today, I am living in my apotheosis. I don’t mean that I am God-like, I’m simply stating that this is the greatest point in my life thus far, and so long as I keep clean, follow a few simple suggestions, help others who are like me, and try to be loving and tolerant to everybody I encounter, I get to keep this life.

Imagine this: everything I have, the house, the car, the girlfriend, the job, relationships with my family members, this great opportunity to be a role-model to two little girls, everything that’s important to me, is just three years old. Maybe a few months older than that, but this life started for me on September 8^th, 2015, the day I walked out of prison. From then until now I have accumulated an entire life of love, responsibility, and hope. And this is the best part: anybody can do this.

If you have found the courage to look for help, to seek hope, and have found this blog, you can do this, too. You are fully capable of being a human, you are worthy of love, you can be honest without fear, and you can have everything and anything you need. It will take a lot of work, and you have to be open and honest or it will not work. You have to own your mistakes—all of them. And you have to find something out there that is more powerful than you and your addiction, and you have to believe that It can help you. You have to clean up your past, pay debts, apologize, and maybe even shed a tear or two in the process, and you can’t ever stop trying to be better. You have to try every day to be the person you want people to see you as, even when they aren’t looking. You can be a miracle.

When I was 30, I knew I would be dead by the time I was 40. I lived in pain, and I loved nothing. I couldn’t. I couldn’t feel.

Now I smile. I laugh.

I live.

I love.