A few weeks ago was the 10th anniversary of my first cancer diagnosis. This begins a series of introspective self-portrait photo illustrations sharing my story.
So I’ve found myself incapable of living in the moment.
I’ve been slandered and mistreated and taken-advantage-of and walked-on and manipulated and betrayed. And I always come back for more…
Death I’d come to terms with… but six more decades like the past one seemed like more than I could handle.
I’m learning that I can’t excuse my parents’ sins toward me or mine toward my kids, but I am identifying more with them daily.
Of the 4 or 5 colleges that my church/school “approved” it was obvious that Bob Jones was the one that real Christians should attend.
When I was a kid I wanted to be The Fonz… or Alex P. Keaton… or both?
When I was 21 I was diagnosed with cancer.
In a sea of copycats trying to be Nirvana—but totally missing the mark because they care so much about being Nirvana—I discovered Weezer and a way to deal with my own teenage pain.
I love the idea of every molecule of existence perfectly chaotic and totally ordered all-at-once.
I recently heard a preacher say he didn’t want to “get in touch with” his feminine side. “I don’t have a feminine side! I’m a man!” I really have no idea what he was talking about.
So this year I’m committing to get into more trouble, because if it’s coming anyways, I’d like to have a say as to which kind of shenanigans I’m going to be in.
There is something very romantic and almost intoxicating about the life of a “rolling stone”. Drifting from town to town or sea to sea and maybe every so often performing random good deeds for strangers à la Amélie or the Lone Ranger…
I’m lucky enough to have never suffered from chronic depression, but it does sneak up on me from time to time.
When winter weeks and months pass without any sunshine, our bodies and minds enter a kind of hibernation that makes motivation hard to come by.
I was once quite romantic