October 30, 2004
Getting Smashed in Charlotte
I am writing tonight from Jacksonville, Florida. One more night and I'm home! Hurrah!
Now, getting back to my vacation, I woke up in Charlotte last Monday morning, my last night there, to find that my passenger window had been smashed in. What was stolen? Michael's three-year-old radar detector which I only briefly used to get from Columbia to Charlotte and had foolishly left out in plain view. A shopping bag containing a shoebox with shoes and a couple new pair of dress socks. The shoes in the shoebox? An old pair--I wore the ones I had just bought into the hotel. I guess I should have brought it all in.
I want to say that both the Holiday Inn Woodlawn and the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Department were both extremely helpful in following up. Not that I recovered anything, but I certainly felt better afterward. It seems that Progressive has a $500 deductible for broken windows and it only cost $200 to fix.
Incedentally, I rode back to Columbia with an open window, because I didn't want to wait around in Charlotte anymore and there's a window shop across the street from where my mother works, that was very helpful. The company is called Astro Glass and I wish I could remember the name of the lady that made sure I had the window as soon as I got there.
And special wonderful thanks to Mom who was so helpful in paying for it. She only asked that I hooked up her new wireless keyboard and mouse so they both work. Easiest $200 I ever made! I ♥ you, Mom!
As far as the smash-and-grabber goes--while I certainly feel violated, I can only wish that they got what they needed to get them through another day. Unfortunately, while I don't know what is the going rate for three-year-old radar detectors at the fencer, it can't possibly be enough to buy a decent amount of crack or heroin.
And the one positive side-effect? I not only drove close to the speed limit the remainder of my vacation! Funny how fast you still get places without speeding. Funny how relaxed you are getting there without all the anxiety associated with speeding. No worries about passing slow cars, no agonizing trying to cut off other drivers who are trying to speed too.
Every time someone passed me on the left, I just turned my head and smiled.
Posted by Bastique at 10:15 PM | Comments (0)
October 29, 2004
Disturbed Down South
I’m leaving South Carolina this morning with no small amount of trouble on my mind. Seems one of my parents gave my blog URL to a relative, who found the content of my blog appalling on several counts. I believe the word “pornographic” was used in describing the content to my parent.
I’m not writing this to imply that this relative is ignorant. Marsha (not her real name) is a very intelligent and capable woman. She does, however, live a somewhat sheltered life, with little exposure to the world at large save what she sees on television or reads in the newspapers. I’ve heard on more than one occasion that there are a lot of bad people out there who do bad things.
I have lived a very different life and have a much different perspective of the world around me. I first believe that all people are human beings worthy of love and compassion, no matter their past or their inclination, be it drug addict, or diseased or pagan or Christian, Republican or Democrat or Muslim or Jew, whatever color or whatever mix of colors. It is not up to me to judge how other people live their lives or discover their beliefs. This openness has earned me a slap on the face from time to time, but never any permanent damage or life-altering repercussions. Yes, there one or two persons who have screwed me over time and time again--and I have allowed them to remain at a distance, but I am willing to offer someone like that another chance if they but ask for it.
This belief system has earned me a circle of friends and support on whom I can depend. I might be lonely from time to time in my life but I will never be alone, and I know that anything I would ever need, all I would have to do is ask. If someone is unable to do something for me, either they’ll usually make an effort to find someone who will, or I can make another telephone call to someone who will.
There are a lot of people out there who do bad things. In fact, there are very few people who don’t do some kind of bad thing or another. Jesus Christ taught his followers first and foremost to treat each other as we would wish to be treated, yet I constantly see people with Jesus Fish tags on their cars who cut people off on the road, yell at their children in public and make it a point to vote to deny personal liberties to others that they themselves have.
Maybe the content of my blog is a tad too broad. I would like to think that it not be to racy for my niece, who is about to turn twelve years old. I doubt she would have any interest in reading it, nor do I have any interest in writing for the interest of children; however, if I should make my lowest common denominator that a 12-year-old would be able to read it, then perhaps that’s where I need to aim.
Unlike Marsha, my sister has been reading my blog on a regular basis, and continues to read it in spite of my broad subject matter. She has mentioned that she wouldn’t let her children see it, which is something I expected, but when faced with it, does get me thinking about subject matter appropriate for a twelve-year-old.
Since I don’t discuss violence very much, that leaves strong language and sex. Strong language is easy--I can forget the future post entitled F**K Bush. But sex is a different matter altogether, and where I have to really consider things carefully. If I am to write about my life and what matters to me, being a self-acknowledged sex addict makes it difficult to leave out that part of it entirely. But where do I draw the line?
Drugs are another matter altogether. You will never see me glorifying drugs or drug use here. I think drugs are bad for us and nobody needs them. But everyone doesn’t feel the same way I do, and I’m not going to spend time proselytizing about the hazards of drugs. When I describe the bad effects of drugs, I use my own experiences and the experiences of those that I witness. But again, my drug addiction, however distant I am from it, is a significant part of my history and my life--and if you want to understand me, and why I write the way I do, you have to know about my drug addiction.
And to all my other friends in NA, this is where 3½ years is far more important and significant than 120 days. My relapse was on amyl nitrite, aka poppers, a sort-of-legal, short-term effect, not generally addictive substance that many people don‘t even consider a relapse. I do, on the other hand, but for my blog and my family, my credibility is something to be considered, and the fact that I haven’t put alcohol or any illegal substance in my body goes a long way toward explaining my dedication to being clean and remaining clean. In meetings, June 28, 2004 is my clean date, whereas March 17, 2001 is my sobriety date. Maybe I won’t be celebrating that last one at meetings, but it was a significant, life-altering event that I will nevertheless acknowledge. Nobody can or will take it away from me except me, if I choose to put any other substance into my body. And you’ll read about it here.
Prison and prison reform are also very important topics. I believe that Marsha comes from the thought school that everyone that’s in there belongs there, and even if their not guilty of the crime that put them their, they’re guilty of something--and there’s no reform and people come out worse when they leave then when they went in, so it’s best to just keep them there. Having met reformed criminals and being very close to someone who’s in there right now, I believe she couldn’t be further from the truth. Most people come out of prison with no desire to go back. We are a country with a higher percentage of our population in prison than any where else in the world. This doesn’t tell me that we’ve got better policing, it tells me that we’re doing nothing to teach our citizens better ways to live.
The rule of “just say ‘no’” doesn’t work. I’m 37 years old and can barely control my impulses, and I’m on medication and have years of therapy, not to mention a constant spiritual contact with my higher power. How can I judge anyone else who can’t afford therapy or medication, and who knows all about religion but nothing about spirituality?
I don’t know where I’m taking this blog in the future. I haven't even mentioned in this post my feelings about AIDS, the Death Penalty, or Politics. But I don’t think that a 12-year old would have a problem reading this piece, and maybe by my niece’s birthday, I’ll be writing so that a mother with good common sense, like my sister, would have no problem allowing her twelve-year-old to read it.
You can be certain I will find out if I'm not!
Posted by Bastique at 1:14 PM | Comments (0)
October 28, 2004
Raising Family in Redneck Land
2004-10-26
On Sunday afternoon, I drove to an undisclosed location to visit my Sis, Susan, her husband Dennis and the kids, Heather, Nicholas and Jack. Whereas my younger brother underwent this bizarre mutation into Perfect-Father-and-Husband, Susan the mother is very much like Susan the sister.
Heather, Jack (front,
left), Nick (big head, right),
Me (too tall, back)
Now, I know that my sister is reading this and saying sarcastically, "Well, thanks, Cary..." But even though I've described the chaos I experienced that is typical with any large family, I want to point out that my sister's kids are highly intelligent, generally tidy, and friendly and engaging. I really do wish I spent more time with them. I was somewhat tired from so much driving and not enough sleep--and Susan's (and Chris's) kids are the closest I'm ever going to get of kids of my own. I have been in my own head a lot lately, and watching Nascar with Susan and Dennis seemed relaxing enough. The kids all did their own things, Nicholas went out riding, Jack played on the computer, and Heather...well, right after dinner Heather went up to her room to do whatever it is that pre-teen girls do after dinner.
For anyone who believes that a gene for homosexuality couldn't possibly be passed because it would "obviously" run itself out, I offer to explain my own personal theory. When describing "large family" I mean any with 3 or more children. I come from a large family and both of my parents come from large families. While I don't have any knowledge of the history of homosexuality on either side, I can say that both sides were highly religious several generations back, and it is hugely likely that anyone with homosexual tendencies would marry in spite of it.
I'm sure the homosexuality tendency gene (I'll call it H+) is generally passed along with another "subversion" gene, one which I, personally, did not inherit, but my siblings did (H-). Anyway... getting back to my point, and why a family with the H+ gene would be profited by that genes presence rather than subverted. Maybe the H+/H- gene combo indicates hyperfertility. In a crowded environment, sociologically speaking, unmarried siblings are more able to lend support to the progeny of their hyperfertile siblings, thus providing a further boost for the gene line. My family has not only more of generation 3 than other families in the tribe but also healthier and stronger generation 3 as a result of generation 2's added assistance.
What happens with a family member with the H- but no H+? Well, because the H- gene requires the H+ gene to be active, then that person has normal fertility levels and does not have the advantage that the hyperfertile siblings carry.
This would also explain why they've had a hard time finding the H+ gene, because so many heterosexuals carry it as well.
Okay... so what happens when people with the H+ gene and no H- gene go against thier biological program and have kids? I'll let someone else answer that one.
But I think I'm really on to something here.
Did you know that a company called 
My younger brother and his wife have a nice house and some really cool kids. I am really grateful he let me stay the night with him and so happy to finally meet my niece. Jacob wasn't really sure about me and didn't seem to want me around. “Are you leaving yet?” was the typical response. Wait until he starts getting Uncle Cary's birthday presents...then he won't be so ready to see me go. 
Before I share my statistics, let me share my own point of view. I’m a proponent of life, in all cases. I’ve grappled with the issue of abortion and morality, struggled with my own, normally liberal point of view, and yet I still come to the conclusion that abortion constitutes the ending of a life, no matter what the case. Some people can whitewash it however they see fit, claiming that an embryo or a fetus really doesn’t feel anything until so-and-so amount of time, but from everything I’ve read, seen, heard and understood, we still don’t know the answer. Therefore I have to go under the assumption that life begins when life begins, which is at conception.
I really didn't know who she was until I watched the short-lived series 
This is one mean little doggie. Everything made more sense when the Bush/Cheney 2004 sign appeared right in the corner of these people’s yard. Bush people are, by and large, mean people. 
I don’t know how I’m keeping my head about me. I’m not voting for Kerry, but I don’t want Bush to win, so that means Kerry’s got to win. It’s all a big mess. I refuse to vote for Nader, but the Green Party Cobb campaign is telling people not to vote for Cobb in swing states. I can’t vote for Cobb now. 
Last month saw the death of a friend of both Michael and myself, that of Williiam (“Bill”) Dellinger Brewer, Jr., of Wilmington, North Carolina. He had been fighting a long battle illnesses, and had finally succumbed on September 3rd. 