I am tired and irritated.  I had a miserable day at work today, the kind that makes you want to choke your supervisor.  The type where the minutes drag making your already horrible day feel like an entirety.  The weather has not helped at all either; it has been a miserable southeastern summer day.   To describe it more accurately high 90’s, 95 percent humidity, no breeze, and the clouds hover ominously teasing of rain but really just trapping the heat in.  I leave the yard with my buddy and get in his truck. Before he drops me at the bus station we share an end of the day cigarette.  After getting out I remove my hard hat and walk the rest of the way to the station.   

The bus is late again the third time in a row just this week and it is only Wednesday.  Perfect it isn’t like I do not have anything to do with my life.  I put on my headphones which claim to be studio quality, noise cancelling, and boast a bass that can be matched by no other.  I turn them up to max volume drowning out the noise around me.  I will probably be deaf by the time I am 40 but that is a fate I am happy choosing.  I pick up a copy of the paper which I have no real interest in.  I hope that burying my face in it will help block out the rest of the world. Removing my stainless steel butane lighter and another cigarette from the left breast pocket of my coveralls I light it and take an exaggerated hit.  I slowly release the smoke then allow it to become a dense fog around me.   

            Flipping through the paper only increases my anger.  On the front page there is an article about some politician who is caught up in some kind of scandal that no one cares about.  The second page is reserved for “entertainment”, as if anything this paper has to say could be minutely entertaining.  There is a review for some Hollywoodized remakes of movies that were bad the first time around and could not be made better if George Lucas redid them.  People really pay for this stuff?  I angrily throw the paper away annoyed that ink and paper were wasted to create the thing.

Cool rain begins to fall.  Finally some relief from the heat and humidity I had to endure all day.   My jeans start to get wet, and I get a little bit chilly.  Where is that bus? I do not want to sit out in this weather for much longer,  As relieving as the rain is, wet jeans are never comfortable.  Plus who can tell how long it will be until it actually begins to storm. 

            Gazing off into the crowd of people who are waiting for the bus, I see something that catches my eye.  You see there are very few things that I get involved in with life, but the sight of domestic violence turns my stomach inside out.  Watching a man slam a defenseless girl into a wall is enough to get me back on my feet.   I become momentarily excited; a little violence is just the type of entertainment I am looking for tonight.  Plus maybe if I save this broad’s face from being beat to a pulp she will let me take her home with her tonight, wouldn’t that be something special.  She looks like a real sweet southern belle.  She is clad in a tight flannel which is unbuttoned down to the top of her breasts, short cut off shorts, and a pair of cowboy boots.  Taking one last drag off my cig, I furiously fling it at the ground and confidently lumber over to the scene.  Now I may not be a pro at anything else, but I know how to give as good as I take. Plus this guy… yeah he is kind of scrawny.

            I grab the dude by the shoulder and say, “What is the problem here, ya couldn’t find someone that would spare the time to fight’cha so you picked someone who couldn’t fight back?”  He turns around and sneers at me.  Sadly for him it is the last expression he would make that night.  A bolt of lightning sears through the sky, a clap a of thunder deafens the impact, and a stream of blood comes slowly flying from the guys lip.  One gorilla sized fist to the face and the dude drops like a rock.  I didn’t even have to break a sweat in order to put that punk to sleep. 

            Immediately after knocking that slack jaw out I turn towards the girl.  I ask, “Honey is everything aw’right are ya hurt.  I am pretty sure that fool will no longer be bothering you.”

            Sobbing she forces out, “Yeah I’ll be okay, thanks for saving me, man you have some pretty massive arms.”

Actually that is not what is said at all.  After asking if she is okay I hear the all too familiar hiss of the bus’ breaks as it grinds its way to the stop.   Still sobbing she shakes her head in a positive gesture motioning that she will be fine.  By her lack of speech I take it that she wants to be left alone.  I feel a little slighted, but still proudly make my way towards the bus.   I am pleased that I got to release some anger and help that girl out as well.  Boarding the bus I drop my fare into the ticket machine; after it clangs its way to the bottom my receipt is printed.   I take it and head to my seat.  Dropping into my seat, I let my head fall back against the head rest.  

 I remember spending the summers growing up at my grandmother’s house which was located at Lake Silkworth, Pennsylvania.   She lived in a two story, four-bedroom cottage.  The cottage was rustic to say the least, buried into a forest of pine and oak trees and located directly across the street from a small lake, which was roughly two miles across on either side.  The house itself was painted brown which helped it blend into the trees.

  I remember the weather always being very pretty throughout the summers I spent there.  I can recall more than one morning when I was awoken to an early thunderstorm; I can recall coming down the 20 wooden steps that led to the first floor of the two-story house.  Stepping on the linoleum floors and walking into the kitchen, I would pass by an extremely old GE gas oven and several other antique pieces of kitchen furniture.  I would pour myself a cup of coffee, adding a splash of milk and two sugars.  Then I continued to walk out to the fully wooded front porch. Sounds of a wind chime singing to the rhythm of the storm greeted me. Sleepily I collapsed into one of the two green plastic lawn chairs, since my grandmother would already have claims on the metal couch which had super comfortable cushions.  Sitting on the porch sipping coffee and watching the storm interact with the lake, was always fun.  A theatrical play put on by Mother Nature herself.  It was always fun to watch the different colored bolts: purple, white, and blue.  By lunch or slightly before it always warmed up enough to go play in the lake.  The air cooled off enough by suppertime that my grandmother and I could comfortably sit at the picnic table on the shore beside the lake and eat.  The sun sets were extremely beautiful mixes of pastels: oranges, purples, reds, and blues.  By the time nightfall came around it would, more often than not, be cool enough to relax and watch Hollywood Squares together.

Cool air breathes life back into the world

Energy that heat

a fleece blanket

That a cold winter’s night

Stole from me

As if I had thrown an inaccurate pass

Directly into the hands of an expecting opponent

Comes rushing back to me

Swiftly as a rushing waterfall flows after a heavy rainfall.

The air sends shivers down your spine

Similar to someone lightly running their fingers down your sore back.

Vibrant colors leap off the rose petals

In the way that paint leaps off a paint brush onto a blank canvas.

The sky is overcast

Not in the way that screams of impending doom

Rather, it is similar to a mask – suppressing reality

In order to suspend me in the moment.

Sounds of children laughing and playing can be heard in the distance

Reminding me of my youth

When I would spend the dog days of summer engaged in water fights with my friends

Church bells chime, reminding me 

If not closely watched, time will slip past you.

Another step forward brings me to a totally different planet.

Where there was once peace, happiness, and serenity

There is now an overwhelming sense of dread, doom, and despair.

The bright colors that surrounded me just moments ago

Were replaced; were earthly hues of green and brown. 

Camouflaging the dangers that lay around me.

Thorns cover every square inch of my trail

Waiting like a predator stalking its prey

Waiting for the slightest wrong move.

The sun is no longer suppressed

Its oppressive heat

Seeps into my soul melting it away

As swiftly as an ice cream cone melts in the summer

Leaving behind a hot sticky mess

I feel

trapped                                                                                                                                                                                 

As if I will be stuck here for eternity.

Like a rat in a cage, left to be nature’s science experiment.  

I hate being cliche, but everyday I am reminded why they claim a dog is a mans best friend.  Zero is one of the best things that could ever happen to me.  He fits every criteria of a best friend.  He plays games with me, never judges, always makes me happy, and is always ready to be a part of all my dumb ideas.  Even on my worst days I can count on this little guy to make me smile.   

I was issued a challenge tonight. Not entirely sure what I will do with it.  The challenge was to start a blog to keep up with my writing.  I do not know how creative I will be on this blog or if anything will come of it.  But I created something and I will try to update this on occasion. I doubt anyone will read my mindless thoughts and rants but if you do thank you.  Challenge accepted for now.