Scratched, "The Surface"

I've noticed recently, especially in pictures, that when I smile I have crow's feet. I won't lie, I am not happy about this. Funny thing is, I didn't think I cared about getting older because I feel so young. It's just that, with the onset of the Devil's tracks, I fear an old family nemesis is stirring. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I fear for all of mankind the day I realize I'm not twenty one anymore.

Hi, my name is Gary and I'm a recovering insecurity laden Vanityaholic. I will continue to act as though I don't care about such petty things, and yes, I just might be lying.

Here is a news flash for you; like most who aspire to be recognized, entertain, or simply be different, I really do care what you think. Sometimes I'll even go so far as to deceive you; this in the hopes that my appearance will be everything that I think you would want it to be.

Does this mean I'll be sporting Jonas Brothers tight jeans or a Sean John skull cap anytime soon, no, I mean I have risen from the depths a little. Nevertheless, my attention can be diverted and I still cross over to the dark side from time to time. You see, deep down I'll always be the same guy who spends thirty minutes putting together a look for the party and then thirty more second guessing the finished product.

I have to tell you though, there has been a disturbance in the force lately and the clothing seems to have taken a back seat to the impostor within. Let me put it to you in a different way. I'm starting to think that the vanity, the very poison that I continue to try to hold in check, wants to attack at me from a different angle and that it might be time to unveil an upgraded defense strategy.

It used to be simple really, the occasional hair out of place or the jeans that didn't gather just right. Now it's blemishes, brown spots, bumps, boils, bruises, red spots, pores, black heads, hair loss, dryness, dangling triceps, rogue love handles and now crows feet?!?! What's a guy to do?.......

I would love to think that I'm confident enough to not be so shallow but I can't help but think of those ,better than me, that have fallen victim to the evil of which I speak. I fear my time may be at hand.

I fear this because I've gotten word that my defenses are weakening and I don't know how much longer I can keep the enemy at bay. I'd like to share something with you now. Here is the transcript of a letter I received just days ago from my very own war department. It confirms my fears and simply put, change is of the highest order. See if you agree:

Dearest Lord Goodman of Olay,

Most gracious sire; It is with the utmost humility and deepest regret that I am writing to you this day, the twenty-eighth day of March, year two thousand and ten of our lord. I am to inform you that our officers are no longer able to delay the growth of the rebellion, known locally, as "Wrinkles". I fear, if we do not act quickly, that the birth of an empire is eminent and evil shall rain down upon us.

It pains me to report, that in our once pure lands, peace and harmony have fallen victim to pressures baring no witness, and I fear for our resolve. Provisions are thin and moral is all but lost so time is of the essence.

For this I beseech you Sire; Bring down the declaration of war and again make steady our once proud defenses. We must restore balance to our kingdom for there is still purity in the lands, I have seen this so.

Wrinkles must not prevail!


Your most humble servant,
General Oil of Olay

You see, I have no choice. Listen, war does not scare me and there really is no alternative at this point but what does scare me is this, shock an awe. It's what I'm afraid I'm capable of if my vanity is again allowed to blossom. Hear me when I say that Hell hath no fury like a probationary metro sexual bearing the mark of the beast! You know what I mean?

Now to some this vanity revelation will come as a complete shock. Others may have noticed me wading in the shallows from time to time. Shoot, I've even swam with a few of you, and yet, that's not what concerns me.

What does concern me is this; the last chunk of the population I failed to mention, the ones that hide in the deep waters bearing only their eyes. They are the ones who will deceive at all cost, yet amazingly enough, will do whatever it takes to get noticed.

I fear I will one day be asked to rejoin these sad souls and their quest for colossal recognition and trust when I say that I will do everything in my power to keep this from happening. Honestly, I've been there and I want nothing to do with that life ever again, in fact, I fear them. I fear me!

If right about now you are wondering where all of these insecurities come from you're in luck because I'm going to tell you. If you were wondering why I'm not currently part of some psychological rehabilitation campaign, hold that thought.

See like most, I get my insecurities from my parents. I believe my mother is the queen bee of vanity and my father, well he is the wordsmith king of deception, both mere side dishes to the entree of low self esteem.

Now in the early years, the highly impressionable ones, I was introduced to my family's version of life's commandments. They were pretty straight forward and by the guidance of the two that created them, learning them would be simple. They are:

1.) Help others only when it benefits you and more times than not, others have ulterior motives when in need of said help.

2.) Compliments on appearance are the ultimate prize and to receive none is simply unacceptable, a failure.

3.) The bargain bin in a JC Penny outweighs the desperate plea, of a child, to get to a bathroom quickly. (This one I learned at eight years old and at the cost of a ride home in soiled pants and an explosion of humiliation made worse by the laughter from the front seat)

4.) Someone new to the group is a threat and usually a thief. Quite frankly they are the enemy, especially if they are good looking.

5.) Getting sick and producing a cough is the cowardly act of a moron and punishable by banishment from one's sleeping quarters.

6.) Never request a ride home after one's makeup and hair has been compromised for being seen in such a horrid condition is a fate worse than death. Walk, it is safer!

I'd like to give you an example of that last one because It still rings fresh with me after all these years. We'll have to go back to around the year 1986. This was a time of rambunctious innocence when fourteen year old males did nothing but hunger for a good party, a beer to sip'n'hate, and a chick to go with. (The occasional chapped lips due to make out sessions was highly coveted at that age) There was just one problem, no license to drive.

What I'm about to unveil to you is one of many phone conversations I had with my mother, my sole supplier of necessary transportation for dad was never home. Here it is in it's entirety. The names have not been changed to protect the innocent.

RING......RING......RING! (For effect)

Gary: Hey mom, can you come pick me up? I'm ready.

Mom: Awe shit, Gary! Nobody else's parents can do it?!?! I'm in for the night, damn it!!!

Gary: Nobody else is leaving, or, if they are then they're going in a totally different direction.

Mom: I don't have to get out of the car do I?!?! Awe damn it boy, my hair's a mess!!! Shit, can't you walk, where are you?!?!

Gary: I told you earlier I would need a ride home. Mom, nobody will see you, it's nighttime. I'm at such and suches house, too far to walk and it's like thirty five degrees and it's raining.

Mom: You sure I don't have to get out of the car?!?! Where does such and such live?!?! I'll bet I've never been there!!! You better hope nobody sees me!

Gary: It's over by so and so's, you've passed it a thousand times. Mom, nobody is going to see you!

Mom: I've never been there before, where is that?!?! Gary, I don't know where that is! Are you sure nobody else can get bring you home? I look a mess!!!

And here is the last bit after she had picked me up:

Gary: Thanks mom, sorry about that.

Mom: Awe shit, I know they can see me and I look terrible!!!

Gary: Nobody can see you and who cares if they do?

Mom: I care damn it, look at me!!!

Now that is just the tip of the iceberg but at the risk of putting the bus in reverse and running back over dear old mom, I'll quit there.

Dad, on the other hand, is a whole different ball game. With no continuity in his thought process and an habitual failure to ever really participate in family functions, we could never figure him out. Therefore an example would be lengthy and surly lost in translation. The only explanation that I could come up with, is that he's only really comfortable in three places; The bar, the basement (under a blanket) and at work.

I guess what I'm saying is that growing up in my house had it's ups and downs, as most of you can probably relate. One thing is for sure though, now that I'm in my late thirties, I get a much clearer understanding of who I am through introspection. When I look in the mirror, vanity just so happens to be the latest image staring back at me. Now I can either turn my head and cough or I can do what comes naturally these days and embrace the truth by acknowledging this latest reflection.

We should all take a page from the wicked queen's book and ask this question once in a while; Mirror Mirror on the wall? Only look past the surface, for the soul of a person is so much more beautiful than the shell and how shallow the shell is….. blah blah blah blah blah blah.

Reflection, being introspective, it's really just about having the guts to own up to who we are, don't you think?

I've written quite a bit about insecurities over the past eight months, I mean you've got to write what you know. Thinking back, Some were funny, some were serious and some were even funny serious. Then there were those that were funny strange yet funny and even some that were strange funny yet seriously strange. Once in a while you might have gotten the strange serious without the clever but never the serious without the funny and almost NEVER did you get the strange serious without the meaningful.

So in closing, crow's feet are just lines on the surface but like an iceberg, they can go pretty deep with some folks. In fact, all the way to the heart.

Should Have Made that Left Turn at Albuquoikee

This has been the longest I've gone without writing and I think I have finally figured out why. I think I've reached a crossroad.

I know I'm still very new to this putting thought to keystroke thing, naive you could say, but I have definitely stumbled onto a path of uncertainty. Are crossroads supposed to be this confusing? Is this normal? Umm......was that a tumbleweed? @$#%

Let me fill you in on the goings on here. I've got lots of ideas swirling around that are coming at me like swarms of angry bees and not the wimpy European kind either. Now I know things could always be a lot worse and the woe is me factor might be leaking in here a bit but I used to be able to monitor and control my brain barf. At least with some measurable amount of discipline that is. Now I'm struggling to contain it and I'm having a hard time putting it to word.

I don't know what you want to read! I don't know if you care! I don't know what I want to write! I don't know if I can write anymore! I don't know why I still watch Idol!

Lately my head is like a Billy Mays infomercial, energetic yet spastic. There are so many aimless thoughts, bits of advice, visions, explosions of insight, dream descriptions, theorems, algorithms, theories, nightmares, movie lines and unanswered questions just floating around. There is even one very special fantasy of my third grade teacher naked. Doesn't it figure, that's the clearest thought I have.

All of these things have been meandering around inside my head for the last six or eight weeks now. It's jaywalking madness! Not to mention these unpopped brainstorm bubbles that are now colliding with the many other demons that also try to claim my cerebral cavern as their own. Try refereeing that contest, OY!

It used to be so easy to come up with something that I thought would surely entertain, at least a few people. Now I'm not so sure and I'm constantly second guessing myself.

For some reason I've started to think that putting a more serious tone into what I'm writing is the way to go. I really don't know why though. I guess it's because I've changed so much in the past few years. I guess when you gain an ounce of clarity you kind of want to spill out a pound of it, you know? I'll compare it to a smoker who quits and then yells at everyone for doing it. I think I want to shout my learning's to those who need or want, to listen.

Then I say to myself "Who the hell am I to spread life's lessons or messages?" For me, being goofy and posturing for a laugh is what I enjoy so why mess with that. This takes me right back to confusion.

I did have one brief moment the other day when clarity seemed to be peeking through the crowd of misfits and I thought.... Maybe it's a well deserved brain break.

Could that be it? Is the crossroad asking me to make a right turn down brain break alley? Could my brain be asking me to allow it to go through a purge cleansing? Maybe that is it. I have been doing a lot of writing these past eight months so I guess a break is OK, right?

I won't lie though, I've actually been very depressed at how hard it's been to assemble my thoughts lately. Although I will say this, it's not for the lack of them I can assure you. No kidding, I've got ideas coming in from everywhere and more than ever. They're even coming in over tweets or twits. Funny thing is I don't even twoot. It's just, for some reason, I'm unable to harness my ideas now.

Now on the other hand, what if I'm way off here. What if I'm being asked to make a left turn? OK, and what if a left turn puts me onto some lonely street coincidentally named Parrish way?!?!

Oh my God am I dying?!?! What if all of this uncertainty is something physical! Do I have some debilitating disease and I'm to write no more? What if it's cancer?!?! Can you get cancer of the imagination? That would be a horrible cancer to have! Not that they are not all horrible but can you imagine how you would have to administer treatment to your mentality?

Oh my God I can hear the headlines now; It was a long road and a battle that shall stand as one for the ages but he was unable to defeat the illness and Gary Goodman has succumb to faux cancer's evil grasp. If he could have just found a way to set aside the A.D.D. long enough to focus his thoughts solely on faux chemo. This of course being the only way to treat and defeat Cancer of the imagination, which we now clinically refer to as Cognisance Cancer.

Oy, I think I feel dizzy! OK, deep breath... maybe I'm going about this the wrong way. Instead of draping myself in the negativity, maybe I should call on the positivity here. Yep, I think that's a good idea. Here goes....

How about this, maybe my blip on the radar is not a crossroad at all. Maybe, just maybe, the past eight months I've been tickling a sleeping madman. Maybe it's my brain waking up. Maybe it's opening up like an old chest in the attic. Hmm, an old chest that when opened, throws up a billowy cloud of dust. A small, yet intense, particle storm that issues a warning and tastes of stale air. You know, the cloud of crap you've got to squint through in the hopes of getting a peek at the possible treasure that may lay waiting inside.

Yeah but what if I don't like what's waiting for me? What if it's like Geraldo Rivera opening up Al Capone's vault and after all of the build up there is nothing? What if, in my chest, they find nothing but mud and some years later some old hag tosses my stolen creativity off the stern of a ship along with some jewels. Did you ever think of that?!?! My creativity in question and me along with it, sinking into the abyss known as literary ineptitude. Please say it isn't so!

OK, I know I'm not ending world hunger here, I'm simply allowing myself to vent through a keyboard but....... If it ain't no fun then don't do it. Yeah but I love doing it and I'm having mucho fun so I'm going to get to the bottom of this and get back with you all soon, I hope.

In closing, call this what you will; a crossroad, test, mental block, small stroke, cough due to cold, deep sea excursion, self indulgent fluff or awakening, whatever, it's definitely perplexing.