Living in a HELL HOLE

The windows dirty
the mattress stinks
This ain't no place to be a man
Ain't got no future, ain't got no past
And I don't think I ever can
The floor is filthy the walls are thin
The wind is howling in my face
The rats are peeling, I'm losing ground
Can't seem to join the human race.

Chorus:Yeah, I'm living in a hell hole
Don't want to stay in this hell hole
Don't want to die in this hell hole
Girl, get me out of this hell hole.

Song by the legendary Spinal Tap - you can even check out the video

Have I stated that my parents are motherfucking ass-holes? If I haven't let me state it for the record - my parents are in fact motherfucking ass-holes and the end of this fucking boat ride can't come soon enough. They are racist motherfucking pieces of shit. I just said it. And I believe it. I know - love is the answer, forgive and forget - but sometimes feelings are just what they are and you can't dress them up.

The last iron in the detail of this trip was accomodations for the first night. My Dad agreed we would fly out from Sacramento to LA to avoid driving all day. Instead just a 3 hour drive to Sacramento from here - fair enough - even almost makes sense. Then we were given the bullshit line - well you can't stay here because there is not enough room and Dan and Amy are staying here. They would put us up for the night. In a "nice place" - what my Dad told Victoria. If it were a 3 bedroom house it would almost make sense. Except there are 4 bedrooms downstairs - one converted to an office - and then a large family room - so even if every god damn member of the family were staying there we could work it out. But the reality is my Mom is still projecting all her racist spewing hatred onto my wife and has a problem with her. But the honesty never comes out with them - it is just the same lying bullshit. So fine - if you put me in a place where I can stay for the night that is halfway decent I will overlook the bullshit and deal with it. But in fact it was the Days Inn at Torrance - go ahead and click on those highlighted words and see what comes up. Ahh - a Google search - full of flattering reviews:

"Hell Hole‎ - A TripAdvisor Member‎ - Aug 22, 2007
Do not go there - it was like a dirty bomb shelter - if you pay $50 a night - you paid too much - and I paid way too much. Day's Inn as a franchisor should be embarassed to allow "

"Avoid at all cost!‎ - A TripAdvisor Member‎ - Feb 8, 2007
... This hotel is dirty, unkempt and scary. Seems to be a place where locals live long term. Noisy, dirty and frightening. Rudest housekeepers I've ever encountered"

"Stay Away!!!‎ - A TripAdvisor Member‎ - Jul 25, 2007
The property is under renovations, and obviously in great need of it. But some room's just shouldn't be rented. The room I stayed in was absolutely horrific. ..."

And we're just getting started. One of them points out the cost 50 dollars a night. Going all out I guess. The shitty reviews goes on and on. So needless to say that little anger button went off in my head and I was ready to tell them fuck you - go to hell - the whole thing is off. But - I stayed level and calm and after a few outbursts here I called and politely pointed out the reviews of the place we were going to stay. My Dad seemed a little taken aback. I politely ask can we stay there instead? He will have to get back to me. Have to consult with the one who wears the pants - that fucking bitch he is married to who calls the shots and the one we are honoring for this god-forsaken gathering. I asked politely but I wasn't going to back down. If he said no - I was going to say the whole God dam thing was off. And he KNEW that. I didn't have to say it - he just knew. So 15 or so minutes later - okay - we can stay there - I may have to stay on an airmattress - fine - what the fuck - that's okay. I guess Dan and Amy - the asskisser as dubbed by another member of the family - were okay - but some fucking loudmouth Mexican was not. But oh yeah - Victoria IS a member of the family - that's why they insisted she come on the cruise. Just not enough a member of the family to stay at their fucking house.

So I am gritting my teeth as I write this. Do you sense my hatred? It is there. It is real. Fuck with me all you want, but don't fuck with my wife. That is just a basic instinct. And I am not the Dalai fucking lama as much as I would like to be. There should be some real interesting moments on this cruise. If I seem withdrawn - it is because I am not planning on saying much. I am in survival mode. No warm and fuzzy feelings because they just aren't there. I am doing this because I have to - and for no other reason. I survived 2 fucking weeks in Nebraska slaving away in overwhelming humidity, I can survive 3 days on a fucking cheezy boat even it is with my parents from hell.

"One way or another - this darkness - got to give"

Sweat

Rivers running down my back
Makes me slippery, like a fish
If I don't stop, I might drown
Falling down, down, down, down,
not dead yet covered with Sweat
(from the song of same name by Oingo Boingo)

Yesterday I did it. At about 7:30 in the town of Beatrice, Nebraska, I came down off the ladder for the last time on this outing. I was still an hour from the hotel which meant getting back at 8:30 at night, grabbing my favorite shrimp and Spinach salad from Applebees which I have had several times out here, but there was a huge sense of relief that I had survived one of the most physically challenging experiences of my life. For 14 straight days - with no weekends off - I was expected to put in 12 hours a day - and it was easy to go more than that in an efffort to call everybody, map out where I was going on Mapquest, and just try to keep up. I have to go back and look, but I averaged close to 6 inspections a day - some of them were within a block of each other, others separated by up to 50 miles of distance, and I covered about 1200 miles or so and another 70 to go to drop off the rental car as I head back to Omaha from Lincoln.

About 2 weeks ago I received an e-mail along with others saying help was needed with our office in Nebraska after a lot of storms had come through in the area. Seeing that my equity line had been chopped down and I never quite seem to "get ahead of bills I got to pay - no way no way" to borrow a line from "Rock the Nation" I thought I could use the extra 800 a week in overtime that was offered. Being away from home has ups and downs. I miss my dog, I miss my little girl who was very upset I was leaving - as far as the wife - a little absence makes the heart grow fonder never hurts anything, and probably even helps. My first run in Utah - 12 days including two days of driving to get there and back - was not nearly as physically demanding, though I did cover a lot more distance, suffer a nasty bout of diarrhea there, and was pretty drained by that one - but most of those claims were in doors in relative physical comfort. This one will now be a total of 16 days, today is a travel day, and 14 of them were nothing but inspections without a break other than to sleep and maybe to pick up my guitar if I wasn't too tired to fall asleep in the middle of it. I have now stayed at the Regency in Omaha, Holiday Inn Express in Lincoln - the longest run, 3 days at Holiday Inn in Grand Island, and the last 2 nights here at Staybridge Suites in Lincoln.

I was told to lug my bulky 15 foot collapsing Little Giant ladder along. Logistically it would have been challenging. I am not going anywhere without my guitar - it is what keeps me sane in the midst of impending insanity. Plus 2 weeks of packing in a suitcase - although after having done about 6 loads of laundry here I probably can pack less next time. My mother of a suitcase was actually over the 50 pound limit so Southwest - the last airline that doesn't charge you for wiping your ass - was going to charge me 25 for the over limit, but gave me the chance to re-shift. My company would have covered it, but still the thought of it bugged me - so a lot of stuff went into my guitar, my shoes went into my carry on, and I was covered. On the way back my guitar will be stuffed with underwear so I don't have to go through that again. In my briefcase all the essentials for work - laptop, car charger, portable printer, my back up drive - and really just packed with everything I used out here. With these things, and then a ladder - I can work just about anywhere - I have a wireless card and the whole world becomes my portable office. At every inspection, once I come down from the roof drenched in sweat, I then proceeed to write an estimate, print it out, write a check, and print it out, and try to avoid sweating all over it in the process. So anyways - I wasn't sure how many extra hands I had to carry a ladder, so at my wife's suggestion I asked if I could use one of the ladders in their Omaha office and they said sure.

Well when I checked out of the Regency (it turns out the Men's College World Series was going on which made finding rooms more difficult - the Carolina Tar Heels stayed at my hotel apparently the first night) I went to our Omaha office - after about 20 wrong turns not spelled out by Mapquest. I would get lost here many times - Mapquest is good about 98% of the time, but sometimes it is confusing, you miss your turn, or it just doesn't quite do it's job. A GPS would have helped, but I relied on the computer - often at times getting on line after pulling over - checking the address of the place I was near - and then re-Mapquesting from the place where I had gotten lost. Often this process of getting lost - after sweating all day - would result in something akin to manic screaming with all sorts of variations on the F word in the process. At times I thought I was losing my mind altogether. But anyways - I get to the Omaha office, and just being in the basement trying to figure out how to use the ladder I am sweating up a storm. The brief walk from the rental counter to the Enterprise car lot at the airport was also a major ordeal, so things were already looking ominous. On top of that, the ladder I took - it was the biggest one I could see - is this old wooden ladder with 6 metal hinges - two for each joint area - that are stubborn and often get stuck requiring gloves to unfasten them. It had duck tape around a splintered part. For two weeks I was married to this ladder - and after all the times I had to push and pull to get those hinges going, I was ready to haul it into the nearest river at times, but I must say it did the job.

I found out after my first inspection how much sweat was involved. Even though I work out on cardio machines at the gyms regularly, this is a different type of sweat. On the cardio machine, you are in doors at a comfortable temperature. You have a towel and you get in the shower after you are done about an hour later. Out here, my body temperature would make me feel like I was an oven producing sweat. And after doing this physical activity - going around the roof slopes, looking for my "test square" to determine how much hail damage there was - and depending on the size of the roof and number of slopes this could take from 15 minutes to an hour, I would come down, sweat bullets, and then have to shift to offfice worker entering data to get the claim processed. There was no shower until the last inspection was done, so I would drive around and work in soaked clothes most of the day. The data entry would involve a diagram of the roof onto the computer, calculating the estimate costs, uploading and labeling photos, printing up a check after manually entering the numbers, and then entering those same numbers into the "main frame", and putting notes into the activity diary and using the payment tracker in Xactimate to finish this. It was like juggling 6 different activities - and at times I had to figure out how to not sweat onto the computer because it would be dripping like bullets. At times, I was offered to come inside, lug my mess of tangled wires, printer, checkbook, and laptop in the house, work in air conditioning, and maybe be offered a nice glass of cool water, soda, or ice tea. At other times, I would be working in the "Cruiser" Enterprise gave me - hopefully but not always in a shady spot if I could find one. I would sometimes find if the humidity was bad enough I would be sweating almost as much inside the vehicle with all windows open as I was going up and down the ladder - and many homes have a separate detached garage or outbuilding which would mean I would go up and down the ladder two or more times for some inspections. I would always look for the shortest way up, try to avoid resting it on a gutter as it tends to slide, try to enlist the owner to hold the ladder for me if possible, and then just pray that this wooden antique was not going to buckle in on me. One of my customers told me he used to go up on ladders regularly and carefully like me, until one day he fell off for an unknown reason, messed up his back and is now disabled for life. That is always encouraging to hear that - and the reality is any day it could happen to me - no matter how careful I am. You prepare as much as you can, are as careful as you can be, hold the ladder in a secure place, but if karma is going to put you on your ass and your back, what can you really do. Same with driving in a car - you can't control not getting into an accident - you do your best not to, but if it is going to happen it is going to.

Every day - I would get back from a day of doing this - sometimes as many as 8 times in a day, exhausted, sweaty, dying from the humidity and heat, stumble into the shower, maybe pick up something to eat from Applebees, map out my next day, see how many new assignments I had gotten since the last day, how many calls to make. I would try to sleep, but the new time zone threw me off and hotel sleep is off and on. One night explosive thunder from the sky and there goes the sleep. So I would wake up, ever day, some feeling better than others, knowing it was all starting over again. Saturday was another work day. While people were home enjoying their air conditioning, the sound of them would almost mock me while I was sweating away on a roof. I have these Cougar Paws massive roof shoes that help, but on the steeper slopes all the blood goes to my toes. The steeper slopes are the worst - they are uncomfortable - there is more of a fear of falling off, getting around is not easy. I had one in Lincoln around 5 PM- you know it was the hottest part of the day, the sun was beating down on me with the humidity going, it was a charcoal black roof which captured all the heat, and I should have brought my gloves but instead burned the palms of my hand as I tend to Spiderman my way around the steeper roofs and by the end of the day at the most tired and worn out day, this was a real ass kicker.

So in so many words - the day I never thought was going to arrive is here - I head back - in one piece - no falls - all inspections completed - only one customer who looked like he was ready to take my head off when I told him the mortgage company had to be named on the check and he was an ex-Vietnam fuck everybody type - but I am ready to go home. Somehow I survived one of the most grueling experiences of my life. The typical CAT - catastrophe run is 3 weeks and I have barely made it through two. I am sure I will have no problems sleeping on the plane.

To live outside the law you must be honest

Bob Dylan quote from Sweet Marie

My brother and I are never going to get along. Period. We may try, but it won't happen. There is no way to change it - it is above and beyond both of us. Sure I picked on him when I was young, but I think the thing he will always hold against me is that I was critical of his writing. Thankfully he has no link to this, but the reality is - I still am. It is not that he doesn't have the "chops" so to speak. He has been to Columbia School of Journalism, has all the tools of the trade, he can sit down and write a book - which I can't do - or simply don't want to - so I can respect him for that. But I just read the few pages here on Amazon and this is a very calculated attempt to present something in a very self-conscious way, but in doing that honesty goes out the window. I see he is already dwelling on how well he did at his prestigious school - which again - is great he did well - but to have to emphasize that I'm better than you because I have status - is pretty - well - pretty sad I hate to say. In Jim Rome terminology he is a red ass. I criticized his writing, so damn it he had to go out and write a book to prove me wrong. Unfortunately after reading just a few pages of this I got the idea of the book all too quickly. I see one of the reviewers chopped him to shreds already, while most people did seem to enjoy it. I am reading it - the same guy who never wanted to say the f-word - spewing it out left and right - the same reserved prudish guy I knew talking about sex and I am wondering is this the same guy I grew up with? Well - no - it isn't because he is trying very hard to be something acceptable in the literary world, and once you try to be anything other than what you are it isn't going to work. I don't want to say it's hopeless - this is his first book - maybe he'll dig a little deeper next time around. I know he lies to me all the time - it's just who he is. He lied when he ratted out on Vicki to my evil parents during one of his visits and then earnestly told me he did not, when it simply had no possibility of being anyone else. When I see him on the cruise, he'll act like my long lost friend, but I know there is still a lot of rage flowing toward me and what I represent to him. Sadly we are enough alike that it would benefit us if we let bygones be bygones. But I can't do it by myself, and I don't see it happening on his side any time soon. Too many demons that haven't been exorcised. Unfortunately he had a chance to be himself in this book, but he was more concerned with image than substance. I've read the 6 page teaser and I feel like I've already read the whole thing. I hope he makes some money on it, but I also hope some day he can come to terms with who he really is and not be so ashamed of that.

Thought I heard a jugband play IF YOU DON'T WHO ELSE WILL?

I am probably repeating myself but the message has to come across. Even if I do I will say it slightly different this time. As the King Crimson song says, I repeat myself when under stress. Am I under stress? Well of course - but I am not alone. Gas is climbing to new record prices, the economy is going down the tubes - the chickens seem to be coming home to roost. I mean when one group of people lives and consumes most of the world's resources at the expense of another group, you would think at some point things are going to even out. Bob Marley has a song that goes "them belly full" and it seems that ours as a culture is beyond full - it is outright bloated. But actually - I am not here on a cultural rant, I am off on an individual one. Selfish - I know - but as I am constantly told I am selfish here at home, I guess that is the nature of the beast.

But that is what I really am focusing on - who am I? Who do you think I am? It probably depends on who you ask. My view of any question is there is no one answer. I think the key to accessing the truth is to not lock into one view point. The more ways you can look at it, the more you can see it from different angles, the more it all starts to make sense in its own weird way. There is a book called the "Naked Ape" that describes us as a bunch of animals shitting in the woods and here it might seem offensive for some to see humans that way. But of course - it's true - that what we are. But what about those that see us as civilized and more advanced than apes - well - I can kind of see that works too. What about the spiritual realm - where one sees life and humans as one extension of the realm of God - we are all God's children, God's creations - what about that? Well - why not that too. Science - sees us evolving from a bunch of lifeless particles, to fish, to apes, to humans - we are all in a laboratory in some kind of biological experiment. Well hell - why not that too - why not all of it? Why not look at it from as many dimensions as angles as possible - and why the absolute need to zero in on one as the right way - so that it has to be a war between evolution and religion, or right and wrong. The author of Letter to a Christian Nation boldly proclaims - one of us is right and of us is wrong. The way I see it the only thing that is wrong is the concept of wrong to begin with - kind of along the lines of the only thing to fear is fear itself.

So that goes back to who am I and how you see me. Well let's start with the psychotherapist perspective. Anyone who reads this knows the story, but I'll say it again. My mother was a very troubled woman. I have often seen her as almost downright evil, but I think troubled is a better way of looking at it. I don't sit there fuming in my righteous anger that way. I think she could easily have been thrown in a mental hospital for life if someone ever observed her, but like many of us - including myself to a degree - we learn to operate within the parameters of society and play the game enough so we are left alone, even if we are out of our minds. She hated herself but somehow willed herself through Harvard just long enough to work a couple years and then fall into the sexist role of mother and housewife, which she resented on one level but welcomed at another. She replaced her screaming father with my screaming father and all appeared to be status quo again. Who better then to take out all that rage, blame, aggression and hostility on then her own children - and I was at the brunt of it - like all of us were. I don't know how the others dealt with it, but I know how I did. Sure she knew how to touch every point of pain and hurt like a master surgeon - it was frightening how well she knew me - but since I was her son and a lot like her, it wasn't too surprising either. But as she went on for minutes, hours, timeless eternities of these attacks I believe I had to distance myself from it to certain degree as a matter of self-preservation, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to deal with it. So that's what I did - just like in a dream where it seems like someone wants to hurt or kill you and you defend yourself by saying it isn't really happening - that's what I must have done. And the only reason I know this is that is what I still continue to do. It just isn't really happening - freeze frame - there I am - it's all a dream.

I'll never really know how I got from there to here. Yes there was the flirtation with death - I didn't succeed - it was not my karma too - I guess if that was my time to go I would have - but I didn't. Somewhere along the way I found - I know this sounds cheesy - but I found - for lack of better word - God. I became born again. Not a born again Christian - although I don't have the innate Jewish hostility towards Christianity that I once did. I just kind of look at religion the same way I stated before - once one says this way is right and that way is wrong, I am done with it. Because all of it is right as far as I am concerned. So there is no right answer. Was Christ chosen - he must have been - assuming he really existed - because look at the impact he had on humanity. Was he the son of God - of course he was - just like I am - just like you are - just like "I am he as you are me and we are all together" - I don't like to zero in on one way - you know "God's too big for just one religion". I would like to say that I am completely solid in my faith - but I'd be lying. It is the old heart and mind battle - there is doubt in my mind - after all - I don't want to exclude atheism either. I really don't want to exclude anything. It is all real - God - atheism - science - it all makes sense - even if it is contradictory at the same time. But for me it is not a matter of God being a proven real entity to protect me and give me everlasting life - I would love that to be the case, although I haven't honestly entirely bought into that notion of God - as much as I feel a God like presence in my life which has saved me from complete despair and hopelessness - the two forces of my childhood - and brought me to the point where life seems to be something I can handle now. To all the skeptics out there who want to see this as just a creation in my mind to make myself better - go ahead - because I am not going to rule that out either. I am not going to try to explain it - all I know is it is something I feel in my heart and leave it at that. It has come out through music - through all the groups I loved as a kid - the Beatles, Doors, Elton John, Talking Heads, Led Zeppelin - all the tons of Grateful Dead and Phish shows I saw, and now my own songs and singing. That has been my doorway to "God" along with my own intuition and the thoughts that pop up in my head from time to time that feel like they are coming from somewhere else.

So back to who I am now - who I am depends on how you either see me or how I see myself. My wife when she is up late with my daughter who is having a fear attack will see Sara as having something wrong with her, see her as an emotional cripple. And maybe it's true - at least on one level. Then again maybe I am an emotional cripple too - am I? Well - look at me. Fear and depression still are very strong forces in my life. They haven't just gone away. My mother's haunting venomous words will be with me forever. As the same emotional cripple I once came to her desperately needing love and I experienced horribly cruel rejection instead. And that is what I will continue to experience. That is what I know. In my intimate relationships, after the great sex and passionate kissing come to an inevitable end, then that is what I will gravitate to. I can long for love somewhere else - a love with great sex and passion, but I will seek what I am familiar with. So again - here I am - in my song I say there is nowhere else to go - because there isn't. You can't get away from yourself. So I seem to play different roles in my life without even trying. There is the goody two shoes nice guy role. I am good at that. I got good grades, knew how to please the teachers. In my job everyone loves me. I can do no wrong. I took over for a guy who was fucking up left and right, who was pissing off everyone in and outside of the company, and now here I am just doing what I do and everyone talks of me so adoringly. And to a certain extent I am not even trying - I am just doing what comes natural - being the good guy. I go to someone's home, play the nice guy, write them a check - they think what a nice guy - and I get a compliment and everyone's happy. I do what I do - play the nice caring guy and everyone is thrilled.

And then at home there is the opposite extreme. I can't do anything right here. No matter what I do, whether I am trying or not trying, I am going to screw it up. My role here is to play distant father. I don't try to play it, but that role was assigned to me by my wife, and of course I had a distant father too, so it all fits perfectly. Sara fell off her bike yesterday - and there it is - yelling - crying - too much reality. If my wife wasn't there I would try to comfort her, but all I would hear is I want Mama. I couldn't say anything or do anything to make it better if Mama wasn't there. In this case Mama was there doing her thing and I let it be that. I didn't do anything. I froze - stepped back - and let it take care of itself. Today without warning I was told by my wife how upsetting that was to her that I wasn't doing anything. But I do stuff like that constantly to upset her. I am the distant father - at least that role is assigned to me by her. It doesn't matter if I try to convince her that I love my daughter, that she means everything to me - because that is my role in her mind and nothing can change that - which in turn - leads to the rejection from my mother - transferred now to Sara's mother - that I am so comfortable with. Everyone plays their roles perfectly. I was chosen by my wife as distant father - which is why she married me - and I chose her as rejecting mother and we are all doing a great job with our roles. It hurts - it sucks - it isn't fair - it's hell - it's all of those things - but on another level - it just is what it is.

So I live out the two roles - the one who can do nothing right and the one who can do nothing wrong - in the eyes of others- and I ask you - which one is me? And am I even here to begin with, as Syd Barrett says in one of his songs? I like the first one better, but I seem to have tons of experience living out the second. I could do no right in the eyes of my mother either. They are both very real to me. And I am struggling with it. It is hurtful - I still feel like crying - hey I am even watering up a little now. Why does it have to be this way? It just does - and that is part of the key to me - accepting it for what it is. Is karma a punishing cruel force or is it more of a life lesson? What do I get from this? Very simple - if I want love - I have to turn to the spirits for it. It is not going to come from a human member of the opposite sex. I might find the act of sex and love there, but in my experience at this point in life anyways I am just not meant to have it in the flesh as a real experience. Maybe some day. It happened with work - my job is much better than it used to be. Can it happen with physical love too? I don't know. Hasn't happened yet - at least not a "love I can hold on to" (Olabelle lyric). But in the spirit it is another matter entirely. Yeah - sounds like a ton of masturbation - which obviously is a part of it, but not really all of it. This is where God and the spirit come in - and why I like the Goddess concept so much - or Jung's anima - because you just go straight to the source - it's all a dream, it's all in my mind anyways - and when I am out there playing my guitar and feeling a joyous rapture with the mountains breathing, the trees making faces at me, and the birds and wind coming in at just the right time - I am tuning into the real force of what life is all about - and I seek love, merge with love, become love and then I can deal with everything else. I feel the presence of a woman - a spirit woman - and she provides nothing but love. I can deal with the cruel reality of marriage, of the neurotic forces that bring us together and realize that no matter how anyone sees me, it is all a lie. It is what I truly believe and see in my heart that matters. And in my heart, when I am out there feeling these things and writing these things, love is the answer to everything. So when I hear I am fucking up again, I know I am doing the best I can. I know no matter what I do a role is going to be assigned to me that I have no control over - whether it is a bad or good role. So what can I do? Just what I am doing now - no more or no less. I work out every day, play guitar every day - work hard every day because I need to do these things to believe in myself. I am not doing them for fun - I am doing this to survive - phyically and emotionally. Because if not for those things, I am going to go back to being suicidal again and I just can't afford to do that now. Too many are depending on me - even if they don't necessarily appreciate me, they are depending on me - and I need to come through for them. I need to survive. I have finally figured out how to do that.

Am I an emotional cripple? Sure - you want to call me that - go ahead and I won't argue with you - there is enough evidence to win that argument. Am I oversensitive, irritable, angry, depressed - do I worry too much - yeah of course. I am those things too. But I also know I am something else. I am a part of God, the Goddess, the great spirit - whatever you want to call him or her - the great mystery and magic that makes up all of the meaning in life - I am a part of it and when I tune into it I am right in the center of it - and then another's concept of me means nothing at all, no matter what it is. I have to work at it - sometimes it is right there, other times it is not and the forces of fear, hopelessness and sadness take over. No one ever said it was easy. And I can't tell you what will happen with my marriage, relationships - I just don't know. All I can do is my part and know I am doing the best I can at being me. You want to give me an F - go ahead - in my mind I am getting an A all the time - I am doing the best I can at being myself. Like I once said in a song, I can only be who I am. I have to keep on digging into that well of love every day - sometimes I hit gold, sometimes I come up short - but knowing it is there I keep on trying and sometimes I succeed and sometimes not but overall the fact I am still here fighting on speaks for itself. I have to do it because as the line from So Many Roads says - who else will?