Lap 54, Day 162

 

Second half. 

As the California "stay at home" orders continue to escalate with the returning surge of Covid-19, the desire to write is,,,diminishing. It's not that I don't have the discipline, it's more along the lines that other than medical facilities, it's been five months inside the same room.  Some call it cabin fever.

I always thought that I could single handed sail long distances. Not necessarily a circumnavigation, but I thought I could do oceanic crossings, stay a while, continue on. Maybe I will have that ability one day but after five months, I'm no so sure.

Today I celebrated another lap of the solar system and head out again, without my daughters. In a conversation with my Father this evening I spoke briefly about them. He, the man who lost his own children, but regained them miraculously, was a better Father than I. I never regained mine.

Still, I had lasagna tonight as if they were here. 

Day 147

   One hundred and forty seven days ago I went into isolation with the California lockdown. That's five months. The "need" to remain at  home isolated from the pandemic was a "protection" assignment. Protecting someone else.

  In five months I have gained about fifteen pounds, predominately through inactivity. Just recently I have begun a light exercise program in which I ensure that the dogs (plural) are walked each night.  They are not my dogs.

  The days are somewhat disjointed as there is not regimented rising time, but the meals are as scheduled three times a day - with a slight variance for the evening meal based on travel time for another occupant of the house. I'm not making two evening meals a day.

  Before I came to the United States, I was an accomplished sailor on the racing circuit. I often wondered if I had it in me to sail single handed long distances. Though I never aspired to sole circumnavigate the globe, it was a question in my mind of could I transfer my race skills to cruising skills.

  I'm no longer sure I could solo circumnavigate. I'm sure that the days would be vastly different but in my twelve square feet office, I have found myself...wandering about. There is always something to do, but not always something I want to do.  And I found the reason for that.

  It's been one hundred and forty seven days since I went into isolation. That's five months. 

    They're not my dogs. 5 Months.  One hundred and forty seven days. 

Happy Birthday Chickybabe

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  Happy Birthday Chickybabe

  Today, my eldest daughter turns 31.

  When I was 31 her mother and I had separated, and I went on to my best "role" as the divorced father of two daughters.

  Now, I'm just the alienated father of the same two daughters that I haven't seen in years.

  Perhaps when they read the Book, they will realize that their Dad never left them. 

When Is A Writer, Not Writing?

  When is a writer, not writing?

  When they're running around after other people?

  When they are transporting patients who fail to follow their doctors orders? When they provide medication and instructions to patients, that ignore doctor's orders because it's an inconvenience for them - but they still require the care that they don't think they need?

  When your parents are elderly and they start to revert to toddlers, unable to recall the conversation that they had that same morning with their health care provider about what they can and should not do when afflicted with an additional medical issue?

  And then go about and do their own interpretation of the same advice, skipping medication in order to attend social events while afflicted with a transmittable - but non contagious, condition.

  It's almost like knocking yourself out with a ball point hammer.

  For a writer, it's material for when they come back to the art.

  For a child, it's a glimpse of what the future may hold.

When is a Writer, Writting?

When is a writer, writing?

When they're not publishing?

When they're not writing?

For several weeks - actually since March - I no longer reside at my desk. My writing is done on a television dinner tray, pen and paper. At the weekends, if I'm lucky, I transfer the writings over to laptop. It is a duplicate process, however, it is the only writing process that I have now.

I am writing in the car, in snippets of time.

Maybe one day I'll have a desk again, to write at.

...and we're back

...and we're back.

In the midst of the chaos and medicals, someone locked themselves out of their account.

I had to wait until I returned to California to get to the email address that I specifically use for lock outs.

I Write

  I write.

  I write about my children, about Parental Alienation, about the unfairness in the post divorce world towards Fathers. But until this week, I have never written about my ex wife.

  Not so much of my ex wife, but more of her actions. The actions that she learned as a child from her mother, which she replicated to our children. Twenty two years after our divorce, I look at what my ex wife has done to our children, and see the similarities that her mother did to her.

  The cycle has to stop.

  And it does with me.

  I write.

  I write about my children, about Parental Alienation, about the unfairness in the post divorce world towards Fathers. But until this week, I have never written about my ex wife's parental alienation of our children.

All of Them

  Some time ago, probably months, I had a Dear Old Friend write of their current relationship.

  "They won't leave me."

  The commentary hit home, because, they All leave me.

  All, are the important women in my life.

  Mother. Wife. Daughters. Girlfriend.

  In my Dear Old Friend's relationship, their Partner wont be leaving them. Good for them. They deserve second (or third) opportunities.

  For readers, I have been caring for my Mother in Law for several months. Another important woman in my life about to leave me. Once again, powerless to stop it.

  My Dear Old Friends comment was right. Might not apply to me, but for them, it's good enough.

 

Happy Birthday Chickybabe

  Happy birthday Chickybabe.

  Today, my eldest daughter, turns 30.

  When I was 30, I was already separated, on the cusp of divorce, with two daughters I cared for more than...well, more than my own relationships and career. I had already won two sailing titles and the third would come the following year, but it was the girls that were my greatest achievement.

  I had also isolated one of my parents from my daughters when they were unable to follow through on the manner in which their mother and I had wanted the girls to be brought up. I would later isolate the other parent, my Father, however, he would see the error of his ways and that would be repaired.

  As expected, my Father was a better man than me. I have been isolated from the girls and it has not been repaired.

  I taught my daughters not to allow evil in to their lives, and to keep it at bay. I never envisaged that I would be the evil they keep at bay. But, unlike where I made my own choice, their choice has been influenced by their mother, and their grandmother.  Two people whom were unable to follow through in the manner in which their mother and I wanted the girls to be brought up. Being a little over 7000 miles away and unable to counter any, and all, evils by these people, I was always playing from behind.

  With no voice to counter them, the girls unknowingly succumbed to their evil.

  It is too late for my girls.

  The days are long and the years go by fast.

  My eldest is 30 today. I have been out of her life more than I have been in it.

  Happy birthday Chickybabe. I never left you.

Easter Sunday Parental Alienation

  It is the early hours of Easter Sunday morning. The sun has just risen, the light is still soft across the county, and I am working on a feature article dealing with Parental Alienation.

  While not a "holiday" in the United States, Easter is till celebrated as a time of families coming together. Some Fathers will not see their children, not through choice, but through the circumstances dictated to them by others - mostly the narcissist mother.

  The irony of Parental Alienation is that the Father was good enough to be there, through the birth, through the years, and it is only because of the divorce or separation that they "suddenly" become unfit, subject to courts and ridicule. Most will assume Father roles in other families where there is no issue - there only ever seems to be an issue perpetrated by the mother of his children.

  Much like I did with my own parents marriage, eventually, the child will discover that not all events as told by their alienating parent are true, complete, or concise.

  By which time, both the child and the alienated parent have already lost.

 

A Gut Wrenching Week

  It has been, a gut wrenching week for me.

  First, news arrived from home of the jailing of the most influential teacher in my life.  Father Michael Endicott was jailed this week for historical offenses against children while he was teaching at Villanova College, Brisbane, during the late 1970's and the 1980's.

  The only victim to be named alleges that the priest took photographs of him after swimming training. The victim, beat me out of a place on the swimming team when we were competing against each other.

  Elsewhere, I write that the priest had brought thousands of boys from Darkness To Light, myself included. I cannot imagine the mindset for these matters.

  The second, comes from across New Zealand, where a gunman opened fire on a mosque killing 50 people. Terrorism, is not based on skin color or religion, but the acts upon which it is performed. There is no difference between the New Zealand incident, and the shooting of school children. There is no place in the world for terrorism.

  The second incident is disturbing as I was scheduled to complete my Terrorism training last November, when i was involved in a motor vehicle accident the day prior to the training. Had I completed that training, I may not be sitting here waiting out another year to cycle through to complete the studies, which, would have opened up access to a line, or what I call, the W2 employment.

  Between those two events and the demons that live in my sleep, you would be surprised how little writitng has been done.

  However, there has been a revision of a major work, where one of my characters was based upon the most influential teacher of my life.

Thank You, First Fans

  First Fans will be aware that the month of January has not been...favorable. Aside from the surgery, sleep has been hard to come by with the discomfort. When conjoined with Dad's health, it has not been a glamour start to the year.

  February does not appear to hold much in the way of glamour either, as the follow ups to the vision and surgery proceed.

  Here's hoping that these visionary issues can be resolved in a timely manner so I can get back to the writing and publication.

  For the First Fans, thank you. 

I Always Knew It Was Coming

  There are moments in time, where everything changes. When you know that nothing will ever be the same again. Sometimes, you get real quiet, as it was an unexpected event.

  Sometimes you get real quiet, because you always knew it was coming - and then once it arrives, you immediately recognize it for what it was.

  Several weeks ago, my father reached out to the mother of my children, attempting to get in contact with my daughters. The mother of my daughters said she would pass the message on.

  My father never heard from my daughters. He, too, has become the grandparent affected by parental alienation.

  Yesterday, the mailman arrived and made rounds. In the mail for me, was the birthday card I had sent my eldest daughter, in May of this year. It was marked "no longer at this address".

  The last point of contact for my children has now gone.

  Everything changes now. Nothing will ever be the same again. I got real quiet. I always knew it was coming.

Story Goes to Slashdot

Story goes viral.

Today, the San Diego Reader published my story on the nationwide outage affecting the receipt of pay for Uber drivers.

The story was picked up on Slashdot and has gone viral.

A piece of work created by me now appears on  /.  a site that I read every day.

Thank you to both the Reader and Slashdot. 

I Went To Denny's - Thank You United 93.

I went to a Denny's today. Ordered an All American Grand Slam and a coke. Thumbing through the Twitter feed I saw that the President was visiting Shanksville,  Pennsylvania.

The final resting place of 40 heroes on board United Flight #93.

 I imagine that seventeen years ago, someone sat in a Denny's before starting their day, either to cross the country on one of the ill fated flights, or before attending the World Trade Center complex. They could have ordered the same meal as me, not knowing what their day may bring.

For the passengers of United 93, their voices continue to be heard through the wind chimes of the memorial tower.

Their loved ones have a place to go to grieve, to remember and to thank. Their children can thumb through the history books and learn what their father, mother, did. To save us all.

I went to Denny's today not knowing where my children are. They will be no monument, no location that they will go to when I have passed. They will not know until long after I am gone.

And nor will I should they precede me.

Thank You United 93 - for saving our children.

Still Waiting on Email

Still waiting on email to transfer over. It's day seven and any mail sent to me has not been received.

Good thing I'm paying for this email server.

Migration to the server takes place at 0800 Tuesday 11 September 2018.

The Wayside

In a few days, I will be celebrating a birthday.

When I was a new Dad, birthdays were events that were planned weeks in advance. Travel, dining, and if required, accommodation. First my eldest, and then later joined by her younger sister, they would be "moments" of togetherness.

And they were only moments. Those togetherness moments went by the wayside once the separation and the divorce began. Years later, although remarried, they are still by the wayside.

Counting On A Miracle

  Earlier this week I received a private message from a person whom knows, how shall I say, my history. They provided me with some information about my eldest daughter. When I went to verify the information, their report was confirmed and the last known connection that I had to my children, was now gone.

  So, once again, in the words of Bruce Springsteen, "I'm counting on a miracle, to come through."

A Piece of Crap

I was watching the Syfy channel this week and thought the film was "a piece of crap".

I changed over to another channel and was watching some horror film and thought it was "a piece of crap."

I have actually been told that some of my writing is too good and I need to "dumb it down".

So this week, I am working on a "piece of crap".

It will probably be a blockbuster.

Plagued By The Memories

Plagued by the memory of the women in my life.

They show up in my novellas. They show up in my memoirs.

The show up in my nightmares.

Sometimes, they collaborate on the issues that haunt me.