2001-12-30 - 10:33 p.m.

Part of the Process

Is it the fact the year is coming to an end that I am getting terribly reflective? That's how I felt today.

I must remember the end of something is just the beginning of something new.

I've found something strange about calling bingo. I do a heck of a lot quiet thinking. It's amazing if I could somehow reproduce that in another scenerio. I just can't seem to do it. It's the fact my body is engaged in something that incredibly monontous. I'm just a machine at that sort of thing. I can think about something completely different and continue to do my job like I'm thinking about nothing else. Well,occasionally, I get lost in the odd thought that make me trip over my words when I am moving from game to game.

I am sure it's just imagined but I write a hell of a lot better in my head when I am calling then when I do this now.

Anyway, Let's move on.

I really want to know something about myself. How did I become the person I am now. I catch myself sometimes asking "Who THE hell are YOU?!" to myself. It's sad. I was once such a caring person. I really believed in true love. I believed in things passionately. I'm a very emotional person. I don't let on but I am. It's a defense mechanism I think. The emotions inside me are so strong and so hard to control. The wash over my body like waves (when I allow them to). That's the key right there "When I allow them to". When I was much younger I couldn't control my emotions. I was the kid with the bad temper etc. I don't really remember those years too clearly but I must have gotten hurt emotionally somewhere in there because the way I control my emotions now is that I turn them off. I don't allow them to effect me or have a baring on what I am doing. How sad is that?

Boys don't cry. That's me. I can't cry. (Well, I have but I am incredibly "good" at supressing it.) Push it back down before it all floods out. The people in my life who have seen me cry I can probably count on one hand. That's how rare the occurance is.

I remember crying at a memorial service for one of my friend's father. I was about 20 at the time. It was a freak accident at his work that took him away from us. That was pretty shocking in itself but it didn't really phase me. That is until while at the service people were given a chance to say something about him. I've *never* wanted to do something like that but for some reason I got up. I just wanted to let people know that Doug's Dad had meant a lot to me. He hadn't done anything spectacular. I think he just accepted me as a human being and that really meant something to me. I am sure I told a small story about something I remembered. I believe it was about taking shoes off in his house actually. (Strange as that might sound). All of sudden it just welled up inside me and the next thing I knew I was crying. I was prepared for it and couldn't really believe it. I shocked myself in the realization of how much Doug's Dad had meant to me. Just rethinking this story I can feel those emotions inside me still.

I hide the real me. I'm a performer. Better than people know. Most of my life has been an act. At least that's the way I feel.

I am going to go soak in the tub.

This is a process don't expect complete thoughts or complete revelations. This is 32 years of tangled weeds. I'm still taking inventory. Organization is somewher down the road.

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The Last Five Bingo Games

Ripples - 2011-02-01
Checkmate - 2010-11-11
I Need Anger - 2010-10-15
I'd Like To Point Something Out - 2010-09-10
A Tempting Morsal - 2010-08-20

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