VA granted me 20% but denied Individual Unemployability

I found out that 20% won't pay my medical, or gas money. I will be quitting the VA until I pay them for over $3,000 medical. They will take it out of my check. I have it on appeal but that will be months. By then, I'll have the 3 grand paid off. The only good thing is I will get the $ refunded. The bad thing is I will have to stop my therapy sessions that have been working and I have enjoyed, very much. I just hope and pray that the Demon does not return and haunt my dreams, again. I will keep in touch and let you know. theblogmeister

Shit Happens

I was in the middle of a post and suddenly my screen blinks , comes back, this time without my text that I have already written. I got jipped out of 3/4 page of text. I need to call the hall monitor to let him know about what JUST HAPPENED SO HE COULD (I ain't going back to change when I accidentally hit the caps lock button.) Would you? I didn't think so. Tell somebody.
The title of my blog was DNA . As you know, I write down the title first and a story around it. A strange way to write, I'll admit, but somewhat effective, by the responses I get.
Who ever heard of DNA before the OJ trials? A Mr. Barry Scheck, one of OJ's 29 lawyers, first introduced me to those 3 letters. I found them fascinating to the point of confusing. I imagine those jurors felt the same way, hence the not guilty verdict. Now, the airwaves are saturated with those letters. CSI tells you a lot about DNA. NCIS knows quite a bit about them, too. Where does one send a DNA sample? The FBI, of course. The odds of this person raping and killing this girl are one in 26 zillion. According to the DNA. Those are some powerful letters. Recently I have heard that there have been convicts on death row have there sentences vacated because of, you got it, DNA. I am more confused about it , now, than ever before. They need to simplify. YRG and YRI. You are guilty and you are innocent. That's my burn, I'm outta here theblogmeister

The Lost Goose

When I write a post I have absolutely no idea of what I am going to write.
I start with a title, then go from there. It hasn't always been that way. I would write about a dream, nightmare would be a better word, about the night before. It seems that I would sub-consciously have a nightmare just so I would have something to write the next day. I have now changed writing styles until I find one that works. How will I know what works? How does a lone goose make it to the Canadian wilderness? He probably hopes to run into another flock so he can fall into the V. Geese fly in a V formation for aerodynamic reasons. The wind eases on by. He keeps looking for some more geese. A lone goose would be better than nothing. Although, half a V would look stupid. He sees a pond, glides in to check it out. Nothing. No other geese, that is. What to do? I'm a dumb ass. I would have left when those others did but I thought they were dumb-asses for leaving early. I do this shit every year. I need to quit cussing, too.Shit, who's listening, anyway. I need to get my dumb ass up north before all the babes are taken. He flies up to catch the jet stream so he won't have to flap his wings as much. He may have some sense, after all. He's got a groove going, now. Then he hears a little voice. He can't believe what he's hearing! He can recognize that chirp from a thousand others. It's that dumb ass hummingbird that caught a ride with him last year. I tried my best to shake him last year. Flying upside down, in a spiral. When we stopped to take a piss I tip-toed away before I took off. Those little shits are fast at take-off. I couldn't lose him. I had to spend the whole way listening to his bull-shit. I swore I would check to make sure he wasn't hiding on me before I took off to head up north. Man, it's gonna be a long trip. I hope he knows the way! My burn for the day? The rule that says when hummingbirds migrate they catch rides on the backs of geese. I think it is a stupid rule and us geese should go on strike and make them little bastards fly commercial. I'm otta here! theblogmeister

Financial Tsunami. Who Was The Quake"

Well, it has taken us a year to reach the 10,000 mark on Wall Street since Lehman Brothers failed and the U.S. saved AIG and many others from going belly up. I say we had to have that mass infusion of cash to keep the financial system from imploding and I applaud Obama for acting to save our financial system. I should applaud Timothy Geithner for being so smart.Well, Obama did appoint him for Treasury, smart move. Have you ever listened to this guy? He's a freaking genius. I know I say fucking too much but the heck with it. If I was half as smart as he was I'd be a hell of a lot smarter than I am, right now. I never answered my question, Who Was The Quake? My answer: Hell if I know.
Have you ever watched a show on ESPN called Jim Rome Is Burning? A real good show, I must say. At the end of his show he has a segment called The Last Burn. So, I am going to steal a part of his show and call it the blogs last burn. Is that OK? I don't care, anyway. Well, I do, but I don't. I don't care about stealing part of the show, I do care about you, the reader. That was a line of shit. At least I'm honest.
Here is my last burn. The U.S. dollar is at an all time low. One year ago, we spent billions to keep these big wall street firms from failing but we couldn't save our auto industry. The money we spent on wall street we could've used to save all of our jobs in Detroit., We would not have lost a single brand. Hell, my Grandfather drove a Buick. My grand kids will never know what a Buick is. The heck with wall street. They are still getting record bonuses while Americans clean out their desks. Sometimes I want to go off my meds and pay those assholes a visit. That's my burn. I'm outta here. theblogmeister

The Difference Between The Dark and The Light

I have been writing in the dark for the past year. Yesterday, I tried to write in the light. I have to admit it was very awkward. The writings in the dark were full of pain, fear and anguish. The words just flowed so freely. I had become so accustomed to the dark words it was like someone else was writing them. Now, I believe that someone else was writing those words. It was almost like another personality took hold. That other "self " had me and was keeping me in my torment. I can't take credit of the change in my writing style. It was that slick bastard that taught an individual about hypnosis. I will not call names. You know who you are. As far as stories from the light side, I promise I will keep them coming. My mind is a bit preoccupied, right now. My wife is in the hospital dealing with a blood clot in her lung. Just as soon as she gets home and is feeling better I will burn this keyboard up with the light. No more dark, I hope. Thanks to all for reading my posts and I will be sure to entertain you. Thank You and God Bless You All!! theblogmeister

God's Own Drunk

I promised my brother-in-law that I would watch his still while he went into town to vote. It was right up on the mountain where the map said it would be. God's little moon was shining through the clear summer evening and the stars were twinkling on and off in the heavens and I want to say up front that I ain't no drinking man but temptation got the best of me and I took a slash. WHEW ! Let me tell you, this weren't no ordinary still! That yeller whiskey was a runnin' down my throat like honey dew vine water.Like I said once before I ain't no drinkin' man but after tasting that stuff I was convinced. I was God's Own Drunk. And a fearless man. So, I took another slash. Then, I took another, and another and before you knowed it I downed 8 of 'em and commenced to do the bear dance. It were alot like the jitterbug but plum evaded me. Well, that's when I first saw the bear. He wuz a kodiac-lookin' feller bout 19 feet tall. He rambled up over the hill and expected me to do 1 of 2 things, flip or fly. Didn't do either one and that hung him up. He looked me in my eyes and mine wuz a lot redder than his wuz, that hung him up. He wuz sniffin' around trying to smell fear but he ain't gonna smell no fear cuz I'm God's Own Drunk and a fearless man. That hung him up! Well, I approaced him and he took 2 steps backards, didn't know what to think. Being charitable and cautious I approached him, again. I said I know you got a lot of friends on the other side of that hill. There's ole rare bear, tall bear, smelley the bear, smokey the bear, pokey the bear and I want you to go back over the other side of that hill and you tell them I'm feelin' right, that I love each and every one of them like a brother or a sister, but, if they give me any trouble tonite, I'm gonna run ever damn one of 'em off this hill! So, I want you to be my buddy. Buddy Bear. I took ole Buddy Bear by his island-sized paw and led him over to the still. He wuz sniffin' around that thing cuz he smelled somethin' good. He took one of them jugs of honey-dew vine water and downed it right fast and he started snorten, fartin', rippin' up my tent, carryin' on by the likes I never seen before. WHEW! Well, we worked ourselves into a tumultuous uproar and I was awful tired. Layed down, went to sleep, and dreamt me some tremelous dreams. When I woke up, there wuz God's little moon shinin' on the clear summer evenin', God's little lanterns wuz a twinklin' on and off in the heavens and my Buddy Bear wuz a missin'. You know somethin' else friends and heighbors. So wuz that still!
I thought I'd step off in the light for a change. I hope you enjoyed it. theblogmeister

We Will Not Forget

Click on Mot d'enfants

Who needs sleep, anyway?

How is it possible to go without sleep as much as I and not be a bumbling fool? Once again, I scared the living bejeez out of my wife. It seems that she has gotten used to it, almost expecting my ear-piercing screams. She is so laid back and is not at all intimidated by my bouts of terror.. Her main concern is that I don't hurt myself during these moments of loss of control. That scares me. Just losing control of my actions. I rarely remember these spells and after hearing some of them I fear for my wife. You see, I credit her with the psychic change in me. It can be only one thing, a psychic personality change. How she figured it out, I don't know. She can bring me back from the abyss of insanity. I had been in that hole for a lot of years. I don't know how she saw a real person when all I could see was a killer. The worst kind. Killers acting like medical personnel. I try to rationalize. That does not work. I tried many ways to cope until I found one that worked. Self-medicating. Now, that worked! The next post I will tell you how and what drugs I got. It's INSANE!!!

Rock and a Hard Place

I should be credited with the terming of that phrase. I, by no means, am saying that I have the exclusive rights to the term. Truthfully, there is many that could claim it. Seriously though, I wonder who thought the cliche' up? By using 5 words he summed up a dire situation. I don't think you could say it any better with fewer words. I am between a rock and a hard place. Would you surmise that life was going good? There is a whole slew of phrases that could say the same. By the way, slew is a southern word meaning a lot.In this form I don't think it is a verb. I did not slew the dragon. See what I mean? You have one, then a couple, a few, some, then you have a slew. Now, back to my day. I have had a slew of bad days. Between a rock and a hard place. It gets old, let me tell you. During my most recent trip to my therapist I was hypnotized. No slew, here. It was my first time. Did it work? I first have to define my goal to ascertain whether being hypnotized was a success. It was to relax. Did I relax? Yes. Maybe I can build up to having some control of my dreams. That is my ultimate goal. Conscious sleep. That sounds like an oxymoron. An oxymoron on oxycodone. Sounds a little crazy to me. Hell, that's why I am seeing a therapist. I am crazy. Is conscious sleep even possible? If it is anything like levitation I guess I should change my goal. I can't kick the Col. ass because he is dead. I would have better luck levitating. Between a rock and a hard place. theblogmeister

The Demon Doctor

Last week I had an appointment with my psychologist who is helping me to deal with my Demons from the past. It is only the second or third visit with this particular professional, so, I have not reached that trusting rapport that I believe is essential to successful treatment of my PTSD. I had had a very bad day due to the pain associated with my third back surgery and was not in any way able to make that appointment. It has gnawed at me for missing the appointment because I want to establish that trust to benefit from his expertise. This is the second time I have missed an appointment and I hope the therapist will not hold it against me for my lack of holding up to my end of the bargain. I really need help after all these years. My Demon is (was) a retired fighter pilot in the U.S. Air Force and has been relentless in His pursuit to totally control my life from the other side. Does this sound crazy? Yes. Am I crazy? Probably. He was, for almost 30 years able to make my life hell on earth. How is this possible? The Colonel was able to control my sub-conscious mind. Was it really the Col. doing it? No. It may as well have, though. I had no control. My terror took place during my sleep where my sub-conscious mind was the Big Dog. For almost 30 years I tried and found the best working solution to my problem. Which, by the way, created even worse problems. I found that narcotic drugs would quiet my Demon. The price of the utopia cost me well over half of those 30 years spent in the Alabama prison system. I have 2 sons and was in prison when both were born. They grew up without a daddy, basically. I can also attest that prison is no fun place to be. Why couldn't I control my dreams ( nightmares of unimaginable proportions ) to the point of sanity? I was insane. I was terrified of sleep. I was unable to have any relationship with anyone except for the dope man. We had a good relationship. I believe in God , so, why didn't God help me. The Lord knows I prayed for his guidance. How could a dead man cause my life to spiral totally out of control? I need to retell the story. For my benefit. And soon! thanks, theblogmeister

Who am I trying to kid?

What a joke! This whole online money making scam. Yea, I was sucked into it. Be a millionaire by using my copy and paste reproductive, 100% guaranteed, or triple your money back to my offshore account in the Cayman Islands. There are a bunch of snakes out there. Yea, you know who you are. I don't, you better thank God for that. If I could get my hands on you my but would be sitting back at Limestone Correctional Center, sitting in the law library selling motions and rule 32's. A writ of Habeus Corpus here and there. Passing the time, no, rotting away for better terms. Some times I think I would trade all that for one thing. Peace. Contentment. Does anybody out there understand at all? See, that is the problem. It is like sitting at lunch with someone speaking Russian and I am talking back. Taking turns talking. Not knowing what the hell is being said just talking. Then you find out later that this bastard is trying to kill you. And it never stops. It can't be stopped. You know it's coming and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it. Just wait. Peace. That is a beautiful word.

I have to get rid of the demon by keeping my mind busy.

It is hard to keep the demons away when I am constantly reminded of what brought along them in the first place. I see a therapist regularly and blog about my nightmares hoping I can get a grasp on what is causing so much fear and anguish. I am not able to be around people and carry on a normal life. That all ended on Nov. 13, 1978. I have made some progress, though. There was a time, not very long ago, that I could not even talk about Him. My father is letting me live in one of his houses until I am granted my claim for service-connected disability. You want to know what sux? No matter where I live or how much money I have I still will have the nightmares that control my life. I will still dread to go to sleep. Darkness will still be my enemy. The money I may get will help me and my wife tremendously. We won't have to rely on family and get them caught up in this nightmare. I want them to live their own lives theblogmeister

Poetry

I have decided to put my feelings in poetry. I hope you tell your friends to check out my new format. Thanks to those avid readers and I hope you will invite your family and friends. Thank You, theblogmeister

Pain in the brain

I have no cancer inside my head
just a fear of going to bed
I havea demon much worse than cancer
the medical proffession has no answer

They have a word called PTSD
but all it is just words to me
the horror I go through when sleep does come
I only wish the doctors could see

The meds they give me don't help at all
I still feel the terror when night does fall
many times I jolt up in bed
only to see the living dead

The Col. has been dead 30 years
yet, he still gives me terror in the night
and yes after all this time I still get the tears
Can I go on? I feel drained and don't thinf I can fight

theblogmeister

The Angel of Death

The angel is with me
she has a mission
to take me with her
her own admission

She is relentless
she says she will succeed
she is convincing
she is believed

I have known her
For many years
I have prayed
and shed many tears

She will not quit til the job is done
or until I have won

Memorial Day

Memorial day means a lot to people who want to thank those in the Military for going above and beyond what is asked of them. It also is a time for remembering those that have served and died to protect our freedom. Admirable. To me it is a time of reflection of great pain. Not because I was wounded in battle. I was wounded. However, it was during peace time. Our world was not at war, but I was at war with the demons that I created while stationed at Eglin AFB, Florida. Those demons are still with me. Haunting me in my dreams. For many years I battled with the Demon and the only ammunition I had was drugs. I found that the only way to defeat the Demon was to abuse narcotics. I learned to self-medicate myself to ward off the Demon. The abuse of the narcotics robbed me of a life. I have to say if not for the drugs I would have surely committed suicide. For over 25 years I found the drugs were the only thing that worked. The Demon came to me in my sleep. It was pure terror. I had no other way to combat the Demon. It came with a heavy cost. I lost my wife, a relationship with my kids, alienation from those who cared. I pushed them all away. I am not going to repeat why this all began. You can look back and read older post and find the name of the demon and the circumstances surrounding it. I just wanted to say that my Memorial day is unique and brings back terrifying memories. It's not over. I wish it was. God help me. theblogmeister

Apologies And Prayer

I want to apologize to those that suggested I write a book. It is important for me to keep this journal and to try to hang on to my sanity. In reality, I use a lot of humor as a defense mechanism so I don't have to talk about the seriousness of my sickness. Some of the stories in this journal sound like a screenplay for a horror flick but every word written is true. My nightmares are getting much worse. It happens when I go for long stretches without writing about my experiences in this journal. My fear is that one day, no matter how many times I post, the nightmares will worsen. Then what will I do? I can't medicate myself into stupor. Soon, the pills won't work, anymore. My psychiatrist has already doubled my mertazapine, the meds I take for the PTSD. I was given an appointment at the VA clinic for next tues.(In Gadsden). My psych doc wants to keep seeing me in B'ham every 90 days. I hope I find another vet that is suffering from PTSD here in Gadsden and won't be afraid to talk. I really don't know how much longer I can hold on. Stress makes all my symptoms worsen. My ex-wife is getting half my disability check and I just found out that she is getting my $250.00 recovery check that I was really depending on. It doesn't matter that she and her husband both make real good money and my wife has fibromyalgia and has not worked since Dec. '06 and was denied her ss disability. I have filed for service-connected disability and individual unemployability. If I am denied that we will be homeless. Say a prayer. thanks, theblogmeister

Am I Crazy?

Hell, yes. If you have read my postings you would come to the same conclusion. How long have I been crazy? Since Nov.,18,1980. That is the day I killed a dear friend of mine. He was a USAF Full Bird Colonel, Ret. Nowadays it is called euthanasia. In 1980 it was called murder. Some states still consider it murder. Doctors are able to get away with it with the family's permission.Pull the plug, DNR, it comes in many forms. In 1980, I was a 19 y.o. medic that was convinced by a terminal cancer patient by the name of Renold DeBarge,Col.,Ret. to end his suffering. I did. That is where mine began. For the next 29 years He has tortured me in my dreams. He is not letting up,either.I became a drug addict because narcotics was the only thing I found that would quiet my demon.That is exactly what He is,my Demon.He comes to me at night when I have no control of my conscious mind.He is relentless.He can't be stopped.There is one way.Destroy where He resides.I am almost at the breaking point. I do not know how much I can take. theblogmeister

Stephen King I am not

Someone sent me an email and suggested that I start writing horror books. Do you think that I am making this shit up? Don't you realize that I am one sick fuck. To suggest that I make a game out of this all is beyond callous. It borderlines on criminal. How would you, sir, feel if I actually blew my brains out? Make sure you get it on video, right? The only fucking reason I write at all is to keep from eating lead. I don't care if anyone reads my blog. Then I find out this moron wants to read the shit in a book. Yea, I am pissed. I guess I shouldn't. I am writing on a public forum with who knows how many readers. I will keep on. Not for you,sir, for me. Thanks, I think, theblogmeister

Suicide is painless

It brings on many changes and I could take it or leave it if I please.I am , once again, staring into the emotional abyss. The place that solves all problems.Answers don't matter. Therefore, no questions. No dull, monotonous drummings of life. Don't have to listen to my heartbeat thumping in between my ears. I called it an abyss, however, I think it may be a black hole this time. There is more of an energy than I remember. It is hard to look away from the dark. No, there is no light escaping this. I wonder how it would feel to take a step off the edge and into the unknown. Truthfully, that is my barricade keeping me from punching my last ticket. Fear of the unknown. It is not like someone telling you the end of a horror film. This is going to a place that you would be hard pressed to find anyone with the slimmest idea of what lurks around the next corner. If there is a corner. Very intimidating. If it were easy everyone would do it. "My wife cheated on me." Click, BOOM!I am just talking shit. As much hell that I have put myself through. The nightmares, the self medicating, all pales in comparison to the pain of death, of my existence being over. No, I am a coward. Sometimes I wish that I had the courage to end all this. Is that courageous? Who sets the standards of wellness, anyway? What is the control group and who decides that which we measure as esteem?I wanted to get lead poisoning when I started this letter. Now, I have talked myself out of it. Courageous or cowardly. Ask the guy in the lab coat holding the lab rat. Maybe later theblogmeister