an ongoing battle...

ok, well... I met with a counselor last Wednesday, and Howard thinks I should have an ongoing blog to flush out all my feelings.
I was going through my pictures this week and found that I still have a lot of pictures of Cindie. They consisted of her and I with the kids as they were born. I looked at what I thought a loving family was supposed to look like. I saw how happy we appeared to be and realized that it was all a farce. This whole idea of love and a family was never something that she intended to maintain. I was a moment in her life, a speed bump that she had to traverse to get something that I will never comprehend. I found a love letter she wrote to me where she claimed that I was her one and only. that she never wanted anyone else. She even had the audacity to write that she missed me while I worked so much. Little did I know that while I was working so much, she was already flirting and coming onto my co workers.
what the fuck was your problem Cindie? i guess i was too boring for you. brady was so much better looking, so much more physically fit than I am. while i busted my ass to give you everything you wanted, you went to him and told him that you wanted to taste him. you fucking cunt. you are the reason i don't trust women anymore. i look at women, and all i see is that they will use me, so i might as well use them. i hate you all. you all want to be saved by some fucking idea of a man. the perfect fucking guy. well fuck all of you. you arent fucking perfect, and neither am I. but the biggest difference is that i was straightforward with you. i told you about all my short comings. what my issues were. you hid yours. fucking bitch. you drained me completely. now what do i do? how do i start trusting again. i want to. but there are days that i say fuck it. and don't feel like trying.
how is barney you cunt?
how is mike ike you bitch?
i know you wanted to fuck that one trainee i had. that is why you were hanging out with him. i cant even remember his fucking name. he became a c.o. for a bit. he was married and cheated on his wife. durrant. what a fuckup. and you wanted him too. you fucking whore.
i dont know what to do any more. there are days that all i want to do is kill myself. i have the bullet with my name scratched into it. its in my jewelry box. maybe one day i'll have the balls to do it.
Right now, racer is the only reason i don't do it.
if i didnt have him, i would have already done it. i hate the bills, the separation of children every week, the thought that my partners are un trustworthy. The thought that i have to deal with you for the rest of my life.
i hate it all. i wish i had the balls to end it. Racer is the only thing that keeps me here. i live a life that is false. i put on a face that everyone expects me to have. I act like they expect me to act. if they only knew the coward that i am. if they only knew that i want to kill myself, then they would take my job. where would that leave me?
i have nothing. literally. one day my children will leave me. i know that you will remarry, and then you will try and take the kids, or turn them against me. then they will leave me. I will have my job, and nothing else. then what do i do?
suck start my gun. the only interesting part is if it will be my nine, my forty, or my shotty. the for sure winner is the shot gun. a slug will remove my head. i know it can be done, and i know how to do it. the only question is if i get the balls, and when will that be.
i hurt so bad inside. i hurt all the time. i don't know how to make it stop. i don't see the light anymore. all i see is the abyss. i feel it calling me. and i'm not finding a reason to avoid it anymore. I know my Father in heaven is disappointed in me. and i can't stop the momentum of my travel. it is a mental game. and i don't know how to stop it.
Thank you Racer. thank you for being in my life. without you i would have nothing.
Renee. why do you like me. i am a complete loser. i have achieved nothing in this life. nothing. i have nothing to offer. i am fat. i am ugly. i make no money. i have shitty morals. i have given up on life. i can't keep a partner. they leave me once they figure out what a loser i am. why would anyone want to be with someone like me. i hate myself. i hate what i am. i hate that i have no ambition to get better. i want to get better, but no desire to push for it. why should i? i will only fail again.
i wish i would just end it.

confusion...

I'm having suicidal thoughts. and I can't stop crying when I'm alone. nobody understands or cares. what is scaring me is that I'm beginning to not care either. I want to end it all.

more old blogs....

Thursday, April 19, 2007

Is this what I'm supposed to look forward to...?

Well, after all is said and done, she never turned in the divorce paperwork that I thought had been turned in weeks ago. Why? My opinion is that once she got me to agree to the divorce, and she moved out, gained a new boyfriend, etc... she knew that she could throw it on the backburner. Kind of like, leave me in limbo, not knowing what is going on.
I got her to give me the paperwork, and I took it to the courts. I finalized the divorce by turning it in. When I told her, she acted surprised that I had done it the same day. I am not sure if she thinks that I can and still want to salvage the relationship, or make it drag on. I don't. She doesn't love me, and she has her new man. That is enough for me to know that there is no reason to hang on.
How confusing is all this to someone's mental health....? Very. I would be going insane if I didn't have my friends at work supporting me, and advising me to "keep it together".
I fell. When I say I fell, I mean I screwed up. Two days ago, I saw her when she dropped off my daughter. I remembered how it felt to hold her, and to kiss her. I told her that I was going to go and see a comedy on the upcoming weekend, and that if she wanted to, she could meet me there.
Now, when we started the divorce proceedings, she had asked me if I would still be willing to go out with her on occassion, and to have sex with her. At the time, I didn't know there was another guy.
So, I proposed this to her, thinking how this was the last week that we would be legally married, and that I wanted to hold her one last time. She got a sad look on her face, and told me that she'd think about it.
The next day, I asked if she was going to meet me, and she got the same look. She then said that it was too hard.
I am reminded how she attempts, and succeeds at controlling every and all situations. Once again, by being a wimp, I was going to allow her to have me on a leash. I feel lost, and was looking to hold onto a familiar object one last time. It would have been easier if she had cursed me out once again, or if she had slapped me. Obviously I mean nothing to her.
I thank my partner at work. I hope I never show him this blog, because he has told me, that after all she has done to me, he would kick me in the boys, if he ever found me trying to get together with her in any way, shape, or form.
He is right, and I am a wimp. I am scared to death of asking anyone to go out with me. I feel like anyone I approach will have the mentality of "shit, here comes that fat guy. I have to deal with him".
My friend tells me that is not the case, but from my view, it is pretty clear. She has guys all over her. I knew she would. I have nothing. Nobody. What I do have is quiet, unwanted Solitude. Is this what I'm supposed to look forward to...?

Posted by nobody at 3:52 AM 0 comments

Saturday, April 7, 2007

how could she hate me so much...?

I met my wife at my current place of employ. The county jail. I was a new hire, as was she. I had hopes of achieving everything in the world, and when I met her, I was mezmerized by her smile and friendliness. Then I found out that her aunt and uncle were leutenants over me, and I felt a little pressure.
She and I dated daily for nine months, and over the course of that time, we fell in love. The first time I told her I loved her, she fell asleep on me. I know this because I did not recieve an answer or response, and then I heard the snoring.
She brought a little girl to the table from her previous marriage. This little girl was a serious barricade, only because her mother allowed for any type of behaviour. This girl could be sweet, but did not follow her parents rules.
Over the course of our eight year marriage, my wife accused me of having extra marital affairs, and was constantly hounding me. It got so that it was easier to never speak to any females, then to have her accuse me of messing around. I need to say this, my wife was gorgeous. I could never have wanted anyone else. She did, and still does on occasion take my breath away.
I never once cheated on her. Not once.
However, over the course of that marriage, accusations and rumors would occasionally pop up with people pointing their fingers at her. She always flew into a rage, and condemned those people, with me backing her up like a devoted husband. One of the accusee's was my own aunt. My wife and I were ruthless to her, and I cut my aunt out of my life for her comments.
Due to the jail not being a great place to work, I encouraged my wife to follow employment opportunities at a local police agency. Then something changed. She began to drink. She started going out all night long with a couple of other civilian's that were and are known to sleep around. She would come home at all hours of the night, and get mad at me for being upset and worried.
I dealt with this, and soon found myself drinking as well, as a means to find something in common with her. She still left me there at home with the three children all the time, so that she could go out with her "friends". Our communication was non existant. I took up the graveyard shift so that I could be the daytime babysitter for our one and two year old during the normal working hours. She decided to take up a part time job at a lingerie shop, spending more than she made. I never got to see too much or enjoy the items she bought.
We almost divorced just before Christmas, but somehow I convinced her to try. I went to counseling, and she promised to go as well. She never did. I began taking anti depressants, and started to email with friends, guys and gals. I made a friend, platonic, that was a girl. This gal was several years my junior, was madly in love with her husband, and her husband was aware that she and I corresponded through emails. She cheered me up, kept my going when I was depressed, and told me that my wife and children were worth it and to not give up.
My wife was told that I was having an affair with this gal, by her conniving friends that still worked with me at the jail. My wife accuses me of this, and nothing I could say or do could convince her otherwise. She hacked into my emails, and instead of reading my emails with an open mind of how depressed and lonely I was, she read it with the mentality that I was cheating on her.
She immediately demanded a divorce, and moved out with the two girls. She agreed to let me have the one year old boy live with me. Three days after moving out, I found an officer from her police agency living with her. She swore that I was mistaken, that I didn't understand what was going on, and when she couldn't convince me of that, she told me that she was going to ruin my life and my reputation. She began to curse at me, which in eight years we had never done.
Every time I was in the neighberhood, his truck is at her condo, or his patrol car is in her garage, yet she still tells me that I am an idiot, and that they are just friends. The divorce is still not final.
We cannot go one encounter without her cursing me out, and leaving in a venomous mood. I am shocked, and am finding out from many people that she has been running around on me for quite a few years. The hurt is so deep. Did all the "love" that we shared in the past mean nothing? Was the love that she always profess a facade, just an act, when in reality she considered me an idiot, a joke, something that she and her lover's used as a comedy relief? How is that supposed to make me feel? How am I supposed to shrug it off, like an unwanted sweater? Like it is an itchy item that never meant anything...
My wife was the first and last person I ever slept with. I was twenty eight when I married her. I had opportunities, but always held back. Now, I have anxiety attacks when I think that she is at this moment having sex with someone else. That anxiety attack is what prompted this blog tonight. How do I overcome this pain quickly, as everyone says I should?
My love for her was never a joke. I was devoted to her and the children. I still do not want to hurt her, but it seems that she takes that liberty at will, and relishes in it.
What did I ever do that was so bad? How could she hate me so much...?

Posted by nobody at 2:18 AM 0 comments

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Monday, December 24, 2007

Christmas alone... no way to be.

Alot has happened since the last time I wrote. It is amazing the things that can occur in such a little amount of time. Granted, it has almost been a year since my divorce, and this IS the first Christmas that I will spend away from her.
It is amazing. She stays in contact with all of my friends, has no problem approaching them when she runs into them at restaurants, bars, whatever, and then is stupid enough to tell them that everything out of my mouth is a lie. That makes me laugh. How foolish. They see me busting my butt to make my family stay together, I never go out, and here she is, going out, getting drunk, and dating people that I know. Any person that dates her, if they were my friend, will never be forgiven by me. Ever. She is a slut, I know this.
Brady Johnston, one of my close friends (and someone I had help me in a lot of dangerous situations at the jail) is an a*%hole for even wanting her. All the while telling me I am his brother, as he hits on her. He called her after she had her breast enlargement to ask her how large she had become. He told me that she approached him and told him she wished she could taste him. I am sickened by her words and falsehood. I am disgusted by those supposed friends of mine. I am in disbelief that she could lie to herself in such a way. That she could lie to others, and tell them that she is not, nor has she ever been unfaithful.
What I hate more than anything, is that I miss her. I miss her touch, her being, her companionship. The good things. She is so two faced, and she tells me that it is a figment of my imagination. What is sad is that I wish it was true. I wish I could tell her that I was wrong, and that it would all be fixed. but it won't. ever.
Am I such a loser that I would still miss her? have feelings for her? what is wrong with me? why can't i move on the way she did? what is my problem?
There is a song that I've been hearing, first by Metallica, then by Bob Seger. It makes me cry. It completely opens my life, and what I am thinking / feeling.
I feel like there are times that I can't go on. Last night I felt that way. I had a desolate feeling in my heart. Then when I got home, I went downstairs and stood there staring at Megan and Racer in their beds. I started to cry, because they mean so much to me, and I could never live without them. I think of Rain, all alone, and my heart breaks. I hurt for her all the time. I KNOW her mother isn't with her. I know Cindie pawns Rain off so that she can go whoring around, getting trashed. I know that is why Cindie has a room so far away from where Rain sleeps. I hate Cindie for the pain she and I are causing my little baby. I just wish Cindie would have wanted to get her life in order, stop running around, and be what she claims/ed to be.
She wants everyone to think she is a great mother, and a good catch for some poor idiot. (I was that idiot, eight years ago). She isn't a good mother. She is a self absorbed, needy, demanding, no helping out, money hungry, got to live better than everyone else, whoring, drinking, witch craft practicing, can't keep her legs together, lying, manipulative, abusive, f&%$*ng bitch.
and sometimes i wish she was still with me.

Posted by nobody at 5:20 PM 0 comments

all my old blogs.....

WHY does he want me to move to Argentina!!!???

The story is a comical one, now knowing that I am on the "right" side of the law. I think on all of the different jobs that I have had in my life, and am amazed at the wide spectrum. I have stocked shelves in a grocery store, cleaned bathrooms (with shit on the floor next to the toilet, what's up with that? How do you miss...?) in a pharmacy, built homes in Japan, finished homes in the Salt Lake Valley, bounced illegal parties in West Seattle, bounced legal clubs in Idaho Falls, and even taught English as a Second Language in a podunk town in the farm land. But, the story I am about to talk about would have been the "take all" in a poker game of stories...
I was visiting my parents in a third world country. My father had a predominant job working for the U.S. government, and he had flown me down for a month of carousing over Christmas break. This entailed sleeping in 'til 11:00 a.m., laying at the pool until 3:00 p.m., and then staying out real late...
So, Christmas came and went, and on New Years Eve, I was invited to go to a party with some Argentine friends that I grew up with. J & O. And, their wives and kids...
Now, J married a gal who's grandmother owned the largest bank in the country, and was/ is wealthier than Hell. We drove out to their weekend "quinta", taking the PanAmerican highway.
At this party, I met highly successfull doctors, bankers, import/exporters, and unbeknownst to me, shady characters that I found to be really friendly.
I'll call the two gentlemen in question Ben and Jerry, for the mere fact that I don't want to divulge their true names (even if I remembered them at this point). I was at a lull in the party, it was still early in the evening (most Latin American parties go "till early morning), and was sitting alone while drinking some wine. Ben and Jerry came over and sat next to me. Well, actually Ben sat across from me, and Jerry sat right next to me and put his arm around me.
Let me point out that at that time in my life, I was studying Sports Medicine at the LDS College "Ricks", and had every intention to pursue the medical field (alot of shit has changed since then). But, during the week I was teaching English in a high school, while on the weekend I was bouncing at an alternative dance club (Noscaasi).
Jerry says to me, "Quien sos vos?", meaning basically, who the hell are you? Now I need to describe these two guys so that you understand my allowing a total stranger to put his arm around me while I'm in the process of dafting alcohol.
Ben stood at about 5'5, weighed about 140 lbs, was about 60-65 years old. There is an actor that reminds me of Ben, but I can't remember his name right now. He is always in Mafia movies. Fancy that. He had white hair, mustache, smoking a stogie and had his shirt unbuttoned to about mid chest, showing off his chest hairs.
Jerry on the other hand, stood at about 5'11 (tall for his nationality), weighed in easily at 220-230 lbs. He had dark hair, sunburnt/tanned as all hell, and was built like brick wall. His head could be compared to a watermelon, in that it was just shy of being that of a silver back guerilla's skull under the hair and skin. Jerry complimented his character with the clothing that one would see on someone vacationing in Hawaii or Florida... Pink golf shirt, unbuttoned with gold chains shown, and madras shorts, with sandals.
I explained my connection to the owner of the home, and who I was, and that I was a student on vacation. I never mentioned the fact that my father was the head of the DOJ in the U.S. Embassy.
Ben didn't say much, he acted like Jerry was the one in charge, and just sat there smoking. Jerry, on the other hand, asked me if I ever got into it with people. I told him I was a part time bouncer, teacher, and student all at once. Jerry then told me that what I should do was drop out, " 'Cause the world had enough doctors", quit the high school and the club, and move down to Argentina, and live with him.
Whoa. WTF? I knew he wasn't hitting on me, and Ben still wasn't saying much. Just smoking, and nodding to everything Jerry said.
I asked Jerry what I would do, and he said to me, "work for me". I laughed, and said something like "whatever". Jerry said he was serious, and he actually looked like it for the first time. Ben had stopped smoking, and was staring at me intently. If you think I'm over doing it, I'm not. We all sat there quietly for a minute. Me and these two strangers that had just offered me a job, room, and board; all at the drop of a hat. I wondered "WHY does he want me to move to Argentina!!!???"
Thank the Lord that at that very moment, my friend O walked up to me, and excused me from a strange situation (the kind of awkward silence usually only found on first dates). As we walked away, O asked me what I was talking to Ben and Jerry about, and what did they want.
I explained it to O, and he said, "stay away from those guys". Due to my inquiring mind, I asked him why, and he said "Ben and Jerry are loan sharks, and they want is for you to break legs".
The light came on in my ignorant head, and visions of Goodfella's danced all around my thoughts.
I was pleasantly surprised that I was marked to be a "knuckledragger". But at the same time, I knew all about what type of lifestyle these guys had, and I knew that I would probably be in over my head and begin thriving in that life. Needless to say, it was quite obviously never even an option in my mind. Just a crazy ass compliment to my "Machismo".
In the end, I reconciled with Ben and Jerry, and promised to keep in touch, in case the schooling didn't turn out the way that I wanted. I even took a photo of the three of us, to remember my Mafioso friends.
Besides, I never went the medical route, and now I knuckledrag for the Facility where I work. The monster in the cage in Salt Lake City. Instead of living freely in Argentina....
Life is a chuca, q' no?

Posted by Hoss' life... at 6:35 AM 0 comments

Are cops ever scared...?

I don't know about courage and all that malarchy... I guess it is a spur of the moment situation, and knowing if you are in the right, or if you should have your shit kicked...
I have witnessed alot of chicken shit acts in my life. When I was a bouncer, I once handled a guy that knocked out a girl in a mosh pit. But, once in high school I chickened out when I witnessed a friend snatch his girlfriend up by her hair in between classes (my saving grace is that they were surrounded by a million on lookers in the hallway). I regret not reacting to this day.
The saying amongst incarcerated people, is that law enforcement is full of people who need a badge to regulate, but without it, they would run scared. I'm not sure that is entirely true, but I have seen some people just like that often enough to make my blog.
I had a guy, cop, that was my friend. Supposedly. Then on a drunken night of retardation, he made the mistake of trying to move on my wife. I, being drunk on tequila as well, contemplated my different weapons of choice. One, was the obvious, but knowing he had one racked and ready to roll, I decided against it (smart). Two, was strangulating him. I have a fairly good idea that I would be successfull, but I didn't feel that I should go to jail for his stupidity. The third option was my choice.
I walked into the room, and surprised everyone present. Douche bag thought I had gone to bed, and when I asked him "WTF?", he scrambled. I told him to get out ASAP, and he tried. If I wasn't so pissed, I would have laughed. It was like watching a mentally impaired (oh that's right, he was) running into the same wall repeatedly, and not being able to get through.
Douche bag finally was able to locate his shoes, and his keys, and stumbled into the night. Now, he had been apologetic, and even had the "deer in the headlights" look in his eyes, but as he stepped out into the dark night, he left me a "fuck you". As the door shut, I lost my composure.
I opened the door, and found him stumbling to his car. He was fully dressed, and in a fight, would have been better suited to grapple without being injured. Douche bag was also, however, more drunk, because I had slept a little off, and he had continued. I on the other hand, was wearing nothing more than my tattoo's and my gym shorts. I was so heated up, I didn't care.
He saw me coming, got into his car, and started running his shitter.
I thought twice, and told him to "get the fuck out of (there)". I now knew he had his gun, and he started to open his car door, while talking shit. I closed the door on him twice, and told him two more times to bail. Finally I told him I was going to call the local PD and report a drunk driving cop in a cop car.
This sobered Douche bag up enough, and he left.
Am I a dick? I am when I'm around a pussy. Without a gun, he had fear in his heart. With his gun, and in his department ride, he felt like King Shit. I'm gratefull that I was sober enough to think of the consequences to the possibilities. Douche bag was not worth losing my career, my family, or my life. Although many friends think that it knocked my "manhood" down a level for not fucking him up, I'm trying to realize that I made the correct choice.
I saw a scared cop, and I was satisfied. He and I know the truth of what could have happened.
Are there cops with tin badges? Absolutely, those are the scared cops... Then you have those of us who live life with nothing to prove, and know it.

Posted by Hoss' life... at 2:40 AM 0 comments

Sunday, November 12, 2006

Never trust a con...

Well, so I had been on a special team in my job that requires responding to disorderly kids. When I say kids, I use the term loosely, because although they are adults, they more times than not act like children.
One night, as I was getting ready to go home from work, we (my team and I) were advised that several of these disruptive adults were causing an issue in a discipliary section of our facility.
Now, on that shift, I was needless to say the largest boy in town. I don't stand too tall, but at 6'3, and 380 lbs, I was certainly the largest. My boss' usually used me as a caged monster to regulate certain types of problems. You know the type, break glass in case of.....
The subjects in question were under federal indictment on what is known as the RICO act. (too long to explain). They are members of a prominent Aryan Nation / White Pride organization.
On the very first extraction, there was a failure in communication between the guys managing the section and our handler. Apparently the overgrown child (the leader of the gang) in the room had a weapon, known as a shiv, shank, home made knife. Noone advised us. I was at the front of the group that was to enter the room, and regulate.
At entry, I hit this idiot so hard that I snapped a riot shield I was carrying in half. I drove him into a corner, and then the knife appeared.
There was half of a shield, and nothing else to keep this guy from trying to mark up Hoss. Now I never speak in the third person, but Hoss got pissed off.
The shank struck my left tri ceps muscle several times. Then when it didn't have the effect he wanted, he attempted to stab the weapon into my left femoral artery. I ditched the shield, what was left of it, and wrapped what I call my "dick beaters" around this dirt bag's neck. I pulled him out of the corner he was in, and flipped him over my right shoulder, both of us landing on the ground. Me on top.
I have practiced a martial art known as Jiu Jitsu a little in my life, and I utilized an incredibly efficient chock hold on this guy. I allowed his eyes to roll back into his skull several times, while asking him "so you want to fucking shank me, mother fucker?". Apparently I did not allow enough oxygen for the kid to answer.
Once restraints were on his ankles and wrists, I let go of him, and let him live. Even though he had wanted me dead.
The joy of being a good guy... I guess.
Is this a grandstanding story? Am I trying to convince you how cool I am? No fucking way. I'm not that cool.
My point is this. I knew this convict for 4 years. I had several long discussions, that were not only amiable, but enjoyable. I am several years older than he, and he had asked my opinion on several subjects. I never was flattered by this, but I thought that even if we "tangled", it would not amount to anything serious.
How wrong I was. Never trust a con...
I will discuss my views on my narrow escape from death (this time) on a different entry...

Posted by Hoss' life... at 11:54 AM 0 comments

Saturday, November 11, 2006

Here I am.... where is that?

During the past couple of years, I have wanted to write down experiences in my life, to have something "on record". It just seemed so difficult to write it down in a book, as idiotic as that may seem. I contemplated keeping it on my computer, but always worried about saving it on the hard drive, and what if the drive becomes corrupted?
This is my attempt to remember things in my life (to the best of my knowledge and memory), but you must remember that I am somewhat twisted, and the story line may parrallel that characteristic.
Also, some memories may be boring, to which I apologize, but this whole desire is actually an attempt at being therapeutic. The stories will all be true, but the names may be changed to hide the identity of my friends and loved ones.