New Look...

Ooooooh, we sexay nowwwww...

More seriously though, I figured it was time to upgrade from the "toolbox" template that Blogger has been so kind to provide us. Think of it as growing up in blog terms. I also wanted the blog to have a more personal feel. After all, it is my space for my thoughts. So, in keeping with the contradictory asshole that I am, I turned to an outside source to design a banner and redesign the layout for me. So now that the sighing, head-shaking and steupsing has died down, all I have to say is, damn Spotty Cuss, you do good work. (Who else did you think I would turn to?)

In the short period of time that I have known Tammy, I have found her to be stubborn, out-spoken, and to literally have no cover for her mouth. In short, I value her friendship dearly, and consider her to be a little sister. I have a rule for my friendships. I don't keep my friends because they are sycophants. I keep them because they have the fearlessness to pull me aside and tell me squarely "dread, yuh fucking up." Tammy fits this mold perfectly. She is also kind, loyal and thoughtful. So when I approached her to redesign my page, I simply told her to go with whatever feelings my blog inspire in her. I then gave her my login and password, and told her to run wild. No limitations, complete creative control. And I love the result.

So thanks, Cuss. As usual, you pulled it out again :)

Broken Promises

I owe all 8 of my followers (well those that I know of) an apology. I promised a series of articles over a period of time and failed to deliver them. This is inexcusable, and you deserve an explanation. But one is owed a bigger apology than the rest. Not for me failing to post some random scribblings, but for failing to be there as I promised. This is not me asking for pity. This February was a crazy month. It was supposed to be my time to palance (and for those fed up of the term, I promise it’s the last time you will see it in this space). I had grand plans. The Hurricane was coming in. The festivities were set to begin. And then I received another brutal reminder of the mortality that rules us all.


I normally take vacation from the Monday before the arrival of the Hurricane, till the Friday after her departure. It’s normally difficult to keep up with her when I have nothing to do, much less when I have work the following morning. The night her flight was to touch down, I received a call from my sister. Her cousin, Roger, had died. To say I was disbelieving would be a minor understatement. This was a guy who I had just partied and celebrated with at her wedding. A proper month had barely passed since I last saw him. He was a young guy too. Had just turned 40, the day before my sister’s wedding. And he hadn’t been ill either. “Pulmonary embolism leading to sudden cardiac arrest,” they said. In layman’s terms, he had a blood clot, and it found its way into his heart. And suddenly, the previous month and a half all came rushing back.

I have been to 4 funerals, between the dates of Christmas Eve 2009, and Carnival Friday 2010. I have known each of the deceased personally. 3 out of the 4 were young lives that ended too soon, and the 4th was a life that deserved to go on forever, in my humble opinion. I cried after the first one, when I did not even know I had tears that needed to be shed. I manned up, and made it through the second and third, without waterworks. Roger broke my spirit. I promised to return to his parents’ house after I left the funeral. I spent 45 mins in the shower alternating between dry heaving and hyper-ventilating. I couldn’t do it. I went out the night and tried to get completely sloshed. I was halfway successful. And then I basically ghosted through the rest of Carnival. I think the only person who knew something was wrong, was the Hurricane. And I thank her for helping me hold my shit together, when she knew I was falling apart.

Things haven exactly lightened up either. The biggest thing is that my mother’s cousin is in a NY hospital, and is in the endgame stage of his fight with cancer. This man helped raise me when I was young. I consider him to be one of my father figures. My great aunt has already dreamed that he came to tell her goodbye. I’m struggling right now. As old folk say, plain talk, bad manners.

I haven’t been honest to the intent of my blog. I have been holding shit in, in the misguided belief that I would be fine. That I did not need to let it out. Well I’m not. And now I don’t know where to begin.

I owe my eldest sister the biggest apology. I reneged on a bigger promise to her to come back to the house. J, I don’t know if I can make up not being there. I am sorry. I hope you can forgive me.



Chad