February 25, 2019

I went to a play this weekend.  The play was about two friends, a male and a female.  The friends share a lifetime of ups and downs together.   I met my best friend in college.  She always listened to me.  The wheelchair and the CP disappeared.  I was “Steve” in her eyes.  She heard my fears and dreams.  In college I teased her every chance I had making her mad on purpose.  She always got even.  When I graduated from college, she was there congratulating and wiping my tears away.  She knew I would be an author and be independent when I didn’t believe it.  Books were published and an agent was attained.  Countless emails were sent by me and she read all of them.  Years of loneliness and regret living with Mom.  She was the first person that I wanted when Mom died.  And she came with tough love.  It was time to grow up.   I turned into a man because in part of her.  In the play the male character is in a coma and his best friend comes to visit him.  She begs him to wake up after years of not seeing her. He doesn’t wake up until years afterwards when he runs into her.  My best friend and I don’t email much anymore.  Our lives are busy.  I think of her often when I want to die but I can’t and won’t do that to her.  She is the best and I probably won’t ever have a girlfriend.  She will be there.

No Complaining Allowed

February 21, 2019

Living with my two roommates I see how simple their lives are.  All they want is food and to be loved.  They banter about how much that they love each other like kids, exchanging valentine cards.  Their decisions are made for them.  Meanwhile I keep writing, making all of my decisions, and being an adult handling my responsibilities.  They don’t have any responsibilities.  I have to make sure that the staff gives me my meds.  The director of my care agency gave me a thirty day notice for writing emails complaining about my roommate who is bipolar.  Both of my roommates have attacked attendants and were forgiven.  My case manager talked the director into letting me stay here after telling her about my Dad, who was bipolar and attempted suicide eight times in two years.  Things like that stick in your mind until death.  I’m not allowed to complain anymore to the director, who is one of my bosses.  I could hire another care agency, but I have a great staff now, the best manager, and an office.  If I hire another agency, I would have to start all over and probably write in my bedroom or the living room with the staff making noise.  I did that.  It’s too hard with a career.  That’s my life.

Valentine Waiting

February 13, 2019

It’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow.  “My wife “ is excited about Valentine’s Day but I won’t be here.  I will go to Visions to see women or to the theater.  My friend is gone.  I want “it.”  It consumes my mind often.  “It“ is nice, but a girlfriend is what I want.  I know plenty of women.  They all say the same thing, “Steve, be patient.” I’m tired of waiting.  The “sisters” know me.  They always ask, “What do you want, Steve?” when I’m being nice to them.  Even my manager and my stripper know this.  Women are amazing.  They make me happy, think, and drive me crazy.  That’s what women do to men.  I have been on dating websites and women are interested in me.  My manager won’t let me use my debit card to pay the website to talk to women.  It’s frustrating, but last year my identity was stolen and the bank put a hold on my account.  I understand but it still hurts.  I want to be hugged, kissed, and share the rest of my life with her.

How about a little service?

February 3, 2019

It must be nice to be a wheelchair vendor, who doesn’t answer emails about a loose wire that keeps falling out of a socket.  Simple fix, right?  The vendor doesn’t come.  Meanwhile I hide in my office from my “wife” writing another novel, avoiding the cold.  For over a week I’m home.  The best case manager duct tapes the wire, making the electric wheelchair run.  It’s perfect!  I go to the theater to enjoy a play, but the wire came loose again.  The bus driver takes me home because he doesn’t want to push the wire up to make the wheelchair operate.  A friend was there to help, but the driver takes off.  I canceled my ride for the weekend.  All of this could have been avoided if the best vendor answered an email, but privacy rights probably played a role.  Stupid government!  Well, I saw Wisconsin beat Maryland.  So, it wasn’t all lost.


Please fix it.  Thank you.  This is why I need a girlfriend.