Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter


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She comes into your life and brings nature’s blessing. And with her entrance comes a curse of wanton passion. The grass is still alive as it blazes in the sun. The chorus of our laughter floats gently in the Spring breeze. We are the definition of love and our hands are linked as we dance amongst the growing and the grown alike. We enjoy timeless sunsets on picturesque settings creating canvases waiting to be painted at each moment. We love.

Time works wonders and bonds grow firm. We resolve to walk quietly into the night together. Hands held tightly against the shadows we once faced alone. We pick each other up in the heat of the Summer, against the blazing sun and humanity’s punishment. We turn as one, in unison with one another’s needs. I am your need and you are mine. And like an oak tree we grow together.

The rain has come and we have weathered storms. We still touch… but sometimes our hands Fall like leaves from our tired limbs. The chatter of children running around our base keeps us united, we are still united with finger painted signs and chalk figures. But some nights are cold and the moon shines two shadows upon the ground.

It snows here in Denver. The Winter seems to be most of the year… at least lately. But even with the constant ice, it does melt with the strength of will. A will we share each morning and return to each night. The seasons form a timeless ring that hardens into a golden promise. They touch each time our hands unite with infused emotion. Regardless of what emotion that is the presence of feelings means that we still care.

Jason Cushman

-Opinionated Man

7/11/2014

Bullying – Understanding a Killer


I am not a therapist or a psychologist, but I did get bullied for most of my life during grade school and through high school. It is a tough thing to be Asian and live in the South, even tougher still to grow up in Memphis and to truly understand what it is like to be a minority. I am sure others can relate with different names of cities and different skin colors. It isn’t easy and we are plagued by thoughts that might seem drastic and evil at times. Are we afraid of admitting our thoughts or is it simply taboo to speak about subjects that release inner demons the public feel should be left asleep.

I laugh when I watch the news reporters and their comments on bullying. “I am not sure what is going on in America, this growing society of bullying.” Then you have the pretty reporter, who was most likely a cheerleader and very popular (yes I just generalized) who will say “I just feel sorry those kids felt so alone.” Sure you do. That is why you ignored half the lunch room, you know the “corners” the cool kids didn’t go near. Yes, I am sure you NOW are very concerned about such topics because it is your job.

I was not a total outcast at my schools, nor was I part of the coolest group either. You had to be black to be part of that group, which is understandable. From what I gather in Korean culture it is exactly the same way and maybe even meaner to an outsider. So I don’t begrudge kids for being kids. That doesn’t mean I didn’t hate a lot of them. There is a difference between encountering racism a few times (or once in your whole entire life) or bullying on “the occasion” and receiving it every day. School, random parking lot, anywhere I went in the 1990s I normally had something said. I would ignore it. I was a kid, I had white parents that didn’t really get “the struggle” and that is ok. I don’t hold that against them, how could they? They were white and in the United States that is a +1 mark for you regardless of how low you are on the ladder. I challenge anyone to say otherwise and that stands to this day.

That is cool, this isn’t a post about race actually. I can understand why kids that get bullied go on shooting sprees. The media is so stupid. I will admit the access to weapons is part of it. This does not change the fact that I am a strong supporter of guns rights and by the way the federal government is actively trying to disarm veterans right now. They are claiming they are not sound of mind, because of the wars we are being SENT TO, and now they want to remove their right to bear arms. A right EVERY citizen in America should have. Why? Read the news what do you see? You see murder, war, terrorism, random shootings, revolution, political struggles, and it is everywhere in every country. Fear is what we see, but we also see a world growing more desperate. Desperate enough to kill.

I am sure life for women is very different in regards to the social games we play. I know they can be cruel and mean as shit, I saw my sister go through it. But I don’t know if women are as physically violent as men. On the majority I would say you are not. I would even venture to say that this is why we see more shootings by males. In this case it serves my purpose because I am male and I will show you what that mind can seem like.

I remember well getting bullied in school. Mine wasn’t even that bad, it was almost done on principle and had a chain reaction affect. One person would say a minor racial slur, they normally weren’t horrible, and a guy down the hall would hear it and would also say something. Normally high school hallways were gauntlets for these types of verbal abuse. It wasn’t physical normally, although I do recall often being bumped “by accident.” But I also had friends and generally stayed in the back. My friends were all white and I also had some black friends growing up and to this day. That isn’t relevant really to this, because like I said many of you I am sure went through some form of bullying just with different racial characters in the picture. It is a rough life and I understand and sympathize with you for it.

I wrote a post recently in which I showed a visualization for an internal struggle after murder. Because that is what killing is, you are murdering someone and taking away their right to live. A long time reader asked me if I was being serious about the write and I responded that yes it was a truthful post. I have thought of killing before and it isn’t necessarily something I am proud of. It also isn’t something I am ashamed of nor feel any need to hide. When I was being bullied I was alone in it in that my friends were white and didn’t understand why “I was so bothered by things people were “just” saying.” Yea, they didn’t get that it wears on you. Psychologically it tears at your mental stability after years of it. Let me paint a picture for you of a male childhood ladies. This is only one example, but let us see if any males agree with it.

A boy gets bullied in 6th grade. He has endured words and insults throughout his childhood, so in the 6th grade he punches a kid and gets in a fight. The bullying stops for a month and the kid feels like maybe Chuck Norris was right. Maybe taking action brings a reaction. The next year the bullying starts again. Or we could even change it, the kid is forced to move to a new city and suddenly he isn’t as confident as he was. There is always a “bigger” kid on the playground and unfortunately it never seems to be you. Damn that sucks huh?

So you envision beating those kids up. That is how it starts of course. Anyone that was “bullied” in life and I mean truly set upon that says they never thought about beating that person up or punching them is a fucking liar. Well those fantasies don’t satisfy the appetite for long. It becomes a choice of paths. Fortunately for me I grew up with a father that is a priest and a doctor so there were no weapons in our house. I didn’t get a chance to shoot up a school. This is where I say easy access is a part of it, I will admit that. And I also admit no one goes hunting with an M-16 assault rifle with an AK47, just in case the M-16 jams. They normally do. I am 32 years old, a father of two children, and a husband who understands what these kids are going through, even at my age. Because I still have the memories that are sometimes dreams, but are always memories. I hope anyone that is being bullied can find some type of support or can realize that once you move things can change. But I won’t sit here and gasp in shock and say “how did little Billy do that?” Because little Billy got fed up with taking shit and decided hell didn’t sound so bad.

-Opinionated Man

Chasing Hope


Hope is a funny thing. Such a blessing at times and a poisonous curse at others, it can cause you to do the craziest things. One day you are content with your life and then Hope knocks at your door. She tells you that your life is not complete and that you must travel across an ocean to seek something you don’t know if you will find. But you hope… and apparently that is enough fuel to pull a prodigal son and ask your father for your last year’s college tuition to find someone that doesn’t want to be found. But you hope… you hope that perhaps she will change her mind in the end and want to hug you. You see all the signs telling you that what you are about to attempt is foolish, but instead of ackowledging them you merely write them off as a façade. Because Hope is there holding your hand. She whispers sweet nothings in your ear and you go on that fool’s errand, only to look like a fool in the end.

When you turn around and throw your hands in the air and say “what the fuck Hope? I thought you said things would turn out different?” She only smiles and offers you the other hand, another Hope. That is life really, chasing dreams or tails we still seek that which sometimes never existed. That faceless phantom that is always a step ahead, that is not your mother. It is Hope and she is a fickle bitch.

I still hope one day that I might meet my sister. Her name is Ahn Jong He and she last lived in Busan, South Korea when we were seperated at the orphange. She is probably around 35 years old and I miss her even though I don’t remember her face. She is Hope to me and she is still a dream.

-Opinionated Man

Memories 1… 2… 3…


{I do these often and think they are fun. If you want to accept this as a writing prompt and send me yours I’ll reblog if I like it.}

Streets with no sidewalks – Every time I see a street with no sidewalk it reminds me of Jackson, Mississippi. I grew up there as a kid and there were older neighborhoods with no sidewalks and when I moved to Memphis, Tennessee there were sidewalks. Jackson thus became associated with no sidewalks and it always takes me back to my childhood days of racing bikes and trips to the 7-11 to get candy.

Captain Morgan Rum – I am not a big rum drinker and for good reason. I think I honest to God turn into a pirate when I drink rum. This one time in college my best friend Rallee and I decided it was a good idea to play Chess for shots. He liked Vodka and I liked Captain so we made it a shot a piece and three shots for the loser. I four moved him on the first game and he was quickly a little drunk. The second game got played out and my friends that were watching left to get beers. When they returned all they told us was that we were trying to kill each other… literally. I am sure I had a good reason. The Captain didn’t make too many mistakes.

Eating – Some girl in college said she liked the way I ate… as if I “enjoyed my food.” Whatever that means… but forever I wondered whether I looked like I was enjoying my food… damn her!

Cell phones – When I was a kid I found a cell phone. This thing was old, like the cell phone Zack Morris used in “Saved by the Bell.” If you don’t know what that is I can’t help you in life. Anyways, I couldn’t crack the four digit pin so I gave it to my sister… who did it in twenty minutes. I think I tried calling China… to order Chinese food. Kids right… hehehe….

That was immature – What I just wrote.

-OM

We do what we must


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There was a guy once that lived partially in this world. He didn’t care that often about others because he was too busy fighting his own demons. He lived for himself, he went and found trouble, he would hurt others, and he would sleep it off. That guy died and it was a good day. The sun was definitely shining that next morning.

I often thought I would never marry. That I would never have kids because I could not see myself taking care of another human when I could not take care of myself. The day my first daughter was born I made two promises to her and to god. I promised I would never leave her like my father did me and that I would keep any harm from happening to her. The scary part about knowing yourself is not knowing what you will do in situations… it is not being able to think of things you wouldn’t do. I know there is good and bad in all people and I have struggled to keep my heart filled with more good than the evil. It isn’t easy though when you know the taste.

I have spoken to my wife about the dangers of not only being married to me, but also the consequences of me being a father. Yes, consequences… the fact that I know if anything “bad” happened to my daughters I would not hesitate to see that same wrong happen to others. I don’t write this to act tough for an audience or to have people praise me for being a good dad. These are simply truths that any father worth his salt should know about himself. We make this promise to our babies before they even comprehend our words. Would I kill for my daughters? Yes, yes I would. And I would sleep soundly that night.

I read bad news because it reminds me that there are horrible people in this world. The earth is not full of roses and butterflies, there are vipers and snakes waiting to ruin our perfect lives. I keep this first and foremost in my mind when I consider what may be over the next hill or on the next horizon. I am not a perfect man and I know when I meet my maker, if he or she will even see me, that I will have things to answer for. I also know in my heart that if it comes down to it I will add to my list of transgressions to keep my wife and daughters from knowing even a portion of the harsh realities out there. I make that choice each day and I accept them each night.

Cheers world and goodnight. Sleep well and wake.

-OM

Terrorize Me


With withdrawal comes the return of the night terrors. My wife has been a champ… neither complaining or getting angry at me for waking her during the night. At least I haven’t hit her in my sleep again, small victories people.

Night terrors are not nightmares, but they are often mistaken as such. I have struggled with these for half of my life and most likely many of them are due to suppressed anger issues. At least I have moved my bed away from the wall and no longer have to clean up bloody knuckle prints off my white walls. I am a slow learner, but I do learn eventually.

Since I no longer take my medicine that helped with this issue I have debated on other forms of “help.” Sleep pills are no good. Have you ever had one of those nightmares where you can’t move your body? That is what strong medication does to me. It barely helps me sleep, but it then leaves me at the mercy of whatever dream I am in. That can be unpleasant when that dream is of you being stabbed multiple times. You can’t kick out or scream your way awake, you just lay there trapped. I hate that feeling and because of that I won’t take my melatonin anymore. I have never liked pills anyways, particularly after my suicide attempt. They just make me feel queasy normally.

So I’ll be buying a bottle of Jack on the way home. It is the only “help” I get. The tradeoff is that I have an addictive personality. I will kill that bottle in less than a week and that isn’t a good thing either. We make choices though, we decide the lesser of two evils, be it a bottle or a pill. Perhaps one day I’ll win this struggle, but that day will not be today. It will not be in the near future and accepting that helps you to move forward. To move on each day.

Terrorize me with the worse you can give me world. It will never be as bad as my mind can conjure, and for that I am grateful. I am eternally grateful… and that is much of the reason behind why I can ignore the “hate” online. No one can hate me more than I have hated myself. Chew on that world.

I battle dreams and they present more of a struggle than reality. They are my reality, they are so real.

I thank god for my wife.

-OM