A splatter of life

I watch as raindrops splatter their lives upon my window and imagine what their souls must look like. How pure must a transparent soul be? Would it scream in delight at the freedom from bursting bubble or instead wail in dismay at the loss of comfort. At least it would not be lonely I think to myself as the rain turns red before my eyes. It pauses in the air and lets me know I am dreaming. Red droplets to match the trails from my eyes. The tears of reality as I watch a moment die. And remember a moment lived.



HarsH ReaLiTy 2.3

2.3 years ago I purchased my domain http://www.aopinionatedman.com. I bought my domain through WordPress because I had 300 “followers” and I was afraid someone would hack my account and steal them. From that day forward I worked towards branding my name and social media presence. I didn’t have a job blogging, I wasn’t and still am not famous, and I still don’t make money off this website. I brand myself for a future goal and I work hard at realizing that dream. What drives you each day to do the things you love?

Blogging is easy. Blogging effectively is hard work. I put in the effort daily to make my website pulse. It makes all the difference in the world how you treat your blog. It isn’t simply a matter of how often you post. There are so many combining factors that create your blogging persona. At some point blogging stopped being “fun” and became actual work. When that happens depends on the person, but when you start to feel the choke of obligation you will know you have reached that point. I have felt that pull for a long time now.

I find myself at a crossroad. I have begun to wonder what it is I am building and why. I probably just need to sleep more.



Friendship And Modern Technology

Opinionated Man:

I agree. For all the harping about the “bad sides” of technology there are so many good things that I really can’t see the issue. Facetime is awesome for staying in touch as well! Nice post! -OM
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Originally posted on A Momma's View:

This morning I was sitting at my computer, trying to write and at the same time watching and listening to my daughter, who was facetiming with a friend in the US. And I can’t stop thinking how beautiful it is that there are no problems anymore with staying in touch.

First, they played a card game. How? I don’t know, but they did. Then, they played music together. One on the guitar and the other one played the flute. And then they talked about school and all the other things they’re doing at the moment.

While they were chatting my little girl’s friend told her that some of the girls at school were a bit mean to her. How nice that they can share their worlds in such a way. And how wonderful to know, that no matter what goes on in your daily life, on the other side of…

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A Life of Crohn’s

This is a tribute to a disease that has given me so much in the form of treasured memories. I thought I would record some of those lost pages for all time.

Crohn’s disease is a relatively new term, but the “disease” itself has been around forever. I did not realize I had Crohn’s until 2009 and I had suffered from its affect for almost half of my life. Today we have come to a mutual respect for each other, but it was not always so. It was definitely not always so. Throughout my life I have had a sensitive stomach, but I normally related this to my drinking habits. It wasn’t till after I stopped drinking heavily and still had bouts of sickness that I realized I was either pregnant for 15 years or it was something internally wrong.

The first serious incident occurred at Kessler Air Force Base, MS during my training for electronic principles. I developed a fistula in ano which caused me some pain while being forced to run during PT. I hate running unless it is from cops, dogs, or women with knives so I overcame my embarrassment and went to the on base medical center. This would be the first “memorable experience” of my life with Crohn’s.

I limped into the clinic and asked to see the doctor. The Airman running the desk asked me what the visit pertained to. I tactfully said I had a sensitive injury and would rather elaborate with the doctor directly. I waited around for a little while and then the doctor, a Captain, asked me to follow him into an examination room.

“So I am told you have an injury Airman Cushman. Can you give me a little more information or better yet show me what it is?”

I looked at him nervously and finally said “My ass hurts. I am not sure what it is, but it hurts to use the restroom and to run.”

“Well let’s take a look!” the Captain said with amusement in his eyes.

I slowly took my pants off and bent over the table in the middle of the room.

“WOW! Well… that is something!” he said with clear astonishment in his voice. “Hold on a second Airman.” He then walked to the door and opened it.

“Bob! Hey Bob! Come here for a second you have to see this!” he literally yelled for the whole city to hear. “Bring the blue book as well we may need to refer to it!”

“Oh great,” I thought to myself “this is obviously amateur hour. Where did these morons get their medical licenses from Walgreens?”

A Major who was obviously Bob walked in and immediately focused on my bare ass. Nothing like male eyes staring at your rear in such a vulnerable position.

“WOW indeed Jim! Is that… is that even real? What the fuck is that?” Bob said in the most professional voice of bewilderment I have ever heard.

“I have no clue Bob. Let me get another opinion!” Jim exclaimed as he rushed again to the door. “Cindy! Nancy! Could you come here for a second please and hurry!”

So after the whole medical staff had gotten a good look at my ass  they referred to the magical blue book. Apparently the “F” section was missing, or maybe they just never made it that far, because in the end all they needed was a few shots and a scalpel. Years later I still cringe over that experience and how stupid some medical “professionals” are. Nothing surprises me anymore.

I value my time with Crohn’s because it has brought me closer to god. While sitting on my porcelain throne I often contemplate what god does on his. Does he use angel feathers and are they as soft as my Charmin Ultra? I also consider different advantages and disadvantages of my ass… or lack thereof. I suppose if I wasn’t so lazy I would simply go and buy a padded toilet seat because even the softest seat becomes hard as stone after sitting on it for 30 minutes straight. Maybe Santa will bring me one for Christmas, but as long as I have my Charmin Ultra Soft I will be ok.

The second major incident involving my Crohn’s disease was far more painful and less humorous. It was actually almost murderous in nature. My first major flareup left me gasping in pain for 24 hours straight. After I decided I wasn’t being a pussy and that it really did hurt that bad, I went to the doctor. By now everyone should realize that I hold a very deep distrust for all medical personnel even though my father is a physician himself. The pain was that bad that I would have sought the help of almost any drug dealer. After dragging myself to the family practice center and seeing the on call there, she concluded that I had an appendicitis. An ambulance was called and I was in a medical bed before I even knew what was happening. I distinctly remember thinking “Oh Jesus… who is Appendicitis and what the fuck did I do to cause his wrath?”

The surgeon came to greet me in the hospital and that should have been a warning sign, but I was in so much pain that I would have taken, smoked, or injected almost anything at that point. Mr. Slice and Dice had me prepped and ready before the ink on the papers was even dry. The surgery of course went well, but what didn’t go as expected was what occurred when I woke up. I awoke to the same pain that I had prior to the operation and I became furious. Now some of you might think you know “furious.” Unless you have seen a half drugged, screaming Korean throwing bed pans at nurses you have never known furious. I was fucking pissed.

When Dr. Right came to see me he gave me the blue pill. I felt better within ten minutes and he didn’t even have to take any body parts. Imagine that. I was caught between being so relieved that the pain was gone and still being furious over the unnecessary surgery that I just said “thank you.” I had finally learned I had Crohn’s and my nemesis was given a name. To this day I am told Crohn’s is a disease, but if I get to heaven and I find out Crohn’s is actually a person I am going to punch him in the fucking face even if it means I have to turn around and go back the other direction.

I have come to realize I can’t eat certain things, even though occasionally I still do. I shouldn’t drink alcohol… but that just ain’t happening folks. I deal with my pain level every day and that struggle is something only other people that live with constant pain can understand. Dealing with any level of “pain” on a constant, never-ending basis changes your perspective on life. It changes your life. Even if that pain level is a 1 on a scale of 10 it is still a struggle and it is still felt. The human body hates pain and rejects the idea of “accepting” any amount of it on a consistent basis. I know my disease is by far not the worst out there and so I respect and sympathize with those that have terminal illnesses or lifelong diseases. You have my thoughts and prayers.

-Opinionated Man


The Power of Pretty

The power of pretty is evident all around us today. It is on social media, on the television, and walking in front of us at the mall. It is an idea or concept held by society that defines what we consider beautiful and attractive. There is real power in being pretty that is often scorned and mocked verbally, but we all internally know of its existence. The power of pretty can take you far.

What is the power of pretty? This power can grant you wishes you never dreamed of! Have you ever wanted to be a beautiful, yet ferocious vampire that leaps around in trees and is just charming enough to convince a perfectly healthy young damsel into accepting the life of an undead? Try the power of pretty! I hear it even makes your skin glitter in the sun. Have you ever had difficulty reaching the top shelf at work and need help? Try the power of pretty! Help is on the way!

The power of pretty is mightier than any penis or vagina known to man. It carries the weight and authority of the wearer. Some people are simply better at wielding this great influence on humanity, just as some people are simply prettier than other people. For instance a true practitioner of the power of pretty can still be pretty while crying. That is a higher level of pretty and beginners in the practice probably shouldn’t try it. It is very easy to change from the power of pretty to the power of ugly.

I am jealous of those that have this power. They are everyday superheroes that don’t even know the blessing that has been bestowed upon them. Most comic characters have to undergo great trials and tribulations to gain their superpowers. The power of pretty is given by birth. That is probably why it is taken for granted so often. Nothing is more shameful than seeing the power of pretty wasted.

-Opinionated Man


Tracing my past


I could trace my past all day. Drawing question marks in the sand. Rewriting history so many times over in an attempt to understand what happened. Does it ever really help?

I could trace the lines of your name. But would I ever know you any better? Rewriting words that will forever be a mystery to me. In a language that I will never know.

Could I retrace the lines of our connection? And in that act find forgiveness? Or would instead my pencil dig into the whiteness of the paper. Attempting to stab the heart of my pain.

Could I retrace my life and rewrite my tragedy so it never occurred? Placing instead moments of obnoxious happiness into my story. Not in an effort to hide the past, but instead to erase it completely. Forever.

-Opinionated Man

Jason C. Cushman