Random Women Topics – Not Worth Reading


I love my current blog hopping that I get to do each day. I have been reading a lot of your blogs and I have a couple observations I just want to voice. Not really to anyone in particular… just a conversation between the wall and me.

I often read posts under the tags “love and relationships” where a woman is complaining about continuously being asked out. Granted… often times this post is not accompanied by a picture (cough, cough bullshit), but in the spirit of this post OK you are a drop dead gorgeous dame that gets hit on all the time. I would like to point out that I have never in my life said “drop dead gorgeous dame,” but I was trying to think of what a misogynist would say. Surprisingly enough it actually doesn’t just “come to me.” Imagine that…

So in the most recent post I read a woman complained about how men are predators when they learn a lady is newly single. She ranted on how sad that is and how men are ignorant for adopting this attitude of “well you are available now” when it comes to approaching relationships. Personally I agree. I mean what an asshole right? He waited until you were single and then dared to ask you out? What a fucking moron, we should probably castrate that horn dog. What an audacious bastard to think that just because you are single you might want to allow this guy to buy YOU dinner. What is wrong with the world?

How about what is WRONG WITH YOU! Do you know how many people never get asked out? Sounds funny to you right super hotness? Guess what? Not everyone is so lucky as to get asked out and even more importantly not everyone has the opportunity to be picky. That guy that asked you out that you so disdain probably sat around figuring out how to approach you. He probably practiced it in his head. He should have inserted your mockery into the mental picture huh? You live a rough life unnamed woman.

People need to stop and consider the other side of the court. Such selfishness in this world, everything is me, me, me. What ever happened to just being nice because of the principle of it? No, instead we belittle people and then take out our anger on them as if they are the cause. Take a strong look in the mirror before you define someone as the cause of your issues. Most cases you are the creator of what is bothering you. Not some poor chap that is simply gathering up the balls to ask a girl out on a date. Women can be such assholes.

-Opinionated Man

Six Reasons Why Santa Claus Isn’t Real


  1. On my fourth Christmas I did not get the Super Soaker 2000.
  2. On my fifth Christmas my brother did not turn into a donkey.
  3. On my sixth Christmas no magic beans arrived. I am pretty sure one single bean would have worked Santa.
  4. On my seventh Christmas I saw him drinking beer in an alley. He did not look very Santa like.
  5. On my eighth Christmas, the last year I “believed,” I was given a set of Encyclopedias. What kind of Santa Claus would do that to a child?
  6. The sixth “Christmas” I finally figured out if you celebrate all the holidays… you keep getting presents.

-OM

What Goals?


I wonder, as I sit here drinking my ridiculously large can of beer, what dreams may come. Always setting new goals, I have a ridiculous natural tick that causes me never to be still. My mother hated it, I think it is natural, and the world continues to turn. I am never doing one thing and I wonder how many are like that. Actually I would go further and say I am always doing three things, but no one would believe that. Mental lists, always checking things off. The battle between efficiency… and a possible disease. What would be the cure? To be static sounds like torture to me. I think the only times I am motionless and I let my mind stop are when I am watching a movie, and that in turn is only when the movie is brand new and really good. Otherwise I am probably on my tablet tapping away. I blame Korea.

-OM

Murals on Balmy Street, San Francisco


Opinionated Man:

Reminds me of the Air Force. Memories…
Note: Comments disabled here, please comment on their post.

Originally posted on Laura Macky:

We went to The City yesterday to enjoy a one-man play called ‘The Scion’ by Brian Copeland at The Marsh theater in the Mission District.  If you’re in the area, I highly suggest this play and I think it runs for another couple weeks.   It was incredibly good!   Prior to the play we ate at a really great Mexican restaurant…umm yes, one of probably hundreds in the neighborhood, lol, and then walked around a bit.

We found an area called Balmy Alley where there were lots of murals on the walls and we noticed that there were tour guides explaining the murals to visitors.  I decided to put a gallery together containing some of the murals just because they are so vibrant and fun!

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Just Sayin’


Opinionated Man:

Nice bike! I am jealous… my wife won’t let me ride. I suck.
Note: Comments disabled here, please comment on their article.

Originally posted on Petals Unfolding:

No one has any right to tell you how to live your life. No one. If you do not live your life for you the way you want, you will live to regret it. If you live your life according to someone else’s wants, you will be miserable.

Regardless of what anyone says, or does, stay true to your dreams. If others don’t like how you live your life as you are striving for those dreams, too bad. You heard me. Too bad. That is their problem not yours.

For those of you who tell me I am being selfish for loving what I do, as in my photography and here at Petals Unfolding, I tell all of you, this is MY LIFE and you have NO RIGHT to tell me what YOU want me to do. Period. End of discussion.

~AmyRose~

(Photo taken in 2006)

Biker Amy 2

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Burning Rain


Burning rain floats, it does not fall.

Gently gliding, it brings no pain at all.

Chasing dreams with a net.

We slip, we fall, “Get up you shit.”

Driving ourselves because no one else will.

Walking like zombies, is this world real?

And yet we know that it is each day.

As the burning rain floats along the sun ray.

-OM

I am a bit strange


My wife calls me an introvert. I think I am the popular guy. Somewhere in the middle is Jason. But that is ok, but that is life right? People love to say trendy things like “I am bi-polar” woohhooo for you! I have so many “polars” I couldn’t even count them. Much of that has to do with stress level, anger issues, some addictions, and an obvious need to examine why I am feeling a certain way. To understand yourself is the most important thing. Yep, I said that.

I am a bit strange. But it helps if you understand that. I am not ugly, nor am I Korean actor hot, although on a funny note my wife’s cousins sometimes call me that because I am tall and Korean. And hot. So yea, I think I am a normal person. But I suppose if you were a normal person yourself… I am a bit strange.

I did get some meds, which would explain the change in attitude…

Note: To other depressives out there. Depressives shouldn’t congregate. I wish you the best should you stop reading and I fully understand.

-OM

Rethinking My War Plan


So apparently this squirrel has friends… a shit ton of them. I am not sure how many of the bastards there are… but they seem to have employed the help of some birds. I didn’t even know that was possible? It is like evolution just took a shit in my yard and out came Noah’s Ark… straight from the movie! This is the worst 3D movie ever! I want my money back!

I may need help…

-OM

Death of a Salesman


He sells dreams and glory, all the while living in mediocrity. Does he believe the words he spits into the wind or is he really trying to convince himself? I see them each day… their personas shine through my screen. I hit the dimmer and tone down the brightness of the world, too much light reflects off my weak constitution.

He writes images of strength and presents a brave face. Hiding who he truly is because that is not what is important. The big picture, the lights on the screen, that is the goal of the day. Picking free daisies from a never ending field… I love it. He smiles at the labor because it is what he enjoys. A habit or an obligation, it rolls into the routine he has come to know. What a tragedy to slay that dream and yet the pyre is built. Who has a match?

He sees failure where people view success. And in the lonely hours of the night he finds little solace in empty words of comfort. They neither feed, nor cloth, nor comfort against the stack of bills on his desk. His wife mumbles, she does not audibly complain, but sometimes the faintest noise can sound like our own failure. Where is it coming from? From within, I am the harshest critic of myself. No one will ever take that throne.

They said it couldn’t be done. When I did it, they said “what have you gained?” Christ… I can only perform one miracle at a time people. Shit.

-OM

The Most Depressing Post Ever


I hate to shatter the ceiling of some of you, but I have begun working on my resume again. I even sent out a few. Yes… Opinionated Man works for a living. Contrary to popular belief, I am not a millionaire or successful author. I blog on the “side.”

It is a little depressing making my resume. I would love to put things like SEO consult, journalist, or even promoter. Those sound like they “fit me” to an extent. Most companies have no idea what an SEO consultant is and I have fallen on deaf ears so far.

Why am I working on my resume? I am sick and tired of working 11 hour shifts till 2 AM. I am tired of not seeing my kids at night. Life just isn’t all that great right now.

“But you run a successful blog! Look how popular it is!!!” So what? Last time I checked I still have to set my alarm, drive to this mundane ass job, and worry about bills just like everyone else.

I have asked/told my wife to give me one more year. If I haven’t realized some type of “path” from this blogging lark… I will have to move on. I can’t keep sacrificing my time for nothing and my kids are more and more aware of my “attention level” as they get older. I justified the time I spent on this website for the past 15 months because I felt it was my future. I am not so sure of that anymore.

One more year. Count down starts now.

-OM

Adoption – Don’t tell me how “Selfless” Birth Mothers Are


I read a ton of adoption articles and posts. I continuously see the words “the birth mother was so selfless in the adoption process.” I can’t swallow that. Granted some women are in a hard place and their action is what is best for them at the time, but don’t feed me the line “she was selfless.” If anything we might as well change that to “selfish” since the decision is about her. To claim the decision is about the child when that child is not yet even born yet is idiotic to me. I can’t accept that.

As an adoptee I understand the feeling of rejection that often comes with the realization that you were given up. We have TV to thank for providing a myriad of “reasons” why this takes place, but ONLY one reason is ever the “true” reason per individual. That is what many people just don’t get when they speak of adoption and adoptees. They don’t understand that hypotheticals and “what ifs” don’t mean shit to us. They just don’t and they provide zero comfort at night.

When I reflect upon my life I often wonder “what would have been” had I never gone to Korea in 2000 and found out about the existence of my birth mother and birth sister. Would the plans and dreams I had already meticulously laid out have come to fruition or would some curveball have come that would have ensured my feet landed in the exact spot I am today. Who can say? I do know that I feel very little value in the knowledge gained and in turn I carry a huge burden because of that day. That period in my life helped solidify my hatred for my birth mother. It may be a cold hate, dormant even, but it is still hatred. It flares up every time I read the words “the birth mother was selfless.” In my case she wasn’t, she was a selfish termagant.

-Opinionated Man

Food Bloggers Welcome!


I have a lot of new food bloggers that are following. Do you have a favorite recipe or dish you want to share? If you have a blog link that would also be great! Feel free to share some of your favorite dishes with us!

 

-OM

What would You ask My Wife?


I got her permission to ask this. I of course did this because I am the perfect husband.

If you could ask my wife one question what would it be? I can’t believe I am doing this…

Jason aka Opinionated Man

When I die


Shed not a tear for me world when I die. For I swear it will be the most amusing joke ever. So humorous will that event be that your face will be wet from the tears of laughter from above. A thunderous applause at an ending deserved? And what actor would not revel in the moment of glory that such a spectacle would have to present. I would not that is for sure, so take not my eden world and allow me my eve. When I die it will be to the sound of laughter and applause. What other ending would be more fitting?

-OM

The Problem with Friendship


So there is really no particular plan for this blog. If this were an alley, this would be my graffiti art. If this were a public art display… there would be a lot of confused onlookers. It is a look into my mind, in all sense of the meaning, because this is how the mind of an ADHD person works. I am on Earth living my life one day and another minute I am on the Crusades, but we actually win this time because “DUH” I am there. So my fleeting fancies of myself are wide ranging, but in none of those fantasies do I consider myself a great friend. Don’t get me wrong, if you slip and fall I will throw you a life preserver, I may even help you move, but I am past the age or need to have tons of “best buddies.”

The problem with friends is that you have to be a good friend all the time. At least if you are a friend of any worth. You cannot, for instance, say “dude, go away I don’t like you this week!” (Note: the author has tried this and it did not work out well) I believe it is the “give/take” relationship in friendship that I dislike. Someone is always being used; depending on the strength of the friendship will determine whether or not someone actually gets offended. Most of my friendships have felt that way starting off, people expected more of me than I was willing to give. How did I fix that? Just disappear randomly, but on a frequent enough bases that no one EVER depends on you! It works, trust me.

Never become roommates with a friend, unless you already know their disgusting habits. This can break a friendship apart as fast as it takes for you to be annoyed at the tobacco dip cups and cans all over your shared dorm room. Awesome! And it is even lovelier to see in the morning! You may want to avoid loaning money to friends. A loan to a friend should be money you never expect back, because chances are you won’t. Loaning money between buddies is a bad idea period, unless you are Bill Gates rich and your friends are actually your “Justin Bieber entourage.”

This one gets its own paragraph. There is no amount of time that is “ok” for a friend to date another friend’s ex-girlfriend. Seriously Guy, how many freaking women are in the world? You really want to go where I have been? Gross… whatever floats your boat buddy, friend, and pal. And if you DO end up dating your friend’s ex, it is NEVER ok to ask relationship questions to that same friend! How stupid can you be? Seriously… there are some very desperate people in the world. But do not think I don’t get it, I get why people date their friend’s old girlfriends. It is a complex I think in males, some type of competitive spirit perhaps. Also, if your friend has a hot girlfriend and she is constantly around, PERHAPS you legitimately developed feelings for her. I get that! But really, how much time are you spending as a third wheel if you are getting those feelings? If you are getting these feelings and you also have a girlfriend, she is obviously not doing the trick and she should probably be turned in for another model.

I didn’t intend to write about this, but now that I have started I could possibly create a book on this topic. Friends are friends, nice to have, but expendable.

Note: Updated upon review, what I meant by “friends are friends” is regular friends can be expendable, good friends maybe not as much. But I still live by the rule keep my friends as just friends, they are not family. I am tired, but I hope that makes sense.

-OM

My Adoption Story: Part 8


We are on the train heading to Pusan. Rob’s mom and I are going alone, which is fine by me since the fewer witnesses for any potential emotional breakdowns the better. We do not talk much on the trip, I think Rob’s mom knew I was nervous so she left me to my thoughts. As Korea’s countryside sped past in the train window, I couldn’t help but wonder what I had missed growing up in this wonderful and foreign country. It is especially ironic to feel like a foreigner, when you were born in that country.

Déjà vu, I am sitting in the Pusan Orphanage office again. I am face to face now with my email nemesis, who oddly enough does not show any surprise at seeing me in person. The other Korean office ladies alternate between working on various tasks and shooting us startled looks every time they hear us speak English. If you are Korean, but speak English well, other Koreans generally tend to think you are showing off if you are speaking English in conversation with other Koreans. Did I mention it is really hot in this office, in Korea, and that there are very few AC units?

Rob’s mother and the orphanage employee begin a lengthy conversation in Korean that seems to end abruptly. I can tell from her change in demeanor that something has occurred, I simply have no clue what it is.

“They are saying that they made a second attempt to contact your mother and that she has not changed her mind. She has further said that they are not to give her information to you and that you are to stop trying to contact her or your sister,” Rob’s mom said to me.

It is funny how you notice things in times of completeness. Whether that is complete love, complete sadness, or completely any other emotion something seems to heighten your senses. I remember a fly hovering around my head as I heard this news. It is funny, one minute it annoyed me so much, the next it vanished and I had completely forgotten of its existence. Kind of scary to think about that actually, considering if I had been driving a car while receiving this news I wonder what would have happened then?

“Tell this guy that I don’t want anything from her!” I almost yell. “Tell this asshole I just want to see them once, if my mom doesn’t want to meet me then tell her I just want to see my sister!”

More conversation in Korean takes place.

“He says he is very sorry, but it is the policy of the orphanage to protect the wishes of the parent. He also says it is very unfortunate because she lives close to here.”

Bleakness, a pain in my chest, and a sudden need for alcohol takes hold of me.

My Adoption Story: Part 1


Before I write this and possibly hurt more feelings know that next to my wife and daughters, there is no one greater I love than my adopted family. My adopted mother IS my mother.

I had my assumptions on adoption. I was adopted, ergo, it was a good thing. I even had great parents and growing up at least half my siblings loved me and by Vegas odds that is considered GOOD. So I was pro adoption. I saw some signs adopting kids didn’t always turn out in a story book ending, another Korean boy I knew went through the harder realities, but even he did not suffer the atrocities I later found out went on.

So I am in Pusan (Koreans call it Busan), South Korea, as I wrote in an earlier post, and I am with the other Holt adoptees. The employees at the orphange say they wish to bring out a group of ladies that want to give their babies up for adoption. They want to find out if America was a nice place and if we would speak with them. So we all got a turn to say something.

“Ahnyoung ha sae yo” I say in my horrible Korean. I then proceed to tell them America is a nice place. I really don’t remember much more of what was said other than a lot of smiles. Perhaps more smiles then should have happened for what was going on. At this point in the story of my life I had not yet grasped the heartache that was happening. I was still “ok” with everything. But now in adulthood, with two children of my own, I would never let anyone take them. I suppose if I throw a bone I can place my birth mother amongst the same smiling faces of those women in the orphanage that day. Instead most days she is the shadow that placed me on a doorstep then like a thief she snuck away in the night. Sometimes I wonder if she looked back, most days I hope she turned around and tripped.

-OM

Midnight Tears


Midnight tears trickle down a cheek of discontent. They fall like rubies to the ground, colored by different shades of intoxication. Misplaced treasures gather at my feet, forgotten emotions that are only missed when the inevitable waves of time wash away all traces of their existence. I watch as my past glitters and struggles in the water as they join the silent cries of those around me. Comforting though it is to know that my struggle is shared, still I take no solace from a stranger’s presence. For only I can understand the meaning of each teardrop and the loss I feel as they splash in the night.

Note: Holy shit… I did it. I wrote this without meds… It definitely sounds different, but it is still me. Interesting…

-OM

A Day in the Life of OM


Many people have asked when I sleep… or if I even sleep. I thought I would give you a glimpse of a normal day for me.

01:30 – I get off work and try to quietly sneak into the house without waking my daughters. I normally answer some comments, maybe post a personal poem, and I take a bath every night. It keeps me young.

02:30 – 03:00 – I go to bed and dream of winning the lottery.

06:30 – 07:00 – Wake up and get the girls ready for school.

07:30 – Make breakfast for the girls and check personal and OM email.

07:55 – Take the girls to school and beat the train that normally cuts off my route at around 08:05.

08:25 – 10:30 – Depending on how tired I am I normally either nap, post a ton, or just respond to comments. I generally have around 200 or so comments waiting on my combined blogs so that takes a lot of my morning. Catching up is part of the game.

10:30 – Go and pick up my daughters and bring them back home for lunch.

10:45 – 11:30 – Eat lunch and hang out with the girls.

12:00 – 14:00 – This is really where I get my second half of sleep.

14:45 – 01:30 – Work, being tired, posting, commenting, and then I do it all again.

This is pretty much my schedule recently. Last year I got even less sleep due to working till 05:30 in the morning. I hope I never have to do that again. So as you can see I sleep… some.

-OM

Memories 1… 2… 3… and another


Those things we do. I have many vivid memories of obvious mistakes I have made in my life. Some were major and others minor. I suppose my project has put me in a reflective mood, so I thought I would share a few.

“You want my autograph?” – I remember hearing my name. “Jason!!! COME UPSTAIRS NOW!!!” I of course proceeded to climb those stairs as slowly as possible. You never want to rush into things you know are a bad situation and anytime you hear your mom use that high pitched, shrill sounding voice you know shit has literally hit the fan. Like any other seven year old I had a number of things I “thought” she might be angry at, but I wouldn’t know what it actually was till I saw her. “Did you write in sharpie on your brother’s window sill” my mother immediately asked upon my arrival. I did what any other boy my age would have done. I lied. “Nope, wasn’t me…” I said confidently. “THEN WHY DOES IT SAY YOUR NAME?” Oh… oops…

Betrayal At Krondor – This was my favorite PC game as a kid and it was light years ahead of other rpg games! Unfortunately at the age of 14 I did not have a PC of my own… this was back in 1995 in case you were curious. I solved this problem by formatting my mother’s hard drive so it would fit the 9 hard disks required for downloading the game. How was I to know that format meant – remove forever! I remember thinking at the time, while being yelled at, that it was a serious flaw to place a self-destruct button on a machine that was so valuable.

Dogwoods in Memphis – The first home we lived in on Stonewall had two beautiful dogwoods in the front yard. They were a kid’s dream for climbing and also beautiful to behold once their blossoms opened. I thought at the time that it was a shame that the only thing ugly on that tree was the bark. So I decided to peal it off. I was probably around the age of 8 and I was so proud to show my parents what I had done. It became apparent I had made some type of miscalculation from the look of horror on my mother’s face. My father was furious… it wasn’t like I had cut down a cherry tree or something. In my defense those trees survived and no one ever hugged those branches for dear life like I did.

“Dude Jason… I think we had a wreck…” – We were driving home from Nashville after a night of partying when I fell asleep at the wheel. It had never happened before, but fortunately this time I didn’t hit a car. What I did do was tear up five yards of guard rail, hit a bridge column, and the car ended up catching fire and being destroyed. Did I mention that it happened to be Father’ Day morning and it was possibly my dad’s car…

“Well that doesn’t fit… dammit!!!” – Recently I have discovered I suck at home repairs. I should not be allowed to do them. I decided to surprise my wife by switching out the back sliding door handle with a locking handle instead. Well it helps if you look inside and see what type of door it is. Unfortunately I tried to put a normal lock on a latch handle opening. For those that don’t know, that is kind of like the square peg in the round hole scenario. Needless to say, my wife was pretty pissed at the large hole I had drilled for the handle that didn’t fit.

-OM

What Religion Are You???


I have never done this before. This should be interested and might give some insight into the “readers” I have here. What religion are you? Care to share?

-OM