The Dixon Discourse

I see it now. I understand what I did wrong...  I shouldn't have ever come to you. Of all the people I thought I could count on there, why in the world did I think it would be you? Sure, in theory it should have been that way, and I would admit that in the past there had been a few good conversations with at least one of you. But the two of you together? Puh-leeze… what was I thinking? The issues I was dealing with - the issues I have continually dealt with since I was self-actualizing enough to recognize an issue - were too close to home for you. Literally. They were in your home. Or at least they had been at one point. Who does that? I mean, would you take your car to a repair guy who drove around in a car that was always breaking down? In my defense, I did temporarily forget that they had cars that were always breaking down. I didn't actually remember until the whole thing was over and I walked out and it was like one of those moments in cartoons where the l

Originally started October 2018. Gosh, I've needed to write for such a long time. I can't even get into journaling for some reason. I don't even care if anyone reads this, that's not the point... I just need to talk - unhindered and unfettered - talk. Y'know how when you get a splinter under your fingernail and you can see the thing so you know it's there? So you get your extraction tools: fingernail clippers, tweezers, maybe a sewing needle or push pin, if you're my dad you get a pocket knife... if you're over 35 you get your reading glasses... you get peroxide or rubbing alcohol... everything you need and then you go in for minor surgery. You poke around and scrape the underside of the nail. You pull at something dark and then realize it's just dirt. You pick at it a little too hard and maybe it bleeds a little. Then finally you pull the smallest of little slivers out and think, "Yes! I got it." You look closely at the shard of wood a

Dude... Seriously... How long has it been? Years? Yeah... years... So… what happened? So, so, much. So much. Wow, I'm tearing up just thinking about how much. Cuz it was so bad? No, no... not bad, not all of it. Not even most of it... Just a lot... and I haven't- Haven't what? I haven't... thought enough about it. Journaled enough about it. Prayed enough about it. Partially digested? Yes! Maybe not even half way. I get it. (Sigh.) I figured I would. Don't stress. But maybe I should stress? I mean, not "stress-stress" but you know... Yeah. Maybe. Maybe just deal? Yeah, deal. Okay then... so deal. Okay. I'll deal. Cool. Yeah. Dude... I'm glad you're/I'm back.

Okey dokey do the hokey pokey write my name and song down on the square: karaoke throw a little salt down smile, you're a circus clown keep it light and simple for the fans; hide the real frown frustrate ingrate say too much they migrate shut the mouth and let it slide again yeah I'm first rate Shout loud real proud say the words calm the crowd speak the truth be cryptic because that's what it's all about

It was good to be in church Sunday. It had been a while. I needed it. How do I know I needed it? Even now as I'm trying to type about one thing, my mind (aided I'm sure by the evil one) is trying to take me somewhere else; make me wander off on some tangent that has no health benefits whatsoever for my soul. But church, that was good for my soul... and more. There's a stigma amongst fellow believers for those of us who aren't regularly attending church. Most of me acknowledges it is rightly so: the natural question that arises (and maybe that's what that remaining part of me doesn't like - the question is from a natural place and not a spiritual place), "WHY aren't you going to church?" Even the kindest of people have a hard time believing you're just going through a wilderness . Often times I can see it in their eyes; judgment, assumption, criticism. What they may not understand is that I'm usually doing a good job of judging myself and

I've been thinking a lot about giving lately. How much do I give?      How much do others give me?           How do I respond to what I'm given?                How do others respond to what I give them? How much do I give without being asked?      Do I ask for too much?           Is the amount of what I give too little?                 Is what I have to offer less valuable than what others give? The list goes on, even if it's not written down, and what I realize at the end of the list is that comparison is the worst kind of measurement. The truth is that I don't always have a lot of material things. I've been on both sides of the financial fence: well off and broke. I have worked three jobs at a time and I have been unemployed without unemployment insurance. I have lived with family and lived alone in a two bedroom condo with all the trappings. Call me lazy or uninspired but where I am right now: broke and needy, paycheck to paycheck, no car and very litt