My mom worked for the military as a civilian, and with the exception of my step dad, every male on both sides of my biological family had served in one military branch or another. I do not remember having a relationship with either of my parents; my step dad’s night life consumed his time and my mom’s job consumed hers.

I never recovered from our move to Arizona in 1971. I had grown up next to the coast and attached deep significance to the beach and sand dunes. I existed in the oceanfront realm unencumbered by desert hostility. The desert had snakes, scorpions, terrain that did not accommodate my bare foot habit and worst of all – no water. My bike tire was punctured on the first day that I rode it here. I did not know that the word ‘omen’ existed, but that was my interpretation.

My folks had serious marital discrepancies and I do not remember being the focus of either except on rare occasions. I experienced my entire childhood without them. I became afraid of people because I did not have a sense of inner identity. I put up a façade to project something less empty. My biological father also attempted to repatriate himself with me during this time and his concerns were not appreciated by either my mom or my step dad.

I surrounded myself with friends who pretended to be deep thinkers; we were more into fanciful thought that we were into technological relevance, but it did serve as an anesthetic to an empty family life. I remember making comparisons of the natural aggressiveness in others to myself. I was unable to isolate my problem, so I learned to delude myself as a likable image (perhaps the origin of my interest in theatre).

I did well in school – that was the only concern that my parents expressed. Mom’s life was in turmoil; she did not have time for the pleasantries. All of the members of my family were staunch disciplinarians, so I never dreamed of rebelling in the fashion demonstrated in unrealistic family-oriented shows. The Brady Bunch was banned in our house because "life isn’t that way," my mother said. She was not a happy woman, and many times made me responsible for her discontent -- events that an infant would not ordinarily remember. For some reason, letting me go to the movies was not an issue.

I graduated from High School a year early. My mom had remarried and insisted that I move back in with her. In her view, it wasn’t right that I had the advantages that my grandparents offered. She resented it. She told my grandparents that I had begged her to let me move back in with her because I detested them (my grandparents). Then she forbade me to have any contact with them at all. I left home at 17. I was unprepared to deal with life. I did not know how to prioritize. I did not have funding of any kind and my grandparents withdrew their interest in financing my college education after their daughter’s irrefutable testimony (I was ungrateful, slandered them and then begged to return to the very depravity that they had rescued me from).

I moved to Florida and went to travel school. I made more money at the resulting job than from any other job before or since. In the center of Ft. Lauderdale’s most unabashed expose’ on materialism and vanity, I was unhappy. To inject myself into a completely different life, I entered military service and had a terrific 6-year career (military regimentation was comic relief compared to home life). I moonlighted as a musician during 5 of those years and music became my religion. I was also emancipated from organized theological rhetoric, so I spent considerable time investigating unorthodox religions and befriending constituents of said beliefs. My interest in theology became equal with music and I considered myself gifted in metaphysical conversation [endless patronizations of bull shit, basically].

Near the end of my military era, my charity launched me into a Stephen King nightmare from which I am yet to recover. I cosigned on loans and lent money to friends that was never recovered. One friend wrecked my vehicle and the insurance would not cover the accident because my friend ran away from the scene of the accident. He did not have a driver’s license and never made me aware of that fact during the two years that I knew him. Two other friends took me to the cleaners over 2 used vehicles.

I separated from the military in July 1991 at the conclusion of the Gulf War but was unable to stabilize my existence without transportation. I ended up selling my stage equipment for pennies on the dollar just to pay the rent. The equipment had cost me in excess of $40,000 to procure over a 6-year period (money I earned moonlighting went toward new equipment and my stage pay exceeded my military paycheck). Because of desperate and belligerently aggravated circumstances, I sold out, in pieces, for less than $3,000. Looking back, the street may have been a smarter move.

I began working for a hotel in Phoenix, living hand-to-mouth. I dropped everything to help stabilize a relationship between my Uncle & Aunt when my Aunt spontaneously relocated to Olympia from Kingman, AZ without telling her husband. During this time, I read virtually everything that Ayn Rand had written and psychologically married her to Gene Roddenberry. The resulting fusion became the predominant 2/3rds of my epistemology. Ayn Rand composed a concrete datum from which to validate terminological inexactitudes and Roddenberry composed the olfactory or Marxist dynamic/sense. The taxes in Washington State were about 900% more than in Oregon and Idaho. The Socialist Republic of the State of Washington wanted $998 to put tags and plates on my truck and did not have a payment plan (compared to $172 in AZ; $48 in Oregon or $36 in Idaho). Two days before I became illegal there, I returned to Arizona and attended Yavapai College during 1994. I married that April. My wife asked me for an opinion on military life because she had considered joining before our courtship. She joined.

We moved to Virginia in 1995 and my twin sons were born in August that year. I was working for American Airlines at the time. We appeared to be the ideal American couple with 2 kids and one drawback – she emphatically did not want the kids. Our relationship went through a destructive process that only Stephen King could fully comprehend or appreciate (perhaps love).

I returned to Arizona as a single parent and opened the new Fairfield Inn by Marriott in Williams as the AGM there. The owner of the property hastily hired and fired 3 GM’s within the space of 3 ½ weeks. I married the 4^th one. We moved to Sacramento in August of 1996. By February ‘97, my 2^nd wife confessed that she was only interested in me and not my sons. I returned to Arizona again and applied for admission to NAU for the fall ’97 semester. I had my first vehicle accident after driving 30 years without an incident, on the Friday before school started. My out-of-pocket was $800. My insurance doubled. From that time to the present, I have spent $4,800 on vehicle repairs that are allegedly unconnected to the accident. I am currently in credit counseling and attempting to finish school so that my wages will exceed that of my day care provider. I do not receive outside assistance of any kind. This is my life.

Returning to school has felt like the first intelligent event to occur in 20 years. I have 15 hours remaining to complete my degree by this December. There is nothing that I have learned in life that has been worth what I’ve had to pay for it – and that is my gravest understatement. NAU is the only exception, to a near-medicinal effect.

I have attempted to write my story at least 25 times. I succeeded on 3 occasions and then destroyed the record because it was impossible protect the characters, even by changing the names in one version. I will not re-attempt it.

During the spring semester, this year, my kids destroyed the last relic that I owned from what I would consider to be the apex of my life. They knocked my controller off of it’s stand [an 88-note, midi compatible keyboard] that I purchased new 11 years ago. The keyboard’s 2^nd trip to the cement floor was fatal. She was the first item in…and the last one to go. She could have told you everything that I haven’t.

As I stand today, looking into the future, I have no tentative plans. For every word written in this paper, there are 2,000 more words avoided or omitted. My #1 priority is that my sons will have a memorable, meaningful childhood. If they have positive memories of me and want to visit their old man after they leave home, I’ll consider myself a successful parent.

I wanted kids for approximately 10 years before I actually had them. I delayed until I was certain that I would not subordinate my children to every trivial inconvenience that arose. Unlike my predecessors, I chose to ‘repair’ an injustice rather than perpetuate one. Citing personal injustice as a license to destroy a child is a CRIME, not an excuse.

If my sons end up in situations like I’ve been in during the course of their lives – I plan to be there for them like a normal parent would, rather than praying for their destruction and calling it an Act of God to prove a trite demonic variance. I am in favor of trashing parents who trash their children and then feign any influence on their children’s decision-making ability as adults.

In many respects I do overly dwell on past injustice…finding myself at the bottom of each new situation…being raped for everything that I can possibly offer…applauded for my ability to improve conditions…then disposed of when my competence politically inconveniences another. You may read some of my Editorials in http://www.cyonic-nemeton.com if you are interested in observations described by myself and others regarding this and similar topics.