Flight of the Bumblebee

 

It's been said that a bumblebee should not be able to fly.  The span of it's little wings, is too small to actually allow the insect to gain flight, yet every spring and throughout the summer months, the bumblebee can be seen flying all about, gathering nectar from the flowers and trees and spreading it's seed throughout the neighbourhood.  The insect should not, by scientific terms, be able to fly, yet it does, the reason sloughed off, citing "It flies because it doesn't know any better."

Growing up, I had all kinds of dreams of what I wanted to be when I grew up.  At a young age, I had a million ideas running through my head as to what a young Jeff could become in the world.  Dreams at such a young age, can be priceless.  Many people, wanna be a police officer or a cowboy or even an astronaut.  I never had any dreams like those.  Mine were more, I don't know, for the age bracket, they were dreams that were a little outside the norm, but if endorsed or guidance would have been provided by a parent at such an age, who knows the prominence one might achieve in life.

At a young age, I remember drawing a lot.  I was always drawing up buildings and alike.  I can remember receiving compliments from people, my mom included, encouraging me to make more pictures.  One friend of the family even mentioned "You're going to make a fine architect one day."  I'd never heard that word, architect, before and began telling everyone that I was going to grow up to be an architect.  Until another family member, likely my father, but my mom had an equal hand in discouraging me from some things, like this.  Until about twenty minutes ago, I thought their intensions were malicious, but it may have just been their way of protecting me from disappointment in life.  Either way, we'll never know.

I remember wanting to be an architect, but was told there was too much science involved and I wouldn't be good at it.  I wanted to be an actor (not a movie star, like so many kids say), but I was told that I had a face for radio, not a TV screen.  I may have even mentioned that I wanted to try out for football (real football 🏈, not that soccer bullshit), but I was told I was too small and would probably be killed.  That last one sounds legitimate, actually.  I would not fair too well against those mastodons.

At one point, I actually went off to collage to study Film History and Production.  I was one of the first first year students to get into that film production class, as it was usually held over for second year students, at the University of Regina.  A terrible school for studying the artform as their equipment was obsolete, even then.  After applying to many schools, the University of Regina was the only school I could get into.  It was a wasted year, to say the least.  What I do recall from that era, was my dad introducing me to one of his friends or family members, including the fact that "Jeff is in university for..." he paused, glancing over at me, "I don't know.  Some kind of bullshit." He rolled his eyes with true embarrassment and I turned away, heartbroken.

I never returned to school the following year.  The University of Regina was a lost cause.  I knew that, but lacked the resources to go to a better school, but a year of neglect and shitty grades, would've prevented that, anyway.

I often wonder about the road not taken.🤔What if this? What if that? What if? What if? What if?

What if my parents had embraced my ideas as a young pup?  Steer me in the direction of honing my skills to help shape me and better prepare me for the disappointments that were sure to follow me in my quest for betterment.

What would be different?  Everything.  Would I be in a better place?  Who the f*ck knows?  Chances are I wouldn't have the great friends and acquaintances that I do.  While not the picturesque friendships that movies and TV would have, but they're awesome people, all the same.  I definitely wouldn't have my boy, Monkey.  I can't imagine a life without that furry little face staring up at me.

Nature versus Nurture is a common debate.  Nature dictates that a being is already wired for a certain behavior.  That it's a natural instinct to follow a certain path in life, without any outside influence.  Nurture suggests that if a being is influenced by an outside factor or it's environment, that it can be coerced or guided into a life path.

I don't recall receiving much praise or support from my family growing up.  I was an accidental pregnancy, while my sister was not and boy, was I reminded of that fact much throughout my young life.

My dad was an alcoholic.  Later in life, after he had passed, I came to peace with the whole ordeal.  I call it "Jeckyll and Hyde".  When my dad was sober, he was the best.  When he was drunk..., look the f*ck out.  Maybe, and I'm just surmising here, but perhaps because I was an accidental pregnancy and viewed as "the reason his life was shit", is the reason, subconsciously, that my life was somewhat sabotaged as an infant.  That's just being passive aggressive.  Blaming others for my own shortcomings, but wouldn't the same be suggested of his motivations?

I could have taken control of my own horse and carriage and steered myself in whatever direction I deemed best, just as he (my father) could have done anything to follow his dreams, as well.

By all accounts, the bumblebee should not be able to fly, but it does.  Does it do so, because it isn't aware that it should not be able to?  Or did the bumblebee receive more hugs as a larva?

Just look at that face! No matter what bad decisions I've made in my shitty life, I don't regret ever bringing this little dude into my life.  My little angel, Monkey. 🥰 

Dedicated to my little boy,
Monkey.

Smoke & Mirrors - The Epilogue

Years ago, I had a blog on another site.  There I'd post on a daily basis, under the pseudonym of ToontownJuggalo.  I was lucky when I came up with that name.  I was the first one ever to be referred to by that name.  Numero uno.  On that site, I posted only as that persona and never divulged a single secret about who I was, although much of my personality did bleed into those posts.  I never shared any of those entries on Facebook or Twitter.  They all remained in-house, so to speak.  It was on that sight that I wrote about Chewbacca never having shit stuck in his fur.  That's where I first speculated on the the reason behind why Christ Benoit committed those horrific acts towards his family before committing suicide, which was a full six months before the science came back and YES, confirmed my theory ten-fold.  It was also on that site, where I would write out what was affecting me on that day.  Celebrations that I never got to share with anyone, as well as the sorrow and sadness of coping with whatever was bothering me.  There was a hand full of regular readers, none of which were directly affiliated with me, except when I was dealing with the loss of my friend Darcy.  That's when I needed to share with people and the stone wall that I had built around my "illness" began to crumble.

As the years have passed by, I've kept most of my walls up, guarding myself from being hurt.  It's easier for me to deal with my demons one-on-one, than it is to fight them off and worry about what everyone else is thinking.  I know that at the core of it all, the really important people in my life, will be there in a time of crisis, if needed.  I only hope that I have the courage necessary to extend a hand in hopes of getting that support.

I've said it before and I'll say it again.  I'm shy.  I'm painfully shy.  I'm like Robin Williams, in a way.  I could always see that insecurity that he possessed.  He acted out, all happy, goofy and comically in an effort to mask his insecurities, but those of us who know...  We knew.  I'm just like Robin, only instead of being jovial, I'm snide and snarky.  Kind of a dick, at times.  I like to joke, but my sense of humour is dark, just like my soul.

I'd like to be more popular.  I'd like people to want to have me around.  I'd like people to miss me, even.  I wish I could be like other people.  But I don't want to be other people.  I'd like to know how to be like them.  Confident and self-assured.  I don't know how to be like that.  I don't know how to make friends.  I have friends, but I honestly don't know when they transitioned from being acquaintances to being friends.

I remember when the towers came down on 9/11.  Sitting alone in my livingroom, eyes glued on the television set, and I never felt so alone.  I got news over a year ago about black spots found on my lung and I had to endure that alone.  Still have to.  I'm trying hard not to think about it, but I have to admit, it's getting increasingly difficult to do so.

I used to have a couple female friends who would happily give me a hug whenever I'd ask.  Trisha...  I miss Trisha's hugs.  She was a single mom and her hugs always felt so warm and genuine.  Taya was the same way.  My friend Sonia always offers up a hug when I see her.  That's always a highlight, but I wouldn't dare ask anyone I'm currently with, because I know I'd get that "are you f*cking serious" look.  I don't need that look.

Today, this is me.  The walls have all crumbled away.  This is who I am.  Take it or leave it.  I'm done.  I'm tired of hiding in the shadows.  It's time to step into the light, my faults and everything.  Sadly, my family will still not know who I am, but aah.  F*ck 'em..!

Now if you'll excuse me.  I've been sitting at this table on this hard-as-f*ck chair for over six hours, closing in on seven.  My ass hurts tremendously and I have a headache forming.  My cat is screaming like a banshee and won't use his words to explain.  I'm going to go smoke a bowl and have a good night.   See you on the flip-side.