Stories - FD Thornton

I think about a lot of things that lie beyond these four walls. I suppose it goes back to my Christian upbringing that told me to think of others first. I may have turned my back on religion, but I can’t turn a blind eye to the injustice I seen. Most religions can find a loophole to justify their selfish agendas. For far too long I beat my head against the wall to get organizations to put people first. Instead I found a bloated bureaucracy more intent on hoarding their bank accounts, than helping the neediness of these. After my breakdown and health issues, my empathy and compassion only grew. Instead of becoming more selfish, I looked for more ways to be more compassionate. A young Aussie reminded me Karma isn’t something you can save up. It must be given away. So I try everyday to give a little something back. A kind word or a self-deprecating joke, anything to give a little joy to a hurting world. But what do I see around me? A world gone mad with selfishness and hate. A worl

It’s been one of those mornings. Got up around 3 am, wrote a poem, created an image for it, posted it, then finally went back to sleep. Got up a little after 8 am, checked my glucose, made the bed, got dressed, took my medicine, and my phones been going off ever since. I’m sitting here in front of this screen and even the laptop is lagging. Looks like it’s going to be a wonderful day (I’ll let you decide rather that’s cynicism or optimism). At the moment my oldest just bouncing into the room to wish me a “Good Morning!”. Holding my head like I’m just coming off a three-day-bender, there’s only room for one psycho in this house today. Sucking down my last drop of decaf for the day and I’m asking myself, why did I get out of bed? So welcome to my morning. Enjoying it so far? In all honesty I’m not the Lone Ranger here, lots of you wake up the same way. Like you took a beating before you even started. Mine can be contributed to past bad behavior and frankly my currently bad behavior

Life is a continuing journey which none of us really knows how it will end. Through either faith, stubbornness, or the steer will to survive we are all driven to move forward. I like to think of myself as a survivor, mostly because of my lack of faith in the actions of men. You could say I’m stubborn, but that mostly comes from the compassion I feel for others. Since 2007 I’ve written some 1200+ blog posts mostly about myself and the world around me. Sharing experiences is an age old tradition that pre-dates the evolution of language itself. Our ancestors would sit around campfires and pass along tales of the hunt or teach young ones the ways of survival. I always loved hearing stories my Grandma Geiger told, I also listened to stories Aunt Bessie and Uncle Mack told me. Each had their own style and subject matter, but the stories they and many others told influenced the person I am today. Now most people don’t have time for a story, instead it’s hashtags, likes, and emojis that

I’m the first to admit I’m an asshole. I can be crass, insulting, and a jerk. But I believe people that know me also know I am loyal, sympathetic, and if don’t mess with you that definitely means I don’t like you. For those that get upset with my a crass and insulting ways I’m sorry. But I don’t plan on changing anytime soon. Growing up in a verbally and physically abusive environment, especially in my neighborhood and at school. You either grew a pair and toughed it out. Or you sank into the margins and fear everyone and everything.   I’ve had to do both. Over the decades I’ve swung in both directions with developing a thick skin and hiding in the margins. I have a hard enough time simply being around people. So maybe I should just shut up and keep to myself for a while. When people call me out and tell me they don’t like something about me. My first instinct is to close up and simply walk away. So that’s what I’m doing, walking away. I learned a while back you can’t please ever

Got up a little earlier than I normally do, but I did get a few things out of the way so hopefully the day won't be so boring. When you have panic disorder you like to hear someone say, it's going to be a boring day. Too many times I remember getting anxious because I knew I had to go somewhere or do something outside my comfort zone. Those feelings would keep me up for days worrying. To be honest I still have days like that, just a few weeks ago I had to drive my daughter to Savannah, Georgia to catch a plane. Considering I grew up in Savannah and lived there 36 years, you'd think even with panic I'd be used to it. Well I wasn't, her flight was at 8am which meant going through rush hour traffic to get to the airport. Needless to say, I was a nervous wreck by the time I got out of there. Looking back on that experience I can't say I learned anything, besides the fact that I'm glad I left there. I guess my point is I made it. No matter how uncomfortable

It’s 1982, I’m dating some beautiful girls from college, had a good job, and life is going pretty good. I’m surrounded by friends, partying every weekend, got a roommate that keeps me supplied in pot, and did I say I was dating beautiful girls from college? I grew from an awkward adolescent in high school to a fairly confident young adult. Doing my best to make the rent, pay-off my off my car, and still have enough money to party. I had about the same vices as any 20-year-old, I drank too much, smoked too much, and dated a different girl nearly every night. I might have not been the prettiest dude, but I could talk myself into about any “situation”. I really don’t think about those days very much, but I have a few friends that seem to just well in the past. My mind is now focused on the here and now. My past is just that, the past, and the future? Hell, it hasn’t been written yet. Lately I’ve been focused on what makes me so optimistic. How I can look at a pile of shit yet see th

I’m learning to not keep a lot of shit hanging around. In the first ten years we lived up here, I accumulated a lot of stuff. Gadgets, tools, you know the usual man stuff. But when we moved deeper into the “red state”, I just started giving up a lot of the crap I thought I needed. Instead of files and hard drives, I store most all my work of the cloud. All my writing is on Office 365 so I can move it between my laptop and phone. And all my work with my publisher is handled digitally. It can be aggravating if the internet connection is bad, but for the most part I enjoy my clutter-less life. There are still a lot of us that carry a ton of baggage. You know what I mean, old wounds, past mistakes, and scares that show up like a brand. While I can’t change my past, I can certainly unburden myself of the chains. Sometimes life requires a lot of apologizing to those we hurt and a lot of forgiveness for those who hurt us. The secret is are you willing to do the work? The vast majority