Day off in the valley

Fathers can break their daughters hearts in such a unique terrible way, it makes other people jealous.

Truth.

Believe it.

I'm not fighting with you guys anymore. Especially when the fights just end up in the most idiotic places.

"... And California is so fake!"

What does that have anything to do with hotel rates!

California isn't fake. Having money isn't fake. It's people who are fake. Does this shirt make me look fake? No. But I will tell you what does. A group of girls sitting at Beach Nation, on Santa Monica blvd., mid week, mid day, hoping to be seen/discovered. Meanwhile a guy with a demolition hammer is tearing up 100 yards of concrete two feet thick, just across the street in front of mid day traffic and City Hall. And the girls, sitting at this fake beach pretending to be partying, hoping to be seen/discovered in the gayest part of Los Angeles, that's fake. Never mind the fact an actual real ocean with many beds of real sand is less than 15 miles away from you. Girls, the man has a jackhammer. A jackhammer. A tripped car alarm and three screaming babies would be less annoying.

As if your state don't have girls like this.

My brain is going to explode.

Late last night, in the dark, by myself I watched a stand-up gig by Bill Engvall, and the other night a stand-up gig by Ron White. Both nights I drank a 6 pack of Stella's, and just laughed my ass off. Those guys are brilliant.

I needed the release.

Waiting.

That's all I'm doing now.

Waiting.

I gave my work notice, and said to them the same thing I'm telling everyone...

Everyone and everything is now second to my dad. Meaning I can't help you, I can't schedule to meet you, I can't book anything, I have no idea when my life will get back on track, that's just the way it is.

Deal with it.

The only people keeping me sane are my friends, and the kindness of strangers. Thank you.

There is no handbook. No guide. Just this overwhelming feeling of guilt. If I laugh I feel guilty. If I smile I feel guilty.

In June 2013 I was diagnosed with a tumor. Operable but complicated. Not cancer. Surgery is the last resort. I don't want surgery. The recovery time is too long. When I learned of the tumor the only person I told was dad. I've taken medication twice now, once a year, the medication only lasts a week, to shrink the size of the tumor. No big deal. But I got angry. Rick and dad have given so much, they're such amazing people, they have so much to offer...

This isn't how its supposed to go.

Dad has to do things his way. However long it takes.

Right now I'm there for only him.

I remember the last fully-coherent conversation I had with Rick. He was at peace. Content.

Prepared.

I don't know how.

I guess you just find a way.