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Choosing Your Battles
00:19 Jul 25 2008
Times Read: 581




Choosing Your Battles



During the Vietnam War many people were forced to fight a battle that Americans had no right to be involved with. Against their will they were imprisoned, beat, and killed, among other things. Many chose to run, few chose to fight, and yet many died.



Back home there were other like themselves who ran as well. They fled to other states and even across the border. Here in the land of the free. After the war many of the survivors became rebellious and anti-government. This led many of them to have the urge to be free from society and hopped on motorcycles searching for a pack to join, have fun with and even handle responsibilities together.



The ones that stayed home became depressed, always on the run or gave in to the government’s bullshit like they were hypnotized. These traditions have continued on to today’s cultures of Bikers, Goths, Skaters and Hippies.



Self expression through your attitude alone, with others, during your hardships and any other occasion is easily noticed and you are stereotyped. What you wear is also an expression of where you came from, how you feel and if people could interact with you. At the same time you have to also understand what you do, wear, say and hope for.



When you get what you want are you really going to want it and the reactions from others that come from how you carry yourself isn’t always what you want. How do you know if you do not try and if you fail or feel uncomfortable do you try again or do you just say “fuck it” and swallow your pride?

The essence of where you came from plays a major part in who you are today, why you do what you do, what you wear and how you prepare for the next task at hand. If you do not know the next task then you are not being yourself as you are the one who has to set the next task before yourself. It is also up to you to complete the task even if it means someone else helping you whether you to ask for it or not.



When help is not given it makes you feel like a Hippie in the Vietnam era begging not to go to war and not being listened to and now you have to suffer the trauma brought on by those who did not listen to you and rather betrayed you by putting you out in the middle of a war that has no point and have lost everything you ever worked on.

This puts you back to square one and you would rather die due to being sick and tired of the never-ending cycle like a labyrinth holding you back from the one you love like a chastity belt on a Princess that not even Aladdin, Robin Hood (or anyone else who has proven that the impossible can happen) can touch. Neither magick nor good deeds could ever cause a happy ending to this fairy tale unless you fully understand the cartoon or movie you watch and what it is telling you about your self.



If only I were like Aladdin and/or Robin Hood or maybe even Shaggy from Scooby Doo. This brings me to wonder if I would rather be with a Maid Marian, Jasmine or have it remain a mystery as to whether Shaggy would ever be with someone and would he ever settle down. Would the Mystery Machine ever stop traveling and stumbling upon a mission chasing demons? Would the crew ever split up, how old is Scooby anyway and what do they get paid?



Must dig deep to get the answers you seek or you will never find them. Do your research before you choose the way you fight your battles.

I Have Realized Who My First Love Was.
00:18 Jul 25 2008
Times Read: 582

I Have Realized Who My First Love Was.

By: Glenn Luscher 6-16-07



When I met her I was a 16 year old male wanna be gang banger. I had at that time 40 or so followers and two popular spots that became our territory. We had a constitution and fees to pay. There was order within the circle and everyone knew their role.



I met her that year in my science class, though, I’ve heard of her bad reputation. As it turns out the song Orinoco Flow by Enya is the song that brought us together in a relationship. Playing on a video pertaining to the topic, of which I can’t remember, this song was irresistible. I had to sing it and as it turns out she did too.



She looked at me funny trying to figure out how a gang banger could possible like Enya. So I proved to her that I do listen to Enya by rambling off my favorite Album and Song. This followed by an extremely annoying way to express my knowledge of the other albums and random songs and track numbers. From that day forward we talked about Paganism openly in school. My gang’s members were in freight when they found out about me and Lenora.



My last time seeing her while living in Mosinee was Valentines Day 2000 at which time we became engaged. I was on the ankle bracelet awaiting court to decide what to do about my supposed bomb scare and decided that computer hacking and credit card fraud were cool. This landed me in the adult system. I was placed in a group home here in Wausau on both adult and juvy paper.



I went to school at Storefront while at this group home. This was my time to talk to Lenora on the phone and once she came up to see me from Stevens Point. Just like when I was in jail, she only came once. The letters we sent back and forth and the pictures were all memories that someone cared about me enough to stick out my jail time with me.



I worked at Annies American Café as a dishwasher. This was a mistake because I worked all the time. 7:00 every morning I opened up the dish room and by 9:00 I was sitting down smoking a cigarette already, which for this company that was always known to be as “impossible”.



One hour later I would take my half hour break. At 10:00 when I clock back in I never had a lot dishes to catch up. This led me to boredom so I would help out bussing tables, filling ketchup bottles, roll silverware and carrying food to tables for the waitresses. This led to stealing tips from one certain waitress. Not to mention to quality talks with the better looking waitresses; which led to sex in the parking lot at the school across from the Marathon Park during my one hour break from 3:00 until 4:00.



From 4:00 until 10:00 I busted my ass so I could help the prep cooks. This was my normal routine Thursday to Tuesday. Wednesday I only worked from 5:00 to 10:00 so I could go to Storefront. 86 hours a week @ $6.00 per hour. I was making around $640 a week so when I went into Lincoln Hills I had a little over 5 weeks worth of pay in the bank and a couple of days worth of pay coming from my last check. I walked into Lincoln Hills with a little over $3400. I ran shit up there and was the store. People came to me for things. I had a way with the staff that I do what I want but they get a cut. In Lincoln Hills, not even an adult facility. I sat my time in the box a time a three.



November 27, 2000 was the worst day of my entire life. Lenora sent me a letter that said we were over and done with. From that day forward I was labeled as a “Long Term Self-Harm Risk” by the Wisconsin Department of Corruptions. I pulled myself together and got my gang leader attitude going again. I ran shit from the inside and even started to pull mergers with other Wausau leaders and sub-leaders.



The last time I talked to her I was in jail again awaiting transport to Dodge. I wrote her first more out of curiosity than anything else. It took a twist for the worse when she started to fall in love with me again irregardless of the fact that she was married. Her way of ending the problem was to hook me up with one of her friends who lives in Missouri.



This was the first and last time I have ever been truly in love. I was always in it for the sex. You gave me something to look forward to everyday and yet I wasn't getting laid. Did it seem to bother me, no. Why? Because I wanted something called love and I thought I saw that in you eyes. I guess for some reason you didn't see what I saw.