Is Your Life Fate, Destiny, Or Choice?

depositphotos_9936203-Ultimate-question-maze

Your life is a maze, your life is full of choices, do you leave those decisions to fate, will the wrong choice be your destiny? There are as many answers to the many questions in life as there are individual people on this planet. I don’t think I have ever heard the same answer twice, maybe close, maybe a variation, but never the same answer twice. Have you ever wondered why? What is our fascination, as humans, to need answers to questions. We ask other humans but those other humans are no different than us and are seeking answers of their own. Is it just a vicious little circle? Is there a true meaning to life and why we are here? Here at The Sting Of The Scorpion, as well as in my actual daily life, I tend to stay away from conversations regarding spiritually, afterlife, and the purpose of us being on this planet. Why? Mostly because my opinions vary from Joe Public and they are things that can only be spoken of in theory. I had my bluff called by my children over the weekend, they had questions about two specific times I walked away from death, and they wanted to know some answers. I have spoke here about two times in my life which I, statistically, should have died, but instead cheated death, both times successfully. These two times, coincidentally, do not give me personal pleasure to talk about either, but since I have these thoughts fresh in my skull I figured I would try to put them into a post.

front-entrance

Both instances, both incidents, both brushes with death are very, very long stories, so for the purpose of demonstrating the recent conversation I will condense them and just assume you can fill in the blanks. Both if these occurrences are very true and really happened to me. With that in mind let’s take this journey back in time now. When I was 15 it was time to get my Experimental Aircraft Pilots License because I had been leading, training, and preparing for a very long time. The date was set, the planning was complete, and everyone was in place. Amongst family and friends there were also people from the local newspaper and local television station because locally this was a big deal in the little farming community of Tea, South Dakota. When it was my turn I taxied out, did a final check of my Ultralight, pushed the throttle, and moments later I was airborne setting up for my demonstration of skills. After I had completed my designated moves it was time to bank around to line up for my final approach to begin my decent to land. At 426.3 ft in the air I hit a crosswind shear which stalled my engine which left me doing a nose down unpowered decent towards the ground, meaning I was falling from the sky like a rock falling back to the Earth. I remember the impact and the pain. 10 1/2 weeks later I woke up from the deep sleep I was in, confused, and surrounded by family.

I didn’t know why I was in a hospital room or why I was in so much pain. I was scared because I wasn’t aware what everyone else already knew. Later in the day the room was cleared of everyone except a doctor and my dad. Together they explained the journey I had been on for the previous 2 1/2 months. The impact of the accident caused 32 broken bones, one punctured lung, and my jaw being broken badly enough it had to be wired back together. When I arrived at the hospital in the backseat of my dad’s Volkswagen Thing I was pronounced dead due to heart failure and blood loss. After hours and hours of surgery I was stabilized but remained in a coma holding onto what was still my life. I was visited by a catholic priest later that day, since I had been baptized catholic as a very young boy, and the priest prayed with me while he explained it was not my time to die. To this day I don’t understand that conversation completely or what I was meant to do with the information.

_20140617_091235

The other time I was 26, while serving in the United States Air Force stationed at Holloman AFB, New Mexico. When I was younger I was a serious adrenaline junkie, I had a passion for going fast, for living life by the seat of my shorts. So much so that I had to buy a Kawasaki Ninja ZZ-R1100 because, at the time, it was one of the only street legal bikes that boasts speeds of up to 175 mph as a stock bike. I got the bike used from a fellow airman who needed to sell it because he was getting stationed in Alaska and he didn’t think he would have the opportunities to ride it any longer. I had other bikes before and after her but this black beast actually was and always will be my favorite. This bike screamed speed and danger which allowed me to take both her and I to our physical limits. I had a part time job in Las Cruces, 68 miles away from my house, under normal driving conditions and speed one can make the trip in just under an hour. I could make it in under 30 minutes on this bike and used to do it regularly in 40 minutes. One summer night, the skies were clear, the moon was bright, and I was running very late getting to my part time job. It takes a moment to get dressed and leave no skin exposed in preparations for riding this bike. After zipping the last zipper I kissed my daughter and (now ex) wife goodnight before tearing ass into the night. There was little traffic on US-70 that night which is the excuse I used to see if my bike really could get to 170 mph and maintain that speed. But, as it stands, I will never know personally because while passing 3 18 wheelers at over 150 mph the bike lost traction, my bike and I were sucked under the trailer and spit out on the other side, resulting in me laying the bike down in a 100+ yard slide into and through the desert. When the dirt settled I stood up, checked my self out, and discovered I was in one piece, more than I can say about my bike.

This was a time before cell phones so I walked back to the highway and started walking back home. Lucky for me an older gentleman picked me up and drove me to the front gate of the base. It was a short walk to my house from there. I woke the wife up to explain and then called my best friend so he could go with me to scoop up the remains of my bike. To say it was trashed would be an injustice to the damage and reminded me what a lucky sonofabitch I really was since that crash should have killed me. Following the scrape from the highway through the desert we saw I went under a barbed wire fence and missed two giant rocks by mere inches. In fact, the lens on my helmet was smashed by the last rock which actually put the final stop for us. We loaded up the parts we found into the back of my truck and drove back to my house on base. It sat in my garage in a twisted heap for roughly six months when I had sold it as is to another speed enthusiast. I vowed then I would never own another invitation to death. A few years ago, much older, in my forties, I bought a Honda Goldwing, a touring bike, so I could get out and enjoy the open air once again. But nowadays, my only risk taking is driving into Houston.

After everything, I still ask if is fate, destiny, or the choices we make daily which allows us to cheat death just one more time. As I sit here I consider myself to be lucky because I have done some stupid shit in my life, hell I used to build explosives for a living, yet I am here today, a survivor of my own mistakes. The maze was found with a Google search, the picture of the tractor is of the remnants of the airstrip I crashed on taken this past March, and that is an actual picture of US-70 taken on a trip in late summer in 2009.

 

Living A Secret Life

wpid-http%3a%2f%2f37.media_.tumblr.com%2f1a06273517e35edf74ebbcf042f2bdfe%2ftumblr_n569qpvrzo1sfhd9lo1_1280.jpg

Every so often people I actually know in person will drop me an email just to update me on the happenings in their life. Normally I wouldn’t find the need to say anything here but I got one from a friend, my age, who I have known for some 20 odd years now. He told me he had a good story that would fit right in if posted in the Magic Weekend. I ended up calling Ron because his story was a bit disturbing and I needed to know more. So, since the email was brief, I am going to toss in a little background information first. Ron, 9 years ago walked away from a marriage that ceased to exist. He had known for a few months that his wife was cheating on him and one day he had enough, game over. They didn’t have any children so his choice, he says, was simple. One morning he woke up to go to work, leaving the signed divorce papers on the kitchen table, and when he left he never returned. After around 6 months he was notified by mail that his divorce was final. He didn’t seem real heartbroken about the news either. A few months went by and he dropped by the house with his girlfriend, Amy. She has to be 10 years or more younger than him but that didn’t seem to bother either of them at all.

Skip ahead a few years to the present day and they are still together. Neither wanted to ever get officially married so they never did. Since we keep tabs on one another I was glad he was back in the states again that way maybe we can get together. However, part of his email was to explain that he was moving from Houston and returning to Japan to take a permanent position there with his company. I am sure there is more than just reason he has made this choice, although, as you will read, it would seem he thinks his luck has run out with women. His relationship with Amy is really messed up now, she is not exactly being honest with Ron when he made some inquiries into what she has been up to while he was gone. He’s done with the lies now and decided to move on.

It seems when Ron in Japan for about 3 weeks three to four times a year, Amy is quite the party girl. Ron says he never had a clue and all she ever did when he was home most of the year was go to work and then be home with him. Enter the magic of Facebook networking amongst friends and people he barely new. Amy celebrated her 35th birthday while Ron was out of town, he knew she was going out with friends, but didn’t actually know any of them. Ron was forwarded the picture shown here from a friend of a friend of a friend when he saw that it was Amy. Ron went on to find out that Amy was a part of a paid escort party. Upon a little note digging, Ron found out she had been working as an escort for over 2 years. Needless to say, when he asks her about it she denies everything and blames it on mistaken identity. But he knew, he knew because he was there when she got the tattoo on her shoulder that he clearly sees in the picture. He never showed her the picture, he wanted to catch her in her own lie. After things settled down he decided to call the escort service and request Amy. He waited at the hotel and then when he answered the door he knew their relationship had just ended. No explanation needed, its over.

I am reminded by Ron’s story that just because we think we know what our significant other is up do all day and all night that we are probably only about 80% right about 80% of the time. I am not saying we shouldn’t trust one another, I am just saying to trust what you think first, then everyone else. We may not all be victims of a cheating spouse, but we all know that one doesn’t cheat only with another person. I will leave it there.

Reviewing The Lack Of Common Sense

hate-mail-1Before we begin with today’s collection of complaints, suggestion, and requests for me to fall off the face of the planet, I would like to remind readers that if you are “sensitive” to the world around you then The Sting Of The Scorpion is not the blog for you to be reading. One should review the “Disclaimer & General Information” for The Sting Of The Scorpion and when y’all do the first paragraph reads as follows. “The Sting Of The Scorpion and my other pages are personally operated and maintained by me, Scorpion Sting, based on my opinions, beliefs, and observations. While you are at any of The Sting Of The Scorpion blogs I am not in any way responsible for your feelings or if you get offended in any way, since it is your choice to be here. I will discuss a wide variety and scope of many things, both popular and unpopular. Content using adult language, situations, and subjects, implied or outright, can and will be seen here“. Yet, many people believe I need to cater to them specifically. Some examples will be discussed in the paragraphs below.

So, let us begin, let us explore what I find as a complete lack of common sense and a complete lack, by some readers, to be able to adapt and overcome themselves. First of all, I mention this all of the time here, I’m not here to please you. If you get pleased while you are here then that is  bonus for all of us. I write, post, re-post, share, and commentate on a variety of subjects and that is just the way it is around here. Unless you pay the bills or sleep in the bed next to me at night your negative opinions of me and The Sting Of The Scorpion really carry very little weight. But, as always, complaints concern me a bit and “deserve” to be addressed. In the past, I would lay people’s e-mails, home address, phone numbers, names, blogs, websites, and so forth out so others might be able to share something with y’all. But, this isn’t the hall of fame for fucktard pussies. Y’all know who you are, I know who you are, and you should know I really enjoy fucking with y’all. More on that a little later.

Let’s begin with the language I use here. First, what is considered the bad words I use regularly. My absolute favorite word is fuck, it has so many colorful uses. In fact, I felt inclined to write a post on different ways to use the word fuck so people could study up at “How To Use The Word “Fuck” Properly“. Why? Because Fuck – The Only Word That Can Be Used As A Noun, Verb, And Adjective! In the fucking end,  the fucking thing I really fucking like about the English language is that you can fucking put the fucking words “fuck, fucked, and fucking” every fucking place you fucking want. Fuck is a word I use allot because I want to. Deal with it because it probably only gets worse as I get older. For all of y’all newbies I just want to tell y’all to buckle up and hold on, that is the one piece of free advice I offer. Yes, I know I don’t have a Rated G mouth or vocabulary. Yes I know that I’m not Christian ears friendly either. But, the offended fucktards keep coming back which really bewilders me in the end. Why return? Why subject yourselves to the “abuse” that y’all think I spew? Anyways.

Yes, I speak about adoption, my family, my journey, and the history of “ME” in a candid way here. Why? Because it is who I am. I don’t represent anyone in particular, just me and how it has been happening for me. Yes, I know not everyone has a “success story” and many will never know their roots. What do you want me to do, apologize because I was lucky? That’s never going to fucking happen because I have nothing to apologize for. Speaking of which, speaking of apologies, I think the fact that I can speak about my son being a bipolar autistic child openly would be appreciated, but no, this is supposed to be some kind of a dirty little fucking family secret. Well, it’s not, he is our son.

Yes, it’s true, I do talk about religion, God, Christianity, heaven, hell, and sheeple. Are these not all things that surround everyone every single moment of every day? Whether you have these things in your life or not they are still there, everyfuckingday. Yes, I find the fact that there are those who cling to ideas and fairytales that make no sense to me personally a point which I feel I need to write about it. I really don’t give a fuck what your beliefs are or why you have them. However, I do find it humorous when readers tell me I’m going to hell for blasphemous comments I make. Hell? Really? Again we can ask what this “hell” that is spoken of, but no matter what there will never be an answer to what hell is now will there? Who knows, maybe I’m already there if there is a there that is called hell.

Yes, it is correct, I do not have a political orientation. I do, however, know what I do NOT like. Y’all are correct, I don’t like our president, in my opinion he is the pure definition of fraud. Yes, I post different things here reflecting different political opinions. Does this make me a white supremest and a racist? apparently it does because that is the two most popular words I get called. How convenient the president is a black man and now those who disagree with his “politics” are labeled racist. I’m happy he gets your rocks off but that doesn’t mean I need to like watching it happen. I also write and post quite a bit about the government and it’s continuing quest to spent everyone’s money in a fashion which only seems to suit themselves. Yes, I know, it has been going on since the beginning of government, but I’ve only been around for what it has become now. Our government is full of fraud and frauds and I’m not okay with that. For those of y’all convinced that I only see our president as a failure because of his color then you just might need to pull y’all’s head out of the oven before it’s too damn late.

Yes, lately I have been writing about the cunt who is my ex. And? Have some compassion for her and her mistakes? Fuck her, she made her bed and got caught fucking someone else in it. I don’t ask you to walk in my shoes, I just ask that you pull your head out of your ass so you can see that some people are just cunts. Now, don’t get me wrong, I find the soap opera she calls a life very entertaining to say the least. She proves everyday that her status of cunt is well deserved. I have no compassion for her or how her life has turned out, zero.

Over the last couple of months I have welcomed many new followers. Why do they come? No matter, they have decided to follow, I won’t judge them for their lack of taste. Maybe everyone here is just looking for a little “strange” on the side. Speaking of which, I have found that when I re-tell the stories from when I bartended at a full nude strip bar that some people think that some of it is “too much information”. I can’t help it, life is graphic, life is colorful, life has nudity in it, life has sex in it, and life has people in it. I can’t sugar coat life for anybody that’s just the fucking facts. No, I’m not very politically correct, it’s not in my DNA. One more piece of fucking advice, just be who you are, just live your life, get over yourself if needed, pull your head out of your ass if needed, get outside to live life, and remember that somewhere somebody loves you. Other than that, y’all’s e-mails and comments are always welcome here. They may not ever get posted, but they are always welcome nonetheless.

hate-mail-1 - Copy

When We See The Light Under The Door

p10008151

When we see the light under the door it peeks our curiosity to the point where we have to accept the consequences and just open it. What if we have our hand on the knob but can’t bring ourselves to turn it, for fear of what’s on the other side? The fear of the unknown can be far worse than the thought of seeing everything is as we left it. Sometimes though, even though we may be really afraid, all we need to do is open the door just a bit and let the light come flooding out. It’s certainly not as frightening as throwing the door wide open and finding out there could be anything behind that door! But just a crack isn’t so daunting and the light it lets out enables us to see so much more than when the door was closed. In fact, we may be amazed at how much light is coming through that very small gap. Once we’ve opened the door very slightly, our eyes adjust to the new light level and then we may be able to open the door even more. We forget how daunting it was just to walk up to it and how much energy it took to put our hand on the knob. But now it is open and this is where we begin the story of husband coming home after being deployed to a far away land only to find that all of his fears are coming true and are in front of him.

The husband frequently wondered what went on behind the closed bedroom door when he was away for long periods of time. After he had some years in the Air Force under his belt he had heard of many disappointing returns that were less than the anticipated celebration. He always comforted himself with the knowledge that his wife loves him enough not to be caught off guard by loneliness. That only happens in other marriages; in those marriages where there are already underlying problems and the love has began to fade. The husband always made it a point to remain committed in his marriage and walked away from situations which might be considered compromising. The husband did this faithfully without question every day he walked out the door of their house. He was always comfortable knowing that his wife would be there to greet him with love each time he returned. As time rushes by and he began to be separated from his wife more, he finds himself consumed with fear that maybe his time has finally come to be the one who is disappointed when opening the door.

The husband had seen many things in his life, from the gruesome to the absolutely beautiful, but nothing prepared him for what he was about to witness. This time when he saw the light under the door he could hear noises, he could hear voices, and he was hearing sounds of a struggle. The husband did what came naturally, he whipped the door open with such power that it was hard to keep it from embedding itself into the wall behind it. He saw two people on the bed in the master bedroom, both frozen in a test of time to see who would move first. The husband wishes what he was seeing was not so, but when he blinked and re-opened his eyes what was happening became even clearer. He stood at the door waiting for something, anything, to help him make sense of the scene in front of him. But there was nothing, the moment was frozen in time, the faces were almost expressionless in their disbelief. The husband reached for the door handle and then pulled the door closed. He needed a few moments to clear his mind because he was in the process of making some decisions that will change his life forever.

Now that the husband had opened the door he saw firsthand that things were not at all normal. Now he can’t imagine seeing anything different and now he is having a hard time trying remember how he was feeling before he opened it. Is he mad. Is he sad. Is he sorry. Is he crushed. Is he calm. Is he in pain. He is mad, the emotion he feels is pure anger. The husband waited patiently sitting in his chair in the living room for the door to open again. In his own mind he had waited an eternity and was willing to risk opening the door again. As he arose from his chair the door swiftly opened up. Following the door opening came two bodies, one he was familiar with and one that he wanted to kill. In reality, he had it in his mind that they were both moments away from taken their last breathes on planet Earth. But wait, his wife is choosing to speak, she tells the husband she can explain. He thinks to himself a question with a grin on his face, how can this cunt explain why she was just caught with another sitting on her chest with her legs spread wide with his dick in her mouth? This should be good. Now he wonders why he opened the door in the first place.

While the husband stared through the couple he apologized for what was going to happen next as a consequence of the mistakes they have made. The husband produced his pistol, up until this point only destroying paper targets, his Desert Eagle was his favorite, he imagined the holes it would make in his new targets. He imagined the mess he would have to clean up after words. He imagined a quiet place in the desert where every creature there would devour every last bit of the evidence. The husband commanded that the couple kneel before him and beg him for his forgiveness. They both kneeled in silence of words but the crying was deafening even though it was but a whimper. At this point the husband announced his unfaithful wife that from this day forward she will only be referred to as a cunt. With that being said he put the pistol to the head of his wife. He sat there, remembering their wedding vows, thinking how it will be til death do us part. He pulled the trigger, click. He watched as she pissed herself knowing that the gun was not loaded. In one backhanded swing he struck the head of her lover. Her lover now is on his side, unconscious, bleeding, not moving or crying any longer.

Soon enough the base Security Police arrived. unsure what happened, the Security Police separated the husband from the situation and removed him from the house. The husband watched as the ambulance came to take care of the wounded lover. The husband knew his marriage was over the moment he saw the cunt fawning all over her lover, assuring him that her asshole husband was going to pay for what happened here tonight. Fuck it, the chips have fallen. The husband spent the next ninety days in the county jail under the charges of domestic abuse. He was also charged, by the Air Force, with assault and battery of an Officer. All charges were later dropped and removed from record by request of the Officer. How nice. Within a few months the husband and wife were no more, the only evidence the husband had of his failed marriage was the devout love from his young daughter. The husband was awarded full custody of his daughter as the courts believed the mother to be a bit unstable.

Moral of the story? Be careful how bad you “need” to open closed doors. Be prepared for whatever is behind the closed door. Finally, never kill anything in rage, not even a cheating cunt of a wife. Why ruin your own life because of someone else’s stupidity? If you haven’t guessed yet, this story is my own. At first the gun was loaded, I had every intent of putting them out of my misery, then I gently removed the clip and placed it in my pocket, these few moments assured me that I might go to jail that night but I will not go to prison for the rest of my life. The reason for me telling this story was because I have touched the subject off and on of my ex, I thought it was time everyone knew why she gets referred to as the cunt.