Condiments and Back to Punk

Condiments

As you may know, I'm a condimaniac. Love me some condiments.  It's a land of many rulers and regions divided by many nationalities. You've got your basic western condiments: ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise, and hot sauce.  Then you've got your eastern condiments: soy sauce, hoisin, ponzu, and fish sauce.  In between these prominent regions lies several towns and cities of equally amazing oozes.  Some are larger metropolitans like BBQ sauce while others are only quaint towns in small packages like fire sauce at Taco Bell or Chick-fil-A’s Polynesian sauce.  To explore this world has always been a goal of mine where my fridge displays the trophies from my travels.  A ceramic jar of French mustard with stone seeds and slightest hint of vinegar pushed in the front next to a hot sauce that destroys your palate for a day.  When guests come over, I direct them to my pantry with a spoon. Oh you haven't tried real Mexican hot sauce, no worries, I've smuggled some Tapatios into Germany from my last visit to the States.  So you like hot things, try this Harissa I found in the oriental bazar last month.  Give me topic and I'll give you a sauce.  Follow my lead to fish sauce town and nobody will want to talk to you for a couple of days.  Just trust me and I'll lead you through this beautiful world called condiments.

Back to Punk

I'm a 28 year old punk again: lost, confused, and angry by the actions of my past.  I tried to be an adult, tried to live a responsible life. Worked hard to fight my attempts at flight, and fought hardest at being content with the idea of being a good husband, father, and friend cause I found somebody worth a damn – someone to grow old with.  I got pretty far, but went about it all wrong. I went at it alone.  I now know that happiness is not real unless it is shared.  So simple a concept, so easy a plan, but acknowledged too late and not expressed soon enough. Now I'm back at square something.  I won't lose what I've learned and still learning, keeping it in a bag to pull out for someone special, even if that person may not come around for some time.  Because the fact is I’m not good at casual dating.  It's just not for me. I don't need a body to grab onto, I need a personality and future to hold onto.  So I'll live my old way; a punk way. Strong, passionate, and pushing forward alone until I can rest in someone's loving arms or six feet underground.


Note: These posts were written in May 2016.