I'm such a downer

I had no idea what would come from that last post. I am happy that I wrote it and I am happy that people could relate to it in one way or another. I want to be clear about one thing though. I was never physically hit where I would call it abusive. I was often punished with things like grounding and tangibles being taken away, but never physically abused. Unless you count the wooden spoon. The wooden spoon was my mom's way of laying down the punishement. She is an average sized woman and she eventually lost the power to hurt me like that as I grew older. I guess the last time it ever happened was because I laughed at her, basically showing her that I could not be hurt in that way any more. She found other ways to punish me though. Like not lending me the car, not giving me allowance in the early years and not letting me ride my bike over to Will's house when we lived further away from each other.

I don't mean to be negative. I only mean to shed some light on what Schaubs is really like. Many of you have met me already and I as I have said in the past, all of those experiences will be remembered. Having memories are important. It's what makes you who you are today. Life experiences mold you into who you want to be in the future. You can take charge and choose the path that you think will lead you to eternal happiness. We all make choices, some of them we regret, some of them result in new decisions. Regardless, they are yours to make and no one elses. Sometimes decisions are permanent, and your closes ones are hurt the most.

I don't try and be a negative person when I write. I swear. I do have a lot to talk about, and as time passes I will share little snippets that I think will hit home for some readers. Others will just read this post and never come back again. Which is fine.

So let me tell you one more thing today and then I promise to have something more positive to talk about next week. Are you ready? Are you sure? Ok here we go.

My Mother's father shot himself.

Yep. I never met the man. He was a drinker. Most would call him an alcholic. Ok let's just say it. He was an alcholic and a terrible man. This is what my mom and my dear nana have told me. Of course they are biased though, they were the ones who were hurt the most. I always wonder if I am anything like my grandfather too. Do I drink too much? Maybe, but I only drink beer so at least I have that going for me. The difference is I know I have control of my life.

I am not sure how the old wives tale goes, but basically he took a revolver and blew his head off. Why am I writing this? I have no idea. In fact, many of my close friends do not even know about it. Or about my Dad for that matter. It seems easier to talk about it here in this space. Not many of them even know that this space exists. I have told them about it, but none of them think its all that cool. I mean seriously... we all know that bloggers are dorks. Except for Waffles of course.

Anyway, that is enough downer talk. I am going away this weekend (taking tomorrow off) to play lots of golf and when I get back I will try to bring a story or two to this space here. We will be playing cards (chips are in the trunk already) and we will be drinking A LOT of beer. I plan on donking it up to the best of my ability because I have already concluded that taking a drinking game of poker seriously is just not worth it. Hopefully I will be back in time for the Sunday freeroll and the LOST marathon.

Have a good weekend!