Glad To Be Back

Hard to believe it, but the time between the start of Hawke’s View and this post is almost a year.

Lots have changed in just about every aspect of my life during that time. To name just a few: I’m a lot less trusting; I’m smoking more; Bramble (my Golden Retriever) has gone from youthful-looking to a greying face; and you can’t buy a box of cereal without taking out a second mortgage.

But there is at least one constant: I am here to write about it.

I say that with confidence because I’ve worked hard to stay that way. For those of you who’ve never read earlier (deleted) entries of this blog, I should tell you some of the “stuff”: (1) I am a novelist. (2) I use a blog to get things out of my system, but post sporadically. (3) I have some issues going on in my life that I will not get into at this time. (4) This blog is not restricted or “by invitation-only,” which means I don’t care who reads it.

Okay, onward: I’ve been planning to get back to blogging for a while now, and when my life recently took a hard turn south, I didn’t realize what that would really mean.

For one thing, there was a whole new generation of reader/bloggers out there who’d been skimming through old high-school history books when last I posed anything of value, and I’d be as foreign and unknown to them as Whitesnake to a rapper. I honestly wondered what kind of response I’d get to my initial entries.

Backing way up...

In the beginning of Hawke's View, I made half-hearted entries (at best) only because I felt obligated to post something. However, as time went on, I began to need the blog. Now that was amazing on one level, but disappointing on another - one, I was surprised how much it became my little oasis in the desert, but two, catharsis through blogging was initially recommended by the very person who (it turned out) was as fake as a three dollar bill...which is why I needed the blog...which kind of makes this a vicious circle, doesn‘t it?

Yes indeed.

A large majority of my earlier entries proved to be rants, or worse, had been scatterbrained dribble. Much of these entries were from what I perceived was a muse-less Limboland and included said so-called friend who (it turned out) wasn‘t real, much less a friend. It’s disappointing to see anyone so hell-bent on taking advantage of another that they can think of nothing more disgusting than trolling sites or blogs, or (even worse) a bottom feeder who goes around manipulating and hurting people just so they can satiate the all-important ego.

I should say that much were obvious manipulations from said player playing on compassion and guilt. Hence the preponderance followed the line of ‘going-downhill-and-soon-to-be-dearly-departed,’ though with all the twists my life has taken in the last while because of her (not to mention her twisting others lives as well), I’m unsure if I wouldn‘t want to help her to depart myself. But my personal favourites were all the comments featuring that ethereal libation, drugs - these comments usually followed a relentless train of thought that went something like this: I am nothing but a dying drug addict, I crashed (during our talk) and went out and bought drugs, I can see them from where I‘m sitting right now, I can’t resist them, I’m going to go, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, I‘m back, I’m so sorry, I’ll get clean, please don‘t hate me. Can you say leech? I thought you could.

But as the weeks became months, and I worked my way through all the little “inconsistencies” and instant (and I must say quite believable) excuses, I began to see a pattern. Some of it arrived by e-mail, with the majority through live conversations via yahoo messenger, and practically everything was in some self-serving capacity. It seemed liked I would sit down every evening to chat or attempt to help solve one crises or another, and the very next evening, there would be a crop of new ones. It was mind-boggling.

When things began spiralling beyond the realm of realistic plausibility, I finally began to listen to my little voice. I had to close shop or I would never have gotten through it. The plain fact was I’d been overwhelmed by...well, everything. The then unknown “game” was separating me from those I loved most, my work was suffering, my life was falling apart, and I was holding up as well as a dead leaf in a hurricane. Something had to give, so Hawke's View was the first causality.

The major reason this became an increasingly more challenging problem? I was straddling the line between belief and disbelief, leaning heavily on the belief side - needing to believe; wanting to believe; for to not believe would negate everything - every word and every feeling, including the very existence of my then-friend. In case you didn’t realize it, that takes a lot more than just saying: “this is utterly ridiculous and you’re an idiot to believe it, so wake up.” (Actually, I did say that a few times and in no uncertain terms - only with conviction when the comments and situations became so asinine that there was no way they be so, and I could think of nothing better to say.) I should say that from the beginning to near the day of the end, I continued to provide my then-friend with as much support as I could, still straddling that damn line...until that final moment when the proof was undeniable. I should also say here that I can never thank enough nor repay the kindness and unwavering support of my dear friend Mark (journyman), who stuck by me even while he, himself, was under emotional and mental siege...which (to me at least, and contrary to popular belief) seems to be the real reason behind the game.

Are you confused yet?

Trust me, so am I, and I lived it. But no matter.

Hopefully all of this did not confuse the main reason for this entry, which is two fold: to reintroduce myself and this blog, and to give fair warning that there are consummate players out there who are ready, willing, and quite able to twist you inside out for their own perverse pleasure.

* Remember to look for all the red flags and take them seriously.

* Remember P.T. Barnum’s old saying: “If it’s too good to be true, it is.“

* Remember that predators will say anything - and I mean anything - to get you and then hold onto you, including love and threats of self harm.

* Remember to never give out personal information such as your real name, address, phone number, school name, etc., etc. (I remember a case not long ago of a girl who was killed by a predator. How did he find her? She happened to mention her school colours (not the school’s name) during an internet chat with him. He traced it to her school via the internet, found her, and the rest, as they say, is history.)

* Remember that if you do decide to meet someone from the internet, do so in a public, safe place with plenty of friends close by. People have been murdered (or worse) by not putting their safety first.

* Remember that it can and will happen to you - my friends and I (along with umpteen-dozens more) are living proof of that.

* Remember to trust your little voice and/or nagging feeling. It is instinct; primal; an internal, protective defence mechanism we all too often push aside, to our eternal chagrin.

Are you scared yet? I hope so. It’s better to be scared and overly cautious, than dead. Right. Enough said.

That’s about it. It’s time for this blog to start doing what it was intended to do. The essence of all this is pretty simple: the entries here will be what I need to get off my chest - for whatever reason. And no, I’m not about to give more details than what will be written, so don’t ask. I’d like to think I’m on the right road and that Hawke’s View is my safe haven.

I’m glad to be back. I hope you feel the same way.


Blessings,
Hawke