What Falling in Love Means to a Man

What Falling in Love Means to a Man

falling in love

This is an older post of mine, one that I have no intention of editing, but I will post it as an as-is kind of thing. It’s about love, and what love means from the male perspective. This is what falling in love means to a man.

What Falling in Love Means to a Man

Love is one of those things that falls under such heavy analysis that everyone has a different definition for it, yet nobody understands it. Women have a definition, men have a definition, both sides are equally wrong, yet both has concepts that can be agreed upon, such as, love drives us all to a stage of crazy. It breaks us out of a comfort zone and places emotions and feelings in the hands of another, and lets face it, there is no scarier feeling then the idea of someone else having control over what we feel.

There is a reason that most relationships don’t work out, the fear gets the best of us, boundaries are set that are borderline impossible to respect, or one side is simply more juvenile than the other. Whatever the case may be, love is a pain in the ass, yet something that we all search so hard to feel.

A lot of men get criticized for not ‘loving’ enough, or not ‘caring’ enough, and that is the confusing piece of emotion I am going to attempt to explain. The factors of what it means to a man to fall in love.

The Myth of Being ‘Over-Protective’

We have all heard about the guy that is deemed over-protective, hell, I’m one of them. I am a piece of the myth, but the fact is, we are over-protective because we give a shit. You hear the stories about the girl who goes “My man lets me do anything I want, we both have our own separate lives, and then we have each other”


Immediately what you can take from this is that the guy does not give a shit, want to know why? When a guy loves a girl he wants to share days, he wants to share time, and in one way or another compromise is developed that lead you both to have your separate interests and hobbies, but separate lives is a different thing all together.

A man is meant to be protective, think about the dog mentality, loyalty and protective. If a man cares about a woman the one thing that you can give us credit for is the fact that we will rip the head off of anything that threatens her. Whether the woman is in the right or wrong of a given moment, that very moment the man will defend her and challenge anyone who says otherwise. You know a man loves you when he is willing to stick his neck out for you regardless of the cause. If he lets you fight your own battles and wants nothing to do with your drama, you don’t mean a damn thing to him.

The Possessive Theory

Men get deemed possessive when they begin to explain boundaries, and this is another concept that gets on my nerves. When two people get to know one another it is normally a pretty quick trip to find the pet peeves and the things one another won’t stand for. When you fast-forward a year into a relationship it isn’t going to magically change, but often times one side or the other is supposed to be ‘accepting’ to change. I don’t agree.

When a man puts full claims to what he doesn’t like, people he doesn’t like, and things that he doesn’t want you to be out and about doing, it is because WE CARE. Don’t believe me? Push the board enough times, experience enough fights about particular topics, and watch when we suddenly don’t give a damn about what you do with your social outings. The second we stop giving a damn it’s because we’ve given up on trying to encourage you to care about the balance of feelings in the relationship, and are essentially preparing ourselves and protecting our heart.

The Close Guy Friend

Men don’t like guys that make a point of being a close friend to our women. Now, if we were all in the same social circle and knew each other all along, that is one thing, and even that comes with its set of hesitancy and potential for disaster, but in the event it is someone who is met somewhere along the way, that is a breach of comfort of another level entirely.

We don’t trust the guy friend, the guy friend almost never has genuine intentions in mind. Sure, there are guys that can be friends and have that close friendship interest and nothing more, but it is rare. If the girl is attractive and the guy is her friend and he is given the opportunity to try and make it something more, chances are he will. Guys have an internal radar about us, and we can also see through the glamour of ‘Mr. nice guy’ and see in his place, captain douche bag.

It is often claimed as jealousy, when in fact we are simply protecting what we claim as ours. Before that is labeled as ‘possessive’ and debated as “no one belongs to anyone”, when a guy gives a girl his heart, he is owning that he belongs to her in a level of affection, romance, and care. It is a mutual agreement. Before you get all ‘self-empowerment’ on me, shut up, you know what I mean, I’m simply stating what most people fear admitting.

The Odd Nights Out

As mentioned in another post by me, the reasons a man doesn’t like his woman going out without him, it all rings true. Men don’t like their women going out without them because its simply an invitation to problem. When you commit and you truly take the step to the boundaries of love, with it come certain expectations and sacrifices. One of these things is the late nights out alone shouldn’t really be an option.

Before you rant and rave, if it matters, don’t claim love. Claim you are together, that you have fun, but love hasn’t come into the picture yet. So many people throw the word love around but don’t have a damn clue what it means. Love is sacrifice, plain and simple. Falling in love is the ultimate vulnerability. Falling in love means that you are making yourself available to get hurt, and no one likes to get hurt.

When Love is Broken

When a man falls in love he takes the tough bravado of himself and opens a new door to himself, one that he only lets particular people into. It’s a step of ultimate vulnerability, but falling in love is exactly that: vulnerability.

When the love between a man and woman gets abused, it can rarely be repaired. I’m speaking from the viewpoint of a man, a woman’s would be different, but for men, getting over hurt is an entirely different battle that many of us never truly achieve.

Think about a dog that you have at home that is loyal and loving and you scold it for things that it didn’t do. You see confusion in its eyes, you see uncertainty, but still underneath it all there is that loyalty that hangs strong and doesn’t fall away.

To a man the very same can be said about trust, if we love you we will be loyal, we will take on the world before letting you feel discomfort and pain, but the moment that love and loyalty is abused and ignored we become broken men. That level of trust and care may still be there underneath it all, but the path to uncovering all the pain and hurt is one that we randomly head towards, and one that has no set time frame as to when things will become normal again.

This is the very reason why love needs to be viewed for what it is, a privilege, an opportunity to feel something that will fulfill you in ways that nothing else can. You have to handle it right, otherwise you risk the possibility of losing it forever.

Stephen Bortsalas Film Productions

Stephen Bortsalas

Stephen Bortsalas Film Productions

Stephen Bortsalas is a personal friend that has been on a journey to develop film for as long as I’ve known him. His personal website, 4 Mile Radius Productions can be accessed by clicking here.

I know very little about the film industry, it’s actually safe to say that I know nothing. The extent of my knowledge is the personal preference of being a film buff and the genres I like.

It doesn’t take away from the fact that film is a creative industry that has incredibly talent working behind it. This brings up my next point: breaking into this industry is incredibly challenging.

stephen bortsalasstephen bortsalas

This post is a post to promote a personal friend of mine that, one that I’ve have known for years, that is not only passionate about his craft, but passionate about life itself.

Professionally he is hard-working, self-driven, and creative. On a personal level I view him as a role-model. He’s someone you can actually look up to and I don’t state those words in a casual way.

This is a link to his debut trailer, Denounced, which I encourage everyone to check out. You can view this trailer by clicking here.


Getting Personal

As mentioned, I’ve known Stephen Bortsalas for a long time. I worked with him at Wegmans. Contrary to popular belief, it wasn’t the nature of the work that created the friendship. My feelings for Wegmans are not a secret, you can read about that here. Should a film arise where Stephen survives a satanic cult the muse will be Wegmans.

I speak for myself there, aka, Wegmans leave Stephen alone. You definitely suck, but it’s only me stating it.

Stephen became a friend quickly because we were two creatively-driven people that made conversation interesting and fun.

I had a quick interview with Stephen on account of wanting to get this information up and running.

stephen bortsalas

What got you into film?

As a young child I was always drawn to the spectacle of movies. It transported me into another place where my mind could be let free to imagine. After the loss of my mother film took on another meaning and allowed me for brief time to escape from the pain and this is where I fell in love with film.

What makes you passionate about it?

It’s something that was born into me and feel it’s my calling. I love the creative process from writing, shooting, editing, and then to the screen. Film has impacted my life greatly, so I want to give that same feeling back to people. It’s one of the most rewarding feelings seeing your finished product.

What is your top goal in the film industry?

My goal is to impact peoples live through the art of cinema. I want to be best and have my name/company be a household name. Be a filmmaker whose work changes lives and is thought provoking. So, I guess the next Spielberg lol. I want to do what I love for a living. The only way to do great work is to love what you do.

Favorite Film?

Jurassic Park…. I was obsessed with dinosaurs as a kid. I inquired about the new or the old versions, and was told that he was referring to the old versions of the film.

Can you elaborate on the old and the new?

I really enjoyed the new one and they did some nostalgic moments well. But nothing comes close to the original. The first Jurassic Park was shot on film not digital which makes it more realistic/gritty. Also mostly done on practical sets/animatronics back then not all this green screen cgi. The first one pioneered the world to special effects. Jurassic World is the second best in the franchise. Can’t beat the first time you see T-Rex in the original.

In Closing

Everything written above takes the word passion and defines it around an individual, my friend, Stephen Bortsalas. I support his quest to achieve his goal and make his dream a reality. I admire his drive and the things that drive his motivation.

Stephen, this is to you my friend. Any kind of exposure this may bring is the very least I can do to encourage your great efforts of following your dream.

Contact information for Stephen:

Business Inquiries- (610) 955-5767

Email: Steve13710@verizon.net


My Paranormal Experience


My Paranormal Experience

I’m going to start this entry off with saying that the paranormal is something that people will debate and disagree over forever. Skeptics and believers will always both exist. This isn’t an effort to convince anyone of what is or isn’t real, this is simply an experience that I went through that can be verified through multiple accounts.

I was always fascinated with the paranormal. At the age of 12 I saw a shadow person, yes, the references made in various ghost shows, they do exist. I saw one at midnight at my own house, and I saw the silhouette jump to the side of the hallway when I looked down it.  It terrified me.

That was essentially the birth of my paranormal interest. I began to watch the shows and find it all fascinating, but I never pursued it on my own. I did, however, discover that I was sensitive to the stuff. I could sense when something was around me. If something was off about the atmosphere, for whatever reason, I would be able to notice it. This caused me to read up on on the subject.

I have read a ton on the occult; I’ve read up on demonology, as well as covering several different religious texts (satanic bible included.) I’m a believer in the saying that knowledge is power, and the more ignorant you are to another point of view, the less you truly know about anything. I mention all of this because it pertains to what happened at the house I rented with my ex-wife and son.


It started with an interest in a house that was up for rent. We went to walk through it and when we were in the basement there was a non-functioning well. I will take this moment to sound a little batshit insane and make the claim that wells and things of that nature (attics, basements, ect) are all areas that are connected to the theory of portals/gateways to all things paranormal.

This was an area where I felt something significantly off and I pointed it out to my ex-wife. I said it had a bad feel to it, she didn’t want to take my word for it, and we ended up renting it days later.

Repeating the fact, Wells are pretty much gateways for anything spiritual. There are no instructional booklets as to whether it attracts malevolent or positive “things,” but nonetheless they attract something. In my personal experience, I could sense a spirit down there. I knew it was there, and it had a sense of fear around it. That is an immediate SOS for something with ill intentions. As skeptic won’t believe it, but if you’re someone with an open mind then think of it this way: our body reads things. We can read body language and our senses can pick up other things as well. Sensing a spirit and identifying intentions is normally as simple as recognizing whether you feel fear, or feel an urge of fascination.

My mention of something being “not right,” again, wasn’t taken serious.

Paranormal Interests

The topic came up one day that we should try and use a Ouija board. Honestly, I’d always wanted to try one out and see if it could work, so I said sure, why not? I agreed to try it out under the conditions that I completely ran the show. I had read about ouija boards, and while I wasn’t religious per se, I do have the common sense to not screw around with spiritual things that I don’t fully understand.

I knew what to watch out for, and I knew what spirits could do on it if it was used the wrong way. I made it clear what questions I didn’t want asked with the understand that I would stop playing if it wasn’t followed.

After we put my son to sleep we began our experiment and we contacted a spirit that called itself “Nelmond.” I made it clear that spirits lie prior to playing and made it clear to not believe anything it said prior to playing. My ex-wife immediately began asking it stupid shit she shouldn’t have, questions such as when are we going to die, and I kept my word. I immediately stopped using it, and forced it to say ‘goodbye’. While one the topic, yes, you can force a spirit to say goodbye.

We resumed using the board after I explained that if my rules weren’t followed it would be the last time I touched it. she let me do all the talking. It claimed I was a “strong spirit,” that it could ‘sense’ me. I asked for information that I could use as a way of verifying whether any of the information was true. I asked for specifics, dates, relatives, how it passed away, and other things of that nature.

After I got some information I said I would talk with it tomorrow. We shut it all up and put it away. I told my wife that under no circumstances do we want to be up at 2-3am because that is when spiritual energy is at its peak. I would try to explain this but I simply don’t have an explanation that would be anything but speculation.

At 2am I got a phone call from my friend, and you’re damn right I ignored the call. The problem was that just minutes later we heard in the kitchen area of the house “doof, doof, doof, doof” stomps coming up the basement steps. No one was in the house. I’m a very light sleeper, I would wake up at a simple knock on the door, let alone actually opening it up. I nudged my ex-wife said “do you hear this shit?” She asked me to go check it out. I simply said no. Well, not entirely true, What I said was: “You know what it is and I’m not fucking around with a ghost,” seriously, what was I supposed to do with it?

The following night we reached out again to this “Nelmond” and as we were playing the board I could feel something behind me. I asked if he/it was behind me and the answer: “Yes”, we could feel something touch our arms, not in the sense of physical touch or grabbing, but the feeling you get when you’d feel a cold breeze creep up your arm. The hairs on our arms began to rise and at that I said “This stops now or I stop talking to you for good,” I challenged it outright.



I said that It would no longer be welcome here if it wasn’t going to listen to the rules that are set. I forced a goodbye and I put the board away. That night it was around 9-10pm I could hear stomping around in the attic. It sounded like grown man that was wearing boots and walked with heavy feet. I simply looked at my ex-wife and I was scared, truthfully scared. I called my friend up who was/is incredibly religious and asked if he could come over.

Normally he wouldn’t, but he said he could hear fear in my voice, and he knew that was very unlike me. I’m not trying to sound like a bad ass, there really isn’t that much that gets a sense of fear/dread out of me. He came over and I explained what was going on, and naturally, he didn’t believe it. He had a friend with him and I asked them to hang out for a while and to give it some time. More so, I pleaded that they hang around for a while.

Fast forward to a half hour later and it started happening again, the stomping of footsteps. When it happened I looked at my friend and I said: “Explain that to me please, then.”

He went in the attic with me and he was in dead shock. He could see why I was afraid. He knew a pastor who I brought into my home to try and pray and get rid of this entity. All I will say is that apparently prayer toward these things is equivalent to asking a bully if they mind leaving you alone, or maybe my situation was a special case, but either way, it didn’t work.

Phase 2

I chose to go into phase 2, I decided to have an intervention, yes, seriously. I brought over several friends to help me contact this thing on the board, some with strong faith, some who were just unafraid and had the power to stand their ground. I talked to it on the board and I began to say that it has to leave, many people in the room didn’t believe my story, but in a short time frame they would all become believers.

The atmosphere in the room changed, significantly. You could feel it get much colder, you saw the lights began to dim and flicker. The worst part was that it admitted what it wanted on the board, it spelled my name out. I saw no reason to re-enact what I saw in the exorcist film. I stated I was done with the board, gameover for me.

I stopped playing while everyone else continued the discussion with the thing. It continued to ask for me. Another man in the room, also named Sean, said that there are 2 Seans and it might not be talking about me anyway. It was at this point that the planchette went to the letter “M”, my last name is Monaghan. I again said I was done with it. I had someone take the board and leave the house with it. I refused to play it again in the house. This didn’t make things better, it was like pouring gasoline on a fire.

I was at work one night and my ex-wife called me and asked me what I was doing at the house, I said “I’m still at work Jess.” The response from here was that I “Better not be fucking with her, and that my voice just called her out to the kitchen,” again, I said I wasn’t home. I told her to stay in the living room or go outside with our son until I got home, my shift was just ending.

I went home and I got things under control in the living room. My ex went to the basement for a minute, a second later there was a scream and her running up the steps. She told me something growled at her. At that point there were no longer solo adventures in the home. We stayed together as a family, went everywhere together, the stomping around in the attic continued daily.

I started thinking that my son could see something, so I asked my parents to let him sleep there for a while because I didn’t trust the safety of the house. I further explained that they didn’t have to believe in the shit, but to understand I felt my son’s safety was at risk and that was number one to me.


At this point my deepest, darkest fear became reality. Paranormal things have factors that are far beyond personal control. This entire situation was far beyond my control. It wanted me, it was trying to exhaust me, fatigue me, make me mentally weak. It mentally breaks you over time, it was during this process that I chose to face my fear.

I would go in the basement in the pitch black, all the lights off, just me, and I would sit down. I would say that I was there, I would tell it to make itself known or to get out. I would say that it had no power here, that I forbid it from being in my home. I’d say it was here without any invitation. Yeah, this sounds a lot like someone losing their mind talking to themselves, and if I was to accurately describe the feeling at that time it could very well be that, but it didn’t change the fact I got a response.

Whatever was in my house was really strong. I felt the air change, it was like you could feel the tension just dense, as if it was poison in the air. It caused a feeling of complete exhaustion, both mentally and physically.I decided to look into other approaches to face this head on.

I drove out to New Jersey where there was a ghost shop that supplied all sorts of ghost hunting equipment. I explained my situation to the people there, I provided them with proof, and I bought equipment. They told me not to investigate that it would make me further vulnerable and possibly provoke whatever was there. After the purchase I actually set up for some of their people to come and check the house out as well.

In addition to this I reached out to a well-known paranormal psychic from the UK, which even I have trouble believing in that, but then again, I’m also the guy that is talking in pitch black and asking casper to please relax. I also reached out to the person who invented the Ovulus, a piece of ghost equipment, and it was all for one singular purpose: to better understand what the hell I was up against and dealing with.

New Approaches

I began to talk to everyone that knew about this kind of thing, and I also went against the Jersey store’s wishes, I investigated.

I kept my family safe and I threw myself into harms way. I can’t say this was the most brilliant approach, but I don’t know that such an approach existed period. I acquired the necessary equipment, and I demanded for it to show itself. I demanded for signs that it could understand me, I collected information, and I tried to learn all I could.

At one point things got so weird that I actually called the paranormal psychic from the UK. There was a lot of email exchange to verify I wasn’t just some loon or fan, I made it clear I simply wanted help not an autograph. The more I told them, the more interested they became, which to me was a horrible thing. Someone who does that for a living and seems genuinely interested? Yeah, not a good sign. Anyway, I explained my readings and she told me what they meant in layman’s terms.

Given the readings it was not a human spirit, it was something more, and at that given moment it was standing directly in front of me. The psychic told me that given the readings, which are measured by electrical current in the air, that this thing was more then capable of physical harm.

At this discovery I retaliated with drunken muscles, aka I would drink and when that right amount of stupid sank into my brain I would be convinced I was invincible and that it was time to “confront the beast.” I would go up into the creepy damn attic and call this thing out and demand that it leave my home. My son was still not staying with us at this time.

Further investigation into all this I got EVPs, which for the paranormally inclined is a fancy way of saying a recording that captures a voice when there was no one else in the room. I got an evp of a child calling for help in the basement, and then a growl, the same growl my wife heard. I was way past my fear, I was in protective mode, I said it would never get to my family without going through me. I had the Jersey team come out, they tried to downplay it and claim the “spirit” wanted to share the space. I’m not going to get into what I thought of their suggestion. A common theme that came up though was that we should ignore it, to this day I wonder what an effective way to do that would have been.

It Never Ends

More creepy shit would began to happen. We would go to sleep and hear a little boy talking, whispering. I was snapping pictures constantly to try and get the thing visible and see what I was dealing with. I could feel breathing on my neck at times, I could feel cold spots throughout a room, I had EVPS where I would ask if it knew who I was and it would come through clear as day saying: “Yes, Sean”.

It could even influence things that you saw, which to me felt like a damn hallucination, it was really creepy. I would see pictures of my family on the wall flashing through like a light show. I got a recording of it manipulating shadows in the living room and it freaked me out. I showed the video to several people and they could say that they saw something in the video, and that it was incredibly creepy. You could see the shadow changing and altering and I was simply standing in the living room recording it, there was nothing that could have caused that in regard to having rational explanation.

My mother said that she had come in my house when I wasn’t there. She explained she went in the basement for something, while she was down there she could hear the baby gate from the upstairs get slammed down. She explained to me that she wanted to believe it was the wind but the force that the gate hit the ground there was simply no way that was what caused it.

My father has no belief in the shit, but he came over and went into the basement with me and waited with me. He brought 2 beers with him and said he will spend as much time as it took to finish them. He mocked the damn thing, and then went on to say that the thing was a sissy and didn’t want to mess with the, and I quote, “King.”

With nothing occurring what happened next surprised me because my father isn’t a religious man. He called on family that had been deceased, my father said:

“All right, for anything that is here that isn’t supposed to be here, this is when you check out. I’m calling on the spirits of my parents, Jerome Monaghan and my mother, whose name I forget, there is something here that is trying to cause harm to my son, my grandson, and his wife, I’m asking for you to come here and fight this. I’m asking for you to come and do battle with whatever evil spirit is here and to get it out of this house”, it was so weird, you could feel the air change, you could feel something different, like a weight had been lifted. He explained to me that his mom was always very protective of me, and that she would never let any harm come to me. And believe it or not, it made a difference, at least for a while.

That further elaborated my belief in spirits, they were called to defend me, and they definitely came. I looked into ways to battle evil, burning sage and that kind of thing. I did that routinely, but unfortunately, after a while, this thing came back.

There were little things that caused scares. We got a picture of a girl hiding in our closet, but we had no daughter, and had no friends with one. The night that caused us to leave was something that I will never forget, and even though it sounds absolutely nuts, I’m going to tell the story anyway. Whatever this thing was, it was attached to the house, and the following was enough to get me to leave:

One Last Time

We were sitting in the living room. I had just recently had my son come back to the house. I had my computer open and I was going though some pictures I had taken. I came across a batch there were photos of the basement of that house, but that isn’t the weird part. The weird part was the fact that I noticed they were changing, almost like a video was playing inside of each one and I looked at my wife and said “Uh…are you seeing this?”

The things on the screen were were weird, really weird. I’m talking weird faces and other things that I don’t know how to describe outside of the word morbid and uncomfortable to see. It looked like suffering is the best way to put it, something to cause a stir of fear, and that fear was very much accomplished.

And then it got worse. I closed up the computer and my wife’s eyes were locked on the living room wall and she said “Do you see it?” and when I followed what she was looking at I will give my best account of what I saw. I saw the air with what I would describe as weird pixelation, it was as though there were odd fragments in the air that no words can really describe, they were fairly transparent, it almost looked like that color that gasoline can change the air into. That blurred kind of coloration.

Well, in this “thing” energy cluster, whatever you want to call it, dead center on the wall was a face. It was staring right at me. I stared at it in a kind of shock and then I said “In the name of god I command you to get out of this house, you are not welcome here.” If you are guessing that this wasn’t effective, you’d be 100% right. To my credit, I did become very religious while living there for a while because I had no idea where to turn to deal with what was going on, unfortunately though, at heart, I’m simply not a religious person. I’m thinking god took a voice mail during that event.

Anyway, back on topic: the reaction that I got would be best described as that face staring me down. It didn’t move, it didn’t react, it just stared, it wasn’t remotely phased from what I had said. I made a choice, I said we were getting our son and leaving the house. I made a move for his bedroom, adrenaline overcoming the fear, and went right out the front door, I left the lights on and everything.

On the way to the car my ex claimed to have seen a woman lying in the snow calling out for help. I responded like any responsible person would and said “Get in the damn car.” There was nothing there, I heard nothing and saw nothing. My top priority was getting my son away from the place. I made my case, this is something that had stomped around, growled, caused images to move, and caused physical exhaustion from simply being around it. The likelihood that some woman magically landed on our lawn…I will leave it at that. PS: I verified by notifying the police and giving a call back number, there was no one there.


When we got to my family’s home I started knocking on the door, fairly frantically (I may have been a little worked up) and then my ex said “Sean, it followed us, it’s in the back of your brothers car.” I of course dismissed this right until I saw a shadowed silhouette moving in the back seat, which led to my rational reaction of slamming on the front door of the house the way a 7 year old would having a tantrum over being terrified.

When we got in the house I explained everything that had happened that evening. I just wanted to get some sleep so I went to do exactly that, but things weren’t over just yet. While laying down and trying to sleep my ex pointed out that it was still here, there was something wrong, to which I said to simply go to sleep and that we were fine here. That was when I noticed the air vent for the air conditioning (central air) had each part of it open one at a time. That was it though, after that it was gone, but that was more then enough to convince me I was done staying at that house.

That was the last night that I stayed in that house. I didn’t mention that when my wife had surgery I had an incident where I saw a shadow of an upside down cross shoot up on the wall, or the fact that things had been thrown from on top of the fridge at a friend of mine that was visiting. A lot of experiences happened there that lacked explanation.

When I researched the property it fell in triangular land that at one time was a place that executed criminals in the very old history of the area. There was an image of the place in a book of Haunted PA, the corner of the property was in the book and I recognized it without question.

This experience was me facing my biggest fear and I’ll never forget it.

6 Tips to a Successful Marriage

6 Tips to a Successful Marriage


A marriage is something that is truly delicate; it’s also a HUGE step in a relationship. A lot of people take it without the proper consideration as to what exactly they are getting themselves into. The divorce rate shows exactly what I’m talking about.

My wonderful ex would argue that I should be the last person to discuss ‘successful marriage tips’, and hell, she could be right. I stick with the notion that “what works,” is truly a matter of opinion. We all have an opinion, whether we choose to speak it or not. Those that are silent are that way because life has beaten you down to the point that you become a mime, a mute, and you simply nod your head.

With that idea in mind, that is absolutely no way to live. I’m going to give a crash course of Sean’s own opinion on what can make a marriage work and last, oh yes it will be grand.

A successful marriage relies on factors and concepts, my steady hand will deliver this analysis with surgeon precision and bring you to the depths of hell, I mean happiness.

Marriage Tips that Leave You Feeling Equal!

Try Not to Smile too Much

If you smile too often, you seem ‘too’ happy. Happiness is something that comes round once and a while, and if you abuse the feeling you will forget what it is. Happiness becomes that dirty little secret. If one of you is miserable it’s going to be a target of frustration. “Why the hell are you always so happy?,” go on, deny it, it’s the truth.

The Woman is Never Wrong

As men, we are bound to be the ‘error children’ of the world. We are without depth, and clearly, our life experience does not count. With this in mind a successful marriage is one where the woman can commit no wrong. She is a perfect vessel of knowledge of the greatest caliber.

Men are given the image of a cave man that scratch their ass and doesn’t know how to do anything right. This applies right up until shit hits the fan, then we are supposed to morph into hercules and defend all honor. That is as long as you are respecting ‘space’ and not being over-protective🙂

Her Friends ‘Rock’

Your wife’s friends have to be cooler than yours.

Their stories HAVE to be interesting (yes I know…brutal) and under no circumstance can you be mean to them. They are after all the ‘family’ your woman chooses. A successful marriage means accepting family. When they talk about a trip to Dunkin Donuts and turn it into half hour story where Abu behind the cash register winks at the girl, it becomes a full-fledged romantic story. It starts with a latte and continues to a climax where he proposes and offers a private jet trip to India.

I know, kidding, not everyone that works at Dunkin Donuts is Indian. It’s just a stereotype I’m having fun with. Oh, the romantic story? No, that really happens.

Your Mother-In-Law is an Angel

Again, this is where you might as well get some Vaseline because the friction involved with the insertion of some items can be quite painful. A successful marriage means your mother in law can do no wrong, and anything she does wrong is not of ill will, it is simply a mistake, and probably your fault. Oh, lets not forget that it should always be forgiven.

Oh don’t pay any attention to the financial deficit they have put you in, everything is okay. This fact applies right up until the in-law is beyond the aid of one’s personal abilities at which point they craft excellent plans to improve the situation, starting at naming replacements for your ass to their daughter. Yes, Mother In-Law’s are truly a blessing.

Money is of No Object

You are going to be the entrepreneur of the century cause guess what: men have discovered the secret to growing money trees. We have put into effect what science cannot; we can take a penny and grow dollar bills from the ground.

A successful marriage operates on the principal that you have so much money that you can never spend enough. $200 dress? Sure, throw it in the bag! Who needs rent when you can hang out in an alley wearing that?

Accept you’re a bad driver

A successful marriage means minimal arguing right? Well, no matter what you do when you drive, you suck. It will be an immediate panic attack, and don’t forget, the other driver is always right! Especially if they are a sweet old person.

Don’t get me wrong, I love old people, especially when they are genuine, but guys…your driving becomes impaired over time…my grandfather ran red lights and claimed he’s good to go. He turned into oncoming traffic and considered it to be the signs at fault… As you age… get off the road if you can’t tell the brake pedal from the gas.

A Successful Marriage is Plain and Simple

The truth of the matter is marriage is very difficult. It’s a matter of taking preference and desires and making them clear expectation. Like it or not, marriage is when you decide to ultimately make the big sacrifices, to take a person’s feelings serious enough to make them a top priority.

I absolutely do joke about marriage, but then again, I take very little serious. When you watch your own marriage crash and burn you tend to keep an open mind toward how most of them work in general, but regardless, it doesn’t take away the sour taste in your mouth from having experienced it personally.

Those tips will lead a couple to a successful marriage in days. Don’t hold back the love and fun now, take the step, and with those tips of genuine interest, you will keep that sparkle in her eyes forever.

6 Signs the People You Work With are Full of Shit


We all exist in a world where there is a kind of ‘framework’ to just about any living scenario. Whether this is work, relationships, development of any kind of talent, there are always those stages of growing and ‘achieving’. Well, in that framework there are bosses, and my god how most of them are full of complete and total shit, it is amazing.

These are signs the people around you are full of shit:

At work you feel like you are in a Montel Williams or Dr. Phil casting

When you have a boss that will openly discuss their personal life, the real personal stuff, then you know you are in deep shit. This is the person that will openly engage their personal life on the phone all day long, and you will have to sit there and listen to it. It could be about the family dinner they are having this weekend, the problems their son/daughter are having in a given relationship, or whatever.

The issue here is that you have to take your typical stress of a given job and then on top of that dump the fact that half the time you are going to want to strangle this person. Some duct tape and the desire to make someone a real-life piñata could go a long way given this scenario.

The listen to you half-heartedly

This is the person that will always claim that they ‘understand’, but in fact the way they listen to any kind of information always has that “I know, I know” kind of look in their eyes. DING DING DING, this is a bullshit detector bell going off, not only are they an asshole, but they feel like they are the most important person in a given space.

The boss who isn’t the boss

We all know who this person is, and every establishment has one. You have the head boss, probably the person who stays in their office all day long avoiding interaction at all costs, and then you have this person. This is the person who has the stain of shit across their lips because they have kissed so much ass that they feel some part of management has rubbed off on them as a result. They act like the boss, delegate like the boss, but in all truth when it comes down to it, they aren’t anything truly important.

They use the word ‘inconvenient’

This is another way of laying out the fact that they are clearly insensitive. This isn’t to say I feel like a workplace should be filled with guidance counselors and moral support, but more so the fact that in life, shit happens. When shit happens having a little bit of support is never a bad thing. It’s good to know the people around you have your back through thick and thin. When something comes up and an individual refers to it as ‘inconvenient’ the ideal result would be to tell them to go fuck themselves, oh but wait, that would be grounds for termination. Save it for the day you resign, tag it
with an urgent flag.

Employee celebrations/dinners/lunches are taken over by their stories

Yep, anytime one of these comes along you think about the great positive points, which factually is just the food, but you know the tradeoff is hearing them talk throughout the whole god damn thing. You try to cover up their stories by taking bites that are larger then your usual food intake, but the mental security it provides to block out some of the noise makes it all make sense. If a workplace had a real-life boogey man, this thing and its stories are definitely what would compose the beast.

You would prefer to leave a message that you will be out rather then talk to X person

We’ve all experienced it, something comes up in which you can’t make it to work that particular day, but in order to have it excused in an appropriate way you have to talk to ‘X’ person. You cross your fingers at getting the voicemail for the place of employment, hell, miracles happen sometimes right?

It’s a shame, through growing up we learn a lot of skills, but nothing ever prepares us for dealing with some of the people we have to deal with. The mental charades that take place in our mind because of the amount of negativity these kinds of people can bring about is impressive. The only positive things that people like this bring about is the lesson of restraint, and the establishment of mental breaking points.

Luckily, I am my own boss at this point, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be running into this kind of bullshit again sometime in my life. For the people that do, this is my post, my war cry, that I understand what you are going through.

Writer’s Against Writers Carnival

Writer’s Against Writers Carnival 

writer's against writers carnival

I’m putting together a group I’ve decided, writer’s against writers carnival. Spread the word, anyone that is looking for a place to get genuine, professional opinion toward their writing, or just wants a place to converse with like minded individuals, feel free to join up.
You can find the group here:

I don’t even care if you are a part of writer’s carnival, life is full of mistakes, this group is to help you overcome it. It will also be a place to help get your blog looked at by other talented individuals, consider it a win-win scenario.

So, to begin with I am going to tackle the whole idea of respect. The universal concept of respect respect is keeping an open mind, debating opinion without personal investment, after all, thoughts are thoughts. Respect is the security of acceptance, accepting who we are, accepting others, having opinions, and expressing them.

Unfortunately, some people, *cough* writer’s carnival *cough*, can’t stand the idea of someone sharing an opinion outside of their own. When one comes around they battle it like it is some horrid disease, the outcome most of the time of making the website stand on the grounds of what I know as communism, they call it a community.

For all you history buffs out there, I’m not too familiar with communism, but I know at some point or another it got its ass kicked. The US stepped in and stomped on it, as an act to ‘re-enact’ history, I stomped on the communism known as writer’s carnival. The result, some support group discussion, what the fuck, really?

When you electronically get your ass kicked the result apparently is creating a support group about bullying. Judging from what I read on it, I’m sure we all yell at carrots, about as much as we all play with zombie dolls, where the hell do they come up with these frames of thinking? I’m going to spark note this shit, adult attention span and all, but you will get the idea of what I mean:

Lets talk about big bad bullies!

So they decided it was important to give dictionary references to what words mean and then give proper examples.

“Opinion: a view or judgment formed about something, not necessarily based on fact or knowledge.

Example of Opinion: I don’t like carrots because I think they taste funny and I dislike the way the crunch when I bite into them OR Cats are hairy and I don’t like hair because it makes me sneeze. I wish cat owners would keep their animals indoors.

Abuse: to speak insultingly or cruelly to; revile.

Example of Abuse: I hate carrots because they’re stupid, ugly little arses and they are a disgrace to the vegetable family OR Cats are vile, putrid beasts and anyone who owns them is an idiot who deserves to die.”

Well shit, I don’t know about everyone else who read that, but I feel like I might be a little bit stupider as a result. I personally want my brain cells back.

The last time that I saw a documentary-themed ANYTHING on bullying and such I can tell you that the characters in the story were not fucking carrots. They were human beings that could express emotion and show the result of what happens when improper treatment occurs, however, on writer’s carnival, communism being one of the key elements, the character is portrayed as something that is incapable of responding to a given kind of treatment. 

From that point of view it is quite accurate, that is about as dead on as it gets when it comes to being a part of that miserable, horrible site. 

So, back to my group, calling all writers who want to grow and improve:

At Writers Against Writer’s Carnival here is what you can expect:

Opinion will be met with intellect, not oppression. Ideas are discussed and appreciated, not controlled and edited. The ability to thinks and speak for one’s self is an entitlement for anyone that had the ability to draw breath, and in some cases, some of the greatest lessons ever taught come from those who have already passed on.

What this group will be, will be a networking platform for people that want to talk with like-minded individuals. It will be a place to promote blogs, discuss strategy, whether it is around writing strategy, social media approach, blog promotion, personal writing technique, ect.
It will exist as a tool, never a hindrance.

What it will not be: writers carnival. Nice when you have something to reference that can sum it all up in one word. Saves a lot of time.

Feel free to join today, I have end say on who can and can’t be a part of the group, lets me prevent certain people from joining, it’s a safety hazard🙂

Feel free to drop in and become a part of something great.

Banning Anniversary of Writer’s Carnival

banning anniversary

It should be noted that this story is older and doesn’t coincide with the present date. It is, however, amusing, which is why I’m going to host it here. So, without further ado:

Writer’s Carnival Banning Anniversary

I’d love to say what kind of anniversary this is, that would require knowing how long I’ve been banned from the horrid site known as Writer’s Carnival, I don’t. What I do know is that gradually as time passes there are more and more victims coming forward that speak of the pain and hardship that they ran into when trying to be a part of the site.

The common theme: they weren’t a part of the moderation team, so, as a general consensus, the writing they provided sucked. Sorry guys, you guys are bad, lets go write about some fucking zombies, aye? Will get some highlights on that site them, maybe even get member of the month if we dress up like a zombie on Valentines day or Thanksgiving, the hell with Halloween, zombies foreva.

I’m serious.

For beginners, I need to say this, when I critique someone for having an unhealthy obsession with zombie things you have to understand where I am coming from. Romero and me are buddies, well, minus when he is trying to get the zombies to learn (Anisa must be influencing him with how she talks to her zombie dolls that she crafts), but that aside trying to make zombies a part of daily routine is kind of like saying you need to have cotton candy every day, it’s not that it isn’t enjoyable time to time, it’s to say that daily it reaches a great amount of stupidity.


I need to watch it, someone from writer’s carnival might read this and take the whole attack on the site this is meant to be and claim I’m racist or something. They are really good at that, taking the solid point of an intellectual attack and basing it around one part of an article🙂

Aside from the constant discussion of zombies I am noticing something else when I scroll through the status updates, it seems like the term ‘ghost town’ has impacted this site. I guess when the truth comes out people get a sense of wonder and feel the need to run like hell, I just cut the ribbon, the rest of the people did what they needed to.

As you scroll through the status updates what you notice is that it is pretty much the same person posting what they are doing during the day. Every other line it is the same person, I’d say it’s desperate, but in a way you have to feel kind of bad. Not really, it’s desperate, and it’s sad. It’s like when a fatal wound is inflicted and someone is staggering their moments to the edge of a cliff, sorry Writer’s Carnival, the truth is a bitch, even more so when it gets out to the public eye.

The cat’s out of the bag, the moderation there:

banning anniversary

That about sums it up. You will believe in every damn thing I have to say or you will have to go elsewhere, “Ya hear me!?”

Yep, I heard you, it’s why your sites population took a dive back to sanity you fucking mental fool.

PS. I am an intellectual person, but I find profanity to sum up so many feelings that it is almost like a spark notes for common day discussion.🙂 Cussing does not make someone stupid unless your name is Anisa.

Where was I a year ago?

On Facebook I got the question: Where was I a year ago on writer’s carnival, that story is going to be a copy paste moment:

I think last year I was going through the process of Anisa trying to convince me to post on that horrid site. I was running my own blog peacefully and along came a drooling beast, I couldn’t understand her very well, things of a lesser intelligence are hard to fully comprehend, but when she supplied a link I decided that it may be worth while to get some separate opinions.
There wasn’t a lot Anisa could explain well, but she made it very clear she loved making zombie dolls and talking to them on a regular basis. Once I bookmarked that in my mind I thoughtfully ignored her to the best of my ability.

Occasionally she would pop up on writing that I would post and would make suggestions that make me think of the mind set I had when I was teaching my son to draw. (discussion for another time)

Often times conversations with her would resemble some of those automated messages you get when you call companies, the difference is at least those messages stood to provide some form of value. The stupidity that would slur from her was a wave of ignorance, the kind of shit that scars the mind forever.

banning anniversary

Lets talk contests. As you can see here there are various trophies, horrible writing conditions, could they be written as a riddle any worse?

ANYTHING GOES (within reason) any genre any theme anyTHING. Should just say “Hell, write whatever you want, it doesn’t matter, we’ve pre-decided whose gonna win this shit. Yo Emmex! You got something written up about a bully? Lets talk about one that gets mean on the internet and how we ban him to save the writing community we gots,” sounds about right. Oh I forgot:

“I know, lets talk definitions and bullying and have the people played out as carrots.”

“That’s fucking brilliant.”

Another thing to notice, you notice that the face in this ad is blue and it has a really weird smile on it? That is because the real thoughts were strangled out of it, as for the picture, it was told to smile or it would have to be replaced. Aka banned.

Somewhere along the top there is a mention about acquiring bragging rights to win a contest here…bragging rights for if you win a contest there. Yes, I said it again, can you imagine that? Is that a reward or a punishment? Can you imagine? You are trying to pitch the idea that you are an accomplished writer:


Publisher you are talking to:

“I’m sorry, but who is that?”

Well, there goes those bragging rights.

You want recognition? Reach out to Huffington Post or an accomplished blogger and guest blog for them. Do something that will actually bring positive attention to your name and writing abilities, do you think a publisher is gonna read a zombie story you put together and go:

Well shit, this site got it right, you are going to the big times. I hear McDonalds is hiring”

You can’t even proudly exclaim that you got some kind of award on this site, it’s name is about as close to truth as truth can be on that site: It is a complete and total fucking circus.

Well, on a good note I feel like I’ve kicked something off that needed to be done, a venture for the truth. Enforcement on the idea of respecting one’s self and understanding talent versus oppression. Any idiot can get hold of a site and run it like a complete and total nazi. The site has crumbled to a community that is left of a few whispers, shit happens.

No hard feelings and what not, oh, that’s with the people I enjoy. You psychotic shits that run the site, you can have it for yourself. By the end of the month it’s going to be Anisa talking zombies and Emmex telling her about her god damn DODO bird.

I’m done, rant over.

If you enjoyed this read about the ban here: http://seanpmonaghan.com/index.php/2016/10/01/writers-carnival-banned/

Writer’s Carnival Banned Me

For beginners, a little back story for those just tuning in. the post I put together, Wheels on Writing, was initially put together as a mockery post for the writer’s carnival website. Prior to posting it there was discussion that my doing so would probably get me banned, turns out my instinct is pretty damn good, I got banned, but for some ridiculous reasons, hence this post.
The funny story that caused the ban can be read by clicking here.

Inside joke really, the catch is the owner of the site apparently had such a die hard urge to get me banned there was some heavy reaching put into effect, so without further ado, the story:

I went to log in and continue to move some of my work off the site, Writer’s Carnival, to find that my username was changed, and my authorship was ended. All my work was still on the site, but given another name, aka, copyright infringement. I immediately stated that I wanted my work off the site and contacted the site owner in a number of ways. After childish redirection of going to “Contact Us” on the website I received an email after writing this:
to: writerscarnival@hotmail.com

To whoever it is that runs this particular email,
My assumption would be that it is you, Anisa, which you couldn’t lack professional etiquette more if you tried. The decision to ban my account that was associated with this email I could care a less about, what I do care about is keeping my work on the site under a name that is not mine, that is copyright infringement.
I want everything associated with my account removed or I will take the proper legal steps to insure it is done and far more complication will come as a result.
I don’t want to waste any more time with this site, there is personal right and wrong, and professional right and wrong, legally, keeping my work without proper authorship and credit associate with it is illegal.
I don’t care about being a part of the site, I care about being professionally wronged, and considering that on a professional level I write for a living, this is a big deal to me.
Personal feelings aside, it’s clear I think the moderation on this site is poorly handled, this is a matter of professional law and etiquette.
Remove everything.


The response that I received was this:


Your accusations are completely, 100% wrong. For starters, your account was deleted because you…

A.) Attacked Writer’s Carnival
B.) Attacked the owner
C.) Attacked the team of volunteers who help behind the scenes
D.) Attacked every single person who uses and enjoys the community
E.) Attacked the special Olympics and its attendees.

So, please, don’t talk to us about ‘Professionalism’.

Writer’s Carnival has been nothing but welcoming and supportive of you from the beginning. We’ve asked you in the past to adhere to the site rules and this, for whatever reason, upset you. You have a blog… Go advertise it like normal bloggers do. I’m quite positive you would not want us on your blog, telling people to head over to Writer’s Carnival every time we visited your blog. Would you?

That escalated, ever after it was suggested to use the Author Notes, so we were still helping you, to you attacking the entire Writer’s Carnival population. And then the Special Olympics.

Your behaviour is entirely inappropriate, uncalled for and unfounded in reason.

You are no longer welcome at Writer’s Carnival.

Still, as a last courtesy, when we deleted your account we temporarily moved your posts to another account in the event you may not have them saved on your computer and would still like a copy.

Why would we still try to help you after everything you’ve done? Because that’s the kind of community we are. We understand how important people’s writing is to them and we will do everything in our power to help them on their journey.

Even you. After the rant you put up and the insults you flung.

So, as a last courtesy… If there is any post you have not saved yet, let us know in a short reply to this email. Short being the operative word.

We will not read anymore of your abusive emails.

If you do not want or need access to those posts any longer… Let us know by simply stating exactly that. That you do not need access to them any longer. Then we will delete them from their temporary holding location.

Goodbye, Sean. We wish you well wherever you end up.

Anisa Irwin
Owner, Operator and Creator of Writer’s Carnival

Let me begin by saying this is how I felt when I read that:

“Aw shieeet, ruined my day”

I posted that story with the full intention of knowing that I was probably going to get banned, the people on that site knew it before I even posted it.

In the past you see great figures who sacrificed themselves for the greater good, my sacrifice was for the greater good, to point out and prove that the site is run by a juvenile brat that can’t stand to hear an opinion outside of their own.

Did I attack the site? Yes. Did I attack the owner of the site? Yes. Did I attack the community? Damn right I did, but what I didn’t do is put down people that live with disability. I am very courteous about people that live and overcome challenges, when you take an entire article and zoom in on one sentence and blow it up, it shows how little your brain is. To take it a step further you started a campaign, tell me, do your outfits look like this:


Except perhaps they have my face on the area where the cross is on this particular coat? 

Seriously though, you really set off on some campaign to shut down the “Sean rebellion.” You must see me as quite the threat to be emailing people demanding they not support my thoughts or leave the site they are a part of. This is an email the site owner of Writer’s Carnival sent to another member on the site, I will copy and paste it exactly for what it states:


Just a heads up about members who are sharing Sean’s post ‘Wheels on Writing’…

I could care less about the WC aspect, and that’s the truth, but what concerns me is his comment regarding the special Olympics.  I can only assume you missed the statement, as I did as well on my first read through, but what he said is so rude and beyond comprehension that I cannot support it any way, shape or form.

I respect those Olympians and the challenges they have gone through to get where they are today.  It’s amazing and inspiring.  And to see him make them the butt end of a joke… It’s not fair.

So, we’re asking anyone who is sharing that garbage to no longer be associated with Writer’s Carnival.  I saw that you shared it from his blog…

I have a lot of friends who have children who would be truly insulted by what he said because they fit into that spectrum.  I know a lot of people who would be insulted by that kind of demoralizing comment.  People who have disabilities or conditions should never be subject to ridicule like that.  We have to come together as people to protect one another and I believe that he’s completely out of line making fun of the special Olympics.

So, again, maybe you didn’t notice his comment, but if you did then please unassociate yourself with this site.

Thanks, and even if you don’t like the site, I’m sure you can understand where I’m coming from here.


Have you ever read an email that seeped so much bullshit that you had to run and get a towel before it got on the floor? I sure did, it’s above me shitting on these words I’m typing. “Help!”


You told her Anisa! So bad that she came and sent me the email after. 

The more insulting factor of this is that Olivia, my friend (AKA the whole sharing the email thing with me) actually has children that struggle with some disabilities, Olivia knows how i feel about these kinds of things, and knows me as a person.  Call me crazy, but when you try to get someone to agree with where you are coming from, outside of gangster movies and beating people up to get them into silence, normally civil discussion works. The whole “Agree with me or you are banned.” thing is kind of proving the point that you are an asshole.

You see, I am an asshole and if I have something to say, I say it. Unlike you, someone that whispers in the fucking dark hoping someone will listen to your psychotic babble, I speak my mind and should people not like what I have to say, I say “shit, we don’t agree, let’s move forward”

Quite the campaign: listen to me or I will ban you! Get some guts and see if people can simply agree with the shit you have to say, instead you act like someone that is hiding under a fucking rock whispering things in the wind. When you run a site like some rabid troll that studied nazi films what you end up with is none other than: Writer’s Carnival.

Additionally, when you whisper dirty lies it can lead to what’s called defamation of character, I’d pursue it but I deal with enough idiots on a regular basis that you simply are not worth my time. See, I simply have to post what you are doing and the general consensus can be reached: that you make the Paina character in wheels on writing more alive then ever. Get it?

The butt end of the joke

The “butt” end of the joke, as you put it, was not the special Olympics, it was you, and your inability to run a site in an effective manner without controlling how people “should” feel and “should” think. It appears everyone got that except for the person who had their head buried way too far up their own ass. Then again, when you can’t outsmart someone I guess making up assumptions and stories is the second most effective approach.


“Where did my mind go?”–Good question

Over the months I’ve watched great writers, the one I will mention is Eric, that have hit the ground running to get away from that shit hole site. I received my first 48 hour ban when I called you a nazi for speaking down to Eric, you sure taught me a lesson! Who boy, you sure did.

The beautiful thing about the Internet and this space on the Internet is I can say whatever I want and you can’t ban me, this is my word, my thoughts, and the truth can be a real bitch. I respect intelligence, I can debate personal opinion, I despise ignorance and stupidity.

Given the way you act your medicine cabinet must look like the fucking rainbow, a pill of every color. You’d need them to keep up with you million different personalities. Go back to composing your fucking zombie dolls, the viva la revolution against Sean isn’t working out for you.


Lastly, you mention you were going to publish my work like I should clap and do a cartwheel. Any idiot with a wallet can get published. Published doesn’t mean talent, and with you evaluating my talent, it sure as hell doesn’t mean talent.

I found it funny how in the initial comments for “Wheels on Writing” you rolled a bunch of names off of people that I got along with and then squeezed your name in there, as people that support my writing. I guess you really do go out of your way to fit in, I’d imagine you’d have to when your editing crew is the zombie dolls that line your windowsills.

Since joining Writer’s Carnival the experience you personally have given me would be the equivalent of a disease you return to the Emergency room to 3-4 times to cure. I should mention that I don’t mean an STD, that would hint that at some previous time there would be a feeling of pleasure of some sort or another, nope, with Writer’s Carnival that is certainly not the case. The experience you delivered was more along the lines of brain hemorrhage or something really terminal. Yeah, all in all, your presence sucks.

So, with all being said, I’m banned, I’m at peace, and if it means never hearing from you again, then I guess I’m one step closer to believing in a god.

Getting the truth out there is very important to me, what can I say, I’m honest.

Writer’s Carnival-Wheels on Writing

This was written a while back. This is a tribute to writer’s carnival, a little something I put together for a laugh, and yes, I believe it to be funny. This is my personal experience with it told via fiction:

Fun fact: this story got me banned from the website.

Wheels On Writing

It was another Friday night, Paina was at the computer typing away, doing what it did best, trolling. Paina was literally a troll, but that term, Internet troll, it’s the real deal, trolls “troll” on the Internet.

“Sup Paina”

“Hey Sean, same old, yelling at people who dare express an opinion, it’s my way or the highway, you know how it is.”

“Absolutely, how’s the editing team?”

To this Paina looked at his windowsills lined with the trolls with random hairstyles,

“Oh, they are great. Matter a fact they never critique my writing at all, that silence is the equivalent of a thumbs up, right guys?”


“See what I mean?”

I shook my head. The truth was the truth.

“How’s the website going?”

“Great, great. The community was going a little quiet so I decided to kick off this thing where they can earn a little icon next to their name if they try to put together a story about a horror topic, the catch is I’m going to limit the length to 2,000 words and then I’m going to get all the regulars to critique about how the story isn’t in depth enough, but hey, it’s for an icon next to their user name, cool huh?”

“Sounds like a great idea, best of luck, how did my poem do in the last contest?”

“Ah, it was well written, very emotional and in-depth, but this guy Frank put one together about a butterfly flapping its wings on a sunny day, he’s definitely getting first place. You can always join in on contests in the near future. ”

“Thanks Paina, I think I will pass, best of luck with the editing team.”

The Dream Team

My name is Sean, and I’m a writer. I strive to drive emotion in the most complicated ways possible, I think fast, I think swift, and I love to paint pictures with words. I’m also one half of the internet site run by his truly, Paina, we host a site that offers the opportunity to create a gathering of writers, and help them grow to their greatest potential. We called it “Wheels on Writing”, it’s kind of like the special Olympics, regardless of personal skill, everyone has the opportunity to compete here.

I used to write to vent, now I write because it is a way to make a living. It went from me trying to sound clever, to suddenly being students at a number of different schools and becoming an expert in a bunch of shit that I truly could care a less about. Want real estate done? You got it, investing? Sure, a paper about some painter that died 30 years ago? I’m your man. Ballerina? Fuck you, go write your own dance article, I got limits and my skill is endless.


Paina was my roommate, Paina was also someone that had some money and could get just about anything published, not because he had skill, but because enough money will get any given piece of writing the opportunity to get in print. It doesn’t mean it will be successful, but it is a great way to claim one’s self as a published writer. We’ve been running the site for a while now.

I found Paina one day at the library jumping on a million forums and yelling at everyone in a way that made a two year old tantrum look like a modified intellectual in today’s world, naturally seeing how incapable he was of hearing other people’s opinions the first thought that came to mind was that he should help me moderate a site, this was the birth of “Wheels on Writing”, we made all writing dreams have the opportunity of coming true.

We were a team, at least I thought we were, up until I saw he banned me…banned me….WTF I’m half the team!
So yeah, I went to log on, but I was banned…what the fuck?

“Yo Paina, what the fuck is this dude? Why am I banned from our wesite?

“Sean, my man, it’s temporary. Ya see, in the status updates you tried to promote your own personal blog, that’s just completely not acceptable. Gotta be more subtle, ya heard me? Put that shit in the author notes, this is all about Wheels on Writing, rolling to the fuckin future. We gonna bring this community to the top heights of writing, look at this mother fucker, he got 10 badges, I mean icons, he’s a lifer fo’ sho”

I was silent…

“You really banned me for trying to get a few more people to check out my blog? It’s not that big of a deal…”

“Sean, yes it is. In status updates people want to hear about who you are eating dinner with, and whether you are playing Frisbee in the afternoon with Timmy or your dog that is blind in one eye, ya feel me?


“I think I a going to take a break for a while from the site…maybe focus on some of my professional avenues”

“Take all the time you need my man, we are here waiting for you whenever you wanna come back or get some opinions on your writing. It aint gonna be the same without ya for a bit, will make do. Oh shit look, someone wrote about a leaf blowing threw the air, we gotta feature that shit, it’s poetic!”

And that is the story about when I was half of a website and I chose to walk away for a bit and pursue some of my own personal developments. I took some time to look into writing projects, handled quite a few, developed a solid name for myself in a number of areas, and was really enjoying my own kind of work for a while there.

After a bit I missed a few members of the community, but luckily I was kept informed about the million badge opportunities that became available on a near daily basis due to email updates. Fuck trying to turn them things off, no matter what you do they find a way of jumping over your spam folder right to the top of urgent messages.

I logged onto the site, appears that I had been unbanned after discussing with Paina that I understood the rules and regulation, and decided to read one of the new posts on the site. Unfortunately, all I had the chance to see was one member’s comment because the rest of the page was badges that they had earned, I looked at who it was, Frank, the butterfly poet. Apparently he had become the poster boy for this site and written several different poems about nature, not much about rain though, that would be dark and unappealing for visitors of the site.
I clicked on the ‘contest’ tab to check out what was currently going on, and I had to hand it to Paina, the man had a plan.

Contests Cilpabooza

There were like 30 contests, none of them had any rational thought behind them, but bet your ass they were going on. I looked at the one and it read:

“Write a story in 100 words about a scary night terror”

Naturally, being a dark theme, I had to join in on this one, the problem was that when I described my character breathing and taking a step in the dark I had run out of available words to use. I took a different approach, I said fuck it, I typed one fucking word: Boo

The online response was fucking insane:

“Great fucking writing man, you put a lot of thought behind this”
“You gave me the chills, I was laying in bed reading and decided to check up on the site, and just wow, you’re talented”

I think my jaw fell to the fucking floor. Were these people serious? Boo was brilliant? Fucking Boo? I’d hate to type the word “Growl” they might fucking piss themselves.

Then, lo and behold, captain Frank himself commented:

“This is a great story. It could use a little more depth though. Maybe explain why the word Boo came into play, a little background about what the person knows about the word”
So, I responded:
“I have to keep it under 100 words though, I didn’t want to get too complicated”
“Good point, you did an excellent job, keep up the good work.”

Fuck me…what had happened to this site that had so much talent on it? I began to look through the members at one time I had conversed with a lot and it seems many of them had jumped ship. I didn’t blame them, I went into the room where Paina was and decided to talk to him.

“Paina, what the fuck happened to the site man?”
“Sean, my man, the site is off the hook. You seen these badges? People are going fuckin nuts, they love it. Subscriptions are going crazy, I think I’m gonna charge double the expense on this site next year with the sales pitch: double the price, double the badges. People will do it, they love these things, it’s a community of great feeling”

“Paina, the writing quality is going to hell, half these people don’t know their ass from a hole in the ground”

“Sean, they just learning brotha, everyone gotta start somewhere. And my man Frank here, he is going to the top. He’s got every badge I’ve ever posted to earn”

“I noticed, the computer screen freezes when his profile pops up, he’s quite accomplished”

“Sean, you got no idea. This boy got talent, look at this line of poetry he wrote:
The leaf is brown, Life has it’s ups and downs, but I won’t frown, I live in town”

Speechless…again….what could I say to that horrid shit?
“It’s bad Paina, really bad”

“You are too negative for this site okay Sean? Maybe your own blog is the way to go, this is about a supportive community. You can rejoin us anytime you want. We are having a virtual pizza party on Friday at 8, feel free to drop in, don’t forget about us”

I walked away, a site that I loved went to shit. It was run by a fool whose priorities were fucking lost, but I made the most of it. I reached out to the people that were great to talk to, the rest, I will watch from a distance as it falls apart.

Quest of Self Loathing

A Quest of Self Loathing

For beginners, I’ve been swamped with some personal projects, sorry for falling off the map. For a little while I’m going to be moving old content onto here and trying to develop more options for readership. I’m not going to be able to edit them as closely as I would like to.

I am going to make efforts toward the direction I’m going with this site very soon. I just haven’t been able to give it the time that I would have liked to lately. Without further ado: A Quest of Self Loathing

Have you ever had that feeling where you just can’t stand who you are? Of course you have; in one form or another, it’s human nature. Whether it’s the way you look, a decision that you made that you didn’t think through enough, we have all been there.

So, why am I writing about it? I guess it’s because while it seems easy enough to call human nature, it’s a human nature we tend to ignore. Instead, it’s as though we punish ourselves for it. Whether we go out and make a ton of bad decisions, lock ourselves behind doors and binge on whatever “poison” gets us through the day, or a number of different things, over time it begins to take a toll.

Again, why am I writing about this? I guess it’s because the feeling has become something so “natural” that it needs to be pointed out that it’s something as an individual CAN in fact be countered.

I ran away from life for months, I ignored key problems in my life and let them gradually bury me in an emotional coma. I then numbed myself and tried to hide from my problems. While I could sit here and blame many things the person to TRULY blame is myself.

I gained weight, hated everything I saw in the mirror, and simply became the very core of depression. One day all of that finally changed and I said enough was enough. I can sit here and continue to be disgusted with myself or I can start building toward a change.

I decided to make a change.

Since that very day I’ve strived to a better me every single day. There is no instant gratification. I’m not going to go out and jog for 10 minutes and suddenly have a 6 pack, nope, I’m going to have to work and beat out every bit of weakness I allowed into me. The point to this is this: when it comes to being harsh on self-judgment I am the king of setting standards against myself. If I can do it, anyone can do it.

If you aren’t happy with yourself take the time to make the change. If you feel embarrassed because of how people may see you struggling to make the change, screw them, they don’t matter. Starting out (again) I’d run up the street and be winded. Since the time I’ve started and now I’ve tripled that distance and still am building day by day.

Don’t let the eyes of the public hinder your own personal quest for change. The only person that can solidify being beaten is you. When you quit the game is over, as long as you remind yourself that you can be a little bit better every day then you are still building toward a better you.

I am still disgusted when I look at myself, but even then, there is the reminder “I am doing something about it.”

When depression gets a leash on you it’s incredibly difficult to break free from, but it isn’t impossible. Some days will in fact feel like complete and total hell, but even then you have to remind yourself that it’s a state of mind, and a state of mind can change from embracing something you enjoy; whether it be a book, a video game, or a simple cup of coffee.

Lastly, we have to live in a way that is set by our own personal standards. The more we concern ourselves with how others feel we should be, the more we lose ourselves and the personal identity that makes us strong as individuals. Each of us has a set of standards, a set of likes and dislikes, and the closer we keep ourselves to the things that make us special and unique, is the more likely that we will be to find true happiness.

I’m probably the most pessimistic, negative person I know. Murphy’s law applies to everything in my life; the theory of “what can go wrong will go wrong.” Even with this in mind though I am forcing myself to be aware of the fact that the only time things are truly beyond control are when you YOURSELF decide to quit.

I’ve been building myself to say everyday… fuck quitting, take life by the throat and build yourself into being something you can be proud of again. Don’t just hear it from me though…apply it to yourself…regardless of who you are or your own personal challenges, the same theory can apply.

Here is to living with a clearer mind.