5 years ago
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Monday, January 30, 2006
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Loss
Today, a good friend unexpectedly lost his mother. She lived with his brother and passed away in her sleep.
Why is it that when we want to hurt someone the words come fast and easy? We can feel empowered by them as the person our anger is directed cringes in shock and pain.
Yet when someone close to us experiences a loss words seem hollow even when the meaning behind them is sincere. Words of condolence seem to have no power, no strength, they leave us with a feeling of loss as if we should be doing more.
If any good can come out of her death it is the realization of how lucky I am.
Not that my mom having a terminal illness is lucky but with long term health issues comes time. Time for us to talk, to share, to say all that needs to be said so that when her time comes she nor I will be left with regrets.
Please remember Dominick and his family during this difficult time.
Why is it that when we want to hurt someone the words come fast and easy? We can feel empowered by them as the person our anger is directed cringes in shock and pain.
Yet when someone close to us experiences a loss words seem hollow even when the meaning behind them is sincere. Words of condolence seem to have no power, no strength, they leave us with a feeling of loss as if we should be doing more.
If any good can come out of her death it is the realization of how lucky I am.
Not that my mom having a terminal illness is lucky but with long term health issues comes time. Time for us to talk, to share, to say all that needs to be said so that when her time comes she nor I will be left with regrets.
Please remember Dominick and his family during this difficult time.
Friday, January 27, 2006
General Patton
I noticed him while waiting in line to place my order. Friday afternoon and the lunch rush was on. Usually, I eat lunch later to avoid the lines but circumstances left me without options.
He was elderly. Maybe seventy-five. Unshaven with a soiled baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. His jeans were worn and his sweater had definately seen better days. He appeared to be harmless but from the look in his eyes it was rather obvious that the elevator had not reached the top floor in many years.
Looking at the menu required focusing my attention in his direction which I immediately sensed was a mistake. He threw me a half-assed salute as if he knew me. Pretending not to see I returned my attention to the book I was reading until it was my time to order.
In looking for a free table I was not surprised to find the only one available was near my new friend. My fellow diners had picked up the same vibe as me and I appeared to be the loser in a grown game of musical chairs.
Dispensing my soda I sat at my table and returned to my book. Despite my best effort to lose myself in the pages I could hear shuffling behind me and knew without looking I would soon have company.
With a quiet sigh I looked up to find him standing before me, with a hoarse whisper he asked if he could join me. When I did not immediately respond he removed a picture of an elderly woman sitting on Santa's lap, set it beside me and walked away.
I vainly tried to decipher his intentions without success. Moments later he returned, stood at attention before me and this time threw me a rather crisp salute.
"May I join you General Patton sir."
Glancing around I failed to find who he was addressing until much to my chagrin I realized it was me. Left without options, my choice was to be rude or to humor him. Choosing to humor him I allowed him to join me in hopes he would grow bored and leave.
Than I made the mistake of coughing.
"General sir, are you ill? Why are you coughing?"
I mumbled that I had bronchitis.
"Are you still smoking general?"
"No I do not smoke. I have never smoked. You have me confused with someone else."
"But general what about the lung cancer, I told you stop smoking or it will kill you."
Exasperated but in control I informed my friend that he was confused. I did not have cancer. I never smoked and that he was confusing me with someone else.
"He looked at me as if he had lost his best friend. General I don't know why you are doing this. You know me. You know my girlfriend in this picture." He pointed at the woman on Santa's lap. "You dressed as Santa for this picture. You know she lives right across the way."
With that he gave me a look of disgust. He picked up his picture and without a word walked out the door.
Needless to say in the future I will return to avoiding the lunch hour rush.
He was elderly. Maybe seventy-five. Unshaven with a soiled baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. His jeans were worn and his sweater had definately seen better days. He appeared to be harmless but from the look in his eyes it was rather obvious that the elevator had not reached the top floor in many years.
Looking at the menu required focusing my attention in his direction which I immediately sensed was a mistake. He threw me a half-assed salute as if he knew me. Pretending not to see I returned my attention to the book I was reading until it was my time to order.
In looking for a free table I was not surprised to find the only one available was near my new friend. My fellow diners had picked up the same vibe as me and I appeared to be the loser in a grown game of musical chairs.
Dispensing my soda I sat at my table and returned to my book. Despite my best effort to lose myself in the pages I could hear shuffling behind me and knew without looking I would soon have company.
With a quiet sigh I looked up to find him standing before me, with a hoarse whisper he asked if he could join me. When I did not immediately respond he removed a picture of an elderly woman sitting on Santa's lap, set it beside me and walked away.
I vainly tried to decipher his intentions without success. Moments later he returned, stood at attention before me and this time threw me a rather crisp salute.
"May I join you General Patton sir."
Glancing around I failed to find who he was addressing until much to my chagrin I realized it was me. Left without options, my choice was to be rude or to humor him. Choosing to humor him I allowed him to join me in hopes he would grow bored and leave.
Than I made the mistake of coughing.
"General sir, are you ill? Why are you coughing?"
I mumbled that I had bronchitis.
"Are you still smoking general?"
"No I do not smoke. I have never smoked. You have me confused with someone else."
"But general what about the lung cancer, I told you stop smoking or it will kill you."
Exasperated but in control I informed my friend that he was confused. I did not have cancer. I never smoked and that he was confusing me with someone else.
"He looked at me as if he had lost his best friend. General I don't know why you are doing this. You know me. You know my girlfriend in this picture." He pointed at the woman on Santa's lap. "You dressed as Santa for this picture. You know she lives right across the way."
With that he gave me a look of disgust. He picked up his picture and without a word walked out the door.
Needless to say in the future I will return to avoiding the lunch hour rush.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Nobody's Puppet
i am not a puppet
no gipetto controls my strings
no one tells me when to jump
i've never asked how high
those who orbit the boundaries
of this world i call life
could never understand
each sacrifice i make
they sit upon
their ivory thrones
passing judgement
without facts
watching through the window
of a suburbian tv screen
unable to see the forest
through a sea of viagra ads
it is said that life
can be a roller coaster
lots of hills
a thousand screams
it is said that discretion
without valor
is a worthless gesture
in a two cent world
yet despite the jeers
of the hissing crowd
gathered for the drawing
of aged innocent blood
their will be no sacrifice
no lamb on a broadway stage
an audience left
with disappointment
should beware
of that which is free
i will do my mourning
amongst the grease paints
in the shadows
of an early fall
a character actor
without a script
left to recite soliloquies
in the dark
no gipetto controls my strings
no one tells me when to jump
i've never asked how high
those who orbit the boundaries
of this world i call life
could never understand
each sacrifice i make
they sit upon
their ivory thrones
passing judgement
without facts
watching through the window
of a suburbian tv screen
unable to see the forest
through a sea of viagra ads
it is said that life
can be a roller coaster
lots of hills
a thousand screams
it is said that discretion
without valor
is a worthless gesture
in a two cent world
yet despite the jeers
of the hissing crowd
gathered for the drawing
of aged innocent blood
their will be no sacrifice
no lamb on a broadway stage
an audience left
with disappointment
should beware
of that which is free
i will do my mourning
amongst the grease paints
in the shadows
of an early fall
a character actor
without a script
left to recite soliloquies
in the dark
Sunday, January 22, 2006
Systematic Rollercoaster
My body at this point on Sunday night has no idea what has hit it. I am quite sure that my brain has thrown up its metaphorical hands shouting - Who know's what the hell he wants. All because of a bit of pneumonia, a bit of bronchial inflammation and a large dose of anxiety.
For day to day maintanence of my breathing issues I use an Advair inhaler. Helps with long term breathing issues and for me at least has little or no effect on my anxiety which of course is a good thing.
However, when hit with a combination of pneumonia and bronchial inflammation the breathing issues can rise to crisis levels with wheezing commencing on short walks from the computer to the kitchen.
On those occaisons the big guns have to be brought in, those being puffs of Albuterol which is designed for crisis mode. Problem is that Albuterol and anxiety do not play well together and I am quite sure that they do not even like each other.
If anxiety is high even before the introduction to the mix of Albuterol I am left with little choice but to follow the puffs of Albuterol with a Xanex chaser. Which is the point when my brain say - what the #@$% are you doing to me.
Albuterol is steroid based and hypes up the nervous system at least it does for me. While Xanex is for calming the nerves when one is in the middle of a anxiety attack.
With a little imagination one can easily see the problem. Steroids hit the system and it is all systems go as the body absorbs the medication. Than just when the launch is set to go the countdown is stopped as Xanex is added to the mix. Now the systems are in standby mode and no part of the body knows where to turn.
Sometimes the Albuterol kicks butt and the anxiety comes in waves. Other times the Xanex holds its own and I survive the onslaught. Last night was a four puff night. Tonight is looking the same.
So if anyone reading this detects a virtual scream ignore it. That would be me losing my mind.
For day to day maintanence of my breathing issues I use an Advair inhaler. Helps with long term breathing issues and for me at least has little or no effect on my anxiety which of course is a good thing.
However, when hit with a combination of pneumonia and bronchial inflammation the breathing issues can rise to crisis levels with wheezing commencing on short walks from the computer to the kitchen.
On those occaisons the big guns have to be brought in, those being puffs of Albuterol which is designed for crisis mode. Problem is that Albuterol and anxiety do not play well together and I am quite sure that they do not even like each other.
If anxiety is high even before the introduction to the mix of Albuterol I am left with little choice but to follow the puffs of Albuterol with a Xanex chaser. Which is the point when my brain say - what the #@$% are you doing to me.
Albuterol is steroid based and hypes up the nervous system at least it does for me. While Xanex is for calming the nerves when one is in the middle of a anxiety attack.
With a little imagination one can easily see the problem. Steroids hit the system and it is all systems go as the body absorbs the medication. Than just when the launch is set to go the countdown is stopped as Xanex is added to the mix. Now the systems are in standby mode and no part of the body knows where to turn.
Sometimes the Albuterol kicks butt and the anxiety comes in waves. Other times the Xanex holds its own and I survive the onslaught. Last night was a four puff night. Tonight is looking the same.
So if anyone reading this detects a virtual scream ignore it. That would be me losing my mind.
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Lone Pine
footprints in the snow
solitary, left by one
still there
sitting on an old tree
embracing solitude
thinking, observing
as moonlight
appears and disappears
chasing star dust
through the trees
a stream
frozen over
running water
gurgles beneath the ice
a lone coyote
tracking dinner
nose to the snow
around her log
life continues
nature
never wavers
despite
her confusion
her search
for peace
within
without
yesterday
a grab bag
scrambled joy
seasoned with sorrow
today
a potpourri
confusion scented
with hope and promise
tomorrow
unknown, unpredictable
a blink
in time
before tomorrow
becomes yesterday
dreams
become fact
hearts heal
behind
walls of protection
rising
she breathes deep
ice crystals
tickle her skin
halfway
to the parking lot
beneath a rock
oddly shaped
she hides
a key, with a
note attached
if found
please return
to owner
be gentle
the heart is scarred
tender, and raw
can be found
roaming
the planet
in a quiet search
for answers
to questions
yet unknown
Friday, January 20, 2006
Book Murmurs
Already Dead by Charlie Huston, is a mystery/detective story with a twist. If you are a fan of mysteries with just a touch of horror thrown in you will love this book.
Joe Pitt lives in New York City and is infected with the Vyrus. While he does not have steady employment he gets by doing odd jobs for two of the powerful clans who control the streets.
While searching for a shambler (someone infected with a flesh eating bacteria) he is asked by the leader of the Coalition to find the missing daughter of high soceity parents, a daughter who gets a thrill out of slumming with the inhabitents of the goth underworld.
Before long Joe(and the reader) is caught up in a battle over turf and a desire to save the girl despite the odds against both him and her.
As far as aforementioned twist goes, the Vyrus Joe is infected with turns people into vampires. Not in the Anne Rice or Bram Stoker sense but vampires just the same. Vampires who must feed on human blood without leaving unexplained corpses littering the landscape. Vampires who in Joe's case feed humanely and without spreading the Vyrus to others.
Joe Pitt lives in New York City and is infected with the Vyrus. While he does not have steady employment he gets by doing odd jobs for two of the powerful clans who control the streets.
While searching for a shambler (someone infected with a flesh eating bacteria) he is asked by the leader of the Coalition to find the missing daughter of high soceity parents, a daughter who gets a thrill out of slumming with the inhabitents of the goth underworld.
Before long Joe(and the reader) is caught up in a battle over turf and a desire to save the girl despite the odds against both him and her.
As far as aforementioned twist goes, the Vyrus Joe is infected with turns people into vampires. Not in the Anne Rice or Bram Stoker sense but vampires just the same. Vampires who must feed on human blood without leaving unexplained corpses littering the landscape. Vampires who in Joe's case feed humanely and without spreading the Vyrus to others.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
saragossa sea
step off the precipice
no net below
wings of depression
will carry you
across the road
upon the angry sea
no need for fear
self evaluation
personal recrimination
xanex for the soul
question each descision
analyze every word
search for deeper meaning
in the scars
upon the heart
serving as reminders
of more trusting days
days of wine and roses
when hope was the sail
filled with dreams of love
rendered useless
shredded by many hurricanes
bearing the names
of those faithless ones
who shredded
years of tomorrows
empty sorrow filled vessels
stagnant remnents
adrift upon
the saragossa sea
no net below
wings of depression
will carry you
across the road
upon the angry sea
no need for fear
self evaluation
personal recrimination
xanex for the soul
question each descision
analyze every word
search for deeper meaning
in the scars
upon the heart
serving as reminders
of more trusting days
days of wine and roses
when hope was the sail
filled with dreams of love
rendered useless
shredded by many hurricanes
bearing the names
of those faithless ones
who shredded
years of tomorrows
empty sorrow filled vessels
stagnant remnents
adrift upon
the saragossa sea
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
As the World Turns
If I were one who made New Year's resolutions, which I am not, I would have made two. First, to do everything within my power to make 2006 a much healthier year than the past three. Second, to reduce the stress in my life to a point where it might be possible to deal with anxiety and agraphobia on a less medicinal level and more of a psychological level.
With than in mind I find not being a resolution maker to be a source of solace, for if I had made those resolutions I would have failed miserably.
My stress and anxiety levels are if anything more severe than they have been in quite a while. Meds can only take you so far, some of the healing or calming has to come from within. For whatever reason I cannot seem to find that place where I am at peace. Anxiety and depression continue to be annoying and miserable cell mates.
Reasons are complex some within my control, some not. What I would not give for one stress free, anxiety less day. Just one. I am not greedy and you have to start someplace.
Healthwise I have been fighting a cold since before Christmas. No real infection, the usual coughing that I have dealt with ages a bit of a runny nose and fatigue. That being said over the last few days it seems to have gotten the best of my immune system once more.
I did my best to avoid illness. Ate right, washed my hands, avoided people with colds and other odd illnesses yet despite my best effort it seems it will be back to the antibiotic track for me once more.
I am going to the doctors in the morning, yet again. With my chest feeling like several elephants are fighting over who gets to sleep on my sternum I can only assume that I have pneumonia once again. I keep evicting him and he keeps coming back.
Does anyone know a good lawyer who could get a restraining order against pneumonia, if so I sure as hell could use one.
With than in mind I find not being a resolution maker to be a source of solace, for if I had made those resolutions I would have failed miserably.
My stress and anxiety levels are if anything more severe than they have been in quite a while. Meds can only take you so far, some of the healing or calming has to come from within. For whatever reason I cannot seem to find that place where I am at peace. Anxiety and depression continue to be annoying and miserable cell mates.
Reasons are complex some within my control, some not. What I would not give for one stress free, anxiety less day. Just one. I am not greedy and you have to start someplace.
Healthwise I have been fighting a cold since before Christmas. No real infection, the usual coughing that I have dealt with ages a bit of a runny nose and fatigue. That being said over the last few days it seems to have gotten the best of my immune system once more.
I did my best to avoid illness. Ate right, washed my hands, avoided people with colds and other odd illnesses yet despite my best effort it seems it will be back to the antibiotic track for me once more.
I am going to the doctors in the morning, yet again. With my chest feeling like several elephants are fighting over who gets to sleep on my sternum I can only assume that I have pneumonia once again. I keep evicting him and he keeps coming back.
Does anyone know a good lawyer who could get a restraining order against pneumonia, if so I sure as hell could use one.
Saturday, January 14, 2006
memory blanks
through filtered glass
inner worlds appear
gleaming and sparkling
in the morning light
hiding beauty
covering gloom
thoughts appear
only to drift away
there is love
though no one cares
a thread appears
disappearing in time
hand in hand
walking together
time makes promises
no one can hear
the outer glass shatters
dancing on the ground
dying without a sound
as time walks away
laughing to himself
inner worlds appear
gleaming and sparkling
in the morning light
hiding beauty
covering gloom
thoughts appear
only to drift away
there is love
though no one cares
a thread appears
disappearing in time
hand in hand
walking together
time makes promises
no one can hear
the outer glass shatters
dancing on the ground
dying without a sound
as time walks away
laughing to himself
Friday, January 13, 2006
Friday the 13th
Never being one for superstitions and fears. At least before all this anxiety kicked in.
Friday the 13th was for me a puzzle. When asked what my favorite number was I always responded with 13. Could not understand what this one number did to be so maligned.
Laughed when I visited downtown Los Angeles and saw that the skyscrapers all went from the 12th to the 14th floor skipping the number 13. As if by not numbering it, the floor would not exist.
Given my druthers on Friday the 13th I would step on a crack, beneath a ladder, holding a black cat, all the while spilling salt all over the ground.
Back in the day we used Friday the 13th's as an excuse for throwing parties. Everyone would wear black and have a wonderful time.
Now where is my ladder.....
Friday the 13th was for me a puzzle. When asked what my favorite number was I always responded with 13. Could not understand what this one number did to be so maligned.
Laughed when I visited downtown Los Angeles and saw that the skyscrapers all went from the 12th to the 14th floor skipping the number 13. As if by not numbering it, the floor would not exist.
Given my druthers on Friday the 13th I would step on a crack, beneath a ladder, holding a black cat, all the while spilling salt all over the ground.
Back in the day we used Friday the 13th's as an excuse for throwing parties. Everyone would wear black and have a wonderful time.
Now where is my ladder.....
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Lost
Lost: one overstressed, overworked brain. Weight: 1300GM. Color: Grayish/blue. Last seen in the vicinity of Via Verde and Puddingstone Road.
Brain may have run away after a particularly bad day.
Details: Owner was running late for an appointment with his psychologist. Low on gas he stopped at the corner station to fill up. Only to find the pumps were out of service.
Weighing being late and the amount of fuel in tank he headed for the appointment.
Arriving at the office he was surprised to find that he was an hour early. He swore his appointment was at twelve is doctor assured him it was at one. Apologizing he left the office sure he was right, until he reached the car to find his appointment was indeed at one and had been for several months.
Leaving for the service station he made it all of one block before running out of gas. Reaching for his cellphone he saw that it had not been charged. Frantically searching the car he also found he did not have his car charger for said phone.
Walking to the nearest store he was surprised to find that somenone still had payphones that worked. Not having very many real world friends he was lucky to catch one at home who brought him a gas can.
Gas in car but car did not start. He found it was time for his appointment. He walked back promising himself that he would be rational and not let the three weeks of stress since his last appointment overwhelm him. He failed miserably. Not five minutes into his appointment tears were streaming down his face.
Forty-five minutes later emotions under control he returned to his car. Much to his surprise the car started on his first attempt.
Returning home he fell asleep, only to wake up missing his brain.
If found please return to owner care of the Porcelain Throne.
Brain may have run away after a particularly bad day.
Details: Owner was running late for an appointment with his psychologist. Low on gas he stopped at the corner station to fill up. Only to find the pumps were out of service.
Weighing being late and the amount of fuel in tank he headed for the appointment.
Arriving at the office he was surprised to find that he was an hour early. He swore his appointment was at twelve is doctor assured him it was at one. Apologizing he left the office sure he was right, until he reached the car to find his appointment was indeed at one and had been for several months.
Leaving for the service station he made it all of one block before running out of gas. Reaching for his cellphone he saw that it had not been charged. Frantically searching the car he also found he did not have his car charger for said phone.
Walking to the nearest store he was surprised to find that somenone still had payphones that worked. Not having very many real world friends he was lucky to catch one at home who brought him a gas can.
Gas in car but car did not start. He found it was time for his appointment. He walked back promising himself that he would be rational and not let the three weeks of stress since his last appointment overwhelm him. He failed miserably. Not five minutes into his appointment tears were streaming down his face.
Forty-five minutes later emotions under control he returned to his car. Much to his surprise the car started on his first attempt.
Returning home he fell asleep, only to wake up missing his brain.
If found please return to owner care of the Porcelain Throne.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Banana Peels in Blogland
On Tuesday, Sue over at Torn Pages was discussing how some bloggers have had the experience of readers turning vicious on them. Like Sue it is a phenomena that I just do not understand. If I as reader do not like or agree with the opinions or ideas of a fellow blogger it is simple I just choose to no longer visit. Personal attacks are way out of line and completely uneccesary.
In my journies through blog land I was made aware of behavior by a blogger that is even more disturbing and heart wrenching. No names will be used to protect the innocent and the guilty.
Blogger A is a warm and caring individual. They possess a level of compassion that goes beyond the norm in our society. This person truly tries to see the good in people and offer assistance when they can. A trait that is to often missing in this world.
This is not to say that blogger A is naive, no far from it their heart is large and goes out to those who suffer in this world.
Now in our story blogger A discovers the blog belonging to blogger B. Over time a digital friendship develops. Nothing odd. Just two people who found common ground in each others writing and became friends.
Over time blogger A found out that blogger B was suffering from cancer. Blogger A was concerned and asked after blogger B's condition on a regular basis. Blogger A sent get well e-cards, asked people to pray for blogger B etc. For not having met blogger B, blogger A's concern ran deep.
Over the holidays blogger A received an email from blogger B thanking them for their friendship and informing them that the doctors had told blogger B that their time was short and that they could go any day. blogger B was checking into the hospital and wanted to say goodby.
Needless to say blogger A was devestated though they had never met blogger B had become a friend.
A few days later blogger A received another email from someone who knew blogger B personally informing them that blogger B had died.
Blogger A cried.
Blogger A thought about their friend and how their friend had suffered.
Blogger A was in pain for days.
Several days after the death blogger A found themselves reading through a newsgroup they belonged to and discovered someone discussing blogger B. This person had wanted to send floweres. Knew where blogger B lived and contacted the landlord about where to send them.
Much to their surprise they found that blogger B was alive.
In blogger B's favor it does not seem that this was done for financial gain. It seems to be a very loud, extremely loud cry for attention.
Of course blogger A was doublely devestated and is now questioning whether anyone in the blog world can be trusted.
If it had happened to me I would be to.
I really do not know what to say about the whole episode. I hope that it does not change blogger A because they do a lot to help people. As for blogger B anything I could say would not change a thing so I will allow the story to speak for itself.
In my journies through blog land I was made aware of behavior by a blogger that is even more disturbing and heart wrenching. No names will be used to protect the innocent and the guilty.
Blogger A is a warm and caring individual. They possess a level of compassion that goes beyond the norm in our society. This person truly tries to see the good in people and offer assistance when they can. A trait that is to often missing in this world.
This is not to say that blogger A is naive, no far from it their heart is large and goes out to those who suffer in this world.
Now in our story blogger A discovers the blog belonging to blogger B. Over time a digital friendship develops. Nothing odd. Just two people who found common ground in each others writing and became friends.
Over time blogger A found out that blogger B was suffering from cancer. Blogger A was concerned and asked after blogger B's condition on a regular basis. Blogger A sent get well e-cards, asked people to pray for blogger B etc. For not having met blogger B, blogger A's concern ran deep.
Over the holidays blogger A received an email from blogger B thanking them for their friendship and informing them that the doctors had told blogger B that their time was short and that they could go any day. blogger B was checking into the hospital and wanted to say goodby.
Needless to say blogger A was devestated though they had never met blogger B had become a friend.
A few days later blogger A received another email from someone who knew blogger B personally informing them that blogger B had died.
Blogger A cried.
Blogger A thought about their friend and how their friend had suffered.
Blogger A was in pain for days.
Several days after the death blogger A found themselves reading through a newsgroup they belonged to and discovered someone discussing blogger B. This person had wanted to send floweres. Knew where blogger B lived and contacted the landlord about where to send them.
Much to their surprise they found that blogger B was alive.
In blogger B's favor it does not seem that this was done for financial gain. It seems to be a very loud, extremely loud cry for attention.
Of course blogger A was doublely devestated and is now questioning whether anyone in the blog world can be trusted.
If it had happened to me I would be to.
I really do not know what to say about the whole episode. I hope that it does not change blogger A because they do a lot to help people. As for blogger B anything I could say would not change a thing so I will allow the story to speak for itself.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
plastic
The following is my very first post from January 10, 2004.
are you losing your hair
is your back hair too thick
are your breasts too small
is your butt to big
are you too fat
too skinny
do you hate your face
do you hate your smile
give us your credit card
we can build a new you
a new body
a new face
a new smile
more hair
fulfill your dreams
your hearts desire
can be had for a price
when you look in the mirror, though
will there be a new you
will you be happy
will you be loved
will life be worth living
or will you find
beauty is skin deep
and all those nights
crying in the dark
it wasn’t the exterior
that filled you with dread
it was the darkness you found
inside your head
it was your soul
that was warped
by the pressure of now
to be what the world
wanted you to be
a smiley happy person
with no thoughts of your own
following the masses
off of plastic cliffs
where modern beauty
flounders
in a tide of indifference
where the soul
has become
a spark of insignificance
left to fade
in the shadows of dawn
are you losing your hair
is your back hair too thick
are your breasts too small
is your butt to big
are you too fat
too skinny
do you hate your face
do you hate your smile
give us your credit card
we can build a new you
a new body
a new face
a new smile
more hair
fulfill your dreams
your hearts desire
can be had for a price
when you look in the mirror, though
will there be a new you
will you be happy
will you be loved
will life be worth living
or will you find
beauty is skin deep
and all those nights
crying in the dark
it wasn’t the exterior
that filled you with dread
it was the darkness you found
inside your head
it was your soul
that was warped
by the pressure of now
to be what the world
wanted you to be
a smiley happy person
with no thoughts of your own
following the masses
off of plastic cliffs
where modern beauty
flounders
in a tide of indifference
where the soul
has become
a spark of insignificance
left to fade
in the shadows of dawn
Murmur's Two Years and Counting
Two years ago today I sat down at the thrown and began blogging. My sole purpose at the time was to jumpstart my writing. Nothing more, nothing less. Over the years I had gone from writing daily to rarely writing. I could not find the spark and felt like a part of me was missing. Blogging I thought would be a commitment to myself, a place where I would go and leave words of some kind behind.
In that I have succeeded in two years I have produced somewhat more than four hundred pieces. Some I felt were good and some were crap. The quality was not important it was the writing that counted. It was waking my Rip Van Winkle of a muse up and getting down to expressing myself on paper/computer once more.
Along the way something I did not expect happened. I began to meet people from around the world. Some by reading there blogs, others who came to my blog leaving a trail for me to follow back to theirs.
I thought wow this is pretty cool. I am seeing how others write and finding inspiration in their work. Some of the poetry I wrote through out the past two years was directly inspired by the lives of other bloggers.
If that had been the extent of it I would have considered blogging a success. I was writing and being inspired by other writers. My creative life was good.
One more surprise was in store for me though. The biggest surprise of all.
I began to make friends. Not the pass in the hallway at work type of friend. But real honest to goodness friends. People who noticed if I missed a few days and would drop a line to make sure all was well. Others would leave behind detailed comments on my blog expressing support, care, or concern when my posting leaned toward the dark side. Which as my regulars know it has on quite a few occaisons.
This was quite a shock to me. I have social anxiety and I have never surrounded myself with a large circle of friends. Going up and chatting with a stranger is just not my cup of tea. That being said I have made more friends in past two years than in the last twenty combined.
To each of you who visits, comments or takes the a moment to email I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. While my life of late makes a bed of thorny roses look inviting I can safely say that without my new friends it would have been a lot worse.
Thank you.
In that I have succeeded in two years I have produced somewhat more than four hundred pieces. Some I felt were good and some were crap. The quality was not important it was the writing that counted. It was waking my Rip Van Winkle of a muse up and getting down to expressing myself on paper/computer once more.
Along the way something I did not expect happened. I began to meet people from around the world. Some by reading there blogs, others who came to my blog leaving a trail for me to follow back to theirs.
I thought wow this is pretty cool. I am seeing how others write and finding inspiration in their work. Some of the poetry I wrote through out the past two years was directly inspired by the lives of other bloggers.
If that had been the extent of it I would have considered blogging a success. I was writing and being inspired by other writers. My creative life was good.
One more surprise was in store for me though. The biggest surprise of all.
I began to make friends. Not the pass in the hallway at work type of friend. But real honest to goodness friends. People who noticed if I missed a few days and would drop a line to make sure all was well. Others would leave behind detailed comments on my blog expressing support, care, or concern when my posting leaned toward the dark side. Which as my regulars know it has on quite a few occaisons.
This was quite a shock to me. I have social anxiety and I have never surrounded myself with a large circle of friends. Going up and chatting with a stranger is just not my cup of tea. That being said I have made more friends in past two years than in the last twenty combined.
To each of you who visits, comments or takes the a moment to email I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. While my life of late makes a bed of thorny roses look inviting I can safely say that without my new friends it would have been a lot worse.
Thank you.
Saturday, January 07, 2006
Momdate January 7th
It warms the cockles of my heart to know that both of our political parties claim in some form or another to be compassionate and caring when it comes to the needs of us their supposed employers.
The more I experience our health care system either personally or vicariously through the illnesses of friends and family the more I wonder where the hell we went wrong.
The latest is another in the ongoing saga of my mother’s vain attempt to receive straight answers and proper care from the many doctors who have consulted and/or been actively involved in her breast/bone cancer treatment.
Before Christmas her oncologist better known here as doctor god suggested that a permanent stint inserted above her right breast bone might make managing her pain easier. He referred her to a pain management specialist who will now be forever enshrined on these pages as doctor sadist.
Her first entailed filling out several forms and not being seen until almost two hours after her scheduled appointment. doctor sadist finally graced her with his presence. Discussed the stint for all of two minutes than informed her that they would not be able to continue the appointment because he needed a current MRI to judge how effective injections into a stint might be in managing her pain.
Christmas found us all gathered at my sister’s house. Mom was very optimistic about the outcome of the MRI and the possibility of the stint and passing her days with less pain. In November she had reached the maximum on her med allowance, which meant she had to pay out of pocket for December’s painkillers. Doctor god worked with her in getting the maximum bang for what she could reasonably afford. The pain reduction was not as complete but she was able to reasonably deal with the pain. All the while looking forward to the stint.
Fast forward to this past Thursday. She arrived at the office of doctor sadist to find the waiting area reasonably deserted. She assumed she would be seen on time since the office appeared to be rather slow.
O’ what foolish mortals we can be when we assume things.
Thirty minutes after arrival she still was not officially logged in by the office staff, in fact she could hear them on the other side of the wall laughing and eating there lunch even though the office was supposed to be open.
After banging on the counter she was finally able to catch someone’s attention. They checked her in pulled her file and led her to one of the patient rooms. Where, you guessed it she was basically told to wait again for the doctor.
On one hand she was ready to walk out right then but the lure of reduced pain kept her butt stuck to the cold plastic of her chair. Forty-five minutes passed before doctor sadist made his appearance. He was accompanied by the results of her MRI. He sat down and proceeded to morph from doctor to used body part salesman.
Never once mentioning the stint he explained to my mom that she had a good sized tumor on her right hip bone and the bone itself was basically powder that by some miracle still resembled an actual hip. His recommendation was that she under go elective hip replacement surgery. Doctor sadist felt that this would help reduce her overall pain. Ignoring the fact that some of the pain in her hip was related to the cancerous tumor pressuring her sciatic nerve.
Of course mom looked at him as if he was some alien life form emerging from a UFO. With remarkable self control she informed him that with the cancer and her heart condition she was not under going any elective surgery and that she would wait for it to become necessary before having any form of hip replacement.
Now she thought he will discuss the stint.
Again doctor sadist was ready to disappoint her.
His next brilliant recommendation was for her to kill off all of her bone marrow, not for a transplant but because killing off the bone marrow will reduce the pain for six weeks.
WHAT?????
My mom swears that at this point her jaw hit the floor. This made no sense to her at all. In fact she had heard of this treatment from doctor god, who had said it was only for patients in the last stages and was designed to make their final weeks less painful. Yes my mom is in quite a bit of pain but thank God she is nowhere near death.
She explained to him again that not only does she have extensive bone cancer but that 1/3 of her heart is damaged beyond repair and that his treatment ideas sound a bit drastic.
Doctor sadist went on to explain that there was one more option.
And yes you are right mom was still hoping he would get to the stint but deep down inside she assumed that the stint was not happening and his idea would be something else entirely.
Of course she was right. His final suggestion was that she have cortisone shots in her bad hip to aid in reducing the pain. This she thought might be worth trying so she agreed.
She, again wrongly, assumed he would leave and one of the nurses would come in with a needle filled with cortisone. Simple right.
Instead doctor sadist led her out of the back into and out of the waiting room to the office next door. Here he informed her is where she would come for her cortisone shots. She signed in and much to her surprise one of the office staff from doctor sadist’s office was there to sign her in.
Mom wrote her name on the check in list and was told there would be some papers to fill out. The clerk handed her some forms and she began to look them over. She realized that they were the exact same forms she had received and completed next door. Before she could inform the clerk she was told that she might as well sit down because the forms would take awhile to complete.
Mom informed her that she had already completed these forms next door. She was told with a straight face that they needed copies to. Well mom lost it than threw the forms back on the counter and said she was leaving.
The clerk with a straight face actually asked if she would be back later to complete the forms and receive her shots. NOT.
Mom was frustrated and after snooping around a bit found that doctor sadist had three side by side offices and he siphoned off patients to doctors working for him in those offices for procedures he convinced patients they needed.
Mom being reasonably intelligent and still with all her senses working saw through his scam. I can only imagine how many seniors or uneducated patients have gone through his office agreeing to treatments that were not in the long run going to be successful.
It is scary and it boggles the mind.
Needless to say the stint is on the back burner now. With the new year mom has insurance available again for her meds. She is going to research some more and find out what her options are. Hopefully she will find the right combination of meds to make life easier for her.
The more I experience our health care system either personally or vicariously through the illnesses of friends and family the more I wonder where the hell we went wrong.
The latest is another in the ongoing saga of my mother’s vain attempt to receive straight answers and proper care from the many doctors who have consulted and/or been actively involved in her breast/bone cancer treatment.
Before Christmas her oncologist better known here as doctor god suggested that a permanent stint inserted above her right breast bone might make managing her pain easier. He referred her to a pain management specialist who will now be forever enshrined on these pages as doctor sadist.
Her first entailed filling out several forms and not being seen until almost two hours after her scheduled appointment. doctor sadist finally graced her with his presence. Discussed the stint for all of two minutes than informed her that they would not be able to continue the appointment because he needed a current MRI to judge how effective injections into a stint might be in managing her pain.
Christmas found us all gathered at my sister’s house. Mom was very optimistic about the outcome of the MRI and the possibility of the stint and passing her days with less pain. In November she had reached the maximum on her med allowance, which meant she had to pay out of pocket for December’s painkillers. Doctor god worked with her in getting the maximum bang for what she could reasonably afford. The pain reduction was not as complete but she was able to reasonably deal with the pain. All the while looking forward to the stint.
Fast forward to this past Thursday. She arrived at the office of doctor sadist to find the waiting area reasonably deserted. She assumed she would be seen on time since the office appeared to be rather slow.
O’ what foolish mortals we can be when we assume things.
Thirty minutes after arrival she still was not officially logged in by the office staff, in fact she could hear them on the other side of the wall laughing and eating there lunch even though the office was supposed to be open.
After banging on the counter she was finally able to catch someone’s attention. They checked her in pulled her file and led her to one of the patient rooms. Where, you guessed it she was basically told to wait again for the doctor.
On one hand she was ready to walk out right then but the lure of reduced pain kept her butt stuck to the cold plastic of her chair. Forty-five minutes passed before doctor sadist made his appearance. He was accompanied by the results of her MRI. He sat down and proceeded to morph from doctor to used body part salesman.
Never once mentioning the stint he explained to my mom that she had a good sized tumor on her right hip bone and the bone itself was basically powder that by some miracle still resembled an actual hip. His recommendation was that she under go elective hip replacement surgery. Doctor sadist felt that this would help reduce her overall pain. Ignoring the fact that some of the pain in her hip was related to the cancerous tumor pressuring her sciatic nerve.
Of course mom looked at him as if he was some alien life form emerging from a UFO. With remarkable self control she informed him that with the cancer and her heart condition she was not under going any elective surgery and that she would wait for it to become necessary before having any form of hip replacement.
Now she thought he will discuss the stint.
Again doctor sadist was ready to disappoint her.
His next brilliant recommendation was for her to kill off all of her bone marrow, not for a transplant but because killing off the bone marrow will reduce the pain for six weeks.
WHAT?????
My mom swears that at this point her jaw hit the floor. This made no sense to her at all. In fact she had heard of this treatment from doctor god, who had said it was only for patients in the last stages and was designed to make their final weeks less painful. Yes my mom is in quite a bit of pain but thank God she is nowhere near death.
She explained to him again that not only does she have extensive bone cancer but that 1/3 of her heart is damaged beyond repair and that his treatment ideas sound a bit drastic.
Doctor sadist went on to explain that there was one more option.
And yes you are right mom was still hoping he would get to the stint but deep down inside she assumed that the stint was not happening and his idea would be something else entirely.
Of course she was right. His final suggestion was that she have cortisone shots in her bad hip to aid in reducing the pain. This she thought might be worth trying so she agreed.
She, again wrongly, assumed he would leave and one of the nurses would come in with a needle filled with cortisone. Simple right.
Instead doctor sadist led her out of the back into and out of the waiting room to the office next door. Here he informed her is where she would come for her cortisone shots. She signed in and much to her surprise one of the office staff from doctor sadist’s office was there to sign her in.
Mom wrote her name on the check in list and was told there would be some papers to fill out. The clerk handed her some forms and she began to look them over. She realized that they were the exact same forms she had received and completed next door. Before she could inform the clerk she was told that she might as well sit down because the forms would take awhile to complete.
Mom informed her that she had already completed these forms next door. She was told with a straight face that they needed copies to. Well mom lost it than threw the forms back on the counter and said she was leaving.
The clerk with a straight face actually asked if she would be back later to complete the forms and receive her shots. NOT.
Mom was frustrated and after snooping around a bit found that doctor sadist had three side by side offices and he siphoned off patients to doctors working for him in those offices for procedures he convinced patients they needed.
Mom being reasonably intelligent and still with all her senses working saw through his scam. I can only imagine how many seniors or uneducated patients have gone through his office agreeing to treatments that were not in the long run going to be successful.
It is scary and it boggles the mind.
Needless to say the stint is on the back burner now. With the new year mom has insurance available again for her meds. She is going to research some more and find out what her options are. Hopefully she will find the right combination of meds to make life easier for her.
Thursday, January 05, 2006
Another Branch of the Family Tree
I have resisted as long as was fatherly possible. Several months ago my 21 now 22 year old son began a blog of his own. I let him get his feet wet and kept it to myself. However, being the rebel that he is the only blog he has linked to is mine. So in the way that only fathers can I am going to introduce him to the blogging world.
Ryan meet the bloggers.
Bloggers meet Ryan.
His Shadow Paces the Floor
All I ask is that if you visit his site you give him a really hard time, it will of course make my day.
Ryan meet the bloggers.
Bloggers meet Ryan.
His Shadow Paces the Floor
All I ask is that if you visit his site you give him a really hard time, it will of course make my day.
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
lost in line
the line stretched before him
endless in its eternal struggle
to move forward
he had read
all of the posters upon the
faded walls
stop the spread of sdi’s
student aide here
join a fraternity
nothing of interest
for someone far removed from
the nervous post
high school years
he tried to read from the paperback
he had brought along
nothing to write home about
some escapist fiction
to pass the time
the murmur of voices
though
kept him from escaping
into the pages
he found himself
rereading lines that in hindsight
may have not been worth
reading the first
time around
the line moves
no more than a step
or two
he strains to hear
what the hold up is
why bother he thinks
it is just more of the same
thoughtless people
with incomplete paperwork
expecting a minimum wage clerk
to walk on water for them
to answer questions which
should have been posed
in another line
or another day
looking around
he notices a couple in front of him
oblivious to the line
or the world around them
her eyes light up at his touch
she listens intently to each word
she laughs
she kisses him softly on the lips
chastely
a kiss of love
and it hits him then
will a woman ever again
look at him
the way she is looking
at her man
endless in its eternal struggle
to move forward
he had read
all of the posters upon the
faded walls
stop the spread of sdi’s
student aide here
join a fraternity
nothing of interest
for someone far removed from
the nervous post
high school years
he tried to read from the paperback
he had brought along
nothing to write home about
some escapist fiction
to pass the time
the murmur of voices
though
kept him from escaping
into the pages
he found himself
rereading lines that in hindsight
may have not been worth
reading the first
time around
the line moves
no more than a step
or two
he strains to hear
what the hold up is
why bother he thinks
it is just more of the same
thoughtless people
with incomplete paperwork
expecting a minimum wage clerk
to walk on water for them
to answer questions which
should have been posed
in another line
or another day
looking around
he notices a couple in front of him
oblivious to the line
or the world around them
her eyes light up at his touch
she listens intently to each word
she laughs
she kisses him softly on the lips
chastely
a kiss of love
and it hits him then
will a woman ever again
look at him
the way she is looking
at her man
Monday, January 02, 2006
back shelf of regret
he felt as if in the beat of a heart
his voice was forever silenced
he spoke but no one seemed to listen
he laid down the rules
no one seemed to care
he was asked to give up the master bedroom
his ideas were misunderstood
he visited his kid at school one day
only to find he was no longer there
he explained how the chemical cleansers
caused irritations in his lungs
yet each time the bathroom was cleaned
he could feel the tissue die a little more
he was asked what was on his list
to make his christmas a perfect day
his requests were as always unheard
gifts were of course accepted with proper appreciation
useless as they might have been
he was told with mock sincerity that
everything would be for the better
he saw that change did come
only it was change that brought him down
he came to understand after much pain and empty sorrow
that his presence here was unnecessary
that he was a figurehead and nothing more
a voice that had not been silenced
but one forever ignored
another lesson in the art of love
filed away on the back shelf of regret
his voice was forever silenced
he spoke but no one seemed to listen
he laid down the rules
no one seemed to care
he was asked to give up the master bedroom
his ideas were misunderstood
he visited his kid at school one day
only to find he was no longer there
he explained how the chemical cleansers
caused irritations in his lungs
yet each time the bathroom was cleaned
he could feel the tissue die a little more
he was asked what was on his list
to make his christmas a perfect day
his requests were as always unheard
gifts were of course accepted with proper appreciation
useless as they might have been
he was told with mock sincerity that
everything would be for the better
he saw that change did come
only it was change that brought him down
he came to understand after much pain and empty sorrow
that his presence here was unnecessary
that he was a figurehead and nothing more
a voice that had not been silenced
but one forever ignored
another lesson in the art of love
filed away on the back shelf of regret
Sunday, January 01, 2006
Rose Parade Memories
Growing up in Southern California made attending the Rose Parade a rite of passage for most kids. For some it was a family event, buying seats or showing up the morning of the event towards the end of the parade route and parking the brood on the curb to await the festivities. For others it was camping out on the parade route with several hundred thousand strangers.
My history with the parade did not begin until after high school. I spent several New Year’s Eves on the parade route from my late teens until my early twenties. It is necessary to arrive on Colorado Blvd. no later than two in the afternoon on the 31st or finding a prime location will become difficult.
A prime location being defined as the best party spot, for parade watching you can show up as late as five or six in the morning on the 1st but for camping and partying if you snooze you lose.
If you enjoy watching people a night on the parade route would be you cup of tea.
You have people who actually bring couches and mattresses to sit on for the parade. Others bring lounge chairs and patio furniture. There are no cars allowed on the route so everything has to be dropped off. The key is that at least one person always has to remain at your spot or someone will move in.
For warmth there are metal trashcans filled with burning wood or your favorite brand of alcohol.
Back in the day when I camped out the New Years Eve was spent walking the boulevard. Meeting people. Sharing a beer. Running into old friends. Breaking hearts. Picking up the pieces of my broken heart. Laughing at streaker’s freezing the family jewels off in a vain grab for attention. Music blasting. People dancing. Couples engaged in activities that were not meant for city streets. Eating burritos, pizza or burgers at three in the morning. Shouting matches engaged in by alumni from the schools playing in that years bowl game. Frisbee throwing. Football playing. Hand holding. First kisses. Last kisses. Tears and laughter were all part of the event.
That being said I can honestly say that spending the night on the parade route was the event and watching the parade was an afterthought. Every year I stayed up all night and ended up sleeping through the parade never saw it until I got home and watched the reruns.
Only once have I actually watched the parade live. My mom was the manager of a Bank of America located on the parade route. The branch leased its parking lot to a bleacher company and received so many seats as part of the deal. It was the perfect way to see the parade. We arrived an hour before parade time. Had free parking in the bank parking lot. Breakfast was provided and the seats were perfect. That is the only way to see the parade in person.
Happy New Year!!!!
My history with the parade did not begin until after high school. I spent several New Year’s Eves on the parade route from my late teens until my early twenties. It is necessary to arrive on Colorado Blvd. no later than two in the afternoon on the 31st or finding a prime location will become difficult.
A prime location being defined as the best party spot, for parade watching you can show up as late as five or six in the morning on the 1st but for camping and partying if you snooze you lose.
If you enjoy watching people a night on the parade route would be you cup of tea.
You have people who actually bring couches and mattresses to sit on for the parade. Others bring lounge chairs and patio furniture. There are no cars allowed on the route so everything has to be dropped off. The key is that at least one person always has to remain at your spot or someone will move in.
For warmth there are metal trashcans filled with burning wood or your favorite brand of alcohol.
Back in the day when I camped out the New Years Eve was spent walking the boulevard. Meeting people. Sharing a beer. Running into old friends. Breaking hearts. Picking up the pieces of my broken heart. Laughing at streaker’s freezing the family jewels off in a vain grab for attention. Music blasting. People dancing. Couples engaged in activities that were not meant for city streets. Eating burritos, pizza or burgers at three in the morning. Shouting matches engaged in by alumni from the schools playing in that years bowl game. Frisbee throwing. Football playing. Hand holding. First kisses. Last kisses. Tears and laughter were all part of the event.
That being said I can honestly say that spending the night on the parade route was the event and watching the parade was an afterthought. Every year I stayed up all night and ended up sleeping through the parade never saw it until I got home and watched the reruns.
Only once have I actually watched the parade live. My mom was the manager of a Bank of America located on the parade route. The branch leased its parking lot to a bleacher company and received so many seats as part of the deal. It was the perfect way to see the parade. We arrived an hour before parade time. Had free parking in the bank parking lot. Breakfast was provided and the seats were perfect. That is the only way to see the parade in person.
Happy New Year!!!!
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