the Laser and the End of the Drought

i don't know exactly what i'm going to say this time, but I feel compelled to jot some things down.  I have a busy day today, and I want to start it with some introspection. i'm already running behind, but it's my day off so i'm not rushing into anything I don't have to.  it's just after 9am.  normally by this point, even on a day off, i'm well into travels, when I have them, which I do.  but today, and after the two work days I've had so far, my body just wanted to chill and i'm not going to argue it.

I guess maybe that's the starting place.  Monday.  I considered, and am still considering, updating my resume and beginning the search again.  and it's on a humbug, but humbugs have a way of getting out of hand because no one tends to them that should.  case in point:  where I work, they are currently establishing their patient base.  that means there's a lot of outreach, but outreach means they are trying to hit a quota, which always means there's monetary expectations in the background.  okay, good enough.  but there are some applied (meta)physics going on here as well.  because the owners have expectations of the clinic and they pass those down.  the doctors aren't affected, they just want their patients cared for as the primary thing.  the nurses and the nurse practitioners, as well as being caregivers, are instruments of the doctor's will, and as such they are susceptible to the owner's desires.  the outreach people are susceptible to the will of the nurses and the NP's, as they are trying to build up the number of people coming in to the facility.  and there are far more outreach people than we see, as we have a call center who also works to bring in patients in this area, though the center is located in Chicago and their only interest as with all call centers, is meeting the quota handed to them as agents.  then there's the director of operations here, who has to coordinate all these desires into a working mode of operations, but her power level makes her more immune to whims. she just passes those whims downstairs, to outreach mostly.  so there are the welcome/front desk coordinators.  this is where the (meta)physics come in.  these two individuals are the low point.  they are the lens that all this energy, all these whims, wishes, quotas, expectations and frustrations (re:queries, accusations, reprimands spoken and implied) are focused through.  now, let me say this, and it puts it into the perspective that I needed:  this is so intense, one of these women, the one who is actually better adjusted SEEMING, has had a mini stroke triggered while working on the job.  as a result of all this?  not for me to say.  but it has happened.  and she's the calm, not gonna get excited one.  (this is why I had to write, because I only just now made that correlation).  the other one, the one that opens, and sits in the window, and is the first face everyone sees, is a brittle mess as a result of all this.  she is, in her personal life, going through shit. and then she comes to work, and is faced with everyone's shit every day.  ops manager, outreach people, doctors, nurses, NP's, social workers, insurance people, deliveries, patients and drivers, when drivers are not competent or insightful enough to not get caught up in that.  but even when they (we) are, the lens that catches all that turns that energy into a laser beam. and it can't hit the patients, or she'd lose her job.  it can't hit anyone above her, because that's not the design.  so, it is focused on the drivers.  and particularly, it focuses on me, because the last driver it focused on is now a former driver.

Monday I had an 8am pickup, but I didn't get my paperwork until almost 7:40am.  which means I had to get out the door and get my ass running. I had 3 stops at 8:20am...THREE STOPS, THREE PICK-UPS, ALL SCHEDULED AT THE SAME TIME.  that's the result of more people doing scheduling than should be doing scheduling.  and I had a stop at 8:40.  now, that's 5 stops in the 8o'clock hour.  and each stop is on a 20 minute bias.  which means, the 8am pickup should be at the clinic at 8:20, which is the time for the next pickups to already be happening.  this is the clusterfuck that my job has become, on a daily basis.  I don't usually worry too much about it, because when there's a reasonable amount of runs, I just go early for everyone, which allows me to fit in the ones that are grouped together more reasonably. but.  BUT.  reasonable amount of runs is anywhere from 12 to twenty for one driver.  Monday I HAD 33!  so, this was not a good day.  and I didn't make any big deals about anything, because I have already had the lens inform my real boss about an attitude I had on a day before when runs were stacked and my competence in dealing with their insanity was called into question.  I will allow no one to make me lose my position.  but it was a bad day.  and I brought my lunch, trying to start the healthier thing, and I didn't get a chance to eat because I was running the entire day. by the time I got home, I ate, laid down and was instantly asleep, waking yesterday with my body hurting from being on that van for 10 hours straight.  and yesterday's fun was dealing with a possible bedbug presence from a patient who apparently was found to have bed bugs by the nurses.  so I had to inspect the van, shut down rides for a period, spray the seat where the patient sat and cover it in plastic and turn the heat up high for an idle half-hour, then resume driving with the heat up and the seat covered.  not an issue, but on the heels of the Monday I had, it was something to think about.
now, i'm off.  and I slept in because my mind had to reset, and I believe it has.  I'm going to shower and shave, having taken my medicine, read my stuff and had my coffee.  i'm going to get my clothes into my bag, as I need to wash and dry a load.  meeting at noon, counseling at three, and I don't know if my son is coming to town or not.  I have to hit a store, running low on some things.  I feel like i'm on a much more stable footing at the moment, by God's grace, and I am done with BRITTLE MIND, my forthcoming book, just have to get it structured and get my cover together.  so, the train has started rolling again, which makes me happy.  and I thank Jehovah for that, for allowing me to survive my spiritual drought and make it to the road again.  okay, time to start moving.

no title.

so what do you say?  no, more to the point, what do you feel?  how do you feel?  how CAN you feel?
41 years old.  elite in his retirement.  played the game he loved for the same professional team his entire career.  worth half a billion dollars.  Married to the same woman, despite sexual abuse allegations.  husband, father, entrepreneur, Academy Award winner.  and now, dead.  just like that.

I don't usually focus on things like this, and I have to be honest; it's not the biggest thing on my mind right now.  but the nature of it deserves some thought.  it shocked me, i'm going to admit.  why?  I was reading about Kobe Bryant earlier today, as an item in a story about Lebron James, who surpassed one or another of Kobe's scoring records.  and the story that I was reading was how gracious Lebron was, being interviewed and talking about meeting and being inspired by Kobe Bryant.  and then, later today, I saw one blip on FB, and that's not enough for me to just repost so I checked some reputable places and it hadn't broke yet.  but by the time I was at my parent's house, helping my dad, it did break and it was all over everything, the Pro-Bowl game speaking on it and giving him a moment of silence.

so, what makes this something that bears speaking on?  I think it's that, it was just one moment to the next, you know?  you see a man at courtside watching a rival break his record, then you hear about that man being in a helicopter crash with his 13 year old daughter, and there are no survivors.  you think...all that talent, all that skill doing what he did, all that adulation, all that money, all that fame, all those fans, all that everything, and all those years ahead, only 41...and it doesn't matter.  because, as Scarface the Houston rapper put it. "It's unlikely, but you might be equipped with proceeds to change lives, but you die when the King says die".  and that's the truth.  but I don't think it's a 'God's will kind of thing.  human actions have more to do with deaths such as these than God needing 'another angel'.  i'm firmly in belief of that.  so what's the deal?  why so shocking?  Prince died...shock.  MJ died...shock.  Some get old enough that it's not so much of a shock, but others just seem to get taken away.  I guess, maybe, that's all there is to this reiteration.

I wasn't a fan, because i'm not a fan of sports any longer.  I watched him play, like I watched Mike play.  I know the game well enough to have enjoyed his career when it was in front of me. I try to never disregard the sullied and sordid parts, because often they accentuate and enhance the person who develops through them.

I know I was thinking earlier about my people, which means about black people, though i'm not very much of a racialist.  I am pro-black, but i'm also pro-human is all I mean.  anyway, I was thinking about back in the 80's, and even into the 90's and some today, how you had young people dying because they wore certain clothing.  if you wore an 8-ball jacket, you might get beaten up and have it taken, you might get killed for it.  people killed for fat ropes around their necks and five finger rings.  people killed for their Air Jordans.

 

I kind of wondered to myself, what other race, here in America, learned to so value material shit that they would kill each other for a jacket, or a pair of shoes, or a video game console, things of the material that glittered and shone?  and what really was behind all that? of course I wondered.  and i don't have an answer now anymore than i had before.  i know it makes me incredibly sad to think about.  and it's the other side of the coin for me.  like, people will grieve heavily for Kobe, though they only knew him through the television and the game they watched him play.  but the people that live next door, the ones they see every day that are in need, the ones out in the cold this very night, will they think about that person a little more closely, think about how that individual might be much closer to death than they thought before?  probably not.  because that's too real, and it's too close to home. 

I'm sorry that Kobe Bryant died in such a horrible way, as i would be for anyone who died in such a way.  Stevie Ray Vaughan comes to mind.  and i'm sorry for his family's loss.  i just hope people remember to love a little more, to see a little more and to try a little harder to be kind to the stranger who happens to live on their street, because those tears and feelings might just bring a positive change to one of them.  

but i'm being preachy.  

thank you, Father, for a day of introspection...

sometimes something more...

I started a post the other day, but I didn't write it.  I didn't want the sum of my contribution to the information stream to be a series of gripes and bitching about my 'bad fortune', and that's what it would have been.  things change, 'the centre cannot hold', and this is the truth.  but what a man, what a person of substance rather, does is adapt, take a breath, take the hit and keep moving forward, keep swinging.  I am endeavoring to be both a man and a person of substance, and therefore I didn't write.  because when my recent crisis came into being, the first thing I did is what I try to always do first:  "YOUR will, not mine, be done".  turn it over, leave it with Jehovah, do life as best you can until the resolution enacts itself, and remember to say thank you.  and it's not easy; but that's where the whole 'ACT AS IF' has much more import than the 'fake it til you make it' nonsense.  because you can act your way into a right attitude, but you cannot FAKE your way into it.  so, at this point i'm very blessed to be able to say, my medicine issue is resolved at the moment.  it's not the greatest, but it is more satisfactory than what I was offered initially.  and regardless, my ideal would be to pay nothing, as you shouldn't have to pay to live, but this is Amerikkka, so the resolution is satisfying to me.  and I thank God, my counselor, my nurse practitioner, the place I go for my health and those who keep me in my prayers, as I can now urinate with a greater degree of ease than I had been able to for the past week.

so, if i'm not going to bitch, what am I going to do here?

well, I've been going through other things at the same time, and I want to mark them down here.  I believe one of my major areas that needs work is my unwillingness to look back.  I believe a person has to allow their history to marinate and mature, in order for the lessons to be concrete, to be absolute learning experiences.  I admit, by the time I get to that point, that my experiences are ripe, I don't want to look back at them.  I want to keep moving forward.  I want to do the thing I'm working on, and the next thing if possible.  but life, in it's own way, demands introspection and reflection. it demands self-appraisal, self-investigation.  because without it, there is no saying 'i'm going HERE, because I can see clearly what life is like THERE'.  now, i'm not saying I don't look back at all.  but not in a way that allows me to make the major changes that are required.  and I think...not certain 100 percent, but I think, my past is trying to make me look at it right now.

last week, I had a clear, remembered dream that my sponsor, Johnnie Copeland, was alive. more to the point, that he had died, but some procedure had brought him back to life, and he was with his wife and happy and his wife was happy.  I woke up sweated. I don't know what that meant aside from how much I miss him every day, but it goes deeper than grief.  I mean, he was back from the dead, not that he never died.  and he was wearing his Philadelphia Eagles baseball cap, which is the one he's wearing in the picture his wife used for his obituary.  so it was like, he was resurrected but he was frozen in time.  and that made me so sad.  it makes me sad as I type it, I guess because maybe I do know what that means and I don't want to admit it.  it probably means that i'm frozen in place, and that i'm waiting for my own resurrection.  and I hate that I know that is part of what he's telling me.

i'm going to leave that alone for a minute.

the other thing I experienced today.  I was looking up David Letterman, for some reason, and I was reminded he has a show on Netflix, 'my next guess needs no introduction', and I decided to check it out since I hadn't.  and it defaulted to someone I have no interest in, and I decided to go back to the first season, first episode, which was his interview with Barack Obama after the presidency.  and it was funny and informative, and it was one of those things that you realize is a milestone in your memory, seeing Mr. Obama without a tie, without the trappings of the office, but still as intelligent and warm as he was during his tenure as president.  but what got me hardest wasn't Obama, it was the time they spent going over John Lewis.  David Letterman had walked the Edmund Pettis bridge with Rep. Lewis and talked to him about the civil rights era, his involvement with the Bloody Sunday march and the ramifications of a Trump presidency in his own opinion.  and again, I found myself on the verge of tears.  I watched a young John Lewis and a group of people who look like me attacked by police, run over by the hooves of both horses and pigs, and tear gassed, beaten with night sticks, pushed back across the bridge to symbolically deny them the right to vote.  I watched, and as my people's history has always affected me, it still does.  I was angry, I was sad, I was hurt by the realization that these people suffered so much and not a damn thing has actually changed.  you gain the right to vote and find out the people you vote for don't give a fuck about you.  you gain the right to buy a house in a neighborhood you couldn't even drive through, that they fought to keep you out of, only to find the construction miles away was the building of a suburb all the whites who can afford to will flee to, leaving you still segregated, leaving you with fallen property values and an abandonment of the things needed to make a neighborhood a neighborhood, and then they wonder why you're so angry and so hesitant to buy into the next illusion.  this is what runs the gamut of my emotions when I see stuff like this.  and I wonder, what the fuck is wrong with us?  what the fuck is wrong with humans?  and there's nothing I can say.

the last thing, for now, is something that I have to wonder about all the way around.  I've been pondering the whole 'Prince Harry/Megan Markle' thing.  I've been watching, and I've been studying a bit.  I have seen the articles speaking on the racism and completely unequal coverage Megan has gotten compared to her counterpart, Kate Middleton.  that is not surprising.  you are the black that has integrated an entirely (at least overtly) white institution, and you're going to get shit on.  ask Mr. Obama (see the tie in?) or ask Doug Williams or Hank Aaron or Mayor Carl Stokes.  you've seen it over and over.  but that's not where my head was at.  I felt some sympathy for her, though she has been termed a 'mixed race' individual, when in the eyes of the world she is black, or a nigger, or a mulatto or quadroon, whatever the ancient terms for someone with black blood is in England.  but what got me is all the press that they're getting over this, and the sympathetic black perspective.  black people on Facebook are looking at Prince Harry as if he is a hero, the epitome of a real man.  and perhaps he is, in Great Britain and current North Amerikkka.  because if you go back some years, back to when he was 20 years old, you find Harry in attendance at a party in a Nazi Youth costume, complete with swastika armband.  now, there is nothing that should possess anyone with a soul of dressing as a Nazi anything in the 21st century, not even neo-nazis.  but there you go.  he said it was 'poor judgment' and he apologized, but the press was on his ass like wet shit.  and rightly so, but apparently not for real, I mean, he's a prince, after all.  and now, all these years later...

so, you, Megan, marry a man who in his youth at least partially embraced the vestiges of Nazism.  you marry this man, and then you are subjected to being smeared and besmirched by the press, who have allowed this young man's apology to be enough when it comes to adorning himself in the garb of vicious killers, genociders, tortures, racists extraordinaire.  and now, he withdraws from the Royal circle, but he won't stop being a prince.  he did not abdicate, he took a step back.  and maybe, maybe when it's revealed that this is just an exotic stop along the way (much as Diana was for Charles, when he obviously preferred horse-faced matrons like Camille) you will wonder if this was all just a charade (ha ha, charade you are, to paraphrase Pink Floyd).  a conundrum to be sure, but since Harry has no direct path to the throne, neither does his son, so there's no great worry about that.  but it will be great for the baby's life in America.  black royalty from a family that never really wanted him in the first place, right?  and again, I wonder, why has no one else thought back to when Harry was 20?  it's not about not forgiving or not being willing to forget.  there's no point in forgetting.  there are umpteen million Jewish people who won't forget.  there are umpteen million black people who shouldn't feel any better, because Hitler was not the monster here in Amerikkka that he should have been to many people, because the hatred of Jews ran just as deep here as it did in Germany; it just had more places to hide.  and now, you've got black people attacking synagogues and black elected people questioning the actions of the Jewish community in the past of denying black people a place in societies just as mainstream white Amerikkka did, and it's one more line of battle that shouldn't exist.  it should be remembered that African Americans and the Jewish culture and heritage of people have both suffered holocausts at the hands of supremists, and at some point there should be a gathering of people to face the common foe, rather than keeping these walls of separation between us.  but, I remain pensive, because usually things like this just get worse, they don't get better, and i'm tired of living in the shadow of bullshit and pain.

so, there's more to all this than just not being able to pee, when the world is full of shit.  and yes, i'm still grateful to Jehovah, my Father, for discernment that guides my actions.  that's enough for today.

"It never rains, but it Pours..."

it's funny, certain things stick in your head where other similar, or even same, things don't.  that title is something I heard first from an episode of Doctor Who. now, i'd heard a million times in my childhood, 'when it rains, it pours', but I never really dug it that much.  knew what it meant, but it just sounded so...common sensical, I guess.  but when the Doctor said that line, in a submarine with a Martian Warrior just awakened and ready to tear up everything, it was like he was not only saying 'can things possibly get any worse?', but he was also, politely, in his very English way, saying, 'Fucking SHIT!'.  and that's what I felt today, still feeling the residuals of that FUCKING SHIT.  gotta move past it, though.

see, it was a good day.  i'm still in that space where the good that I'm feeling is a discernible thing.  I am not limping, not coughing, choking, spasming, spewing from my ass.  I am not feverish or chilled.  I feel okay.  I work good.  I sleep well enough, considering my doctor is keeping me sedated with gabapentin.  get to the parents, talk to the kids and a few other people.  pinching pennies as I wait for the payday on the horizon.  some bills still to pay, some late, I know, but its the only way I can do it.  a good feeling, you know?

...AND THEN...

now, I knew things were changing with my disability, because social security made sure to tell me.  my copay on prescription drugs was being modified.  okay, I have no choice but to roll with that.  that was during the whole 'you're being audited, why you actually keeping your head above water?' period.  and I know that sounds facetious, but that's what it amounts to.  you are sick, you're on disability, you are poor, you're on welfare and food stamps, you're supposed to live as a sub-human.  that's the truth.  no frills, no enjoyment.  and if you get creative enough to do some things that you like, to eat more than canned meat and dry unsalted crackers, if you manage to get a car that isn't a piece of shit or live in a place that isn't a hovel, if you can afford to buy your children sneakers that aren't plastic soled and single stitched with some generic cartoon animal on the side, why then you're a CHEAT, you're a FRAUD, and you deserve to DIE!!! think that's an exaggeration?  think the whole food stamp issue doesn't really have to do with Reagan terming black inner city mothers 'Welfare Queens' and more recently the habit of John Q looking in people's buggies and seeing steak and ice cream, Captain Crunch and birthday cakes and screaming how PEOPLE ON WELFARE ARE EATING BETTER THAN ME!!!?  i'd say get your head out of your ass, but i'm sure you're enjoying the view.  anyway, that's the deal.  and to bring it back home after that massive digression, my pharmacy called me today to inform me that my copay was not the same and that my prescription refill order would cost me about $600.  yes, DOLLARS.  and so, I told them just hold it right where it's at, and I have to hunt for help.  and there's a part of me that's bitter, because I have cheated no one, I've hidden nothing.  I don't work under the table, and i'm not, dammit, getting rich.  I drive people, short hours and long days.  pay is less than I was getting driving the buses for the developmentally disabled community.  i'm going to have to get in touch with social security and let them know that.  i'm sure there's a resolution.  but you know what?  there's a drug called Tamsulosin, that's the generic name, better known as Flomax.  it is a drug that helps you urinate when your prostate is swollen.  i'm out of it. and peeing is like waiting to shit on myself for practically nil results on the urine side.  fun fun fun, daddy PLEASE take the T-bird away.

so, I drove over 200 miles today.  I drove the fucking wheels off that van.  22 scheduled trips. and now I've eaten dinner, and i'm going to shut it down, and i'm going to ask my doctor and my counselor tomorrow if they know of any kind of help that's available for my current issue.  and maybe they do, and maybe they don't, but i'll also have to do some personal research to learn what I can learn.  and i'm tired, and I can't pee completely out, and i'm just stuck in I I  I I I...and that's not good.  because of myself, I am nothing.  I have to believe that my Heavenly Father has a solution to this situation, and I have to believe that it is going to work out in a way that is best for me.  for now, though, I have to get some rest, as I have an early doctor's appointment tomorrow, and I don't want to be late.  i'm done for now, but maybe the sun'll come out tomorrow.  look at all these quotes today!  a fractured mind, to be sure...

Confessions of a Lonely Man

well of course the lonely man is me.  but this won't be as maudlin as it may seem it was going to be.  in fact I want this to be a representation of the power of the numerology of this year, 2020, clear hindsight producing different actions.  maybe it will, maybe it won't.  but it is time to divest, and time to get on with the business of living life on it's own terms.  

so let's start by saying I am much improved, health-wise.  I am walking well.  I am eating okay.  moving waste better.  I am sleeping well.  I have been working good, not much pain there.  I can say, I do not like my new co-worker.  he is not what he seems to be, and i'll go more into that later.  for now, enough to say I don't like him very much, and keep it moving. 

today I spent time with Syd and my grandson.  I didn't think that was going to happen.  yesterday I took Syd to the ER with a UTI, and she's on some pain meds and some antibiotics today.  but she wanted to roll, and I was glad to spend time with them.  had some business to tend to as well, no big thing, just making sure some trauma in my bank accounts didn't repeat next month.  but it took its toll.  I need to get my AAA card paid, still, going on a month late.  I need to get my gym membership back.  I got some bills that still need paid.  I will tend to those with my next paycheck as best I can.  but for now, I have to remain aware of my responsibility.  

no, these are not the confessions.  

it is cold in my house.  as I type this, my back is cold, facing the window behind me.  it looks out into the street, but I do not.  no one is out there; no one is coming.  I am going to take a shower, make myself a grilled cheese sandwich and watch some streaming movies or anime til bedtime.  that is my life, that is my existence.  I don't want to act like it isn't, I don't want to pretend I enjoy it, nor will I pretend to be traumatized by it.  it is my life.  it is a lonely existence, but it is an honest existence and I need honesty right now, more than anything.

Saturday past, a friend (who still remains nameless) came by.  I had wanted to go out and have dinner with them, as they blessed me (singularly, it turns out) with some lovely Christmas gifts and mine to them was heartfelt but very simple.  but she has had a run of bad things occurring in her life and was exhausted, so I said i'd just cook for us here.  which I did.  now, if things had gone well, i'd not have set this tone starting out.  but they went poorly.  and it wasn't all my fault, and I won't claim it all.  she came in the door snarky and it continued through to almost the end of her visit.  I sidestepped every one I could, not returning snark for snark, until it became  clear that she was in a 'let's see how I can fuck with you' mode.  and that she was in an 'i'm not going to let you touch me' mode as well.  at that point, I shut all my systems down, because lonely is what I've been, and lonely for me means bereft of conversation, touch, intimacy, time spent and companionship.  and while she was here, I had very little of any of these things. and because I have spoken of these needs in the past, it is not an unknown quantity.  but it is a game, and I didn't feel like playing.  I made a good meal, I tried to be close, and I was shut out.  and I stopped talking, because it was very reminiscent of going through the end of things with R way back last year.  it was a visceral experience.  and, as is the usual psychotic follow-up, on contact the next day it was like, none of this ever happened.  so I stayed on auto-pilot, and eventually the silence was implemented, and I thought about loss, and I thought about my responsibility as a recovering addict, and I made through text an apology.  I owned my part, I sought to clear my side of the street.  but I can honestly say, I knew I wasn't the only one who was in the wrong.  I just didn't have the right (or the authority) to clean her yard.  and she wasn't going to do it.  so today, I said nothing again.  no good morning, no good afternoon, no have a nice day.  and I expect nothing back.  but Saturday, oh we will get together for Americanized Mexican dishes and movies.  here at my home.  the Menagerie of people who can't communicate unless it's a special occasion.  and I am tired, but I'll go through it.  it will likely be the last time, but i'll go through it.  because my word has to be good and I gave my word.  

but i'm tired.  i'll be 52 in April.  I am not up for chasing any women.  i'm not up for trying to convince someone of my merits.  i'm not up for working aggressively on changing me.  I don't want to change in order for anyone to like me.  I like me well enough, I love me all the time, and i'm not convinced God is done with me yet, so i'm not done changing.  

so the hindsight, I suppose, it knowing I may have a long spell of being alone before this ride is done.  I don't plan on suicide any longer.  natural death would be okay, but that's not my call.  but if I have another 20, 25 years?  it may be a solo ride. I did right by this one, no expectations except some good moments, but those were too many.  but the situation wasn't right and i'm willing to accept those consequences.  I did right by R, and she just bailed after all those years.  so i'm not looking.  i'm going to do my best to not want.  i'm going to just live, and work, and tend to my own yard, and try to find whatever's going to make me happy as I wait for the end to come.  and i'm going to remain grateful, because gratitude is what makes all the difference in the world.  

so, thank you Father, for allowing me to spend time with my child and her child.  thank you for a good day, thank you for the blessing of convalescence, and thank you for being my Father.  

well, hell...

so, have you ever felt there's no point in trying to explain to the so-called 'professional' people the shit that you're going through? that's what I felt yesterday, going to the doctors.  it seemed they were pretty set against the idea that somehow, in December, with all the symptoms I was going through, that I had a bout with the flu, that i'm still in the upswing from it, God's will be done.  they didn't have any answer to what it WAS, but were convinced it WASN'T the flu.  and so it could have been some psychologically induced state of physically manifested symptoms, as if I wanted to be sick, go to the hospital and the ER, run up more medical bills I can barely pay, miss work, lose money, get dehydrated and have my sugar and kidneys running off the charts as a result.  because I really just hate myself that much.  what a load of succotash.  that's NOT what they said, of course.  they never say it; they just say it wasn't what you know it was and leave you to draw the conclusion for myself.  again, I thank my sponsor, miss him every day, for a bit of wisdom extrapolated from conversations we've had.  like, "I don't need you to tell me the truth in order for me to know the truth".  that is absolutely correct.  and it leaves out the middle man responsible for updating me on all the little minutiae of any particular situation.  I have a brain that can discern and reason.  two plus two equals for everywhere but in George Orwell's '1984'.  so, i'm doing some better now, and i'm glad to be able to say that.

I don't want to be harsh.  I know I don't have many people reading my posts.  in fact, I know only one person reads it regularly, and they are the most important person to be reading it, and i'm grateful for their continued vigilance in my life.  but I don't do this because I want you to like me, or I want you to co-sign this shit (not you, constant reader, those i'm going to open this up to shortly);  I do it because I want someone to KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON WITH ME, so that if anything happens, they know what the process was, how I got to the point I may be at and, perhaps, how best to reach me as a result.  in old days, we'd just talk more, friends in contact with friends.  but that's not necessarily the way things are done now.  now, we tend to just mind our own, take sides with the clique that most closely mirrors our own isms and fears, and close the doors and build high walls to keep anyone else out. and what does that do, except create instant enemies?

I had a moment of philosophical relief today.  my leg was hurting like a bitch, but I decided I was going to have my pancake.  the whole deal, sausage and eggs too.  so I got my shit together and I get to work on my breakfast.  I made my sausage patty, and rather than grab the spatula just went to flip it with the pan itself.  and it fell on its side, which is unusual, and mushed, and I had to flip until it landed raw side down and get the spatula and mush it down anyway.  then I did my eggs while I was preparing my pancake batter.  I knew I was frying them far harder than I like my eggs, but I was cooking while sitting and getting up, trying to get shit done while I was hurting so I could sit back down, and eventually the hard fried eggs were done and I went to take them out and they slid off the spatula onto the floor.  I was SO ANGRY!  I almost cursed.  I said, "I'm so fucking tired of hurting all the time."  so I guess I did curse.  and then it occurred to me.  I have made my breakfast.  I dropped the eggs because I was trying to baby my leg.  the notion came into my head, my ingratitude, my ego out of control once more.  why?  because there are people who have no eggs to drop on the floor.  there are people who have no sausage to flip, no pancake to make when they're craving it.  there are people with no legs to hurt them anymore.  there are people who have lost so much more than I have, who still have to go through the day.  I've met some of them.  and then the old saying went through my brain. "I lamented the fact I had no shoes, until I met the man who had no feet."  and it made me thank Jehovah and apologize for my impertinence.  then I fried two more eggs (for many people, dropping those first eggs would have been the last of it.  for some people, those dropped eggs would have had to be eaten anyway.  never forget) and made my pancake and had a nice breakfast.  I got to the library and got my books that they held onto for me, though at least one should have been sent back (thank you, Father).  I went to my parent's house, talked to my mom and made dinner for them.  I got some lunch, came home and ate and took my midday meds and got my pintos started in the pot and I watched some Samurai Jack and eventually got my dad from the hospital and came home and cooked the rest of my dinner and ate.  my dishes are washed, and I am going to get my water for the night.  i'm going to get bloodwork done in the morning, check on my parents and perhaps have lunch with Joshua if he chooses to.  a light day, nothing wrong with that.  no work til Monday, so I have some time to do me.  Leg doesn't hurt as bad; elbow feels pretty good.  i'm going to be grateful to Jehovah for letting me convalesce, and i'm grateful to those who have cared about me and let me know that they do. it is the blessing of life in this insane world to be connected to some sanity, regardless of how little it might be.  i'm done, and i'm posting this link on FB, because it's still part of my 10th step, and I have to share it in order to keep the attic clean.  Aspire Higher.

Last First Monday of 2020

wow, what a day.  long and not busy, active but not full.  i'm tired but mostly from waking so early and going in so early.  I got the thing straight that I let lapse, which was a form of amend, and i'm glad about that.  I hit my marks at work, but I was nauseous early part of the morning, ever since I ate my breakfast.  just finished dinner, so that's good.  soup and a grilled cheese/marinara sandwich, tasty enough.  just wasn't feeling the 'go to the store, come home, cook something huge and eat and pass out' thing when I just finished almost 12 hours of work.

it's funny, in a way.  I have a place on my job.  I mean, I had a place at PCS as well, but here at Health Park, I actually feel that people are counting on my best, and i'm happy to give it.  not just the clients, but the staff, the people who pay the people I work for the money that they pay me.  and that makes me feel pretty good.  so when I go to work, it means I have a standard that is set for myself, a standard that makes everyone else comfortable knowing it's in place, and I hit it as often as I can.  today was a day like that.  and I couldn't be happier, though I am tired, to be perfectly frank.

the world is an ugly place.  you see it more and more, if you have eyes that can see anything at all.  I had talked to my counselor recently about the attack on the temple in New York at the holidays, about the councilwoman (I think she was) who spoke on the tumultuous history between the Jewish and black community.  I couldn't see anything right about the act, and I couldn't see anything right about the inference, as if that would excuse a crime against a community.  and then I see another report of a black woman who tore off a Muslim girl's hijab and rubbed in on her crotch, degraded and defiled her faith.  and again, i'm struck, and I know what really struck me.  I wonder what the fuck is wrong with my people, and I wonder why we are trying so hard to fit into the hateful rhetoric that does nothing but erode the foundation of something that was strived for not even 50 years ago.  we are hated, condemned and disregarded, by and large. are these attempts to find some kind of identity in current culture?  and I really do wonder, because one thing I realized a long time ago; black identification of the American dream has always been White America, because what else could slaves see as success except the people who owned them?  black people have always sought the clothing of the oppressor, and apparently this has not abated one iota, despite all the talk these days about people being 'woke'.  it makes me sad.  it makes me want to give up.  I never did have a good grasp on REAL hate.  it seems so useless.  I don't know.  i'm writing just to get this shit out of my skin.  I see people with only a token amount of patience for other humans who will go to hell and beyond for a pet.  I watch people behind the wheels of cars they are definitely not qualified to drive, putting hundreds of other drivers at risk every day.  I see an agenda to get the nation high, and I seem to be the only person who asks, 'if the government wants me to have it, what is the real reason?  what's the agenda?'

but that's just some of the background noise in my head these days.  tomorrow is a more 'normal' day.  four patients to pick up and drop off.  of course, they scheduled two of them for a pick up at the exact same time, but that's not my issue at the moment.  i'm going to take my night meds, i'm going to get into my shorts and i'm going to get horizontal. I doubt if sleep is far off.  and I only work today and tomorrow; Friday they have some kind of educational thing they're attending in Cleveland, and the facility is closed.  so, what to do when everyone I know is tied up in drama?  probably mind my own business.  never hurt me one time.  good night.

First Monday, 2020

yeah, Monday morning.  I'm up.  I'm surprised, but that's okay.  gonna have an early start to the day.  nothing really new about that either, but I have my first pickup today at 7:20.  means I got to leave out at 7am.  earliest beginning to a pick-up route at this job yet.  it's good though.  shouldn't get too comfortable.  

i'm up now, I got water on for oat meal, got a boiled egg, waiting for my coffee to finish brewing.  just took my medicine.  I've been up since about 2, and it's 5 now.  i'll pay for it later, but i'll live.  not a heavy day; spaced out pretty well at the moment.  

I have some things I have to repair.  I have some things that I let lapse, some things that I have to get straightened out this week.  i'm finding the longer you put things off, the more things you have to eventually deal with.  can't be helped though.  if I don't deal with them, the list just gets longer.  so one of my goals this month is to get that list shortened.  not eliminated; that thought is nice but not realistic.  but I can take care of some of this shit, and I can make sure I don't let it get out of hand again.  and eventually i'll get caught up.  and that's not a bad plan.  

everyone seems to be sick now.  my children, my grandchild. my mom is going to the new facility whom I drive for to get medical treatment and that's a good thing.  I am going to get dressed now and get ready to get out of here, having taken my meds, read my daily scriptures and recovery stuff and had breakfast.  i'll recap later, but I wanted to jot some things down.  got to get re-grooved in the daily habit of putting this stuff down. later.

Thursday Slowness

it's going on 11am.  good enough time to do this entry, since i don't have a run until about 2pm.  i wanted to write this morning, but time sort of got away from me, and that's okay, because i was trying for productivity. 

it's the 2nd day of the year, 2nd day of the new decade.  i am much improved, though not 100 % just yet.  the flu/cold lingers, but this iteration just has that as a trademark/trait of it's presence.  just about everyone i know is sick.  i'm upswinging on it now, finally feeling some better all the way around, but it's a progression.  it's not a 'this is just going to be a resolution' thing.  i've drank tea with honey this morning, and it feels good.  i really can't stand honey in tea, but it was suggested by a nurse and i am thankful for any help i can get.  I had to take my daughter some medicine today, as she is pretty sick now as well.  so is my grandson.  people all around are getting sick, and there's nothing that can be done except to ride on it.  so that's what i do.  I'm guessing that's what they do as well. 

getting up this morning was a chore.  sleep was there, it just wasn't constant.  sleep, wake for a few, sleep, wake for a few.  i got out the bed about a quarter to 5, said prayers, read books, and got moving.  took the trash out.  gathered meds for Syd.  got my few clothes together that needed washing.  then i got it gone. 

got to work after i took meds to Syd.  got the van ready.  walking much better than i was last week.  right foot feels okay, left foot hurts but nowhere near as bad.  once the main people at OSH come in, learn that my first 2 of three pick ups are not coming in, so i don't have a run til 2pm.  so, i go check on the parents, take my mom breakfast and  make her some coffee.  put a load in the washer.  grab a bottle of diet pop and some splenda and come back to work.  i've been writing since, just started nodding.  but i've still got about 3 hours til it's time to roll.  made an appointment with my doctor.  have to contact my endocrinologist.  will do that before my run.  i like the productivity.  wish i had an art program; i'd design my cover and get things ready for publishing. 

new year.  wrote a piece for FB, just to reflect that it's HINDSIGHT that's 20-20, foresight is faith.  so i'm hoping people understand, but do they ever?  so much easier to just parrot and mimic someone else's rhetoric than to think for themselves.  not good, but definitely the way of the world.  we'll see what the new year brings.  meanwhile, on with staying awake for the next 3 hours.  almost 11am,  this didn't even last long enough to count as a distraction.