I want to maximize life experiences, social interactions and joyous moments, while accumulating knowledge and wisdom about this world and its people, recognizing happiness and contentment along the way and journal these experiences for continuous reflection.
I`ve Heard you cry but have never seen the tears
I`ve watched you Lie
You lie so sweetly behind a smile
When I look into your eyes
I can see that you love me
But its just not the same
Its more like being friendly
I wish I could change
The way you feel about me
Say tonight , you`ll be mine
But anger and despair , you throw at me
Its not meant for me
Give it to whom it belongs ..Please
I`m just a child, hoping for your hand
Come back to me , your heads in the clouds
You don`t see clearly- As for me
I`ll just be here
I thought that I knew you
You`ve told me your wants and fears
You`ve said that you love me
But afraid to let me close
You don`t want me to go ….or Stay
I still don`t know you
Or just don`t understand
Shes my girl, shes my love
She just doesn`t know
Her moods swing my heart
Its my head in the clouds
Looking down at her, the beauty on solid ground
I can’t help but noticing all the positive happy new year 2014 posts on facebook. It seems that many have bemoaned 2013 as a not so great year but look forward to the fresh slate of 2014. I wonder if this is the same sentiment as years before , and years before that. Anyway. I will hop on the hopeful merry band wagon and declare 2014 to be the happy year I was hoping the previous years would be.
This doesn’t sound as upbeat as I intended , but its the truth as I see it. I do have a number of goals that I am hoping to be able to meet or come close enough, for their positive affect to be felt. I am going to pull a trick I used once upon a time to stick to goals , and that is to re-up those goals throughout the year. 3/15 6/15 and 9/1 work for me. Change of seasons and all that.
A week after I get back from the Dominican Republic …that next Friday night , I notice what feels like a pimple in the middle of my right thigh…I squeeze at it but it feels like one of those under the skin ones that get sore and red but never quite pimpalize. The next day I go for a hike , and I feel the soreness there, especially on the down slopes where your leg kind of takes the shock of the step , shaking the sore area into awakedness. By Sunday , I’m limping. I was asked to go for a walk by a friend and had to renege due to the pain. At this point the area is red and splotchy , feels hot to the touch and hard underneath the skin.
The next day I go to work ,I am now constantly aware of its presence, and the center of the wound has grown blackish and looks like it will soon burst. I share this news with some of the girls at work , explaining that I believe it is a spider bite based on the slow progression and predictable symptoms. The girls attempt to scare me into going to the Dr. , by threatening that my failure to do so may cost me my LEG!
Women! Such alarmists , scared of everything. I don’t listen to nanny nagsies. I’m a man , I’m tough stuff.
I leave work early to go the doctor.
Doctor looks at it and says , “yup…looks like a spider bite. You will just have to let it run its course, pussy.” (she didn’t say pussy , but I heard it in her tone) “Here is some anti-biotics.” ,”Do you want pain meds ?”
Me – nah , don’t need any , its just uncomfortable , not painful. Besides , I’m a man , I’m tough stuff. And I sure ain’t no pussy.
That night. 1 am , I can’t sleep , at all. My leg is throbbing , the whole thigh area is swollen and I cannot for one moment find peace enough to come close to drifting. Between the hot buzzy stinging of the now-open wound area and the inflamed muscles all around , I’m in agony. By 3am I am resigned to the fact that I will NOT be sleeping tonight , at all. I wail on Facebook as much. I stop trying to sleep and research online about what the fuck I’m going to be dealing with for the rest of my life (or a week or so) I read all the scary shit about spiders, and about brown recluses , especially. I’m probably going to lose my leg.
Ok, I didn’t think I was going to lose my leg , but I learned a lot about spiders. Ct mostly has only two poisonous spiders (though there was some conflicting info on hobo spiders being a possible third) If you get bit by a black widow you would feel the sting instantly and within an hour be cramped over in pain from the stomach area. Believe it or not, they are almost never fatal. The brown recluse bite is rarely fatal either. You never feel the initial bite but a few hours later you will feel what seems to be a pimple. It will eventually get hot , red and hard. At some point the bite area will blacken and possibly necrotize , rotting the flesh away. Some bites can go real deep and wide and take out major chunks of skin and some can just run its course and just leave a wound that with care will eventually heal. This matches my situation precisely. At around 5am , I dig up an article , by a doctor-researcher who had found anti-histamine therapy can be very effective in treating a recluse bite. I run out to the 24 hour walgreen to pick up some benadryl. Feels weird being out at that time in the AM totally sober. I get the benadryl and by 7ish , I finally fall asleep thanks to the effects of the drug. I wake up around noon, the surrounding area is less swollen and red , though the wound area is still just as nasty.
I call the doctor to take her up on her offer of drugs. I am told this is not possible without seeing her. “Grumble Grumble ..FINE!” , I say.We can give you an appointment the Tuesday after next ..say 3 o’clock. “Are you kidding me ! I am in pain , that’s why I want the meds, I can’t wait two weeks , I’m dying from a spider bite!” The uncaring receptionists says in a bored , irritated voice , “well just walk-in then”
I limp into the doctors office. Getting in and out of the car is a chore , so these errands are not at all fun. She sees me and looks at the wound and decides it has become infected. She needs to cut into it and allow it to drain all it’s nastiness.
CUT INTO IT ?! Did I not tell you I have been in agony and need painkillers and this was without having a knife sticking into the area.
I ask if this is common in a spider bite situation. She says for all she knows or cares , it could be an ingrown hair. All that matters is that it is an infection now and must be drained and treated. An ingrown hair ! I don’t mind being wary of spiders from here on out but am I supposed to freak out about every effing hair on my body , now ? This lady is batty.
She proceeds to attempt to numb the area with lidocaine which requires sticking the surrounding area with a long needle and then releasing the stinging medication. This isn’t fun at all , but it is also absolutely useless on the inflamed skin other than to pierce it and wound it further. It is not the least numb in the area that requires it. She then takes her little napkin pouch of cutty ouchy tools and lays them on my crotch. “Seriously lady ?”
She then proceeds to cut , and slice , and stab ..(ok , she didn’t actually stab me) It felt like a hot knife being twisted around in there. I grit my teeth and squeezed and held the bed arms so hard that I pulled muscles in my back and neck. I felt like a civil war victim except I didn’t get the luxury of the pre-surgery whiskey gulpings.
She then stuffs the area with gauze strips , pushing it inside me with one of the strange cutty-pushy tools. Also quite painful. She gave me a scrip for Vicodin and told me to come back tomorrow with two of them in me and a driver. She may need to cut into it a little more.
A friend of mine offers to drive me. The next morning I confirm an appointment time for 12:15 and text my friend the alert and wait but get no reply. I eventually text back that I’m all set (meaning I will take myself) because my friend is notorious for being late and unreliable. I didn’t want to get that 12:10 text saying he’s on the way and then find I have to wait hours for the next appointment. So , a little loopy , as I don’t take pills very often , I drive to the doctor. Wheeeeee!!!
She again goes into her business of needle sticking and hot knife twisting and I , with 2 vicodin in me , react exactly as I did the day before. Writhing and spitting in agony. Only difference is my mouth is quite dry due to the meds.
She then stops and claims that there is nothing more that she can do, because there is more that needs to be cut out (there is quite a deep wide hole at this point) and I will have to go to the hospital and get knocked out for surgery. I’m ok with this at this point , but I want to go home first and get my things. I know once I’m in the hospital , I ain’t leaving soon. They would have none of this. I’ll have to go by ambulance. I cannot drive and I need to go straight to the hospital and not go home , at all. They tell me that I probably have a fever that is being held off by the drugs and I could collapse or die of sepsis when it wears off!! I have the doctors in my face , literally, she had her face 6-8 inches from me continuing her insistence on immediate action, as I frantically text and ring my friend off the hook. I call work to see if he’s been in touch there , no luck. He pulled a disappearing act. Typical. I attempt to get a ride from another friend but she doesn’t know CT very well and I’m too spent to give directions. I give phone to the assistant who spends 10 minutes repeating directions from every possible angle and you can tell that this is not going to work out well. I take the phone back and say forget it , I’ll take the freaking ambulance. This means I’m stuck in the shorts and t-shirt I’m in , (Is my underwear clean ?) no phone charger , no iPod , kindle , books , snacks etc;
I’m in the ambulance and sipping on my water and they realize this and take it away from me ! “You can’t drink , you might be having surgery.” I protest that my tongue is as dry as a cat’s but they tell me I could choke on the water during anesthesia and die. Quite alarmist these people are. May I note here , that the Dr’s were women as well as ambulance people. Just saying.
I am sent to Hartford ER despite my protests, as I wanted to go to Manchester as I know the ER is less crazy (ie; shootings and gang violence) and the hospital is relatively good as I also know from experience. (see Sickness 2012
I lose this argument too. I’m dropped off in the ER and there I stay. For hours. I can’t eat or drink and the meds have worn off , but not the dry mouth effect. I am informed that there are no beds at this time. Fucking Hartford. A doctor finally comes in , its now like 6:00 pm … He looks at the wound and says that they are going to put me on IV antibiotics and see how I respond before considering surgery.
Seriously , after 5 hours ?
“May I please have something to eat and drink then , please ?”
“Well we should have a bed for you soon and you can eat dinner then , unless you want something from the snack machine now.” the doctor says.
I decide to wait for dinner and a nurse gives me a some lukewarm tap water in a little dentist-spitty cup- thing.
At 8’clock I finally get in the room and they stick me with the IV antibiotics. I ask how do I order dinner and am informed that dinner was at 6:30 and would I like something from the snack machine. Agghhh!!!!
They scare me up a dry turkey with nothing sandwich that I choke down. Then I commence with doing nothing for the next four days.
To be continued….
The nothing for the next four days I was describing was not totally nothing ; just worth nothing and in the end , essentially nothing went on of any consequence. Shit , I should have just ended the story before …what the hell did I want to continue for ?
Well, I should let people know that my leg did not fall off.
It may also be of interest to note those moments of pure boredom that transcended any other tedium of recent memory. The T.V didn’t work right and was tiny and in an awkward position. My phone was dying. I had no music , no books or anything else to do but stare at the wall. I attempted sleep on a number of occasions but was too uncomfortable to have any real success. I have the ability to lose myself in my mind on occasion. I wrote this in my mind at the time and have since recreated it here in perfect form. But that only entertained me for a few hours. Boredom, manifest in as pure and oppressive a form as I was experiencing, can bend time as much as a black hole. Seemingly Interminable spans of time passed between each tick of the clock. It wasn’t all bad, intermittently there were some exciting lightning strikes and bouts of loud heavy downpours. Unfortunately , that too became tedious as we received a record amount of rain (7 inches) over the next few days. The view from the window was the same wet grey for days on end.
Eventually I did get things picked up from my house and dropped off for me thanks to some wonderful friends. It’s difficult describing to someone where some particular item may currently reside in a home. “Ok , its in the hallway , no not that one the other one …by the door …not that door the back door , yeah … there is a bag by that table and …oh …how many bags do you see ? ” etc; ad nauseum. I especially had a difficult time facilitating the retrieval of my comfy headphones and was stuck with the buds in a box, that were apparently somewhere nowhere near where I described, but were found nonetheless.
I highlight the ear buds here for a reason. I was really looking forward to listening to music as I can sleep with it , read with it , whistle , sing …. I couldn’t dance due to my leg but I could pull off a pretty mean head bop with no ill effects. In other words, an almost unending list of entertaining enterprises was open to me.
But I have a problem. It’s embarrassing to admit , but my ears are put on funny. They apparently do not have the proper proportions to admit and secure an ear bud. Try as I might , as I pop one in , the other pops out. I literally need to grind and twist these evil fuckers deep into my ear in order for them to stay for any fair amount of time. Eventually they worm their way out as if offended by my mis-proportioned ears. That leaves out many of the amusements I was looking forward to. Head bopping was out. I couldn’t sleep on any particular side unless I smooshed my head into the pillow, pinning the slippery bud in as close to a useful angle as possible , allowing it to emit sound into my ear or at least the surrounding cartilage. Even whistling and singing , believe it or not, builds just a slight enough amount of inner ear pressure to shoot the infernal objects out of my head. My ears were eventually so sore from these baneful buds that I decided that background t.v noise was gonna just have to do.
All the while , It was forefront in my mind why I was suffering these indignities. Its because my friend did not drive me to the doctors. If he did , I wouldn’t have been so unprepared and empty handed for this hospital stay. It got to the point where I could think of little else. More on that later.
I was slowly improving over this period and was well attended to by the various hospital staff. They still weren’t quite sure how bad or how deep or bad the infection was until they got more test results back , but the swelling was way down and I wasn’t in any real pain until…….
Dr. Young Slick comes in and decides he wants to get a good look at things and pulls out his own special supply of cutty ouchy tools- Hospital Grade. There were twice as many instruments and twice the size of the doctors. I explain that I have no meds in me and besides, I have a cat scan scheduled in a few hours so they can ‘get a good look at things’ a lot less intrusively. He tells me not to worry. He’s gonna numb the area with lidocaine. “Do you know what that is ?” I want to punch him in the mouth. After 10-15 minutes of torturing me he decided he had enough. He lined up a nurse to pump me full of meds and he would come back and complete the torture session to his satisfaction.
Mean nurse comes in and pumps me with a full 2mg of some ‘make you feel instantly shitty and pukey meds’ right into my IV. She didn’t drip it , just pushed it all in one fell swoop because the Doctor was in a hurry. She cleans and covers the wound area. He comes back 20 minutes later and looks at it and then decides that he doesn’t need to do any more and that we’ll just wait for the results of the cat scan !! My head is pounding from the shit they gave me and the hospital bed ride to the scan felt like I was on a roller coaster. Sure enough , as soon as I got back from the scan I puked my guts up. I had a headache for 2 days from this shit. I was scheduled in the AM for new wound dressing so nice nurse ordered me .5 mg and have it pumped it over 10 minutes , the way it should be administered Dr. Slick….yeah , He’s a dick.
Finally I am to be released. My buddy coordinates getting my Subaru Forester home, which is still at the doctors, by bringing his wife to the vehicle before leaving to pick me up. Luckily my car is still there , but unfortunately I left my very large moon roof open that entire time! This didn’t immediately come apparent to my friend until she sat down , compressing the seat like a squeezed sponge and absorbing the voluminous amount of released water with her jeans , underwear and blouse. This is my damn unreliable friends fault !!! I’m still dealing with the ramifications of his blow off!! There was a RECORD amount of rainfall during that period and most of it was in my car. My car was so filled with water it loudly sloshed around turns. If I turned quick , I could feel the ensuing tide affect the drive-ability as I would if caught in a windstorm on a highway. I had to wet vac the whole thing and air it out for days. I bought a dozen baking soda boxes from the grocery store (I think they thought I was a crack addict) and scattered them throughout the car to soak up the moisture and aid in odor control. One of the days I forgot to keep the windows open and the car fogged up as if a troupe of newlyweds spent an amorous evening in it.
It took a few more weeks for my wound to fully close up but It did. It healed from the inside out so it remained ‘open’ right up until the end. I still have a scar to commemorate my battles. I have a few gory pictures that I am happy to share with any interested voyeur. Just ask. I have since forgiven my friend who dissed me , despite the fact that he made pretend that he got my ‘I’m all set text’ and claimed that’s why he didn’t pick me up. (or call or text or show up for work or pick up my dozen phone calls/texts after that one- uh huh) Forgiveness is best given out of love , but occasionally , self interest will have to do.
I see the soul of the weeping willow , so strong , so noble
Yet a sad affectation in its sloped bearing.
Its beautiful and gentle , and vulnerable all the same.
Its roots grow out widely , so thirsty is its soul
so deep its fount
so swelled with life water that none can compare to its capacities.
I am blessed to share this unquenchable fount
Your fount, sweet love , It fills me and
my shallow pond
so desperately relies on you to fill me
with what you so naturally possess
and that which I can only acquire from you.
I don’t mean to drink so heartily from you
but you can withstand it , I know
I need you , you have saved me , I owe you all
You have such a capacity for love and to fill me with it
and you do so – nobly , so gently , selflessly.
This leaves you vulnerable , your easing of my thirst.
But your fount seems boundless.
You are of magnificence and grace , as a willows soul .
Whistling through the wood , the wind-whipped rain pelts the land
As the wind whips, the willow wails , weeping its worth upon the earth.
I just can’t shake this shitty feeling these last few days. It has manifested physically , I feel waves of it , It starts as pressure at the backs of my eyes , as if to cause tears , and then rides down to my chest , tightening it , and sinks into my gut as that pit of stomach empty feeling.
Then some moments go by , and it repeats. My thoughts are black and gloomy, not nearly the upbeat optimism and enthusiasm that I have exuded for months now.
I think its fear and anger , self loathing , regret and pessimism. It has sapped my energy. I want to blame somebody , but I think its my own head creating this for me.
I’m gonna give it a good talking to , I think. I am going to force myself to do something active , to distract myself. I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I am in control , I guide my destiny and happiness. Snap the fuck out of it , Kevin.
It began with a few sinus headaches on 4/5th and 6th and evolved into the flu from that Saturday on. I was tricked into believing that I was getting better by Wednesday , as I broke the fever and the aches and pains were much less severe. I even dragged ass into work for a few hours , but as I was getting to leave , I started getting the chills and that ‘my hair hurts’ feeling was coming on quick. The next few days , back on the couch. I watched a lot of star trek re-runs on netflix. By friday the 13th , the aches and pains went away , fevers were intermittent , but I developed a cough. A dry , raspy and unproductive cough. I lost my voice , my throat was raw , and I couldn’t sleep. I pulled all the muscles in my back from coughing , and every cough shook my head which felt like someone stabbing me with a migraine for those few moments, then having it subside to a dull ache ….then Cough !!! Arrgghhjh…my head …..my throat …. my aching back. Sucking down cough medicine and living on cough drops , RICOLAH !!!! I survived the week , barely.
I broke down and went to doctor on Saturday. It was quite an effort , as I was feeling quite crappy and weak. I have been eating intermittently throughout the week. Sometimes hungry , and sometimes not at all. The doctor listened to my chest , said it was clear. Gave me an antibiotic for the sinus infection (assumed) and the cough medicine with codeine , that just knocks your ass out. They sent me on my way. I went into work despite no changes , and no voice. In fact , just the thought of speaking or having to respond to a speaker sent me into a painful coughing fit. I went in , kinda shut my door , and did emails and paperwork etc; I lasted a few hours , felt like I caught up a bit , and resolved to go back the next day.
That evening , while laying around watching TV , I somehow TWEAKED the tendon above my knee. I wasn’t even doing anything. It may have been a Hard laying around , considering my tenacity in doing so , but I can’t imagine how I screwed up my knee. It was Bad. I couldn’t bend it without shrieking. I could slowly , inch by painful inch , pull the knee closer , to deal with a sitting position , and reverse it to stand up or straighten it out. Good times. That night , between my cough , my screwed up hours of the past weeks sleeping , and my Effin Leg, I was unable to sleep , at all. I started panicking around 4 ish …. I texted Kyle at some point between 4-6ish Am to let him know , I wasn’t coming. I have to go to Dr for my knee. Whatever infection or virus , must’ve gotten into my knee. I currently have a friend/employee going through a painful and scary bone cancer with his knee/leg. Thats probably what I have , Cancer of the knee.
I go to dr , they x-ray my leg. Tell me there is no infection (I didn’t bring up cancer) and that it is simply an overuse sports injury. OVERUSE. I haven’t used the damn thing other than to pee , or shift positions during my hard – laying – around episodes. I still have no voice , so my angry reactions came out as heated whispers , followed by a frustrating coughing fit. She sees no issues with my sickness , going on my word that I probably had the flu and it devolved into a cough / infection and I should be good to go with both my knee and my sickness by weeks end.
I drag into work a few hours here and there. I was asked my itinerary on a daily basis , so I felt obligated to come in. Its not like I had cancer of the knee or anything. We can forgive our afflicted friend for not making it to work , he has some serious things going on. By friday night , I was a mess. Fevers , uncontrollable coughing that left me incapacitated. I had to meditate in a supine position in order to calm myself down from coughing and catch my breath. I felt like I wasn’t going to make it through the night , around 4 am , I finally fall asleep. Saturday the 21st , two weeks and a few days after I first felt sick , I went to a different doctor. I was having a hard time catching my breath , and feeling dizzy. They x-rayed my chest and OH MY EFFIN GOD! You have a Nasty case of pneumonia , thick solid patch on upper right lung , and splotches throughout both lobes. Not good. They gave me my x-rays and sent me to the hospital. I did a quick pit stop home , for a shower , grab a few things , and clean underwear , just in case they kept me. They kept me.
I was admitted and they began IV antibiotics and fluids , breathing treatments ,and they put me on 24/7 oxygen. I looked forward to the multiple times daily blood letting , where they test my blood. I especially enjoyed the young useless moron , whom was tasked with taking arterial blood , to get an accurate blood/O2 reading. He poked me in 3 different sites. Each time he was incredibly accurate in finding the surrounding nerves and poking the shit out of them, sending shooting spasmic pain down the arm to my fingers , and back up halfway to my neck. He eventually gave up and passed the baton ( it was really a needle , not a baton) to an older more experienced nurse who banged it out quick , with only the uncomfortable , unfun , but survivable pinch.
The rest of the extremely long and uneventful week was spent being woken up every few hours for blood pressure/temperature/and blood 02 tests. My hours , still screwed up , had me up til at least 2 am every night , playing words with friends with my midnight princess and texting anyone still up about my docile adventures. They would come in at 4am and WAKE YOU UP , to stick an effin thermometer in my ear. They were also intent on knowing when and how often I peed and pooped. It made sense to count the intake/outake of my liquids but no one nurse/aid consistently followed through. There were so many missed accountings that It became silly and useless to make pretend to bother. I made shit up. LOL. Literally , Yeah I had 7 bowel movements and peed once. Some questioned me , some wrote it down. I lost interest.
I had met so many doctors / nurses / aides that I stopped caring about the questions they were asking because the next one would ask the same , oblivious to the record. The division of labor was a bit extreme. The nurse played with the IV and drugs , the aide listened to my lungs and brought me water , Respiratory came in and gave me the 10 minute breathing treatment. Dietary brought in the food. Ambulatory carted me around to various tests. Xray did xrays , Scan did CT scan , Housekeeping , well they kept house. Two separate doctors , one focused on physical lung/breathing issues , and the other to deal with the drugs relating to lung issues.
At one point I was dealing with DR. Epidemic , who transferred me into an isolation room because they suspected possible TB , despite my explanation of not having the definitive symptoms , nor was I among any high risk groups or activities. Dr. Crisis , apologized on behalf of Dr. Epidemic a few days later , releasing my gang of caretakers from their mandated adornment of masks , gloves , and coats anytime they opened my door.
I will say , all in all , I was well taken care of , but there are definitely some management issues in the health care industry.
I was let in Saturday and finally released on Friday the 27th , 3pm. I wanted to leave the night before as I felt I could recuperate at home. I was losing my mind all day Friday to be let out. I was still out of breath after a brisk walk down hall way , and coughed anytime someone tried to speak to me , but I was off the 02 and switched to pill antibiotics for 24 hours. I was ready to go home.
Well that’s my story. I still am sick , but I am recovering. One good thing to come from this is that I lost 12lbs , Once I get my breath back , I’ll get back to the gym and my hiking and keep it off.
Pulled into my driveway this evening. A sudden flash of movement along the ground … It disappears as my approach restricts the visual angle between me and the ground. I open my car door …and L E A N out …. a little …more …..AHA ! A big fat bundle of ring-striped fur runs into my backyard and amazingly zips through a very small , one slat wide gap at the very bottom of my fence. He immediately turns around and stares at me through this hole , his eyes lit bright from my headlights. I whistle at him to startle him. I retrospectively realize that I used a ‘come here boy’ whistle I would use to attract a dog. Luckily , he disregarded the call and jetted.
I back up my car a bit and shine the brights a few times to make sure he’s gone, and then just park right there. I grab the two bags of groceries , shut my door , and walk around the car towards my front door which is just around the bend. I click the remote to lock my car, Beep-Beep and its corresponding double light flash illuminates another set of eyes !!! ANOTHER RACCOON !! My heart does its own double tap beep-beep and I jump back quickly. But this raccoon doesn’t run away from me into the backyard as I expected. It runs towards my front door which is in a nook , invisible to me at this angle and the rest of the area is pitch black anyway. Shit! What to do ?
I beep – beep again , toss my groceries onto the passenger seat , start the car and pull out of the driveway. I considered leaving. Seriously. I considered abandoning my home for a second. Instead , I pull back even further down the driveway at an angle to shine my brights at the front door area. I have a better angle but not quite head on. Still , It doesn’t appear to be there anymore ; though I didn’t actually see it take off. Or did I ? Now my mind is questioning itself. Did a flash of movement register in my peripheral vision but not provide the degree of sensory proof to convince the rest of my mind ?
Screw it. He’s more scared than I am. I was just startled , not scared. I could kick him If I needed to. Yeah…eff that , I could take him ! Self-assured of my manhood, I shut the car off but leave the lights on and groceries in the car. I tentatively creep up my path and peak around to see if he is guarding my front door ……
WHEW!! Not there.
I quickly open the door , run in and turn on the outside lights. I peak out the front door suspiciously. Then in as cool and casual a manner as I could maintain , I saunter back to the car and grab the groceries. I have to admit , as I got back within a few steps of the front door , I sorta quick-skipped it and hopped back into the house and swiftly shut the door behind me.
There’s a new view from the wrong side of the hill. Yes , the view is changed , but this viewer has not. I do not feel all that far removed from my younger self. In fact , except for a few dysfunctionalities and questionable choices, my early adulthood self would totally hang with me. We would get quite drunk together and dip our toes into all sorts of mischief.
I will admit some of the focus is different. I used to look up and out ; I am now more comfortable to stare straight and maybe slightly to the side. I still have aspirations , but most are aimed at not falling backwards, rather then at rising to ever greater heights.
There is also the gnawing feeling that I have missed some sort of boat that would’ve carried me to an island of meaning. But I do have enough life experience and wisdom to realize that the greenest grass isn’t always the one un-trampled upon.
I have regrets , some of those have recently unfolded in the most dramatic and traumatic event in my otherwise charmed life. I had not expected this outcome , but should have forseen it, As they say , hindsight is 20/20.
Mostly , I see an uptick in life happiness at this stage of my life. Barring another traumatic shock to my existence , I expect further mastery of my volatile emotions, leading to contentment, acceptance and gratitude for this life i’ve been lucky enough to live , and hopefully will continue to do so for at least another 40.
Up to stratton mountain with AJ (my boy up from Charleston for this ski trip) and Kyle. We do the night out bar thing (good times) , wake up a little hungover and drag ass to the mountain. It was negative 10 with the wind chill and the wind was a good 20 mph blowing all the loose snow at us while we hung in the air on the lift (which took a 40min wait on line for this privilege). We did one run and got a refund. Good times.
An Aside – This was my first ski trip this year because of cancellations of previous ski plans for various reasons. A few months ago , I pulled all my ski gear from my shed and loaded my car with it , in anticipation of my first trip. We get to the mountain which is PACKED despite the ridiculous weather. Its presidents day weekend and families abound. I pull into a corner cubby room to put on my ski sweater, boots and other ski paraphernalia. I pull my sweater out of my bag and see that the bottom of it is all chewed up , and has some wood shavings scattered on it. Damn , I got attacked by a mouse. I then grab my boots and open up the bindings and stretch out the flaps in anticipation of squeezing a foot into these god-forsaken tight boots. During this struggle an acorn drops to the floor , devoid of its tell-tale crown. Confused , I put the boot down on its side to pick up the acorn. A dozen more acorns fall out my boot and roll across the floor. Aghast , I dump the boot upside down and no less than 30 some-odd acorns , without their heads , bounce upon the floor like scattered marbles ….. Oh My God !! My boot was infested by a squirrel , I look inside to see if there is anything else and ….SHIT — I toss the boot onto the ground ….damn !! What looked like a dead petrified animal sticking up at me was simply a grey nest of yarn , most likely crafted from another clothing item from my bag. Freaked me out. I tentatively stick my hand and arm in boot to remove any other offending obstructions , fully expecting to feel a dead squishy , or a live bitey. Nothing. I squeeze my foot into the boot. Kyle and AJ , separately walk into this room , to be given the story. I point to the pile of acorns I pushed and piled in a corner of the room. Each time I described the story for my friends, a fellow ski-dresser exclaimed, ” I was wondering what the heck that was about.” These people come into the room , see this pile of acorns , and are wracking their brain , “Why the hell are a few dozen bald acorns neatly pushed into the corner of this changing room , Why ?”
I’m in the process of planning my first solo vacation. I got some good ideas from facebook friends. I decided on Costa Rica.
I had my plans adjusted for me a bit, so my plan thus far is that next week im going to LA to meet brian gruber who is flying into the states from Baku. We are gonna stay with my boy Brando in LA and then shoot down to Brians friends house in Rosarito mexico for a few days , with a stop in San Diego prior to flying out of the states.
I will then commence my solo trip and I decided on Costa Rica. I was really tempted by belize , but have been unduly influenced by some friends that recently stayed in costa rica. Kyle may fly in for a few days in the middle of my solo trip so that should be cool.I’m thinking that europe trip will be next year when I have a little more practice of solo travel under my belt. I like the idea of a costa rican adventure; I know a little spanish , there are a lot of ex-pats for instant friends and plenty of lose-yourself activities , I’m looking forward to renting an ATV and exploring the land , and I want to visit the jungle. I booked the LA part , am still putting together the Costa Rica part.
Being alone is better than wishing you were alone ; Lonely planet says , more often than not , going solo , you tend to meet more people and do more things than when going as a couple.
2011 , a new decade , a new site , and a new Kevin. Unencumbered , free , independent , devoid of illusions , learned , insightful , with a fresh perspective. Out with the old. I intend to keep the old blog and the website but will be putting new looks and new adventures ahead of them. This is the beginning of life # 7 of Kevin.