Click to Listen!
Um... Sorry, wrong number... I am wondering how long they waited before they figured it out?
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Hello?
This voicemail message was left on my cell phone last night...
Click to Listen!
Um... Sorry, wrong number... I am wondering how long they waited before they figured it out?
Click to Listen!
Um... Sorry, wrong number... I am wondering how long they waited before they figured it out?
Friday, April 20, 2007
Because... NObody Cares... That's Why!
Marcheline and I spent the night watching a show on The Military Channel entitled "The War Tapes" - (In March 2004, just as the insurgent movement strengthened, several members of one National Guard unit arrived in Iraq, carrying digital video cameras. The War Tapes is the film that they made.)
One segment of the show was taped after the soldiers returned, and one of them, a SGT. Michael Moriarty was explaining how it was difficult to talk to the guys he worked with, and, for that matter, with just about anyone... because, as he explained, they didn't care to hear about his experiences in combat. He went on to explain how they would even sometimes initiate the conversation, asking him questions, or whether he had any pictures... and that when he would take the pictures out, they would become uncomfortable, or simply let their attention drift, and walk away from him... he was expressing his frustration and anger at this... how he sometimes felt like grabbing one of them by the throat and saying, "Listen, asshole!! YOU ASKED to see my pictures... the LEAST you can do is to LOOK at them!!!"
As I listened to him talk, it occurred to me how similar my own experiences were with this soldier's... and, I suppose, with the experiences of every soldier who has ever returned home from war going all the way back in time... it is a very difficult thing to truly come to understand... intellectually.... and an almost impossible thing to finally internalize; Nobody really wants to hear about your experiences... and nobody really wants to know what you went through.... ... they just... Don't.
In the title of this blog, I stated that 'NObody cares... that's why!' - primarily because I'm a wiseass... and, for a good length of time, I believed that this was so... (to some degree, I still *do* believe that this is so... and in many cases, it probably IS so!! Many people simply don't care.) I think that in most cases, however, people simply can't relate to the experience of a combat veteran. Many have seen the movies.. watched the news... and read the books, magazines, and articles... but, that's it. When the movie ends, or the article comes to a close, they move on to whatever comes next in their work-a-day life... and that, my friends, is just about as close as most people ever want to come to warfare. Period. And this should be perfectly understandable to anyone... soldier or not. I think it is probably the most healthy attitude that someone can have towards war... aversion, disgust, avoidance... to my mind, the concept of a 'Just War' is like the concept of 'Just Bigotry' or 'Just Torture' or 'Just Unfairness'... its Crap!! So, I cannot blame those who do not wish to partake of the experiences of soldiers who are returning home... It would be nice to hear them say something like, "Thanks for your service... its good to have you back home!" But, in most cases, that isn't going to happen... at any rate, the average normal person doesn't want any part of war, and I don't blame them for that. I don't want any part of it either.
Many folks feel some obligation to ask 'what was it like?' 'did you kill anyone?' 'when do you have to go back?' or 'weren't you scared?'... but, they aren't really asking in order to get an answer.. any more than people really want to hear how you are doing when they ask, "How're you doing?" -
You see.. Its a pro-forma question... and you are expected to answer with the pre-scripted, boilerplate reply; "Fine thanks!", or "Great! ..And you?" or something to that effect.
If you have ever asked someone how they were doing, and they began to tell you... you know how in certain circumstances, this can be socially very awkward... in others, appropriate... the trick is in learning to identify which situation requires which response... so that you can reply appropriately.
So... in just about 99.9% of the cases where somebody asks me, "What was it like?" or, "did you ever have to kill anybody?" or any of those sorts of questions that polite civilians who wish to seem moderately interested in the plight of a soldier ofttimes ask, they really only want to hear, "Ah... I just mopped floors and answered phones...", or "It was like a big long camping trip... and the food was terrible.." or something like that... if that... and that is all.
It isn't that they don't care... any more than you don't care about how someone is actually doing when you ask "How're you doing?" and the circumstances don't warrant a detailed response; it isn't a reflection on that person's care or compassion, but more or less regarding social niceties. If they had wanted to go to war, they would have enlisted, or gotten a commission... and gone. If they were found to be unsuitable for service for whatever reason, it isn't nice to draw attention to that... if they chose not to go to war, then one of two circumstances will exist. Either, A. They stand by that decision to this day... in which case, they don't want to hear about warfare, and it would be rude to force it on them. Or, B. They regret not having gone, in which case, it wouldn't be nice to embarrass them by regaling them with stories that would only serve to point out the fact to them that they did not serve. Worse yet, with stories that may press someone who is otherwise eminently unsuited for military service to enlist simply to prove something to themselves or others... and in so doing, possibly get themselves, or perhaps others, hurt or killed...
As a soldier returning home filled to the gills with all of these sights, sounds, experiences, and stories, we naturally want to share them, and to help others to understand some part of what we have accomplished, what we have taken part in... and what we have experienced.
The rub, however, is that no matter how great of a story teller we may be, and no matter how detailed the narrative... *nobody who has not been there will EVER understand*... period. And those who have had such experiences don't need to be told, and most likely don't want to talk about it in any case... many folks have crapped their pants, vomited on themselves, taken a bad fall from a bicycle, stepped in dog shit, lost a loved one or a pet...or what have you. This is part of being human; we have miserable, painful, or unpleasant experiences.. we have all experienced these unpleasant circumstances..or similar ones.. but that doesn't mean that we want to discuss them, or dredge them up... they sucked enough when they happened.. why keep bringing them up? (I am not trying to draw a parallel between these experiences and the experiences of a combat soldier... I am simply saying that *everyone* shares certain types of unpleasant experiences... but this doesn't mean that we like to talk about them...)
This penchant that folks have for not wanting to hear about my experiences as a soldier, the things I saw, felt, thought, experienced, and learned, used to bother me to no end... it drove me crazy!.. I simply couldn't understand how people could react they way that they did!.. didn't they know that we (military types) were keeping them and their families safe??!! What the *hell* is wrong with them??!! *How* could they not be interested?? Didn't they care about us at all?? We sacrificed so much for our nation... some gave absolutely *EVERYTHING*!!
But, over time... though observation and contemplation... and, in good part, through discussing these feelings with my wife, who is my savior in so many ways.. I came to realize that my thoughts were illusory and mistaken at best... and delusional at worst... I was only seeing things through the lens of a soldier.. and this simply does not focus on the entire picture... I may *want* and *hope* that others value my service a great deal... but this doesn't obligate them to do so... I wasn't drafted, I volunteered.. this was my choice to enter the military. Nowadays, I think some soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines are compelled to serve.. however, this is all part and parcel with our responsibility as citizens of this country. Our experiences after being active duty servicemen and women are just as much a part of being a soldier as our experiences during active service... and, like so many of the unpleasant and difficult things that we go through as soldiers... this is just something that has to be gotten around, or gotten through... and that's that. Just do it. Drive on!
So.. like SGT Moriarty, I struggled with these thoughts for quite some time. Eventually, however, it finally occurred to me that we served so that other Americans wouldn't be forced to experience the horrors of war. If we wanted that to happen, we could simply wait until we were attacked, on our own territory.... but, that isn't what we wanted... and it isn't what we want now. Mind you, I am in no way comparing my experiences with those of SGT Moriarty. I have not walked in his shoes, and I do not know the half of what he has gone through... what I *do* know, however, is that I am grateful to him for his valiant service, and I am proud to have him as a brother in arms. (If you should ever happen to read this, bro... Thank You. From my heart... there are damned few like you. Hooah!)
So... what have I come to understand??
Well... Those of us who served in the military... whatever the branch of service, and in whatever capacity.... did what we set out to do... we did our job.. and we came home.
Many of our brothers and sisters are not so fortunate to come home.
We know what we did. And now we are home and we have done our part. Whether anyone else recognizes that fact or wants to hear about it changes nothing. We did our part.
I did my part... however small and insignificant it may be.
That's good enough for me.
Now, each day, I have to find ways to put those experiences to good use by making choices that enrich and enhance my life, and the lives of those around me. Warfare seldom settles or changes anything... not really... but, there are certain intangible traits that soldiers are inculcated with through their experiences that can make a difference... they are small, and mostly go unnoticed, but they make a difference just the same.
Some but not all of the lessons learned as a soldier, are;
So... people may not want to hear the stories... but they can still benefit from them... even if they never actually listen....
One segment of the show was taped after the soldiers returned, and one of them, a SGT. Michael Moriarty was explaining how it was difficult to talk to the guys he worked with, and, for that matter, with just about anyone... because, as he explained, they didn't care to hear about his experiences in combat. He went on to explain how they would even sometimes initiate the conversation, asking him questions, or whether he had any pictures... and that when he would take the pictures out, they would become uncomfortable, or simply let their attention drift, and walk away from him... he was expressing his frustration and anger at this... how he sometimes felt like grabbing one of them by the throat and saying, "Listen, asshole!! YOU ASKED to see my pictures... the LEAST you can do is to LOOK at them!!!"
As I listened to him talk, it occurred to me how similar my own experiences were with this soldier's... and, I suppose, with the experiences of every soldier who has ever returned home from war going all the way back in time... it is a very difficult thing to truly come to understand... intellectually.... and an almost impossible thing to finally internalize; Nobody really wants to hear about your experiences... and nobody really wants to know what you went through.... ... they just... Don't.
In the title of this blog, I stated that 'NObody cares... that's why!' - primarily because I'm a wiseass... and, for a good length of time, I believed that this was so... (to some degree, I still *do* believe that this is so... and in many cases, it probably IS so!! Many people simply don't care.) I think that in most cases, however, people simply can't relate to the experience of a combat veteran. Many have seen the movies.. watched the news... and read the books, magazines, and articles... but, that's it. When the movie ends, or the article comes to a close, they move on to whatever comes next in their work-a-day life... and that, my friends, is just about as close as most people ever want to come to warfare. Period. And this should be perfectly understandable to anyone... soldier or not. I think it is probably the most healthy attitude that someone can have towards war... aversion, disgust, avoidance... to my mind, the concept of a 'Just War' is like the concept of 'Just Bigotry' or 'Just Torture' or 'Just Unfairness'... its Crap!! So, I cannot blame those who do not wish to partake of the experiences of soldiers who are returning home... It would be nice to hear them say something like, "Thanks for your service... its good to have you back home!" But, in most cases, that isn't going to happen... at any rate, the average normal person doesn't want any part of war, and I don't blame them for that. I don't want any part of it either.
Many folks feel some obligation to ask 'what was it like?' 'did you kill anyone?' 'when do you have to go back?' or 'weren't you scared?'... but, they aren't really asking in order to get an answer.. any more than people really want to hear how you are doing when they ask, "How're you doing?" -
You see.. Its a pro-forma question... and you are expected to answer with the pre-scripted, boilerplate reply; "Fine thanks!", or "Great! ..And you?" or something to that effect.
If you have ever asked someone how they were doing, and they began to tell you... you know how in certain circumstances, this can be socially very awkward... in others, appropriate... the trick is in learning to identify which situation requires which response... so that you can reply appropriately.
So... in just about 99.9% of the cases where somebody asks me, "What was it like?" or, "did you ever have to kill anybody?" or any of those sorts of questions that polite civilians who wish to seem moderately interested in the plight of a soldier ofttimes ask, they really only want to hear, "Ah... I just mopped floors and answered phones...", or "It was like a big long camping trip... and the food was terrible.." or something like that... if that... and that is all.
It isn't that they don't care... any more than you don't care about how someone is actually doing when you ask "How're you doing?" and the circumstances don't warrant a detailed response; it isn't a reflection on that person's care or compassion, but more or less regarding social niceties. If they had wanted to go to war, they would have enlisted, or gotten a commission... and gone. If they were found to be unsuitable for service for whatever reason, it isn't nice to draw attention to that... if they chose not to go to war, then one of two circumstances will exist. Either, A. They stand by that decision to this day... in which case, they don't want to hear about warfare, and it would be rude to force it on them. Or, B. They regret not having gone, in which case, it wouldn't be nice to embarrass them by regaling them with stories that would only serve to point out the fact to them that they did not serve. Worse yet, with stories that may press someone who is otherwise eminently unsuited for military service to enlist simply to prove something to themselves or others... and in so doing, possibly get themselves, or perhaps others, hurt or killed...
As a soldier returning home filled to the gills with all of these sights, sounds, experiences, and stories, we naturally want to share them, and to help others to understand some part of what we have accomplished, what we have taken part in... and what we have experienced.
The rub, however, is that no matter how great of a story teller we may be, and no matter how detailed the narrative... *nobody who has not been there will EVER understand*... period. And those who have had such experiences don't need to be told, and most likely don't want to talk about it in any case... many folks have crapped their pants, vomited on themselves, taken a bad fall from a bicycle, stepped in dog shit, lost a loved one or a pet...or what have you. This is part of being human; we have miserable, painful, or unpleasant experiences.. we have all experienced these unpleasant circumstances..or similar ones.. but that doesn't mean that we want to discuss them, or dredge them up... they sucked enough when they happened.. why keep bringing them up? (I am not trying to draw a parallel between these experiences and the experiences of a combat soldier... I am simply saying that *everyone* shares certain types of unpleasant experiences... but this doesn't mean that we like to talk about them...)
This penchant that folks have for not wanting to hear about my experiences as a soldier, the things I saw, felt, thought, experienced, and learned, used to bother me to no end... it drove me crazy!.. I simply couldn't understand how people could react they way that they did!.. didn't they know that we (military types) were keeping them and their families safe??!! What the *hell* is wrong with them??!! *How* could they not be interested?? Didn't they care about us at all?? We sacrificed so much for our nation... some gave absolutely *EVERYTHING*!!
But, over time... though observation and contemplation... and, in good part, through discussing these feelings with my wife, who is my savior in so many ways.. I came to realize that my thoughts were illusory and mistaken at best... and delusional at worst... I was only seeing things through the lens of a soldier.. and this simply does not focus on the entire picture... I may *want* and *hope* that others value my service a great deal... but this doesn't obligate them to do so... I wasn't drafted, I volunteered.. this was my choice to enter the military. Nowadays, I think some soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines are compelled to serve.. however, this is all part and parcel with our responsibility as citizens of this country. Our experiences after being active duty servicemen and women are just as much a part of being a soldier as our experiences during active service... and, like so many of the unpleasant and difficult things that we go through as soldiers... this is just something that has to be gotten around, or gotten through... and that's that. Just do it. Drive on!
So.. like SGT Moriarty, I struggled with these thoughts for quite some time. Eventually, however, it finally occurred to me that we served so that other Americans wouldn't be forced to experience the horrors of war. If we wanted that to happen, we could simply wait until we were attacked, on our own territory.... but, that isn't what we wanted... and it isn't what we want now. Mind you, I am in no way comparing my experiences with those of SGT Moriarty. I have not walked in his shoes, and I do not know the half of what he has gone through... what I *do* know, however, is that I am grateful to him for his valiant service, and I am proud to have him as a brother in arms. (If you should ever happen to read this, bro... Thank You. From my heart... there are damned few like you. Hooah!)
So... what have I come to understand??
Well... Those of us who served in the military... whatever the branch of service, and in whatever capacity.... did what we set out to do... we did our job.. and we came home.
Many of our brothers and sisters are not so fortunate to come home.
We know what we did. And now we are home and we have done our part. Whether anyone else recognizes that fact or wants to hear about it changes nothing. We did our part.
I did my part... however small and insignificant it may be.
That's good enough for me.
Now, each day, I have to find ways to put those experiences to good use by making choices that enrich and enhance my life, and the lives of those around me. Warfare seldom settles or changes anything... not really... but, there are certain intangible traits that soldiers are inculcated with through their experiences that can make a difference... they are small, and mostly go unnoticed, but they make a difference just the same.
Some but not all of the lessons learned as a soldier, are;
- We are all brothers... and we help one another; we are only as strong as our weakest link.
- It doesn't matter what we look like, what color we are, or what accent we speak with.. we are all one family.
- What hurts one of us, hurts all of us.
- Most likely, none of us will get out this alive... so we have to make the best out of the time that we have.
- Nobody ever said that it would be easy.
- ... just one more step. You can ALWAYS take just one more step...
So... people may not want to hear the stories... but they can still benefit from them... even if they never actually listen....
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Marcheline Plays 'Marlin Perkins'
The camera pans across the landscape... Wyoming? Montana? Patchogue, perhaps?? A large grizzly lumbers along the stream bank, slapping salmon around like handballs... an idiot wearing a multi-pocketed vest circles around a rock as he sneaks up on the bear (... jackass). The voiceover goes like this; "I will hide
Well... actually, Bear was choking and coughing, and hacking, and spluttering... and basically creating a huge ruckus until around 3:00AM, when Marcheline, apparently at wit's end, got up out of bed and convinced me to try some of the prescription cough medicine that she had left over from her bout with the 'Creeping-Crud'.
I was more or less willing to try just about anything at that point.. including Drano... so with a glance at the label "Hydrocodone - Warning: May cause drowsiness.." (... Hmmm, Hydra-what?!).. I took a swig.. and trundled off to bed..
I continued to cough, for about 15 minutes... thinking.."This shit ain't gonna do squat... but at least she will know I'm willing to try..."
The next thing I knew, it was noon!!
I had conked out like I'd been poleaxed and didn't move a muscle the entire night... so, consequently, I am feeling somewhat more human today, having gotten the first decent night's sleep in about five days....
Thanx, girl!!
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Thwack! Whiz!
UNCLASSIFIED
Precedence: ROUTINE
DTG: XX JULY 1979 XX 0300 HOURS (LOCAL)
LOCATION: IRAKLION AS, CRETE, GREECE USAF
==================================
I was sleeping soundly in my barracks room... it was summertime, and hot as hell! It had taken me a long while to finally get to sleep... tossing and turning, my skin sticking to the damp sweaty sheets... until, finally, I had managed to drift off to a fitful semblance of sleep... and then;
THWACK!! W-W-Whizzzzzz..... CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!!!
"Wh-what the f---?!"
I rolled over, and tried to find the dream I had been having... something about a cool jungle pool, and a waterfall.. surrounded by lush vegetation... bird calls.... tropical flowers....
"FRm-Whzr-schlaazp...frr...!!!" THWACK!! Whiiiiiizzzzzzzzzzz!! WHACK! CRACK!! POP POP POP!!!
I sat straight up in bed... question marks hovering over my head.... what on earth was that??
I could hear insects chirping away... somewhere in the distance, the Aegean sea was pounding away on the shore.... I listened intently.... I could hear the sound of tires on the road... probably a Security Policeman patrolling the base....
"FRIZ.. MUM... rahrzbhlizh!!" THWACK!! ZZZZZZZZZZhooosh!!! WHACK!! CRACK!!
????? !!!!!
I got up, and quickly walked to the door of my room... pressing my ear against the door...
THWACK!!! ZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzz WHACK!!
Something had just hit the metal door-frame; scant inches from my ear.... with a fairly decent amount of force.. startling the shit out of me!! Pissed off now, I wrenched the door open, and stepped out into the hallway, determined to find out just what the *FUCK* was going on at THREE O'CLOCK IN THE FRIGGIN' MORNING!!!
As I took that first step, I heard a loud "THWACK!" emanate from some distance to my right, instantly followed by a whooshing, whirring sound... getting rapidly closer... and, wisely, I snapped my head back, just in time, apparently... as I felt a breeze on my right cheek and just caught a glimpse of something colored neon green shooting by from left to right less than a half inch in front of my nose... I glanced to the right to track the object... whatever it was... but it was moving WAY too fast to see clearly.... whatever it was ricocheted off of the cinder-block wall, gouging out a chunk of concrete and paint... chips splattered across the hall with a sandy clatter.. and something punched a hole in the drop-ceiling tiles and disappeared!!
I ducked low... and quickly peeked around the edge of my doorframe towards the origin of the 'Thwacking' sound I had heard a few seconds earlier... I instantly pulled my head back, not wanting to chance losing an eye... or worse!!
"MWRMM-Blz-phrizzt!! HAH!!" -- THWACK!! Whizzzzzzzz--zzz--zzz-zz-z-zzzzzzz..... CRACK!! POP-POP-POP... Clatter!!
What I had just seen in the half second that I had stuck my head out from behind cover began to gel in my mind..... What? The? Fuck? !!
At the opposite end of the hallway...there stood a very drunk, and very naked male... with a golf club in his hand!!! At his feet was a cooler, ostensibly filled with cold beer, and a milk crate.
????
Unsteadily, he bent down, and extracted... by the hair... one of perhaps a hundred Russ Trolls (you know; the happy friendly little naked blokes with the big googley eyes and the sticky-up multi-colored hair!) that were stacked in the milk crate. He set it down on the floor in front of him, and yelling out something unintelligible that sounded like "Mrrph...Gwamzzzts!!" He wound up and hit the troll (this one had purple hair) with a resounding THWACK!! It whizzed down the hallway at approximately 300 mph, until it hit a doorframe, bounced back and forth off of the opposite walls... and came to rest.. spinning slowly... in the far opposite corner of the hall... just by the exit door that led out to the exterior stairwell.... on the hinge side of the door.
"Dude!? What're you DOING??!!"
THWACK!!! ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzz!!! Whack!!
"Hey!! Would you watch that!?!?"
THWACK!!! WHIZZZZZZZZ.... CRACK!!!
"HEY ASSHOLE!! KNOCK IT OFF!!"
THWACK!!!! WHIZZZZZZZZZZZZZ... BOP-BOP-WHACK!!
"Do you even LIVE HERE???"
THWACK!!! ZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzz WHAP!!
.....
.....
THWACK!!! FWA-FWA-FWA-FWA-FWA.... CRACK!!
"Hey! I wonder if you can reach the OCEAN from here with those things??"
He... whoever the hell he was.... turned and stared down the hall at me with bleary, drunken, bloodshot eyes for a few seconds.... slowly, he turned his head to gaze out through the window that was set into the door.... then.. without another word, he tucked his golf club under his arm, and, picking up his milk crate full o' trolls and his cooler, banged the door open with a bare foot, and walked - bare-assed - out onto the landing of the third floor stairwell... (there was one at each end of the building...)
I stood there, watching him hammering away at the trolls for a few seconds...attempting to reach the ocean (that was just over a quarter mile away...) and then, distractedly wondering what on earth the trolls might've done to piss him off... trundled off back to bed....
I'll tell ya! Defending the world from Communism can be a dangerous business sometimes!!....
Precedence: ROUTINE
DTG: XX JULY 1979 XX 0300 HOURS (LOCAL)
LOCATION: IRAKLION AS, CRETE, GREECE USAF
==================================
I was sleeping soundly in my barracks room... it was summertime, and hot as hell! It had taken me a long while to finally get to sleep... tossing and turning, my skin sticking to the damp sweaty sheets... until, finally, I had managed to drift off to a fitful semblance of sleep... and then;
THWACK!! W-W-Whizzzzzz..... CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!!!
"Wh-what the f---?!"
I rolled over, and tried to find the dream I had been having... something about a cool jungle pool, and a waterfall.. surrounded by lush vegetation... bird calls.... tropical flowers....
"FRm-Whzr-schlaazp...frr...!!!" THWACK!! Whiiiiiizzzzzzzzzzz!! WHACK! CRACK!! POP POP POP!!!
I sat straight up in bed... question marks hovering over my head.... what on earth was that??
I could hear insects chirping away... somewhere in the distance, the Aegean sea was pounding away on the shore.... I listened intently.... I could hear the sound of tires on the road... probably a Security Policeman patrolling the base....
"FRIZ.. MUM... rahrzbhlizh!!" THWACK!! ZZZZZZZZZZhooosh!!! WHACK!! CRACK!!
????? !!!!!
I got up, and quickly walked to the door of my room... pressing my ear against the door...
THWACK!!! ZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzz WHACK!!
Something had just hit the metal door-frame; scant inches from my ear.... with a fairly decent amount of force.. startling the shit out of me!! Pissed off now, I wrenched the door open, and stepped out into the hallway, determined to find out just what the *FUCK* was going on at THREE O'CLOCK IN THE FRIGGIN' MORNING!!!
As I took that first step, I heard a loud "THWACK!" emanate from some distance to my right, instantly followed by a whooshing, whirring sound... getting rapidly closer... and, wisely, I snapped my head back, just in time, apparently... as I felt a breeze on my right cheek and just caught a glimpse of something colored neon green shooting by from left to right less than a half inch in front of my nose... I glanced to the right to track the object... whatever it was... but it was moving WAY too fast to see clearly.... whatever it was ricocheted off of the cinder-block wall, gouging out a chunk of concrete and paint... chips splattered across the hall with a sandy clatter.. and something punched a hole in the drop-ceiling tiles and disappeared!!
I ducked low... and quickly peeked around the edge of my doorframe towards the origin of the 'Thwacking' sound I had heard a few seconds earlier... I instantly pulled my head back, not wanting to chance losing an eye... or worse!!
"MWRMM-Blz-phrizzt!! HAH!!" -- THWACK!! Whizzzzzzzz--zzz--zzz-zz-z-zzzzzzz..... CRACK!! POP-POP-POP... Clatter!!
What I had just seen in the half second that I had stuck my head out from behind cover began to gel in my mind..... What? The? Fuck? !!
At the opposite end of the hallway...there stood a very drunk, and very naked male... with a golf club in his hand!!! At his feet was a cooler, ostensibly filled with cold beer, and a milk crate.
????
Unsteadily, he bent down, and extracted... by the hair... one of perhaps a hundred Russ Trolls (you know; the happy friendly little naked blokes with the big googley eyes and the sticky-up multi-colored hair!) that were stacked in the milk crate. He set it down on the floor in front of him, and yelling out something unintelligible that sounded like "Mrrph...Gwamzzzts!!" He wound up and hit the troll (this one had purple hair) with a resounding THWACK!! It whizzed down the hallway at approximately 300 mph, until it hit a doorframe, bounced back and forth off of the opposite walls... and came to rest.. spinning slowly... in the far opposite corner of the hall... just by the exit door that led out to the exterior stairwell.... on the hinge side of the door.
"Dude!? What're you DOING??!!"
THWACK!!! ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzz!!! Whack!!
"Hey!! Would you watch that!?!?"
THWACK!!! WHIZZZZZZZZ.... CRACK!!!
"HEY ASSHOLE!! KNOCK IT OFF!!"
THWACK!!!! WHIZZZZZZZZZZZZZ... BOP-BOP-WHACK!!
"Do you even LIVE HERE???"
THWACK!!! ZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzz WHAP!!
.....
.....
THWACK!!! FWA-FWA-FWA-FWA-FWA.... CRACK!!
"Hey! I wonder if you can reach the OCEAN from here with those things??"
He... whoever the hell he was.... turned and stared down the hall at me with bleary, drunken, bloodshot eyes for a few seconds.... slowly, he turned his head to gaze out through the window that was set into the door.... then.. without another word, he tucked his golf club under his arm, and, picking up his milk crate full o' trolls and his cooler, banged the door open with a bare foot, and walked - bare-assed - out onto the landing of the third floor stairwell... (there was one at each end of the building...)
I stood there, watching him hammering away at the trolls for a few seconds...attempting to reach the ocean (that was just over a quarter mile away...) and then, distractedly wondering what on earth the trolls might've done to piss him off... trundled off back to bed....
I'll tell ya! Defending the world from Communism can be a dangerous business sometimes!!....
Locked Out!
For some inexplicable reason, I have been locked out of my Blogger account for over a week! I kept getting a 'Username/Password combination does not match' message.. I tried recovering my password, and sure enough, the 'Check your email.. a message has been sent to your email account' screen dutifully informed me that my password or instructions regarding how I might go about recovering my password had been sent to my secondary email address.... so I checked... But, alas; no email...
"Hmmmm....."
I went back to Blogger, which helpfully suggested that if the email hadn't arrived within 15 minutes, that I should check my 'Spam' folder... great!! I DON'T HAVE A FRIGGIN' SPAM FOLDER!!
Back to Blogger.... 'If the email hasn't arrived within 15 minutes, check your Spam folder, or OR 'Contact Blogger Support'.
Blogger Support! Fantastic!! This is *JUST* what I need!!
- CLICK -
tic-tock tic-tock
"Ah... here it comes!"
The page loads... AND??
"Please enter your username/password and sign in".
...
... ...
"YOU HAVE *GOT* TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!!"
I wasted plenty of time checking and rechecking my email... to no avail...
So. What, precisely DOES one do when one is unceremoniously locked out of one's account, and there is no recourse for contacting a BLOODY HUMAN BEING to help you out of a jam??
Well.... in absence of any new data, you take a lesson from the cats... and simply keep trying the same thing... over... and over... and over.... until something different happens!!
This is patently insane... I know...
HOWEVER!!
HERE. I. AM!!
I'm back!
.... and I **STILL** have no fucking idea why I couldn't log in!
The best part is; Now that I am finally able to get back into my blogger account... I can't remember the fascinating subject that I wanted to blog about to begin with.... plap!!
I am home sick... its been about four or five days of gunk in my head... sludge in my lungs... coughing and choking and hacking out chunks of my liver... my head is spinning... and I feel like shit.
Last night my poor wife had to go sleep on the couch... the same couch that the springs have dropped out of so that sleeping on it is like sleeping on a wooden pallet....
I coughed, and choked, and snorted, and gurgled all night long... flopping around from one side to the other, to my stomach and then on to my back... over and over... trying to find a position in which I could breathe.... but no dice...
When I finally *did* fall asleep, I scared the shit out of myself and woke myself up; This is weird...
I was sleeping, miraculously... and suddenly, very, very close.. I heard a baleful, malevolent low growl... as though a large vicious animal was ready to maim and kill me...
Well... I came out of my tree!! I literally (Literally!) came off of the mattress... trying to go in eight directions at once... legs kicking... arms flailing... eyes the size of dinner plates... I almost peed myself...
until
I realized that the sound came from me... (sheepish blush)
Since my lungs are filled with all sorts of disgusting crap.. air bubbles around in there (this is great, isn't it?? Wanna go get a snack??) and makes really weird, creepy noises... the best part being that I have no conscious control of it.. it's like when your stomach gurgles and grumbles... but in your lungs instead.
So... I got no sleep.. my head hurts from coughing.. I packed my poor wife off to the couch to get no sleep so she can go to work miserably tired... and I gave myself a bloody heart attack. Nice.
Quite possibly, the only thing freakier than not being able to access your Blogger account when you know *damned well* that you are using the correct username/password is suddenly being able to access your Blogger account using *EXACTLY* the same username/password.
How do you fix that?? (!!)
... so.. what?? Can I look forward to being periodically left out in the cold while my blogger account goes off on a jaunt somewhere?? It's like trying to get into your own house, with the same key that you use every single flippin' day... and the key won't work!! But then it does!
Huh?
I just read over my blog, and realized after reading the last few posts that I am repeating myself... Oh god! I am my own grandfather.... ack!
I wonder if you can OD on Halls Mentholyptus Honey-Lemon cough drops?? I think I might have tipped the balance of my blood chemistry or something... If I eat any more of these things, I will be able to hire myself out as a vaporizer...
Is it only me... or does everybody think really weird shit when they're sick??
"Hmmmm....."
I went back to Blogger, which helpfully suggested that if the email hadn't arrived within 15 minutes, that I should check my 'Spam' folder... great!! I DON'T HAVE A FRIGGIN' SPAM FOLDER!!
Back to Blogger.... 'If the email hasn't arrived within 15 minutes, check your Spam folder, or OR 'Contact Blogger Support'.
Blogger Support! Fantastic!! This is *JUST* what I need!!
- CLICK -
tic-tock tic-tock
"Ah... here it comes!"
The page loads... AND??
"Please enter your username/password and sign in".
...
... ...
"YOU HAVE *GOT* TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!!"
I wasted plenty of time checking and rechecking my email... to no avail...
So. What, precisely DOES one do when one is unceremoniously locked out of one's account, and there is no recourse for contacting a BLOODY HUMAN BEING to help you out of a jam??
Well.... in absence of any new data, you take a lesson from the cats... and simply keep trying the same thing... over... and over... and over.... until something different happens!!
This is patently insane... I know...
HOWEVER!!
HERE. I. AM!!
I'm back!
.... and I **STILL** have no fucking idea why I couldn't log in!
The best part is; Now that I am finally able to get back into my blogger account... I can't remember the fascinating subject that I wanted to blog about to begin with.... plap!!
I am home sick... its been about four or five days of gunk in my head... sludge in my lungs... coughing and choking and hacking out chunks of my liver... my head is spinning... and I feel like shit.
Last night my poor wife had to go sleep on the couch... the same couch that the springs have dropped out of so that sleeping on it is like sleeping on a wooden pallet....
I coughed, and choked, and snorted, and gurgled all night long... flopping around from one side to the other, to my stomach and then on to my back... over and over... trying to find a position in which I could breathe.... but no dice...
When I finally *did* fall asleep, I scared the shit out of myself and woke myself up; This is weird...
I was sleeping, miraculously... and suddenly, very, very close.. I heard a baleful, malevolent low growl... as though a large vicious animal was ready to maim and kill me...
Well... I came out of my tree!! I literally (Literally!) came off of the mattress... trying to go in eight directions at once... legs kicking... arms flailing... eyes the size of dinner plates... I almost peed myself...
until
I realized that the sound came from me... (sheepish blush)
Since my lungs are filled with all sorts of disgusting crap.. air bubbles around in there (this is great, isn't it?? Wanna go get a snack??) and makes really weird, creepy noises... the best part being that I have no conscious control of it.. it's like when your stomach gurgles and grumbles... but in your lungs instead.
So... I got no sleep.. my head hurts from coughing.. I packed my poor wife off to the couch to get no sleep so she can go to work miserably tired... and I gave myself a bloody heart attack. Nice.
Quite possibly, the only thing freakier than not being able to access your Blogger account when you know *damned well* that you are using the correct username/password is suddenly being able to access your Blogger account using *EXACTLY* the same username/password.
How do you fix that?? (!!)
... so.. what?? Can I look forward to being periodically left out in the cold while my blogger account goes off on a jaunt somewhere?? It's like trying to get into your own house, with the same key that you use every single flippin' day... and the key won't work!! But then it does!
Huh?
I just read over my blog, and realized after reading the last few posts that I am repeating myself... Oh god! I am my own grandfather.... ack!
I wonder if you can OD on Halls Mentholyptus Honey-Lemon cough drops?? I think I might have tipped the balance of my blood chemistry or something... If I eat any more of these things, I will be able to hire myself out as a vaporizer...
Is it only me... or does everybody think really weird shit when they're sick??
Sunday, April 01, 2007
Breathe In.... Breathe Out....
Today is April 1st... Spring is well under way here in Long Island.. and in our garden we have crocuses and daffodils blooming, tulips are poking their leaves up from the soil, the snowdrops are about at the end of their reign, and everywhere one looks there are signs of life!
In the evenings, I hear the spring peepers raising their voices to add to the chorus..
As I reflect on these visible signs of constant change in my garden, it brings the larger context of change into sharper focus in my mind.
So many changes have occurred that touch my life and the lives of those who I know that I can't even begin to list them here... but the way that change affects us; both good and bad, and the ways that we, as people, find to either accommodate them or simply endure them are as numerous and differing as the changes themselves...
As I write this, the head priest/abbot of our small monastic community is in Los Angeles to celebrate the 100th birthday of his teacher and the head of our order/lineage in the United States. The night before he left to go there, he discussed the issue of my ordination within this order (I was ordained in a different order, and have been 'carried' in this order in a sort of 'in-between' status... I have been trained, and the training is very similar, and in some cases identical... but there are some significant differences... so, he is not quite sure whether they should simply ordain me, whether they should 'start from scratch' or whether it should be somewhere in between... although the two orders share the same lineage {these sorts of things are kept track of and meticulously recorded} they happen to be headquartered in different, but neighboring countries... and there is a history there.... so..... it is somewhat awkward...) In any case, in our discussion, he mentioned that his second stated reason for this trip is to work out the knots and wrinkles and to return with a definitive answer. My thought is that it will be of the 'Start from Scratch!' variety... which is fine by me... but, we will have to wait and see...
If I have any will in this, it is that he is not getting younger by the day... and I would dearly like to be one of 'his' monks.. meaning that he would be the one who ordains me, rather than some other monk/priest who I do not personally know... and while this really has no bearing, on a personal level, if one were to enquire as to my preferences; well - this would be my preference! Also, there is a sort of a time issue involved, even though it doesn't directly concern me in any but the most ancillary fashion; Our head priest was ordained as a priest in December. Just prior to that, he and his wife of 54 years, who was one of our nuns, had traveled out to California for a month long meditation retreat, which is grueling. She was ill towards the end of the retreat, with an apparent cold or flu. He returned a few days or a week later for his ordination, and she elected to remain here, since she was too ill to travel. When he returned, her condition had worsened.
To make a long story short, her immune system had been compromised due to an abnormal growth of the thymus gland, called a thymoma, which is usually vestigial in adults, and it was decided that his had to be surgically removed. The surgery went off without a hitch, and she was recovering nicely. She was eating, talking, walking... all of her 'numbers' were looking good, and everyone was looking forward to her immanent return home. On Sunday, February 11th, after a visit by her family, she suddenly and unexpectedly passed away... to the shock and dismay of all of us.
They had been married for so long... and were so in love and so connected that this was, as one can imagine, a severe blow to her husband...
Monks and nuns traveled from all over the world to attend the memorial service that we held for her, family and friends flew in from all over as well... and then everybody went home and back to their lives leaving an old man with a terrible sadness to bear in a big empty house... all alone.
He isn't 'just an old man' however... he has been a monk for over thirty years, I am guessing... and he found a handhold in his vocation upon which to take a new lease on life; When one is ordained as a priest in our order, he or she is expected to acquire a property which is owned by the order and to found a temple in the area in which they live. This has become his focus. He has decided to spend this year traveling and studying with his teacher, who has just turned 100 years old! I imagine that this year of traveling will also serve to allow him time to come to terms with his grief, and to learn what it is to be a priest, and to deepen his knowledge and understanding in general.
He gathered his monks... and there are only a small number of us... one night, and announced his purpose to purchase and found a temple upon his return, and told us in no uncertain terms that we would be expected to do the lion's share of the work, and to shoulder the responsibilities for the smooth operation of the temple and all of the mundane details that such an enterprise requires.
This, then, is where the time issue comes in from my standpoint. It is my desire to be fully ordained, in thisorder, in time enough to be able to contribute as a fully qualified member of our new temple from the day of its inception. This may or may not come to pass... but, this is what I am hoping for. It is not the nature of these things to be rushed or hurried along... particularly not for such purposes as this... and, naturally, this is not the main reason for my desire to be ordained by him... simply the impetus for my desire to have it take place in a timely fashion...
Whatever happens will happen in its own time and for the right and proper reasons, and I will accept whatever decision they make... I just wanted to voice my hopes.. and what better venue than here??
Well... monk or no monk... I have to work in order to eat... so, off I go.....
In the evenings, I hear the spring peepers raising their voices to add to the chorus..
As I reflect on these visible signs of constant change in my garden, it brings the larger context of change into sharper focus in my mind.
So many changes have occurred that touch my life and the lives of those who I know that I can't even begin to list them here... but the way that change affects us; both good and bad, and the ways that we, as people, find to either accommodate them or simply endure them are as numerous and differing as the changes themselves...
As I write this, the head priest/abbot of our small monastic community is in Los Angeles to celebrate the 100th birthday of his teacher and the head of our order/lineage in the United States. The night before he left to go there, he discussed the issue of my ordination within this order (I was ordained in a different order, and have been 'carried' in this order in a sort of 'in-between' status... I have been trained, and the training is very similar, and in some cases identical... but there are some significant differences... so, he is not quite sure whether they should simply ordain me, whether they should 'start from scratch' or whether it should be somewhere in between... although the two orders share the same lineage {these sorts of things are kept track of and meticulously recorded} they happen to be headquartered in different, but neighboring countries... and there is a history there.... so..... it is somewhat awkward...) In any case, in our discussion, he mentioned that his second stated reason for this trip is to work out the knots and wrinkles and to return with a definitive answer. My thought is that it will be of the 'Start from Scratch!' variety... which is fine by me... but, we will have to wait and see...
If I have any will in this, it is that he is not getting younger by the day... and I would dearly like to be one of 'his' monks.. meaning that he would be the one who ordains me, rather than some other monk/priest who I do not personally know... and while this really has no bearing, on a personal level, if one were to enquire as to my preferences; well - this would be my preference! Also, there is a sort of a time issue involved, even though it doesn't directly concern me in any but the most ancillary fashion; Our head priest was ordained as a priest in December. Just prior to that, he and his wife of 54 years, who was one of our nuns, had traveled out to California for a month long meditation retreat, which is grueling. She was ill towards the end of the retreat, with an apparent cold or flu. He returned a few days or a week later for his ordination, and she elected to remain here, since she was too ill to travel. When he returned, her condition had worsened.
To make a long story short, her immune system had been compromised due to an abnormal growth of the thymus gland, called a thymoma, which is usually vestigial in adults, and it was decided that his had to be surgically removed. The surgery went off without a hitch, and she was recovering nicely. She was eating, talking, walking... all of her 'numbers' were looking good, and everyone was looking forward to her immanent return home. On Sunday, February 11th, after a visit by her family, she suddenly and unexpectedly passed away... to the shock and dismay of all of us.
They had been married for so long... and were so in love and so connected that this was, as one can imagine, a severe blow to her husband...
Monks and nuns traveled from all over the world to attend the memorial service that we held for her, family and friends flew in from all over as well... and then everybody went home and back to their lives leaving an old man with a terrible sadness to bear in a big empty house... all alone.
He isn't 'just an old man' however... he has been a monk for over thirty years, I am guessing... and he found a handhold in his vocation upon which to take a new lease on life; When one is ordained as a priest in our order, he or she is expected to acquire a property which is owned by the order and to found a temple in the area in which they live. This has become his focus. He has decided to spend this year traveling and studying with his teacher, who has just turned 100 years old! I imagine that this year of traveling will also serve to allow him time to come to terms with his grief, and to learn what it is to be a priest, and to deepen his knowledge and understanding in general.
He gathered his monks... and there are only a small number of us... one night, and announced his purpose to purchase and found a temple upon his return, and told us in no uncertain terms that we would be expected to do the lion's share of the work, and to shoulder the responsibilities for the smooth operation of the temple and all of the mundane details that such an enterprise requires.
This, then, is where the time issue comes in from my standpoint. It is my desire to be fully ordained, in thisorder, in time enough to be able to contribute as a fully qualified member of our new temple from the day of its inception. This may or may not come to pass... but, this is what I am hoping for. It is not the nature of these things to be rushed or hurried along... particularly not for such purposes as this... and, naturally, this is not the main reason for my desire to be ordained by him... simply the impetus for my desire to have it take place in a timely fashion...
Whatever happens will happen in its own time and for the right and proper reasons, and I will accept whatever decision they make... I just wanted to voice my hopes.. and what better venue than here??
Well... monk or no monk... I have to work in order to eat... so, off I go.....
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Some Days...
Some days just simply blow chunks... and for me, at least... today was one of those days. As it seems to happen with days that particularly suck, there were a few high points, but, in retrospect, those high points only seemed to remind me just how crappy the day was going.
It was just one of those days when it seemed that *everyone* was on me about something... and most of them were right... there are times when people get on your case, and they are being unfair, or they don't know what they are talking about, or they are just plain assholes... and, in those cases, I basically just blow them off... there are other times, however, when they are right.. and today, as the hours wore on, I got a bigger and clearer picture of just how much I truly suck.
... So what do you do with that? Basically, my soul feels like sludge... on top of everything, I had one vicious bastard of a headache all day that three Tylenol wouldn't make a dent in, and the computers at work are totally fucked after the installation of a new server-based network in the office - so now nobody can do their job until we get all of the kinks worked out, but we are more or less getting crapped on about it even though it isn't any body's fault..
My boss spent an hour pressuring the shit out of me over something that I have essentially no control over.. then he sent me on an errand to do something, and, even though everything regarding the issue was screwed up on his end, I am the one who gets puked on when it doesn't work out...
My co-worker, who is in the same situation as I am regarding pay came to work almost in tears; she figured out her taxes over the weekend, and owes thousands of dollars that she can't pay... so, since I am in a very similar category, I am shitting pickles over that...
I found a photo online of a relative who has been lost to me for some years now... but, due to circumstances beyond my control, I will most likely never see her again... and that makes me very sad.
I basically just want to crawl into a hole and pull it in after me... but, that solves nothing...
There are things that I can do... but, at a basic level, nothing really changes... it is what it is, and when it sucks I simply have to deal with it... I have no choice, I guess...
.. so that's today.
yay
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Now What?
Yesterday I attended a funeral service for one of the monks (a nun, actually, though we only have one word for a monastic which, in English, translates to either monk or nun.. in my order, we tend to use the term 'monk' regardless of the gender) of my order who passed away suddenly and unexpectedly last Sunday. Although we knew that she was ill, it came as a shock because she had had a surgery that had gone unexpectedly and quite happily, very, very well. Her physical parameters had been steadily improving, the doctors were pleased with the speed of her recovery, and to all intents and purposes, it appeared to all of us that she would make a full recovery. Her family had visited her in the morning, and she was lucid and seemingly doing very well. She was eating, she was cheerful, and there was no reason to expect anything other than for her to continue on her road to recovery. By the time her husband returned home, however, (as he pulled into the driveway, the phone rang..) he received a call that she was in critical condition, and that he was requested to return immediately to the hospital. Before he was able to get there, though... she had died. And just like that, in the space of a heartbeat, everything had changed for him.
I am disappointed because I had to leave partway through the service. This wasn't a willing choice on my part, it was because I was committed to work, and was unable to make any sort of arrangements that would enable me to stay throughout the service... I'm not sure whether this is, all in all, a benefit or a detriment; from one point of view, it sort of sucked because I had to leave partway through a service that I very much wanted to remain and take part in.... from the other point of view it is good because I was necessarily forced to recalibrate my mindset into a work routine that did not leave much room for dwelling upon the inherent sadness that is part and parcel with such a day...
This is, I think, a comment on life where the very good, the partly good, the not so good, and the very bad always stand either hand in hand, or at least within arm's distance of one another... there is, it would seem, very little white and black in life... and instead, so very many shades of gray. This makes things complex, but also simple I think...
It is in the attempt to 'pigeonhole' each situation and experience into the requisite 'good' or 'bad' categories that we often find ourselves being tied into knots of confusion, frustration, anger, sadness, and other types of suffering...
Perhaps it would make more sense to simply accept that things in life unfold just as they are, and leave it at that... without trying to impose our human limitations and judgments onto inherently unclassifiable circumstances... it never fully works, and it only gives us all headaches anyway...
As we were driving to the place where the service was to be held, it seemed to me to be either a very suitable or very unsuitable day for a funeral.. depending upon how you choose to look at it...
The sky was high and blue with a bright sun and a few scattered fluffy clouds scudding around... the branches of the trees and the blades of tall grass were encased in glittering sheaths of ice... it looked like the world was encrusted with diamonds...
We missed the turnoff for the place, at first... and ended up driving around for awhile until we saw a woman walking her dog, and stopped to ask for directions... she stared at me, in my vestments, for a brief moment, before telling us where we could find the place... I wondered if she had any 'there goes the neighborhood!' thoughts as she went on her way...
As we drove along, I saw a starling sitting in the road, obviously hurt or stunned. I pulled over and got out of the vehicle, walking back to where it sat, and gently picked it up. It didn't struggle, and it didn't seem to be especially afraid of being picked up and held by a huge, strange creature... it just sat there, placidly, and gave me the gift of its trust while it serenely stared at me with its glittering black eyes, waiting to see what I would do next, it seemed. I walked a way off the road, carefully negotiating the slippery ice (it would be awkward to fall on my ass while carrying an injured bird!) and set the little fella down next to a tree in a soft bed of ground ivy. Immediately, it spread its wings and flew off, apparently as healthy as could be... so that was a little strange. I apparently walked up to a healthy bird, fully capable of flying off, and simply picked it up. When I got back into the vehicle, my wife reminded me to wash my hands as soon as we got where we were going, apparently in an effort to save all of us from contracting avian bird virus. She is always very thoughtful when it comes to things like avian bird virus.
People had come in from all over the world for this service. The decedent was very well loved by everyone who knew her. She was an extremely unassuming, kind, quiet spirit.... she had absolutely no ego. And her understated directness captured the heart. This tiny little monk, who always somehow remained in the background, seeing that all of the essential details were being taken care of, without any fuss or bother... never asking for recognition or thanks, had, nonetheless, managed to earn the love and respect of everyone whose life she touched. She was a force of nature. I don't think that anyone who ever met her would argue the accuracy of that statement.
Her husband of 54 years is our priest and teacher. Understandably, his life is irrevocably altered by the loss of his wife, and the love of his life. They were so very much in love, and so very connected, that my heart aches for him. He isn't alone, but he is cast adrift just now... and there isn't very much that any one of us who so love him can do to fix the situation. All we can do is simply be there, and to try to help him to stand up in it. They say that time heals all wounds... but, I think that isn't exactly true. I think it is more accurate to say that time helps us to withstand the wounds that will never heal. He is very sad. I am very sad. She has left a huge empty space in all of our hearts.
I think it is fortunate that he was recently ordained as a priest (they had gone together to the main temple of our order in this country for a month long retreat. When they returned from this, she was showing the first symptoms of her sickness. He went back to the main temple to be ordained as a priest a week later, and upon his return the full extent of her illness had become apparent, and she was hospitalized at that time) when he was, because, as a priest, he is expected to start his own temple. This gives much needed purpose to his life, and, I believe, may very well be the mechanism that enables him to heal. For the time being, we are very much in a state of mental and emotional disruption. The regular monastic schedule that we follow as a community (albeit a very small ((and now, sadly, smaller by one...)) community) is suspended until further notice... naturally, we will each follow our individual schedule of daily spiritual practice, but for now the community is somewhat in need of healing...
Naturally, a good part of the distress that I am feeling is the result of my projecting his unfortunate circumstance onto my own life.
I think that this is one thing that anybody who has ever felt an uncommon love for another human being shares; the underlying fear that one day this will all necessarily have to end, and that there isn't a thing that we can do about it. It is going to happen, and one of us is going to be broken by it.
This is what it is to be human, I guess... and there is no getting around it.
Earlier, I stated that the good and the bad often (or always) stand hand in hand... this is true in this case as well, I think. When death strikes close to home, it affects each of us. If it is to serve any good purpose, I think it is to remind us that time is fleeting, and that life is impermanent, and that our own death is approaching... moment by moment, and that perhaps we should take a good, honest look at our priorities!
We won't be here forever, and neither will our loved ones be here forever. We don't know when any one of us will be the next to go... we only know that it will happen.
What we do know, is that we are here... now... and that those loved ones who are alive are also here with us. Perhaps for years.... perhaps for seconds.
Our lives are flying past us, and we can't do a thing to slow the passage of time. Each day of life brings us one day closer to death. It is one day less that we will have to spend with those that we love.
So, I think the message is that we cannot afford to waste even a second. Since we are born into this life, only to be taken out of it again some time later... it would seem to me that while we are here, the most important thing that we can do is to love one another, as fully and as completely as possible.
Rather than focusing on what we can get, and keep, and take, perhaps, in light of the fact that everything that we collect throughout our lives becomes as nothing at the moment that we die... we should focus our efforts instead on learning how to give of ourselves. Completely, and without reservation or condition.
This is what it is to love.
Giving of our understanding and tolerance helps us to see the beauty and the perfection in others, rather than the faults (of which each and every one of us has many!). Giving of our love and kindness helps us to realize the value of compassion.
When it all comes down to it, I think the reason for our existence, if such a thing as a reason actually exists at all, is for us to learn to transform our spirits, to love all living beings, to learn how not to be afraid to give completely of ourselves, without reservation... and to do what we can to make the lives of those around us a little better, and, perhaps, to ease the burdens of those around us in some small way.
When somebody dies, those who know them and love them don't remember what they had, they remember who they were, and this is what they miss.
As I write this, my wife is at her computer typing away at something... I know that one day, we will be forced apart by death... and it scares me to the point of paralysis to actually consider that this is true and that it will take place.... but, I know that it is a fact of life. What I also know is that until that time comes, I will love her with all my heart with every breath and with every beat of my heart.
One day we will be gone... but at least for now, we are here... and the wind is blowing through the branches of the trees outside, the sun is shining, and my wife is beautiful, and soft, and warm, and alive... and I am more thankful than I can say.
Not so far from where I am, sits an old man, in a house that at least for now is filled with relatives who came to say good by to one who has passed on. In the next few days, they will slowly leave and return to their own lives, leaving that old man alone in an empty house. No matter what he offers, and no matter how much he may wish it, he cannot get his wife back.
The line between life and death is very, very thin... and none of us knows where it lies.... and in the space of less than a second, any one of us could find ourselves sitting in that empty house asking ourselves, "Now what?".
Maybe it would be wiser to ask that question right now.... and to learn, very quickly, how to give of ourselves.... totally.
By doing this, by living in the present moment, completely, by loving, and giving, and smiling beautifully, we learn how to savor each and every moment that we do have together...
That can't be so bad, can it??
So... as I sit here, I ask myself; "Now what?"
The only answer that makes sense to me is to give of myself as completely, and as totally, as I am capable of doing.
For me, at least... this is what it is to live honestly, with honor, and with dignity.
Perhaps by giving, I can make life better for one woman that I love with all my heart, and, hopefully, for one old man who is sitting alone in an empty house.
Perhaps...
I am disappointed because I had to leave partway through the service. This wasn't a willing choice on my part, it was because I was committed to work, and was unable to make any sort of arrangements that would enable me to stay throughout the service... I'm not sure whether this is, all in all, a benefit or a detriment; from one point of view, it sort of sucked because I had to leave partway through a service that I very much wanted to remain and take part in.... from the other point of view it is good because I was necessarily forced to recalibrate my mindset into a work routine that did not leave much room for dwelling upon the inherent sadness that is part and parcel with such a day...
This is, I think, a comment on life where the very good, the partly good, the not so good, and the very bad always stand either hand in hand, or at least within arm's distance of one another... there is, it would seem, very little white and black in life... and instead, so very many shades of gray. This makes things complex, but also simple I think...
It is in the attempt to 'pigeonhole' each situation and experience into the requisite 'good' or 'bad' categories that we often find ourselves being tied into knots of confusion, frustration, anger, sadness, and other types of suffering...
Perhaps it would make more sense to simply accept that things in life unfold just as they are, and leave it at that... without trying to impose our human limitations and judgments onto inherently unclassifiable circumstances... it never fully works, and it only gives us all headaches anyway...
As we were driving to the place where the service was to be held, it seemed to me to be either a very suitable or very unsuitable day for a funeral.. depending upon how you choose to look at it...
The sky was high and blue with a bright sun and a few scattered fluffy clouds scudding around... the branches of the trees and the blades of tall grass were encased in glittering sheaths of ice... it looked like the world was encrusted with diamonds...
We missed the turnoff for the place, at first... and ended up driving around for awhile until we saw a woman walking her dog, and stopped to ask for directions... she stared at me, in my vestments, for a brief moment, before telling us where we could find the place... I wondered if she had any 'there goes the neighborhood!' thoughts as she went on her way...
As we drove along, I saw a starling sitting in the road, obviously hurt or stunned. I pulled over and got out of the vehicle, walking back to where it sat, and gently picked it up. It didn't struggle, and it didn't seem to be especially afraid of being picked up and held by a huge, strange creature... it just sat there, placidly, and gave me the gift of its trust while it serenely stared at me with its glittering black eyes, waiting to see what I would do next, it seemed. I walked a way off the road, carefully negotiating the slippery ice (it would be awkward to fall on my ass while carrying an injured bird!) and set the little fella down next to a tree in a soft bed of ground ivy. Immediately, it spread its wings and flew off, apparently as healthy as could be... so that was a little strange. I apparently walked up to a healthy bird, fully capable of flying off, and simply picked it up. When I got back into the vehicle, my wife reminded me to wash my hands as soon as we got where we were going, apparently in an effort to save all of us from contracting avian bird virus. She is always very thoughtful when it comes to things like avian bird virus.
People had come in from all over the world for this service. The decedent was very well loved by everyone who knew her. She was an extremely unassuming, kind, quiet spirit.... she had absolutely no ego. And her understated directness captured the heart. This tiny little monk, who always somehow remained in the background, seeing that all of the essential details were being taken care of, without any fuss or bother... never asking for recognition or thanks, had, nonetheless, managed to earn the love and respect of everyone whose life she touched. She was a force of nature. I don't think that anyone who ever met her would argue the accuracy of that statement.
Her husband of 54 years is our priest and teacher. Understandably, his life is irrevocably altered by the loss of his wife, and the love of his life. They were so very much in love, and so very connected, that my heart aches for him. He isn't alone, but he is cast adrift just now... and there isn't very much that any one of us who so love him can do to fix the situation. All we can do is simply be there, and to try to help him to stand up in it. They say that time heals all wounds... but, I think that isn't exactly true. I think it is more accurate to say that time helps us to withstand the wounds that will never heal. He is very sad. I am very sad. She has left a huge empty space in all of our hearts.
I think it is fortunate that he was recently ordained as a priest (they had gone together to the main temple of our order in this country for a month long retreat. When they returned from this, she was showing the first symptoms of her sickness. He went back to the main temple to be ordained as a priest a week later, and upon his return the full extent of her illness had become apparent, and she was hospitalized at that time) when he was, because, as a priest, he is expected to start his own temple. This gives much needed purpose to his life, and, I believe, may very well be the mechanism that enables him to heal. For the time being, we are very much in a state of mental and emotional disruption. The regular monastic schedule that we follow as a community (albeit a very small ((and now, sadly, smaller by one...)) community) is suspended until further notice... naturally, we will each follow our individual schedule of daily spiritual practice, but for now the community is somewhat in need of healing...
Naturally, a good part of the distress that I am feeling is the result of my projecting his unfortunate circumstance onto my own life.
I think that this is one thing that anybody who has ever felt an uncommon love for another human being shares; the underlying fear that one day this will all necessarily have to end, and that there isn't a thing that we can do about it. It is going to happen, and one of us is going to be broken by it.
This is what it is to be human, I guess... and there is no getting around it.
Earlier, I stated that the good and the bad often (or always) stand hand in hand... this is true in this case as well, I think. When death strikes close to home, it affects each of us. If it is to serve any good purpose, I think it is to remind us that time is fleeting, and that life is impermanent, and that our own death is approaching... moment by moment, and that perhaps we should take a good, honest look at our priorities!
We won't be here forever, and neither will our loved ones be here forever. We don't know when any one of us will be the next to go... we only know that it will happen.
What we do know, is that we are here... now... and that those loved ones who are alive are also here with us. Perhaps for years.... perhaps for seconds.
Our lives are flying past us, and we can't do a thing to slow the passage of time. Each day of life brings us one day closer to death. It is one day less that we will have to spend with those that we love.
So, I think the message is that we cannot afford to waste even a second. Since we are born into this life, only to be taken out of it again some time later... it would seem to me that while we are here, the most important thing that we can do is to love one another, as fully and as completely as possible.
Rather than focusing on what we can get, and keep, and take, perhaps, in light of the fact that everything that we collect throughout our lives becomes as nothing at the moment that we die... we should focus our efforts instead on learning how to give of ourselves. Completely, and without reservation or condition.
This is what it is to love.
Giving of our understanding and tolerance helps us to see the beauty and the perfection in others, rather than the faults (of which each and every one of us has many!). Giving of our love and kindness helps us to realize the value of compassion.
When it all comes down to it, I think the reason for our existence, if such a thing as a reason actually exists at all, is for us to learn to transform our spirits, to love all living beings, to learn how not to be afraid to give completely of ourselves, without reservation... and to do what we can to make the lives of those around us a little better, and, perhaps, to ease the burdens of those around us in some small way.
When somebody dies, those who know them and love them don't remember what they had, they remember who they were, and this is what they miss.
As I write this, my wife is at her computer typing away at something... I know that one day, we will be forced apart by death... and it scares me to the point of paralysis to actually consider that this is true and that it will take place.... but, I know that it is a fact of life. What I also know is that until that time comes, I will love her with all my heart with every breath and with every beat of my heart.
One day we will be gone... but at least for now, we are here... and the wind is blowing through the branches of the trees outside, the sun is shining, and my wife is beautiful, and soft, and warm, and alive... and I am more thankful than I can say.
Not so far from where I am, sits an old man, in a house that at least for now is filled with relatives who came to say good by to one who has passed on. In the next few days, they will slowly leave and return to their own lives, leaving that old man alone in an empty house. No matter what he offers, and no matter how much he may wish it, he cannot get his wife back.
The line between life and death is very, very thin... and none of us knows where it lies.... and in the space of less than a second, any one of us could find ourselves sitting in that empty house asking ourselves, "Now what?".
Maybe it would be wiser to ask that question right now.... and to learn, very quickly, how to give of ourselves.... totally.
By doing this, by living in the present moment, completely, by loving, and giving, and smiling beautifully, we learn how to savor each and every moment that we do have together...
That can't be so bad, can it??
So... as I sit here, I ask myself; "Now what?"
The only answer that makes sense to me is to give of myself as completely, and as totally, as I am capable of doing.
For me, at least... this is what it is to live honestly, with honor, and with dignity.
Perhaps by giving, I can make life better for one woman that I love with all my heart, and, hopefully, for one old man who is sitting alone in an empty house.
Perhaps...
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Please Volunteer!
When I first walked into the room where we normally host the cocktail hour, I immediately suspected that I was in the wrong place. There were no chafing dishes, no salad bar, no serving tables at all! Not only that, but there was no DJ equipment, and no sign or evidence whatsoever that a wedding reception cocktail hour was planned to take place there, whatsoever!
I turned around and went back to the office to ask one of the Banquet Managers whether there was to be a cocktail hour for this party...
He answered to the affirmative in his deep resonant voice in its thick Hungarian accent;
"Of course! Cocktail hour in here, dinner in there!"
I stood there, gaping... (very suave)
His eyes narrowed, ever so slightly, and then, apparently to assist me since I was so obviously addled, he went on with more instructions regarding the party at hand. "This is non-alcohol bar."
And then, just in the event that my language comprehension skills had entirely failed me for some reason, he decided to helpfully explain what this meant;
"This bar... NO ALCOHOL AT ALL - just soda, juices, water, and many frozen drinks. Perhaps you will prepare ice-ed tea... and, if you wish, non-alcoholic beer."
"Great.. got it. Thanks." Was my reply... I tried to keep the disappointment/annoyance from showing on my face.... I have worked these types of parties in the past, and as a general rule (read: in every single case thus far!) they suck balls.
So. This is a wedding. No food. No music. No drink. No nothing... the guests will be bored and annoyed.. at least enough of them to make life.. ah.. interesting for the staff...
Oh well... you gotta work with the hand that you are dealt, right?
When the other bartender showed up, it was someone I had never worked with, and whom I had only seen tend bar once or twice... he's a nice enough guy, a little inexperienced, but, every single one of has been there.... it would be alright......
"Hey, how's it going?" I called out in greeting as he approached the bar where I was setting up.
"Not so good, not so good.." he replied.
(Uh-oh... what is that all about?)
"Why? Did something happen?" I asked.
"My brother is gone." He said.
"... ... ... ... (???!) ... ... ........... uh.. gone?"
"He passed away... he was killed... he died... in a car crash... back home in the Dominican Republic... hedrovehiscaroffacliffinthemiddleofthenightandwedon'tknowifhewasdrinkingorwhat.... he was 27 years old... I have to leave to go there tomorrow morning and my passport expires today! I'm just going to try to get there... I'll worry about getting back once I'm there..."
"... (holy shit)... um... wow... I'm really sorry, man... I... I... don't know what to say.... ... sorry."
"What can you say? There are no words..... but thank you..."
He went on to say that he was only working to get enough cash so that he could pay for incidentals on his trip... some food... tips... etc. When I told him what sort of party we had...he was, um.... less than elated.
We got set up, the doors opened... and in came the guests...
"Hello! What would you like, sir?"
"Lemme get a screwdriver."
"I'm very sorry sir, today we have a non-alcoholic bar. I can offer you soda, juice, fruit punch, iced tea, water..."
"Um.... aa-ight then... lemme get a gin & tonic."
"Ah... we don't have any alcoholic beverages whatsoever at the bar today, sir.... may I offer you something else, perhaps??"
"Oh! Tha's right! No alcohawl.... I guess I'll just have a glass of wine then..."
And this is pretty much how it went all night.... and then there was the line... or lack thereof..
fifty to over one hundred people... all shouting out what they want... simultaneously.
"Yo!! Gimme two Piña Coladas!" (we prepare virgin frozen drinks for the non-alcoholic bars)
(This came from somewhere to my right, and some distance back in the crowd... along with many other shouted orders from everyone at once...)
I continued to serve the person standing at the bar directly in front of me...
"YO!! GIMME MY PIÑA COLADAS!! YOU DEAF OR SUMP'N?!?!"
"There's a line sir... I'm helping the guest at the front of the line... I will be happy to help you, just as soon as I have served the other guests who are ahead of you....."
"I just want my two Piña Coladas!"
"I understand... but there are people ahead of you.. ... I'm sorry..."
"Yo asshole... just get two glasses, and pour the fuckin' drinks into 'em for me, okay?"
I was suddenly and instantaneously stricken by 'elective deafness' and continued on with what I had been doing...
My 'friend' pushed through the crowd, and worked his way around to the side of the bar;
"Just give me my drinks. I ain't waitin'"
I shot him a glance.. and continued to work without replying....
"YOU HEAR ME?!!?"
"Yes sir.. I did. And I will be happy to give you your drinks....."
I served the next person in line.
"WHERE'S MY PIÑA COLADAS!!"
"I am going to make a fresh pitcher just for you, my friend..."
"Oh.... that's cool.... but could you hurry?"
"Absolutely!"
I served the next couple at the bar...
My 'friend' inhaled to speak to me once again.. but I cut him off;
"I will need to see some ID from you, my friend..."
"Wha-?!"
"My apologies... you look young to me... I'm on camera, you understand.... " and I indicated the surveillance camera mounted on the wall.
"Damn!" - Off he went in search of some ID. When he returned, I had his drinks ready and waiting, and off he went... happy at last. I was happy as well, since I wouldn't have to contend with an angry mob for allowing him to cut in front of them... by the time he returned with his ID, his turn in line had come up.
.... and so it went for the entire night..... after the cocktail hour, we moved into the main reception hall... where, if anything, it was worse. They had a buffet... of sorts.... chicken wings and some rice... these poor folks were broke, that much was obvious... and I'm sure that they did their very best to have the best celebration that they could afford. This much is understood, and the entire staff, to their credit, does as fine a job for the low-budget parties as they do for the extravaganzas.... but, at the same time.. it hurts us.. since we work primarily for tips, and at these parties nobody tips. They don't have it... we know that ... we all struggle, too... but it's hard to put in a grueling 8 to 12 hours and walk away with nothing.... but, its all part of the deal. Thats the industry, I guess....
I am going to request, in writing, that the venue obtain and issue to me one white armband with a prominent bright red cross affixed to it.
If I am going to be a volunteer, I should at least have the privilege of looking like one!!
Our combined take for the entire night?? (this is the amount, in tips, that we split between us...)
Zero.
Nothing.
Not a single, solitary, red cent.
On top of this, when I was leaving for the night, the owner shouted, railed, ranted, threatened, and stomped his feet over how we were going to be forced to care for the new bars that he had just ordered, how anything other then what he wanted would not be tolerated, and that strict measures would be taken, that we had better not be the one who would be made an example of, etc., etc., blah-blah-blah... (I personally make it a point to clean everything that I use, and to leave it in better condition than how I find it when I come in... but I always seem to be the recipient of these sermons.....). I just stood there, impassively gazing at him until such time as I could extricate myself with as little social awkwardness as humanly possible... and off I went into the cold night. Time to go home at last.
And that my friends, is how my day went yesterday....
I turned around and went back to the office to ask one of the Banquet Managers whether there was to be a cocktail hour for this party...
He answered to the affirmative in his deep resonant voice in its thick Hungarian accent;
"Of course! Cocktail hour in here, dinner in there!"
I stood there, gaping... (very suave)
His eyes narrowed, ever so slightly, and then, apparently to assist me since I was so obviously addled, he went on with more instructions regarding the party at hand. "This is non-alcohol bar."
And then, just in the event that my language comprehension skills had entirely failed me for some reason, he decided to helpfully explain what this meant;
"This bar... NO ALCOHOL AT ALL - just soda, juices, water, and many frozen drinks. Perhaps you will prepare ice-ed tea... and, if you wish, non-alcoholic beer."
"Great.. got it. Thanks." Was my reply... I tried to keep the disappointment/annoyance from showing on my face.... I have worked these types of parties in the past, and as a general rule (read: in every single case thus far!) they suck balls.
So. This is a wedding. No food. No music. No drink. No nothing... the guests will be bored and annoyed.. at least enough of them to make life.. ah.. interesting for the staff...
Oh well... you gotta work with the hand that you are dealt, right?
When the other bartender showed up, it was someone I had never worked with, and whom I had only seen tend bar once or twice... he's a nice enough guy, a little inexperienced, but, every single one of has been there.... it would be alright......
"Hey, how's it going?" I called out in greeting as he approached the bar where I was setting up.
"Not so good, not so good.." he replied.
(Uh-oh... what is that all about?)
"Why? Did something happen?" I asked.
"My brother is gone." He said.
"... ... ... ... (???!) ... ... ........... uh.. gone?"
"He passed away... he was killed... he died... in a car crash... back home in the Dominican Republic... hedrovehiscaroffacliffinthemiddleofthenightandwedon'tknowifhewasdrinkingorwhat.... he was 27 years old... I have to leave to go there tomorrow morning and my passport expires today! I'm just going to try to get there... I'll worry about getting back once I'm there..."
"... (holy shit)... um... wow... I'm really sorry, man... I... I... don't know what to say.... ... sorry."
"What can you say? There are no words..... but thank you..."
He went on to say that he was only working to get enough cash so that he could pay for incidentals on his trip... some food... tips... etc. When I told him what sort of party we had...he was, um.... less than elated.
We got set up, the doors opened... and in came the guests...
"Hello! What would you like, sir?"
"Lemme get a screwdriver."
"I'm very sorry sir, today we have a non-alcoholic bar. I can offer you soda, juice, fruit punch, iced tea, water..."
"Um.... aa-ight then... lemme get a gin & tonic."
"Ah... we don't have any alcoholic beverages whatsoever at the bar today, sir.... may I offer you something else, perhaps??"
"Oh! Tha's right! No alcohawl.... I guess I'll just have a glass of wine then..."
And this is pretty much how it went all night.... and then there was the line... or lack thereof..
fifty to over one hundred people... all shouting out what they want... simultaneously.
"Yo!! Gimme two Piña Coladas!" (we prepare virgin frozen drinks for the non-alcoholic bars)
(This came from somewhere to my right, and some distance back in the crowd... along with many other shouted orders from everyone at once...)
I continued to serve the person standing at the bar directly in front of me...
"YO!! GIMME MY PIÑA COLADAS!! YOU DEAF OR SUMP'N?!?!"
"There's a line sir... I'm helping the guest at the front of the line... I will be happy to help you, just as soon as I have served the other guests who are ahead of you....."
"I just want my two Piña Coladas!"
"I understand... but there are people ahead of you.. ... I'm sorry..."
"Yo asshole... just get two glasses, and pour the fuckin' drinks into 'em for me, okay?"
I was suddenly and instantaneously stricken by 'elective deafness' and continued on with what I had been doing...
My 'friend' pushed through the crowd, and worked his way around to the side of the bar;
"Just give me my drinks. I ain't waitin'"
I shot him a glance.. and continued to work without replying....
"YOU HEAR ME?!!?"
"Yes sir.. I did. And I will be happy to give you your drinks....."
I served the next person in line.
"WHERE'S MY PIÑA COLADAS!!"
"I am going to make a fresh pitcher just for you, my friend..."
"Oh.... that's cool.... but could you hurry?"
"Absolutely!"
I served the next couple at the bar...
My 'friend' inhaled to speak to me once again.. but I cut him off;
"I will need to see some ID from you, my friend..."
"Wha-?!"
"My apologies... you look young to me... I'm on camera, you understand.... " and I indicated the surveillance camera mounted on the wall.
"Damn!" - Off he went in search of some ID. When he returned, I had his drinks ready and waiting, and off he went... happy at last. I was happy as well, since I wouldn't have to contend with an angry mob for allowing him to cut in front of them... by the time he returned with his ID, his turn in line had come up.
.... and so it went for the entire night..... after the cocktail hour, we moved into the main reception hall... where, if anything, it was worse. They had a buffet... of sorts.... chicken wings and some rice... these poor folks were broke, that much was obvious... and I'm sure that they did their very best to have the best celebration that they could afford. This much is understood, and the entire staff, to their credit, does as fine a job for the low-budget parties as they do for the extravaganzas.... but, at the same time.. it hurts us.. since we work primarily for tips, and at these parties nobody tips. They don't have it... we know that ... we all struggle, too... but it's hard to put in a grueling 8 to 12 hours and walk away with nothing.... but, its all part of the deal. Thats the industry, I guess....
I am going to request, in writing, that the venue obtain and issue to me one white armband with a prominent bright red cross affixed to it.
If I am going to be a volunteer, I should at least have the privilege of looking like one!!
Our combined take for the entire night?? (this is the amount, in tips, that we split between us...)
Zero.
Nothing.
Not a single, solitary, red cent.
On top of this, when I was leaving for the night, the owner shouted, railed, ranted, threatened, and stomped his feet over how we were going to be forced to care for the new bars that he had just ordered, how anything other then what he wanted would not be tolerated, and that strict measures would be taken, that we had better not be the one who would be made an example of, etc., etc., blah-blah-blah... (I personally make it a point to clean everything that I use, and to leave it in better condition than how I find it when I come in... but I always seem to be the recipient of these sermons.....). I just stood there, impassively gazing at him until such time as I could extricate myself with as little social awkwardness as humanly possible... and off I went into the cold night. Time to go home at last.
And that my friends, is how my day went yesterday....
Saturday, February 03, 2007
All of it...
'Go home!' ends September...
Lot's of worries... how to pay bills?!
What will I do?
October brings new job
New possibilities
High hopes for better days
November unveils changes
Promises not kept.
Bitter disappointments.
December rolls through
Happy holidays!
Then, long sad walk home.
Again, no job!
What is wrong with me?
Why is this happening?
Brisk January winds.
Cold and fresh!
Unforseen opportunity!
February finds
me studying hard
so much to learn!
Life blossoms
like an early spring flower;
unexpected beauty
How lovely!
Such a wonderful scent!
Oops! A bee!
Everything changes
but, at the center
I am still and tranquil
If worry did not
drive me from my bed
late at night
I would miss the beauty
of seeing the moon
through wintry branches
Even the unexpected
twists and turns
have something to offer
Breathe in, breathe out
problems, solutions
I would not choose
to miss even a moment
of the profound beauty
of my life unfolding
Spit into life at birth
taken out again at death
and in between?
This is life
and what the world has to offer
I am thankful for all of it
Lot's of worries... how to pay bills?!
What will I do?
October brings new job
New possibilities
High hopes for better days
November unveils changes
Promises not kept.
Bitter disappointments.
December rolls through
Happy holidays!
Then, long sad walk home.
Again, no job!
What is wrong with me?
Why is this happening?
Brisk January winds.
Cold and fresh!
Unforseen opportunity!
February finds
me studying hard
so much to learn!
Life blossoms
like an early spring flower;
unexpected beauty
How lovely!
Such a wonderful scent!
Oops! A bee!
Everything changes
but, at the center
I am still and tranquil
If worry did not
drive me from my bed
late at night
I would miss the beauty
of seeing the moon
through wintry branches
Even the unexpected
twists and turns
have something to offer
Breathe in, breathe out
problems, solutions
I would not choose
to miss even a moment
of the profound beauty
of my life unfolding
Spit into life at birth
taken out again at death
and in between?
This is life
and what the world has to offer
I am thankful for all of it
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