Sorry bout that Bob...

I had a memory of a buddy of mine from back in highschool this morning. When I think about my friend Sam I have to remember some of the strange moments we encountered during our friendship.
I have always been pretty ecclectic with whom I choose to be friends with. I guess i always wanted to model myself after Ferris Bueller in a way- "Sportos, motorheads,
geeks, sluts, pinheads, dweebies, wonkers, richies, they all adore him. they think he's a righteous dude..."

I could give you more detail about Sam- like how on his 13th birthday he got hit by a semi truck and narrowly survived after being crushed between the wheels. he suffered an extended coma, and massive reconstructive surgery- but that wouldn't be telling you anything I really knew. I didn't know Sam when that happened, I didn't meet him until we were 16 years old, and he was already well on his way to living his perfectly normal, even if miraculous teeneaged life.

Sam is the guy who put me in a band- even though I didn't know how to play an instrument. He put a 4 string Bass in my hand and said- ok- figure it out. I plugged in, and we made noise. It was a good time. My friendship with him was good, and bad, and all the things one would expect teenaged friendships to be. We didn't always agree, or identify with one another, but from an overall perspective he difinitly colored my life in a way few others did. Sam was about living for the day- possibly as a result of his experience, but diffinitly as a result of his charecter. I have never read of anyone in fact or fiction that could match him.

So on to the memory- we were probably 17 or 18, and Sam, along with his brother Mike were hanging out with my mom and I at our little apartment in Beaver. It should be told that Sam and Mike and I were stoned to bejeezus for the duration of this event, but my Mother was none the wiser. We came accross what looked like a classic Burt Reynolds flick. When we came into the movie Burt was hooning around some backwoods mountains in an International Scout II. I figured Burt Reynolds + Scout II + driving hoonage would equal some sort of cinimatic classic of the Smokey and The Bandit / Cannonball sort. How wrong was I? VERY!

So we settle in and start watching the drama unfold as Burt and his buddies embark on a canoeing trip in the Ozarks. My Mother watches along with us- but with a secret knowledge she chose not to share. The movie is dragging on- but we are stoned, and unmotivated to change tha channel. Then it happens- the "Piggy" scene (if you have seen "Deliverence" then you know what I am talking about. Ned Beatty's charecter is sexually assaulted by two rednecks in extremely graphic fashion. This is probably the most disturbing scene in all of celluloid, and even in my stupor I am overwhelmed with feelings of disgust, and bewilderment that this movie could take such a turn- still it never occured to me to turn it off...

Once the scene is concluded, I look over and see Sam in a similar state of shock. Then from the floor in front of the couch Mike pipes up, and says the following-


"You know, everyone says they will be cool about something like that, but you KNOW that the minute that guy pisses one of them off they are going to be all like "yeah? Well at least I didn't get fucked in the ass on the camping trip Bob"

Fucking Brilliant...

Odyssey of the broken nose...

Sooo... I got my nose broken Friday.

I know what you are thinking, but NO I didn't go around talking smack on American Muscle Cars (actually, you probably know that I am quite on board with GM small blocks lately)

No- I actually have (had) a deviated septum- This ailment is commonly viewed as the excuse all the little rich girls with big noses use to get rhinoplasty, but in my case it was causing some serious snoring issues, along with some apnea-meaning- short pauses in my breathing while I sleep.

The snoring got on Shannon's nerves, but the apnea was downright frightening. I lost a friend last year due to sleep apnea, and while my case is nowhere near as severe as his, it would occasionally wake me with an adrenaline surge as my body would fight to recover- pretty scary when you wake with a shock like that.

So, I commited to getting a surgery called septoplasty- They went into my nose, broke, and then re-set my septum cartilage so that it would open my airway, and allow me to breath more easily. i am pleased to report after my first full night sleep without blockage that it appears to have worked!

The story isn't about the ending though- it is about how I got here.

Friday 9:00am Nanigans and I report to out patient surgery- I sign the documents and shed my street clothes for one of those awesome hospital gowns. The nurse tries to stick my hand for the IV drip- ok my ex-wife was (is?) an RN and she had used me for practice on this more than once. Long story, but we used to trade- I would let her stick me with an IV if she would let me play Gran Turismo for a few hours... So I know that it is better to go for the inside of my elbow when inserting an IV, as I have a big fat vein there that is easy to get to. This lady wants to go for the hand- and as she is sticking me I feel the familier pinch that tells me the vein is rolling, and she is chasing it around under my skin.
It hurts. I calmly look over at her (I was looking away) and suggest she go for the elbow. She relinquishes the chase, and follows my advice to immediate effect.

Once hooked up I was taken into an Operating Room where I was given anesthetic, and then "treated" (they broke my nose). once the break was done, the Docs packed my nose with material to keep all the blood from running out of my head, and I got packaged up and sent out to recovery. About two hours later and they let me go home.

Having a broken nose is unpleasent. First- my eyes would not stop tearing up, second- the packing material is incredibly uncomfortable. It leaves you feeling a bit claustrophobic not being able to breath through your nose, and not being able to clear it in any way.
All day Friday and Saturday I suffered- cleaning excess blood out from around my nose, and changing the dressing on my face. My nose stuffed with packing looked about 4 times as wide as usual- and that made it uncomfortable to wear my glasses, and the constant tearing in my eyes made it difficult to wear my contacts.

Before you pity me too much- you should also know I was under a 1000mg dose of Vicodin every 6 hours- so I wasn't really feeling a lot of pain- or a lot of anything really- just kind of coasting along in a fog through the discomfort.

Sleeping was impossible- the nose dressing was taped to my face, which was uncomfortable- and for some reason even if I did fall asleep I would just wake up an hour later, have to get up and change my dressing. Friday night was aweful, Saturday not as bad as the bleeding had stopped so the exterior dressing wasn't really needed.

Sunday morning I went into the ER to meet my doctor in order to have the packing removed. All went well, except the doctor indicated the pack for my left nostril had "come apart". He was still able to pull it out though- along with the one from the right.

I got my first look at the "packing" and I will say that it didn't look anything like I had assumed. Each pack is about 5 inches long, and basically looked like a giant tampon wrapped in plastic- both were soaked in blood. It was an immense relief to have them out though. I still felt a bit plugged up, but much relieved. After a cursory exam we left the hospital, and i could breath through my nose.

Sort of...

About 3 blocks from the hospital I got a tickle in the back of my throat that caused me to gag- Shannon pulled over and I lea ned out the door and coughed up blood, and mucus- it was pretty gross, but I felt a little better. We continued on home. When we got here I went into the bathroom to clean up the dried blood around my nostrils. While I was doing that I noticed a thin fiber sticking out of my left nostril. I got out some tweezers and gave it a pull ever so gently. When I did, I felt something in the back of my sinuses move. I carefully continued to pull and the fiber became more like material, by this time it is about a half inch out of my nose. I kept pulling, and it kept coming out- longer, thicker, and covered in blood, mucus some kind of nasty geletin.

Here is what I ended up with...




Once this was pulled out- I could breath clearly from both nostrils, and the bleeding stopped. My guess is that this is what remained of the pack that fell apart. Fortunately I was able to fish it out on my own.

Today (Monday) I am feeling much better. I got a great nights sleep last night. My nose is a little tender, but otherwise healing nicely. I kept the piece of the packing to take when I see the doc for a follow up on Thursday. I really think he ought to have taken a closer look after the pack fell apart- fortunately, no harm, so IMO no foul. I like the Doc, I just hope he is more careful in the future.

Eat it or Wear it- a personal vent...

Man, sometimes it just seems like the rug is getting pulled out from under me. This is a big time in my life, I just got married, I have a kid on the way- and everything feels like it is ready to fall apart at a moments notice.
After working so hard through my late twenties to minimize my debt structure in an effort to facilitate being a "grown up" I have found myself awash in the fear and uncertainty I swore to myself I would never experience again.
I own my car
I have minimal unsecured personal debt
I have a good job

I am making more money than ever before in my life, but it just isn't enough.
It isn't enough to overcome my wifes debts now that she is earning a 3rd of what she used to.
It isn't enough to cover the move into a larger apartment
It isn't enough to cover the rent on a bigger apartment- an amount which could have paid the mortgage on a 3 bedroom home in Texas. Now I just need a second bedroom, and I am coming up short.

I am exasperated

Add to that- my company is in a state of flux. The CEO was just forced to step down, and trading of our stock is suspended pending confirmation of last years revenues- Translation: The banks are pissed because they think our management cooked the books, and now they asked the majority shareholder to step down from his management position while they figure out if we are solvent or not. None of this is particularly reassuring given that my wife and I are expecting, and she is dependant on my health insurance for both the pregnancy, and an issue with "nodules" on her thyroid. If I lose my job, we are going to have to commit to a COBRA, the cost of which will consume my unemployment allowance...

But wait- there is more!

My wife has a 72 month loan on a car that is out of warranty and worth a 3rd of the loan value. We don't need two cars, and cutting one loose would cut our monthly liabilities but trading in my paid for and reliable vehicle in conjunction with hers would still leave us 3 grand upside down going into a newer vehicle. That equates to a larger payment than the one we are currently shouldering for the Dodge + my $100 per month garage payment + the additional insurance I pay for the second vehicle. We wouldn't save, so it isn't worth it.

I would sell my car outright and just put the cash on ice, but my 99 Accord is the better of the two vehicles. Imagine that. A 1999 Honda with 108k on the clock is actually more reliable, and worth more on trade-in than a 2006 Dodge. Unfortunately that doesn't equate to being enough to overcome the staggering depreciation of said Dodge. Eat it, or wear it.

For the first time since I was 21 I have to seriously consider asking my folks for help, and I am ashamed that my decisions have brought me to this.

Sentient Beings

Just watch.



Still think hunting for sport is cool?

Me neither.

Automaton

An automaton (plural: automata or automatons) is a self-operating machine. The word is sometimes used to describe a robot, more specifically an autonomous robot. Used colloquially, it refers to a mindless follower.

I remember the first time I heard the word "automaton"- it was a line of dialogue in the movie "Clerks". The dialogue was meant as an impetuous snear toward the great faceless masses. the nameless corporate "them" that were subject of disdain. I remember thinking how I identified with that.

Last night I had a revelation that caused me to think about that word again. I was passing through the revolving door to the train station and I noticed a man of about my age, and build who was dressed very similar to me. It struck me odd, and shook me out of my post work walking coma for long enough that I began observing the people around me. Between that revolving door, and my train ride home I spotted 9 other people wearing Khakis, and a Black NorthFace jacket. If I opened up the sampling to just include the same color combination of Tan Pants, Black Jacket, then I saw 28 others dressed just like me. I started to think about that.

Sure, it is true that Black, and Tan are popular colors in the world of business casual dress, but beyond that- I started to believe that I had become "one of the crowd". I never viewed myself that way before. I always thought that in some way I was outstanding, or dare I say- "better" when compared to the others around me.

As I looked around I couldn't help but wonder what the lives of these similarly dressed people were like. Did the guy standing in line in front of me have a family at home waiting for him? did he have a new baby on the way like I do? What will he do when he gets home? Where is he coming from? Is there anyone else standing in this line at this moment thinking about these things?

The end result was that I found myself looking at peoples faces. Thankfully I was doing this from behind the darkened lenses of my sunglasses- nobody like to think someone is watching them. As I sat on the train I looked at all the people who were sitting on the opposite side of the train.

I took inventory of each of them. Were they reading? What were they reading? What were they listening to on those earphones? I recognized the subtle differences in each person. Suddenly I realized that I wasn't part of the crowd anymore.

The truth be told- there was no crowd. There was a mass of individuals, each with their own purpose for being, their own individual tastes, likes, and dislikes.

Counting backwards from nine

Ok, so maybe you picked up on my new theme- and just in case you are dim- 9 months equals the gestation period for a human child. That is right. I am going to be a Father. A Dad. A Poppa. A "Proud Parent" if you will. I think the time is right.

I remember when I was in my twenties, and I got married the first time. My wife and I came up with all sorts of reasons not to have a child. "We want to travel" was one of them, and the rest were basically variations on that theme. It was all about what we would be giving up, and what we would be missing if we settled down. We both agreed that if it happened then we would consider it a good thing and move forward, but I must admit I was still living in a degree of fear. Birth control was in full effect, and in the back of my mind I knew I just didn’t want it to happen. Good thing too, because 3 years later I got divorced. Strangely enough I think I was the person most surprised by that event. If you ask my closest friends you might gather the impression that there was a pool going regarding the eventuality of fate for my first marriage. Nobody really liked Diane for me. We just weren’t a good fit I suppose.

Fortunately the only custody to consider in the split was that of our little dog Romeo- I do miss the little guy, but he was a gift I gave to her and a fight seemed moodt. The day we signed the papers was the last time I laid eyes on Diane. that chapter closed, and the next 5 years adventure began.

As a suitor I have always been a bit quirky. I have had a handful of relationships that panned out poorly, and some that probably could have gone better if not for my own hang-ups. All along I was careful to avoid making promises that went beyond the end of a year.

Then I met Nanigans- and all of that changed pretty immediatly. I loved living alone, but she would stay. As overnights turned into over weeks the progression felt natural, and comfortable. She went from my date to my companion, and co-conspirator. Weeks turned into months, and now a year. We have our struggles, but if I have learned anything from experience it is that everyone struggles. It is how you feel about the person as a whole that really counts. She matches me in passion, wit, and enthusiasm. She has a great heart, and she loves my people. This is important: She readily embraces my friends, and family- and if you know me at all then you know that they are as much a part of my being as my own personality. We fight very little, and we love very much.

I love her.

And now the news- We are going to be 3. Within the next year I will have another person to whom I will owe every responsibility. It isn’t about me anymore, it will be about "us"- and more specifically "them".

There are some who have shunned this reality as yet another of my folly’s. I disagree. Some say that I am not ready- I disagree.

I know this is the right thing because the first thought that entered my mind when the maternity tests came back positive was- "Wow" and the feeling that came with it was pure joy. A smile has come to my consciousness that I can’t really describe. It lives in my mind, and everytime it shows itself you best believe I am thinking about the future, and the potential for great things. It is a revolution of mindset. A baby is no longer something that would hold me back- it is something that will move me forward. It isn’t about what we can’t do- it is about what we will do, and the promise is intoxicating.

I am far from perfect. I realize that there are those of you who probably read my post about my family reunion in San Antonio and wonder how a guy who blacked out and locked himself out of a hotel room after a major drinking binge can be ready for the massive responsibility of parenthood. Well folks- you ought to hear my Dad’s story about the bottle of Mezcal, and how he accidentally shaved off half his mustache. That was just an episode in lifes adventure. Many of you know of my episodes- some of them are legendary. I am still pleased to have played my part, for better or for worse. I am likely to continue to folly as I grow as a person, but that isn’t the complete reflection of my paternal abilities.

Fortunately I know that being a parent doesn’t require perfection- what it requires of a father is desire, intent, and dedication. I have those qualities. I am so enthusiastic I can hardly contain myself as the next chapter is beginning.

Let the countdown commence...

Got into a fight this morning...

I bumped into a guy while I was getting off the train. I had been listening to my iPod, and reading a headline on my newspaper and just wasn't watching where I was going.

So I am walking along, and I bump into this guy and knock him down. Yeah, well, I could NOT believe it. He was a DWARF! and you know how you sometimes just-get-sooo-stressed and life-stuff seems to get funny?

He gets up and brushes himself off, looks up at me with anger in his eys and says, "I AM NOT HAPPY!"

So, I look down at him and simply say, "Well, which one are you then?"

... and that's how the fight started.