It hurts to let someone in. It hurts to let them see the very center of "you". But for all the hurt I tried to avoid..in the end it found me. It found me. I was weak, scared, and immature.. and played with emotions like a child. That hiding behind a glass wall would protect me? In the summer I danced and pranced around like it was any ordinary day. Hiding in the shade of the tree I climbed. The truth now, is that I know not a single day was ordinary.. Not one.
Everyday was exceptional. Exponentially better then the day before. That all the while looking at her eyes looking back at me, it made my heart swell. And my life sparkle. I had it. Right in my hands I had it. In my heart, I had it. In my mind, I had it. My love, I had it. But why when I had it, did I know not how to show it? I shared my talents. I shared my stories. I shared my shoulders. I shared my humor. I shared everything with everyone... that but the only one.
Though it seems the last leaf has fallen from my sweet sweet linden tree.... I hope that a spring will blossom your love anew.. for that is my hope, and my heart that wishes.
I love you.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Saturday, September 18, 2010
It's been a trying few weeks. Its hard to really put my finger on when the world tipped over, flipped over, and fell right side back again.. I suppose, it's just another chapter.
We all wait for the right moment. The chance to take life by the reigns, and steer.
What you can't do, what you should avoid doing...Is placing all your eggs into one basket; the repercussion when things don't fall into place, can be excruciatingly brutal.
I felt like a gimmick. Like some sort of stunt celebrities use to enhance their public image. I'd like to think it was all unintentional, and simply a misunderstanding.. it would help me sleep if I did. Truth is, I really feel hosed. I feel naive.
The days leading up to the festival, were exciting. A sense of hope and anticipation grew with every inch closer to Sunday. I got there thinking this was "it". Seconds away from getting another boosted chance to improve my education, and future. This time though, in hindsight, proved to make no difference.
I was told that this person wanted to help my situation. They wanted to do something for me, that they could to to make a difference. And that it wouldn't be of any inconvenience. My time, and labor was at no cost to them. Essentially I was their assistant.
"get 'em some water if you would"
"keep an eye on my boy if you would"
"find me a marker to sign these would you?"
"Can you take our picture with ...would you?"
"oh, boy..the flamingos are loose..hold the wallaby if you would."
But who was I really? Just some sidekick without a story... and what a pity it is that this little guy has got some horrible disease.
"bless his heart...what a nice young man..."
"well, how nice it is you can spend your day here..being a little assistant!"
I don't need to be in someone's spotlight. I want my own. And quite honestly, I feel like I should. I know I can do it just as good, if not leaps and bounds better.
This whole relationship has been some kind of charade..and well It's damaging to the psyche.
My dream is to be someone. Someone that can make a real difference in everyones life from here to Kalamazoo.. To be a real inspiration, and a friendly face for those in need. A real somebody.
There are very few genuine people out there.. People that don't have an anterior motive. And even harder to see the true colors in an individual, that exuberance great humility inside and out. I wish I could be one of the few. Its impossible for me to say that though. I am an envious person. I envy the thought of greatness and attention. With that said, I want that for good reasons too. I want to keep my word. I want my promises and ambition to be undeniably genuine, and sincere. The chance to have that power, and the stage to stand up and advocate, and follow through with my words, and heart would allow me to feel accomplished. Because with all honesty, until I find that platform, I feel like an underachiever.
If you're going to promise, you need to make good on it. There is someone out there who's counting on you...and I don't want anyone to feel disappointment , and let down.. Because it's a sad thing when disappointment and let down are no longer shocking...
We all wait for the right moment. The chance to take life by the reigns, and steer.
What you can't do, what you should avoid doing...Is placing all your eggs into one basket; the repercussion when things don't fall into place, can be excruciatingly brutal.
I felt like a gimmick. Like some sort of stunt celebrities use to enhance their public image. I'd like to think it was all unintentional, and simply a misunderstanding.. it would help me sleep if I did. Truth is, I really feel hosed. I feel naive.
The days leading up to the festival, were exciting. A sense of hope and anticipation grew with every inch closer to Sunday. I got there thinking this was "it". Seconds away from getting another boosted chance to improve my education, and future. This time though, in hindsight, proved to make no difference.
I was told that this person wanted to help my situation. They wanted to do something for me, that they could to to make a difference. And that it wouldn't be of any inconvenience. My time, and labor was at no cost to them. Essentially I was their assistant.
"get 'em some water if you would"
"keep an eye on my boy if you would"
"find me a marker to sign these would you?"
"Can you take our picture with ...would you?"
"oh, boy..the flamingos are loose..hold the wallaby if you would."
But who was I really? Just some sidekick without a story... and what a pity it is that this little guy has got some horrible disease.
"bless his heart...what a nice young man..."
"well, how nice it is you can spend your day here..being a little assistant!"
I don't need to be in someone's spotlight. I want my own. And quite honestly, I feel like I should. I know I can do it just as good, if not leaps and bounds better.
This whole relationship has been some kind of charade..and well It's damaging to the psyche.
My dream is to be someone. Someone that can make a real difference in everyones life from here to Kalamazoo.. To be a real inspiration, and a friendly face for those in need. A real somebody.
There are very few genuine people out there.. People that don't have an anterior motive. And even harder to see the true colors in an individual, that exuberance great humility inside and out. I wish I could be one of the few. Its impossible for me to say that though. I am an envious person. I envy the thought of greatness and attention. With that said, I want that for good reasons too. I want to keep my word. I want my promises and ambition to be undeniably genuine, and sincere. The chance to have that power, and the stage to stand up and advocate, and follow through with my words, and heart would allow me to feel accomplished. Because with all honesty, until I find that platform, I feel like an underachiever.
If you're going to promise, you need to make good on it. There is someone out there who's counting on you...and I don't want anyone to feel disappointment , and let down.. Because it's a sad thing when disappointment and let down are no longer shocking...
Thursday, July 29, 2010
The very first day of summer camp... If you've ever been there, you'd understand what I'm talking about when I say there is something very familiar about the air, the cabins, the dining hall.. even the other kids and counselors had a distinct smell. It just sorta tied everything together. A "mil dewey, old clothes, cedar, franks and beans" seeping aroma..
The drive that Saturday morning always seemed to take an eternity. And when we finally met the gravel driveway...my body couldn't stand it any longer. I was psyched! (I'm pretty sure my parents...shoot more like the majority of all the other parents dropping off their own kids were even more excited about the long week!) I wanted to jump out of my seat.
So when we got there, we all reported to the dining hall to check in.. We had our medicines, our belongings, and about an hour of registering. Chuck ..Chuck, eh.. well this guy Chuck. I always tried hiding away when he showed up. It was a lost cause though. And when he saw us, he would run over and yell "hey there's my peanut!".. grab my cheek and stretch the loose skin..."So Peanut how was your summer so far?!"
Peanut? really?... I hate "peanut".. "zach attack".. "spider monkey".."the runt".. "Bum" what ever endearing words these crazy adults wanted to go with..but hey, here's an idea : how about you just call me ZACH.. I was a little of the entertainment.
When our parents left, we were pretty much free for a couple hours to mingle and meet with your cabin buddies. It was consistent each year. Jesse, DeAaron, CJ, Kevin...to name a few.
And immediately, our cabin was ready to discuss the weeks most pressing matter:
"The big talent Show".. a lip sinking contest to be preformed Tuesday, and if you well represented your cabin, and killed it like Mily Vanily..well, then again you'd preform for cash, and prizes Thursday in the Finals Showdown!
If you hadn't guessed about me yet.. I am a ham in front the camera, lights, large gatherings.. So now I get the chance to dress in rock outfits of the 80's and bust out some oldies or new jams. well I was in heaven!
I'll roll out the top 3 in no particular order.
1) Beach Boys "Barbara Ann"... I nailed it with a combination of Twist and Chubby Checkers meets ridiculous..
2) I preformed the Ninja Turtles Song - Go Ninja. I was raphael, and I believe we had the best costume and set design.. we ranked Second.
3) "Smoking in the Boys room" by Poison.... seemed a little inappropriate singing about the joys of smoking in the public restrooms, seeing as how we were all living with chronic, often terminal lung disease... But hey we rocked that out without batting an eye..were were kinda like the badest 9 year old bad asses that CF camp ever did witness. And we won 1st place!
We felt like royalty the next day and a half.. Like rock legends..and then we get caught. Yeah, so the panty raid we thought had been executed to perfection the evening prior, well...turned out our "covert opt" ability was comparable to holes in swiss cheese.
Table setting ,and Clearing was our job for dinner..
They had polar bear swims every morning that week too. And you know, I really tried! I really did! I would wake up, and head to the pool ready to go.
The drive that Saturday morning always seemed to take an eternity. And when we finally met the gravel driveway...my body couldn't stand it any longer. I was psyched! (I'm pretty sure my parents...shoot more like the majority of all the other parents dropping off their own kids were even more excited about the long week!) I wanted to jump out of my seat.
So when we got there, we all reported to the dining hall to check in.. We had our medicines, our belongings, and about an hour of registering. Chuck ..Chuck, eh.. well this guy Chuck. I always tried hiding away when he showed up. It was a lost cause though. And when he saw us, he would run over and yell "hey there's my peanut!".. grab my cheek and stretch the loose skin..."So Peanut how was your summer so far?!"
Peanut? really?... I hate "peanut".. "zach attack".. "spider monkey".."the runt".. "Bum" what ever endearing words these crazy adults wanted to go with..but hey, here's an idea : how about you just call me ZACH.. I was a little of the entertainment.
When our parents left, we were pretty much free for a couple hours to mingle and meet with your cabin buddies. It was consistent each year. Jesse, DeAaron, CJ, Kevin...to name a few.
And immediately, our cabin was ready to discuss the weeks most pressing matter:
"The big talent Show".. a lip sinking contest to be preformed Tuesday, and if you well represented your cabin, and killed it like Mily Vanily..well, then again you'd preform for cash, and prizes Thursday in the Finals Showdown!
If you hadn't guessed about me yet.. I am a ham in front the camera, lights, large gatherings.. So now I get the chance to dress in rock outfits of the 80's and bust out some oldies or new jams. well I was in heaven!
I'll roll out the top 3 in no particular order.
1) Beach Boys "Barbara Ann"... I nailed it with a combination of Twist and Chubby Checkers meets ridiculous..
2) I preformed the Ninja Turtles Song - Go Ninja. I was raphael, and I believe we had the best costume and set design.. we ranked Second.
3) "Smoking in the Boys room" by Poison.... seemed a little inappropriate singing about the joys of smoking in the public restrooms, seeing as how we were all living with chronic, often terminal lung disease... But hey we rocked that out without batting an eye..were were kinda like the badest 9 year old bad asses that CF camp ever did witness. And we won 1st place!
We felt like royalty the next day and a half.. Like rock legends..and then we get caught. Yeah, so the panty raid we thought had been executed to perfection the evening prior, well...turned out our "covert opt" ability was comparable to holes in swiss cheese.
Table setting ,and Clearing was our job for dinner..
They had polar bear swims every morning that week too. And you know, I really tried! I really did! I would wake up, and head to the pool ready to go.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
j5
There are so many well deserving men and women out there.. deserving to be recognized for all they give and put out each and every day. I know a few people like that. J5. This core group of nurses, aides, clerks, DR's, and patients change you. They alter your priorities and clear up the soot in the air we breathe and wash away the cataracks , and distorted perspective... an artificial soul can not put on a show here. It's no act. Its genuine. It's the legitimacy, and sincerity of each person on that floor whoose heart beats stronger, and with more passion and dedication then imagination could even conjure...and it comes together.
They come together. They are solid rocks for each other. A team. With one goal.... Make this place smile through pain. Find a place for laughter through our heartbreaks and tears... and hold tight to all the loving memories ... hold those higher over grief.
So I'm thinking of all you guys do downtown, and I'm feeling privledged to have been a part of the magic you bring to the floor. And how truly amazed at how many of you can leave life outside (troubles at home, or whatever..) you leave that at the door.. and ride that "elevator" up up up to the fifth floor..
I miss you guys.
Make someone who needs a smile, give them a laugh for me... and if someone needs a hug, give them the most you can put into that hug... tape "hug" to there back if need be.
Never forget what you guys are doing there.. Its unbelievable. YOU are AMAZING... all of you.
They come together. They are solid rocks for each other. A team. With one goal.... Make this place smile through pain. Find a place for laughter through our heartbreaks and tears... and hold tight to all the loving memories ... hold those higher over grief.
So I'm thinking of all you guys do downtown, and I'm feeling privledged to have been a part of the magic you bring to the floor. And how truly amazed at how many of you can leave life outside (troubles at home, or whatever..) you leave that at the door.. and ride that "elevator" up up up to the fifth floor..
I miss you guys.
Make someone who needs a smile, give them a laugh for me... and if someone needs a hug, give them the most you can put into that hug... tape "hug" to there back if need be.
Never forget what you guys are doing there.. Its unbelievable. YOU are AMAZING... all of you.
I hate that awkward silence in a public restroom. Like what is correct public bathroom etiquette? you know, Like stall to stall? Can you bring up simple conversation?
aside from a "hows it going" or "damn it's hot outside.."
but what about
"geez, had to get away before the wife had me try on another pair of pants....you know, pants? .. have you tried on any of the slacks they had in the weekend paper? ..I'm a 32, but I have trouble fitting into 32 here, so my wife and I are looking for 33...see if that works better, you know?"..
or
"hey....those look like some comfortable new shoes?... Where did you get them at, if you don't mind me asking. I could really use a pair like that..hmmm (examining shoes while grunting , and deep breaths) ..Yep , I like 'em... How much?"
aside from a "hows it going" or "damn it's hot outside.."
but what about
"geez, had to get away before the wife had me try on another pair of pants....you know, pants? .. have you tried on any of the slacks they had in the weekend paper? ..I'm a 32, but I have trouble fitting into 32 here, so my wife and I are looking for 33...see if that works better, you know?"..
or
"hey....those look like some comfortable new shoes?... Where did you get them at, if you don't mind me asking. I could really use a pair like that..hmmm (examining shoes while grunting , and deep breaths) ..Yep , I like 'em... How much?"
Monday, July 26, 2010
gibberish
I don't want to waste it. I've spent my whole adult life doing - not doing much with dreams and aspirations. So when I was asked if I was interested in taking the plunge.. It took every inch of me to "not do" what I have grown accustomed to. Routine, and consistency are my MA. I'd like to change that. Make a bigger splash.. flail a little. Take a calculated risk, with out any regret. YOu know what you want, you go get it. Thats where I've been silly to just graze like a cow in the pasture... I'm full.
About ten years ago I took a leap. I decided to move out and be an "adult". I have grown backwards since. Not all for the worst, but nonetheless..
What really chaps my ass, is how I never was able to see that guy then.. trust me if it were possible.. well, I feel like punching him in the face! At least give him some advice- that I'd take. Because I did it, but I did it half ass and without passion.
That first year before moving back home, and back out, and back home, and back out again... that first year was like living in a sitcom. Odd neighbors. Roommate stories that are never retold, or rehashed. Girls that we thought to have a chance with. Beer. Parties. Summer heat. And nothing better to do. So we do it "again tomorrow".
The year was going fairly well until I got caught driving home from BG by a Marion State'y... And its those little life choices that stick to you forever like matted hair on a poodle. Just about impossible to remove without shaving it all off. Fresh start.
So I call the only person I thought I could depend on - or at least who I thought would judge me the least. And when I got home, my life as I knew it had now gotten away from me, and I've been chasing it down since!
I killed my roommate in the process. Not literally though. Just the friendship part. Trust me, if he was taken out it'll be in the hands of his wife nowadays.. not me.
So when the weekend simmers down a little ad life picks back up, and legal penalty is now but only a laughing stock and lost pride in my rearview mirror..I walk to work the long way... I'm so worried about looking stupid that I decide its not worth taking the COTA to work in the event i get on the wrong one or something.. Plus its 5 bucks for the day pass, and I have exactly $2.33 in my pocket to last me all of March. Thats one trip. One way. So I walked. ..and on occasion I would lobby for my 'mate to drop me off in the back of the restaurant at 4am- and thats where i would wait until 830... Since we had snow and freezing temps around that time, I would go into this laundry mat next door and wait. But after day or two of that..i was asked not to loiter.
So my other option was none really...But there was this Ice Box out side the padlocked doors.. and I fit in quite cozy. And at 830, Donna would hit the sides with a spatula and hollering voice.. Frau.
From that job... I became zero insured ... that was challenging. There is always some girl to blame..so here's two. I had a crush on a girl at work. I was in love with a friend who slept with all my friends.. and then right under my nose, there was no job either.
I shared a phone with the neighbors. I watched Sienfield in increments ..I'd hold the antenna for ten minutes, and we would rotate back to the couch. We had a system for shopping too. His mother would buy groceries, and he would ask for things he didn't really like...and I would help him get rid of the stuff he didn't want:) Open door policy. And waking up before noon were grounds for dismissal . My 'mate loved it. So much so he rather work all day and night then come home to my ridiculous behavior...
Okay so this blog is really not very detailed, and more importantly without any direction. Its simple. I'm hanging out tonight thinking ....wasting my breath i guess. But as mentioned at the beginning... I waste a lot of breath, so at least this is a bit more productive.
The whole no insurance thing ..yeah that was real too. Nothing for 3 1/2 years.. "classified CF as a childhood illness" even though CF'ers are aging way beyond 12 years old these days.. So state cut back, and eliminated it. We were able to restore it with a very courageous outfit of supporters, and testimonials. I read and spoke my piece to the senate, and representatives...and with a team united we were ultimately able to restore SOME funding, and a semi-adult with CF program. That lasted a few years...and then the economy we know today, has left a residual effect on all state funded programs.. And we are going backwards once more.. So thats a little of that. I could go on with more rants ..and I do plan on it. But this was only a foot in the water to test the fingers here on my keypad...
I'll be back
About ten years ago I took a leap. I decided to move out and be an "adult". I have grown backwards since. Not all for the worst, but nonetheless..
What really chaps my ass, is how I never was able to see that guy then.. trust me if it were possible.. well, I feel like punching him in the face! At least give him some advice- that I'd take. Because I did it, but I did it half ass and without passion.
That first year before moving back home, and back out, and back home, and back out again... that first year was like living in a sitcom. Odd neighbors. Roommate stories that are never retold, or rehashed. Girls that we thought to have a chance with. Beer. Parties. Summer heat. And nothing better to do. So we do it "again tomorrow".
The year was going fairly well until I got caught driving home from BG by a Marion State'y... And its those little life choices that stick to you forever like matted hair on a poodle. Just about impossible to remove without shaving it all off. Fresh start.
So I call the only person I thought I could depend on - or at least who I thought would judge me the least. And when I got home, my life as I knew it had now gotten away from me, and I've been chasing it down since!
I killed my roommate in the process. Not literally though. Just the friendship part. Trust me, if he was taken out it'll be in the hands of his wife nowadays.. not me.
So when the weekend simmers down a little ad life picks back up, and legal penalty is now but only a laughing stock and lost pride in my rearview mirror..I walk to work the long way... I'm so worried about looking stupid that I decide its not worth taking the COTA to work in the event i get on the wrong one or something.. Plus its 5 bucks for the day pass, and I have exactly $2.33 in my pocket to last me all of March. Thats one trip. One way. So I walked. ..and on occasion I would lobby for my 'mate to drop me off in the back of the restaurant at 4am- and thats where i would wait until 830... Since we had snow and freezing temps around that time, I would go into this laundry mat next door and wait. But after day or two of that..i was asked not to loiter.
So my other option was none really...But there was this Ice Box out side the padlocked doors.. and I fit in quite cozy. And at 830, Donna would hit the sides with a spatula and hollering voice.. Frau.
From that job... I became zero insured ... that was challenging. There is always some girl to blame..so here's two. I had a crush on a girl at work. I was in love with a friend who slept with all my friends.. and then right under my nose, there was no job either.
I shared a phone with the neighbors. I watched Sienfield in increments ..I'd hold the antenna for ten minutes, and we would rotate back to the couch. We had a system for shopping too. His mother would buy groceries, and he would ask for things he didn't really like...and I would help him get rid of the stuff he didn't want:) Open door policy. And waking up before noon were grounds for dismissal . My 'mate loved it. So much so he rather work all day and night then come home to my ridiculous behavior...
Okay so this blog is really not very detailed, and more importantly without any direction. Its simple. I'm hanging out tonight thinking ....wasting my breath i guess. But as mentioned at the beginning... I waste a lot of breath, so at least this is a bit more productive.
The whole no insurance thing ..yeah that was real too. Nothing for 3 1/2 years.. "classified CF as a childhood illness" even though CF'ers are aging way beyond 12 years old these days.. So state cut back, and eliminated it. We were able to restore it with a very courageous outfit of supporters, and testimonials. I read and spoke my piece to the senate, and representatives...and with a team united we were ultimately able to restore SOME funding, and a semi-adult with CF program. That lasted a few years...and then the economy we know today, has left a residual effect on all state funded programs.. And we are going backwards once more.. So thats a little of that. I could go on with more rants ..and I do plan on it. But this was only a foot in the water to test the fingers here on my keypad...
I'll be back
Sunday, July 25, 2010
She had quoted angels before. She has felt their presence 3 times. And after each, goosebumps and the hairs on my neck stand straight... "lovely she said".
It was in the window sill, while her grandfather cleaned up his work shop..His shotgun boomed. Gunpowder infiltrating the nostrils. And the gun smoke rolled in like a fog.. the air was heavy like morning dew.
In the flash ..time stopping and starting all over simultaneously, her body fell limp.. creeping into the crevice of her chest, cold. Her flesh numb...
She was 4years old. This moment. This instance. It delivered her under the protection from a friend, or guardian... Her grandfather did his best to cover the terror in his voice.. To lesson the hurt. Minimize the shock. Lights dangling above the wood shop. Freckled with dark red splatter..
And yet, while laying on her side gasping for air, and struggling to make sense of the ringing echoing in her ears... Oddly, she felt safe. She felt the presence of her Angel. An angel had shoved her only an inch, but that inch would have hit her heart, and lungs. The push saved her from never being upright, and rather gave her the chance to know.. and to know how to walk right side down, and her head up high. A lesson in humility, and perseverance...
No matter how you choose to skin it.. the story never faded, nor did it grow..it simply was - white feathered wings held her.... The fields of brown golden cat tails chased one another in a gust freely along a vacant lot. Her eyes locked in on faces running across the acres like recess ringing it's bell... And then her day melted to night, while the night prepared a greeting to sunrise... Luminance of a blue moon.. saying good night moon. When the heat lifted, and evening lows and louds' nestled into the horizon, and again Daylight loads of fluff rose from the East.
She was changed. And she was going to go on to create. The art of writing. The creativity of rhythm and song. A poetic carousel... And there was going to be a long line. She had a following. And she had a purse full of positivity... and colored pens.
His gun sound loaded. Her adrenaline pumping. Shots rung out into dance..
And the type writer dinged, and clacked and clucked ...and reeled.
The emperor was pleased, and pleased so, he placed the writings she wrote..fit for a special place in his palace...
It was in the window sill, while her grandfather cleaned up his work shop..His shotgun boomed. Gunpowder infiltrating the nostrils. And the gun smoke rolled in like a fog.. the air was heavy like morning dew.
In the flash ..time stopping and starting all over simultaneously, her body fell limp.. creeping into the crevice of her chest, cold. Her flesh numb...
She was 4years old. This moment. This instance. It delivered her under the protection from a friend, or guardian... Her grandfather did his best to cover the terror in his voice.. To lesson the hurt. Minimize the shock. Lights dangling above the wood shop. Freckled with dark red splatter..
And yet, while laying on her side gasping for air, and struggling to make sense of the ringing echoing in her ears... Oddly, she felt safe. She felt the presence of her Angel. An angel had shoved her only an inch, but that inch would have hit her heart, and lungs. The push saved her from never being upright, and rather gave her the chance to know.. and to know how to walk right side down, and her head up high. A lesson in humility, and perseverance...
No matter how you choose to skin it.. the story never faded, nor did it grow..it simply was - white feathered wings held her.... The fields of brown golden cat tails chased one another in a gust freely along a vacant lot. Her eyes locked in on faces running across the acres like recess ringing it's bell... And then her day melted to night, while the night prepared a greeting to sunrise... Luminance of a blue moon.. saying good night moon. When the heat lifted, and evening lows and louds' nestled into the horizon, and again Daylight loads of fluff rose from the East.
She was changed. And she was going to go on to create. The art of writing. The creativity of rhythm and song. A poetic carousel... And there was going to be a long line. She had a following. And she had a purse full of positivity... and colored pens.
His gun sound loaded. Her adrenaline pumping. Shots rung out into dance..
And the type writer dinged, and clacked and clucked ...and reeled.
The emperor was pleased, and pleased so, he placed the writings she wrote..fit for a special place in his palace...
Sunday, July 4, 2010
grandpa
This head of mine is running everywhere this weekend! I'm up, and then I'm down. And then right back up again. I had this really rough evening on Friday. I began thinking of the past, and all the awesome memories I had with my grandfather. My grandpa. I was thinking how we used to go fishing...and how I hated the fishing part, but loved spending the afternoon with him. I remember the drive every summer to CF camp. The gravel road that seemed to go forever. And his impatience grew as long. Going to Odd Lots because he loves a good deal. A good deal for him can be the topic of discussion anytime of day, meal, or sitting. His generosity to me. He is not a saint, and I know that..But for me he is who I talk to. He is the most important person I have in my life. He continues to amaze me with all he knows. His independence in its own is fantastic. The man drives everywhere. He fixes anything. And he tells a story- which I'll be honest, would hold ZERO of my attention if it weren't for his enthusiasm and sparkling blue eyes. When he speaks to me, he speaks with the utmost respect for me. It was Wednesday afternoon that he picked me up from the hospital- I felt horrible even having him driving all the way to children's to pick me up, but he insisted...Well, he has lost a second tooth. His skin seems to have grayed in the past few months. A contrast from his reddish skin tone I was always familiar with. I became worried. This is the first time in my life, I felt like he is getting older. It hurts a lot. I would be devastated without him. I don't know if he knows the impact he has on me.. The absolute admiration, and unconditional love I have for this man. My grandpa is my dad. He has been there from my most vulnerable state, to now. And he never changes... He has remained a steady rock of emotional support and trust for me.
Best trip I ever went on? A Washington D.C. trip to see my uncle and aunt. We drove there, and stopped along to way to see forts, and battlefields. I was sporting the Hanson long haired hippie look and a bowling shit..and looked like street trash.. We saw the Mars rock, Aretha Franklin singing outside the Mall. We rode the subway, and the train. Best times ever ....
Best trip I ever went on? A Washington D.C. trip to see my uncle and aunt. We drove there, and stopped along to way to see forts, and battlefields. I was sporting the Hanson long haired hippie look and a bowling shit..and looked like street trash.. We saw the Mars rock, Aretha Franklin singing outside the Mall. We rode the subway, and the train. Best times ever ....
Sunday, June 27, 2010
there was a man, who yet was a boy
this man confused for child..though he no longer played with toys
Everything he did, everyone he knew, clapped at his laughter, and cried at his song.
march a full circle, round and round and right back he begins.
Not chiseled, not tall. Not large nor small,
sincere eyes of blue..
tired of being seen as a catch twenty two..
That fire, the part of man that drives to dream
it glows.. dance a dance of passion and gleam
the man wants what others have. He wants for what friends have not.
To have some, and to give, and represent for all.
his shoulders are strong.
The man's smile the future, and his backpack lesson
when there's a stumble, he braces to pickup, dust off his knees,
no matter how damp, and to endure the coolest breeze.
I'll speak for this man, I'll veer up from this slouch..
contagious as his flame,this heart this revival,
a spark to flicker, a gentle shove for kindling, point out the stage.
I pronounce a change,
and I'll face the steady climb. Though my onlookers how patient you have "be", your support, for me you gave.
This man will be proud, I'll honor his name.
Be quick now I say,
today point out that stage
Character is hard to find.
this man confused for child..though he no longer played with toys
Everything he did, everyone he knew, clapped at his laughter, and cried at his song.
march a full circle, round and round and right back he begins.
Not chiseled, not tall. Not large nor small,
sincere eyes of blue..
tired of being seen as a catch twenty two..
That fire, the part of man that drives to dream
it glows.. dance a dance of passion and gleam
the man wants what others have. He wants for what friends have not.
To have some, and to give, and represent for all.
his shoulders are strong.
The man's smile the future, and his backpack lesson
when there's a stumble, he braces to pickup, dust off his knees,
no matter how damp, and to endure the coolest breeze.
I'll speak for this man, I'll veer up from this slouch..
contagious as his flame,this heart this revival,
a spark to flicker, a gentle shove for kindling, point out the stage.
I pronounce a change,
and I'll face the steady climb. Though my onlookers how patient you have "be", your support, for me you gave.
This man will be proud, I'll honor his name.
Be quick now I say,
today point out that stage
Character is hard to find.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
wetlands
Clinging to hope, stretching for life..
sound of silence.. but on a loud-ly course.
Dark ooze thwarting the strays of light
Reeds no longer dancers in the wind,
instead a base of rusted wire... a place where day has left, and night no longer imagines.
Song of the wetlands mute.
Hum of the insects, vacant.
a million homes unraveled..
Ejected, falling apart..
Life here to tears,
While a spill, away they have turned,
hoping resolve,
it is nowhere near. Urgency not in vocabulary...
Those who play, play this playground, has lost its face.
Lost its smiling slide.. Lost her name.
Bullied, a fast begins
What is the plan? we go from here
sound of silence.. but on a loud-ly course.
Dark ooze thwarting the strays of light
Reeds no longer dancers in the wind,
instead a base of rusted wire... a place where day has left, and night no longer imagines.
Song of the wetlands mute.
Hum of the insects, vacant.
a million homes unraveled..
Ejected, falling apart..
Life here to tears,
While a spill, away they have turned,
hoping resolve,
it is nowhere near. Urgency not in vocabulary...
Those who play, play this playground, has lost its face.
Lost its smiling slide.. Lost her name.
Bullied, a fast begins
What is the plan? we go from here
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
vent
what does it take to get there? Accomplished.
I don't think I've tried hard enough. I don't think I have accomplished one thing. I've started a whole hell of a lot, and sometimes I get lucky everyone just so happens to forget where I left off. But in the grand scheme of it...I haven't finished a damn thing.
"when you want it so bad.... Put forth the effort, start with an inch."
Advice I have not applied myself towards.
It's great to see so many people i've known grow. It's comforting to see them do well. Makes me feel like that its' out there for us. For me. For who tries.
I give a damn. Thats the difference between. I truly give a damn. I have that at least. Knowing that, it does something for me...
Now I need to layout some ground for what I it is. With Questions and Answers....
How about a CF awareness / Sib's and classmates with CF?
An educational day where CF young and old give REAL insight to their stories of success, and misfortune.
4groups:
group #1 ) Expecting mother/fathers....
group #2) Siblings with CF what its like ...
group #3) Graduate (HS) or College
group #4) families with CF, that have CF kids...
At park, scavenger hunt.. It will give a chance to Give Back ,and make a difference for others in lArger capacity... I just want to make it big. BIG big....need to ind that place.
Auction. getting y hands on items others would play a raffle for.....
It's time to really try.
I don't think I've tried hard enough. I don't think I have accomplished one thing. I've started a whole hell of a lot, and sometimes I get lucky everyone just so happens to forget where I left off. But in the grand scheme of it...I haven't finished a damn thing.
"when you want it so bad.... Put forth the effort, start with an inch."
Advice I have not applied myself towards.
It's great to see so many people i've known grow. It's comforting to see them do well. Makes me feel like that its' out there for us. For me. For who tries.
I give a damn. Thats the difference between. I truly give a damn. I have that at least. Knowing that, it does something for me...
Now I need to layout some ground for what I it is. With Questions and Answers....
How about a CF awareness / Sib's and classmates with CF?
An educational day where CF young and old give REAL insight to their stories of success, and misfortune.
4groups:
group #1 ) Expecting mother/fathers....
group #2) Siblings with CF what its like ...
group #3) Graduate (HS) or College
group #4) families with CF, that have CF kids...
At park, scavenger hunt.. It will give a chance to Give Back ,and make a difference for others in lArger capacity... I just want to make it big. BIG big....need to ind that place.
Auction. getting y hands on items others would play a raffle for.....
It's time to really try.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
weird wedding...
"We're gonna be late babes" ....she continues to straighten her hair with little regard for urgency.
"are you sure we weren't supposed to turn right back there?!? " more of a fact than a question...
"yes, yes babe..this is what the mapquest said..Just..I know , okay..Stop!"..she leans into her chair, and bites her lip.
The gravel road, and the scent of egg farms shimmy their way into the Corolla.
"oh my god..." we both cover our mouths, and swallow down the urge of vomit. She pulls out hand lotion to mask the stench.. Useless.
"you gotta be kiddin...." her voice stymies to a whisper as we pull up to the church. The place is surrounded by 1975 Ford Broncos, a collection of 1980's Camarro', rickety pickup trucks, and men, women, children, babies wearing only diapers..all sporting a version of a vintage mullet. And darting inches from getting hit by our car, a teen age boy running after his mutt. His rat tail in a french braid.
we pull in next to my fathers Nissan Ultima, and walk up to the "church". I say "church"..but it's really an old pizza shop, converted.
The doors are locked. And the wedding party congregates along the front yard. The piano lady is about 30 seconds from knocking on deaths door, as she puffs away at a cigarette...I found it fascinating she was still using her portable oxygen.
The sun beats down, but it's the humidity that's deadly. And we had to be like a rock throw away from a retention pond, judging by the amount of mosquitos....That smell of egg farm burning through our nostrils. I wanted to be sick.
What the hell is that noise? It sounds like aluminum cans being kicked across the street... And the noise grows closer.
And around the corner comes a black and grey spotted goat. He pushes his way through the congregation. Pellets dribble from his rear end. He stumbles along. He doesn't give a shit, and stands right in the center of the mass. Chomping away at the grass.... he doesn't flinch a lick at the swarm of flies and nats.
The church was unlocked, but after nearly 20 minutes of sitting in the old style movie theater seats, we all marched back outside to catch our breaths...at least there was a slight breeze. The piano lady stood like a smoke stack cradling near a rusted coffee can for her "butts"..it was propping open the screen door to the entrance.
45 minutes late to her own wedding, the bride and her mother pull up... The piano lady had to be related to the mother.
"well shit! Told ya'll she'd be here..damn. Lets get dis done..come on in ya'll! " and the groom grabbed his orange baseball cap, and galloped into the church.
We all followed...like cattle.
The service crawled along. Babies deafened my dad's words. He had been asked to "marry" the shotgun wedding...Being this was family, how could he decline. ( If he had found a way, he certainly would have ...found a way)
When it was about all i could bare...the chirping of Nextels, and the snoring of the old guy in the front...We were finally dismissed.
Never seen so much joy.
It didn't shock me the slight bit that not a single person knew what the plan was after the ceremony. We had received a message on our voicemail about the reception *(they didn't send out invitations to everyone because of the cost of postage...)
So gathering round the parking lot, trying to gain some hint of destination, I over hear the groom and his friend chatting away about the his new Chevy Belt Buckle.
"When ja get dat Billy?"
"well I got this from Susan fer the wedd'n"
"i'd give you this wedding ring for it Billy" said the groom..this is like not even 10 minutes after he put the damn thing on!
So as we begin to drive out of there, lots of people from the service decide they have better things to do then head to the reception. God, i know I did... we were going anyhow,
At the wedding, the bride is told how Lovely she looks in her dress
"oh, this! I got it for 25 dollars at the second hand store! Isn't that amazing! It fits me like a glove"
Why on earth would someone be inclined to tell someone they got their wedding dress from a second hand store for 25 dolllars, on their wedding day? Wouldn't a "thank you..I really appreciate you coming today" been sufficient?!
The center pieces are those tissue paper cards that open up, and say "celebrate". Their is a "here comes the bride" banner taped to the wallpaper above the head "card table".... The bride and groom are no longer present because they had t ogo back home to the mobile home park 30 minutes away to get the marriage certificate for my dad to sign. They didn't know it was needed to legalize the marriage.
The "dj" is a best of Hall and Oats album.... played over and over and over...all 12 tracks.
The cake is a carrot cake roll..melting in the heat. And the bride strangling the groom statue begins to slide towards one side of the cake.....
Once they arrived, they stuck around about 20 minutes, before their hormones (the same ones that were the root cause of the 6 month belly she was trying to loose in her dress) became to much to handle.. So they went into the bathroom and made love. We know this because the bathroom is not sound proof the least little bit. So after about ten minutes of awkward conversation to mask the noise echoing from the stalls... we say goodbye to the bride and groom as they prance out the front door.
"this will be the ONLY TIME, and the LAST time I ever open the door for you women" shouts the groom as he slams the door to the T-bird.
"Please take one of the goldfish at your tables' home withcha all when you go...they cost us like 80 cents a fish..thanks guys"
A few tables had fish bowls in the center.... we already discussed what we were going to do. We were leaving the fish. Besides the fish at our table was eaten by some 30 year old guy in a bet while we were being seated...so it didn't matter anyhow.
He throws his can of keystone into the air, and we all watch it explode as it hits the pavement.. They speed away.
LOVE.
"are you sure we weren't supposed to turn right back there?!? " more of a fact than a question...
"yes, yes babe..this is what the mapquest said..Just..I know , okay..Stop!"..she leans into her chair, and bites her lip.
The gravel road, and the scent of egg farms shimmy their way into the Corolla.
"oh my god..." we both cover our mouths, and swallow down the urge of vomit. She pulls out hand lotion to mask the stench.. Useless.
"you gotta be kiddin...." her voice stymies to a whisper as we pull up to the church. The place is surrounded by 1975 Ford Broncos, a collection of 1980's Camarro', rickety pickup trucks, and men, women, children, babies wearing only diapers..all sporting a version of a vintage mullet. And darting inches from getting hit by our car, a teen age boy running after his mutt. His rat tail in a french braid.
we pull in next to my fathers Nissan Ultima, and walk up to the "church". I say "church"..but it's really an old pizza shop, converted.
The doors are locked. And the wedding party congregates along the front yard. The piano lady is about 30 seconds from knocking on deaths door, as she puffs away at a cigarette...I found it fascinating she was still using her portable oxygen.
The sun beats down, but it's the humidity that's deadly. And we had to be like a rock throw away from a retention pond, judging by the amount of mosquitos....That smell of egg farm burning through our nostrils. I wanted to be sick.
What the hell is that noise? It sounds like aluminum cans being kicked across the street... And the noise grows closer.
And around the corner comes a black and grey spotted goat. He pushes his way through the congregation. Pellets dribble from his rear end. He stumbles along. He doesn't give a shit, and stands right in the center of the mass. Chomping away at the grass.... he doesn't flinch a lick at the swarm of flies and nats.
The church was unlocked, but after nearly 20 minutes of sitting in the old style movie theater seats, we all marched back outside to catch our breaths...at least there was a slight breeze. The piano lady stood like a smoke stack cradling near a rusted coffee can for her "butts"..it was propping open the screen door to the entrance.
45 minutes late to her own wedding, the bride and her mother pull up... The piano lady had to be related to the mother.
"well shit! Told ya'll she'd be here..damn. Lets get dis done..come on in ya'll! " and the groom grabbed his orange baseball cap, and galloped into the church.
We all followed...like cattle.
The service crawled along. Babies deafened my dad's words. He had been asked to "marry" the shotgun wedding...Being this was family, how could he decline. ( If he had found a way, he certainly would have ...found a way)
When it was about all i could bare...the chirping of Nextels, and the snoring of the old guy in the front...We were finally dismissed.
Never seen so much joy.
It didn't shock me the slight bit that not a single person knew what the plan was after the ceremony. We had received a message on our voicemail about the reception *(they didn't send out invitations to everyone because of the cost of postage...)
So gathering round the parking lot, trying to gain some hint of destination, I over hear the groom and his friend chatting away about the his new Chevy Belt Buckle.
"When ja get dat Billy?"
"well I got this from Susan fer the wedd'n"
"i'd give you this wedding ring for it Billy" said the groom..this is like not even 10 minutes after he put the damn thing on!
So as we begin to drive out of there, lots of people from the service decide they have better things to do then head to the reception. God, i know I did... we were going anyhow,
At the wedding, the bride is told how Lovely she looks in her dress
"oh, this! I got it for 25 dollars at the second hand store! Isn't that amazing! It fits me like a glove"
Why on earth would someone be inclined to tell someone they got their wedding dress from a second hand store for 25 dolllars, on their wedding day? Wouldn't a "thank you..I really appreciate you coming today" been sufficient?!
The center pieces are those tissue paper cards that open up, and say "celebrate". Their is a "here comes the bride" banner taped to the wallpaper above the head "card table".... The bride and groom are no longer present because they had t ogo back home to the mobile home park 30 minutes away to get the marriage certificate for my dad to sign. They didn't know it was needed to legalize the marriage.
The "dj" is a best of Hall and Oats album.... played over and over and over...all 12 tracks.
The cake is a carrot cake roll..melting in the heat. And the bride strangling the groom statue begins to slide towards one side of the cake.....
Once they arrived, they stuck around about 20 minutes, before their hormones (the same ones that were the root cause of the 6 month belly she was trying to loose in her dress) became to much to handle.. So they went into the bathroom and made love. We know this because the bathroom is not sound proof the least little bit. So after about ten minutes of awkward conversation to mask the noise echoing from the stalls... we say goodbye to the bride and groom as they prance out the front door.
"this will be the ONLY TIME, and the LAST time I ever open the door for you women" shouts the groom as he slams the door to the T-bird.
"Please take one of the goldfish at your tables' home withcha all when you go...they cost us like 80 cents a fish..thanks guys"
A few tables had fish bowls in the center.... we already discussed what we were going to do. We were leaving the fish. Besides the fish at our table was eaten by some 30 year old guy in a bet while we were being seated...so it didn't matter anyhow.
He throws his can of keystone into the air, and we all watch it explode as it hits the pavement.. They speed away.
LOVE.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
MASKED mayhem
I was out tonight, and that's when I got to thinking about the past few months...
While being sick so often as of late, I started wondering how some of the kids I grew up with were doing. I started to think how bad it really sucks, that I only remember them. All I have are distant memories. I currently do not know anyone with CF. I mean, I know of them..I see them in the clinic as I walk to an assigned room. I hear them coughing down the hall when I am a patient. And I see their pictures and profiles on Facebook or CF websites... But there is nothing I can connect with on a personal level. I haven't bonded with any of them. For me it's not the same to read some blog, or message online in some support chat room. It's just not the same. It may work for others. Maybe for families of those with children that have been newly diagnosed. For me it just doesn't work. I have been there when it was so much different.....if that makes sense. The only connection that I seem to truly feel any sense of attachment towards, are the pictures I see in the clinic, or on the bulletin board hanging on 5 tower..Familiar faces of the kids that no longer are with us.
We are forced to wear masks when we are within proximity of one another. We can not shake hands. We can not hug, or console one another. We fight the same battle, but always apart.
The disease is consuming, and during our most fragile hours, overwhelming and discouraging.
It was hard to cope when it was all taken away.
I was in fifth grade when everything changed. I know alienating us from one another wasn't a deliberate act or measure of cruelty. I understand why it was done, and I get the importance of it having been addressed. The result of Cf-er's interacting with one another in close quarters, pose a greater risk of spreading Pseudomonas aeruginosa lung infections. We are highly susceptible to the mutations of this bacteria, that are proven deadly to the CF community. So, they did away with all activities. No more CF camp. No holiday parties.
I remember how hard it was to go into the hospital for weeks at a time. And I know that's an obvious statement...As a kid, age 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 whatever years old...being yanked from school for long periods of time. Missing out on relationships, and digging holes academically that were forever overwhelming to dig out of...But the thing that always made it tolerable..The part that made 3 weeks at a time,in the hospital, bearable and not so lonely...
well, that was having "friends" when I was in there.
We knew each other when we went in. When we were sick, we had each other to pass the time. We went to physical therapy together. We were able to eat dinner in the same room. There wasn't anything we felt like hiding. HIPPA didn't exist. Good and bad I suppose, but as kids we could care less about that sort of privacy. We were able to share things. When we had to get an IV, we could ask to hold each others hand. When we were scared to ask, we knew we had each other to turn to. I remember watching the older guys do their treatments.
I remember seeing those who were sicker. It was important for me to see the varying stages of the illness.
Over time it was hard not to notice the physical challenges I saw as my friends grew older. I knew there was a separation there. At an early age, I was made very aware of the kids who showed varying severity of the illness. I was lucky to be healthier then most, though it terrified me to think where I could end up. Some guys took great care of themselves, and it was obvious. While for some it was clear that they were slacking on their regimen. Personally, I've sat on both sides of the glass.
When we were in the "joint", we played all kinds of things to pass the time. I remember running around the hallways playing football. One armed, dragging an IV pole, while hacking up a lung, touch...sometimes even tackle football! We knew how much air we could put on the deep ball so that it didn't hit the information signs hanging along the ceilings. It looked like some kind of screwed up version of Arena Football the way we played down the narrow hallways. The nursing station, and a wheelchair were opposite end zones. It was a blast.
CF camp was something I was fortunate to be apart of. I was lucky enough to attend from age 5 all the way until I was 11. After that, camp was no more. It was one week without parents. And one week with each other. The councilors were great. The week was amazing.
While being sick so often as of late, I started wondering how some of the kids I grew up with were doing. I started to think how bad it really sucks, that I only remember them. All I have are distant memories. I currently do not know anyone with CF. I mean, I know of them..I see them in the clinic as I walk to an assigned room. I hear them coughing down the hall when I am a patient. And I see their pictures and profiles on Facebook or CF websites... But there is nothing I can connect with on a personal level. I haven't bonded with any of them. For me it's not the same to read some blog, or message online in some support chat room. It's just not the same. It may work for others. Maybe for families of those with children that have been newly diagnosed. For me it just doesn't work. I have been there when it was so much different.....if that makes sense. The only connection that I seem to truly feel any sense of attachment towards, are the pictures I see in the clinic, or on the bulletin board hanging on 5 tower..Familiar faces of the kids that no longer are with us.
We are forced to wear masks when we are within proximity of one another. We can not shake hands. We can not hug, or console one another. We fight the same battle, but always apart.
The disease is consuming, and during our most fragile hours, overwhelming and discouraging.
It was hard to cope when it was all taken away.
I was in fifth grade when everything changed. I know alienating us from one another wasn't a deliberate act or measure of cruelty. I understand why it was done, and I get the importance of it having been addressed. The result of Cf-er's interacting with one another in close quarters, pose a greater risk of spreading Pseudomonas aeruginosa lung infections. We are highly susceptible to the mutations of this bacteria, that are proven deadly to the CF community. So, they did away with all activities. No more CF camp. No holiday parties.
I remember how hard it was to go into the hospital for weeks at a time. And I know that's an obvious statement...As a kid, age 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 whatever years old...being yanked from school for long periods of time. Missing out on relationships, and digging holes academically that were forever overwhelming to dig out of...But the thing that always made it tolerable..The part that made 3 weeks at a time,in the hospital, bearable and not so lonely...
well, that was having "friends" when I was in there.
We knew each other when we went in. When we were sick, we had each other to pass the time. We went to physical therapy together. We were able to eat dinner in the same room. There wasn't anything we felt like hiding. HIPPA didn't exist. Good and bad I suppose, but as kids we could care less about that sort of privacy. We were able to share things. When we had to get an IV, we could ask to hold each others hand. When we were scared to ask, we knew we had each other to turn to. I remember watching the older guys do their treatments.
I remember seeing those who were sicker. It was important for me to see the varying stages of the illness.
Over time it was hard not to notice the physical challenges I saw as my friends grew older. I knew there was a separation there. At an early age, I was made very aware of the kids who showed varying severity of the illness. I was lucky to be healthier then most, though it terrified me to think where I could end up. Some guys took great care of themselves, and it was obvious. While for some it was clear that they were slacking on their regimen. Personally, I've sat on both sides of the glass.
When we were in the "joint", we played all kinds of things to pass the time. I remember running around the hallways playing football. One armed, dragging an IV pole, while hacking up a lung, touch...sometimes even tackle football! We knew how much air we could put on the deep ball so that it didn't hit the information signs hanging along the ceilings. It looked like some kind of screwed up version of Arena Football the way we played down the narrow hallways. The nursing station, and a wheelchair were opposite end zones. It was a blast.
CF camp was something I was fortunate to be apart of. I was lucky enough to attend from age 5 all the way until I was 11. After that, camp was no more. It was one week without parents. And one week with each other. The councilors were great. The week was amazing.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Who's there?
A beam of light shears through creases in the drapes. And rolls from one corner of the room to the other. The television reflects the scurrying light. You could watch all the shadow puppets along the wall return to their places; behind the lampshade, and coat hanger racks. Refocusing to the dark is only momentary. Once we adjust, we are wide eyed with ears pealed back. Our senses are on high alert. I'm scared to breath. That a single breath will reverberate like a drum roll, and break our dark cover. My eyes manage to catch hers, as I strain to make out the curvature of her hips. I can make out cheek bones, and where her lips tremble. I try to tell her with gentle motions that it will be okay, but I know by my pounding heart beat, my fear can't lie. She's scared, and I don't blame her. So was I. She was who they're after. I wasn't there. In fact before tonight, I slept with no fright at all. I slept comfortably with out disruptions day in day out. What if i just yelled? Broke the darkness with cutting rage for everyone within hearing distance? I know any rooms this side of the motel would have to hear, and call for help.
Wouldn't they? Someone would have to...Someone,right?
The car outside came to a stop. The engine then came to a tinkering die. The first door opened, and shut. Once the second door opened and shut, there was a very brief lapse of silence. Then a trunk door slammed shut. Followed by the sound of metal scrapping across blacktop pavement. She had held her breath as long as she could manage, and she released a gasp of air in terror.
We could hear two voices outside the door marked 217. Large men. Stringy hair,and greasy. Two clashing styles. One obeisant figure reaking of tar and nicotine. The other man, chiseled and wearing a tweed coat. The two of them at wits end with the chase...Ready to settle a score past due. A hardened man. A liar and cheat...
"this is their car isn't it?" said the man in tweed
His partner exhaled smmoke from his joint, and paused, showing the face of a man putting serious thought into something.
"slice the tires...and call Mark" he took another hit. "then we go in, and we talk....she can make our next move. It's on her."
"okay, done and done"
The quiet lasted about 5 seconds.....
And then there was a knock. A light rapper on the door.....
The
Wouldn't they? Someone would have to...Someone,right?
The car outside came to a stop. The engine then came to a tinkering die. The first door opened, and shut. Once the second door opened and shut, there was a very brief lapse of silence. Then a trunk door slammed shut. Followed by the sound of metal scrapping across blacktop pavement. She had held her breath as long as she could manage, and she released a gasp of air in terror.
We could hear two voices outside the door marked 217. Large men. Stringy hair,and greasy. Two clashing styles. One obeisant figure reaking of tar and nicotine. The other man, chiseled and wearing a tweed coat. The two of them at wits end with the chase...Ready to settle a score past due. A hardened man. A liar and cheat...
"this is their car isn't it?" said the man in tweed
His partner exhaled smmoke from his joint, and paused, showing the face of a man putting serious thought into something.
"slice the tires...and call Mark" he took another hit. "then we go in, and we talk....she can make our next move. It's on her."
"okay, done and done"
The quiet lasted about 5 seconds.....
And then there was a knock. A light rapper on the door.....
The
Thursday, January 14, 2010
LANE KIFFIN
January 12, 2011
Said Lane Kiffin at yesterdays press conference "I'm really looking forward to embracing some of the great traditions at the University of Southern, eh I mean, together we share, at the University of Florida, for instance the Gator Walk, running through the tunnel to the theme of jaws, chanting Orange and Blue all night long after we beat the Seminoles next year ... it will be a blast". Kiffin was hired by the University of Florida, after coaching one year as the head coach at USC. His record was (5-7). Former Florida coach, Urban Meyer stepped away from coaching, declaring "he was done." The university has voided the last remaining years of his contract. He has since changed his name to Oscar, and fallen into seclusion.
It is also reported that with him, Kiffin has appointed Offensive guru Norm Chow to head the offense, and as Defensive Coordinator, his father, Monte Kiffin. It is not known the specifics of the deal, but reports from Florida alum claim Kiffin signed a 6 year/7.5million dollar contract with incentives; one of which, to remain coach of the university for more than one season. Many speculate his committment to the university will follow his recent history.
January 20th, 2013
In the aftermath of this countries apocalyptyc election, it was by no surprise that once sworn in, President Kiffin addressed his decision to appoint father, and former USC defensive coordinator, Monte Kiffin Secretary of Defense. The selection left many many shocked and bewildered. Monte Kiffin, is best known for his imitated version of Tampa Cover 2. His "bend -but-not-break" philosophy, though proven to be effective at times on the football field, brings about a concerning uncertainty as to how he will implement it into our nations Foreign Affairs.
Kiffin Sr., when asked how he would execute the US defense strategy, he confidently stated "stress is put on speed, smarts and flawless tackling. […] A quick defensive line is a must, but the middle linebacker position is the straw that stirs the drink."
Political analysts unanimously agree our country is going to suffer more than just economically...
President Kiffin has appointed Norm Chow as Secretary of State. He spent a greater portion of his life at the helm of a bitter state rivalry, otherwise referred to as the "Holly War". While many believe his aggressive West Coast tactics, not only seem to be utterly irrelavant on many, many levels, it may also engage us with an even stronger hatred towards the United States. There are others however, that are confident his football IQ will easily transition over, for effective and efficient military strategy.
January 12, 2011
Said Lane Kiffin at yesterdays press conference "I'm really looking forward to embracing some of the great traditions at the University of Southern, eh I mean, together we share, at the University of Florida, for instance the Gator Walk, running through the tunnel to the theme of jaws, chanting Orange and Blue all night long after we beat the Seminoles next year ... it will be a blast". Kiffin was hired by the University of Florida, after coaching one year as the head coach at USC. His record was (5-7). Former Florida coach, Urban Meyer stepped away from coaching, declaring "he was done." The university has voided the last remaining years of his contract. He has since changed his name to Oscar, and fallen into seclusion.
It is also reported that with him, Kiffin has appointed Offensive guru Norm Chow to head the offense, and as Defensive Coordinator, his father, Monte Kiffin. It is not known the specifics of the deal, but reports from Florida alum claim Kiffin signed a 6 year/7.5million dollar contract with incentives; one of which, to remain coach of the university for more than one season. Many speculate his committment to the university will follow his recent history.
January 20th, 2013
In the aftermath of this countries apocalyptyc election, it was by no surprise that once sworn in, President Kiffin addressed his decision to appoint father, and former USC defensive coordinator, Monte Kiffin Secretary of Defense. The selection left many many shocked and bewildered. Monte Kiffin, is best known for his imitated version of Tampa Cover 2. His "bend -but-not-break" philosophy, though proven to be effective at times on the football field, brings about a concerning uncertainty as to how he will implement it into our nations Foreign Affairs.
Kiffin Sr., when asked how he would execute the US defense strategy, he confidently stated "stress is put on speed, smarts and flawless tackling. […] A quick defensive line is a must, but the middle linebacker position is the straw that stirs the drink."
Political analysts unanimously agree our country is going to suffer more than just economically...
President Kiffin has appointed Norm Chow as Secretary of State. He spent a greater portion of his life at the helm of a bitter state rivalry, otherwise referred to as the "Holly War". While many believe his aggressive West Coast tactics, not only seem to be utterly irrelavant on many, many levels, it may also engage us with an even stronger hatred towards the United States. There are others however, that are confident his football IQ will easily transition over, for effective and efficient military strategy.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Conan O'Brian has been thrown overboard by the executives of NBC with only a life vest.. And I wouldn't trust them for even that. Where are the backers? His support from NBC executives, which have been cashing in on his late night spot fot over a decade-where did they go? out having transgressions along side a guy named Tiger? He CREATED that time slot through witty, and creative monologue and humor. He did everything NBC could have asked of him.
They rewarded him with the Tonight Show at 1130pm. ....But with a few extra tid bits, and stipulations... Jay would continue doing his show at primetime before the late news. Conan at 1135 as expected. now 7months later, the network wants to retract the lineup by pushing Conan to 1205, adn giving Leno 1135. WHo knows where Jimmy Fallon goes, but his opening monologue seemed to give us an idea. That idea being that he is a -not very -funny- nice- guy, who seems happy at any spot, so long as he has a job. Ok "Norway," stay passive, and you'll be liked in your small studio audience.
Leno has to stand up here and say"NBC, you got it wrong..I'm back home to eat some spaghetti standing up, and you can keep Conan at his contratced time slot- 1135pm", and then get on your bike and drive off the production building, where you will be drinking vodka from a
go for it
Scattered showers had left the field a wet, soggy, muddy mess. The sun was lost in a shade of grimacing clouds. Massive collisions, bodies flopping about, made the ground shake. This was football weather; a hard-nosed, hit-em, stomp-em, grappling dog-fight.
The zebras were letting the boys play.
They are weekend warriors. Grown men refusing to listen to their receptors; ignoring the wave of pain. The trenches were a scrum for postion. Ears pinned back, with a tenacious roar, the home side pressed the visitors heals deep into the ground.
Some were electricians. Warehouse workers. A mailman and a school teacher. They gathered together on Sunday to clash like the mighty Titans.
"pu-em in" coach pronounced with a grizzled Southern tongue. His attention never left the field. He spit his chew, and wiped the excess dribble from his chin, as he knelt down to measure the line.
Dotson Riggles looked up in terror from his sandy brown mop of hair.
"who me?"
It was a plastic Cleveland Browns junior helmet, glossed over with black spray paint. It was scratched and worn, and bubbled from the heat of the sun. While others spent two weeks pay on a Riddell, this helmet was pulled from a trash pile set out on the curb.
Dotson Riggles frame resembled a tooth pick with chicken legs and a tiny head. His skin was fair and freckled. His nose sat crooked, while his eyes much to close together. This was the moment he had been waiting for! All those games he watched intently . His school days now but a distant past.
Riggles secured his hockey shoulder pads, and rushed to the field.
The players scratched and shook their heads, as he lined up on the oppositions side of scrimmage.
"who is this guy" chirped through the air. "Wrong side Opey!"a black helmet scowled.
"oh no" he thought, and his head began to spin. He turned his body to face the sideline and his color changed green. His body lurched forward as his lunch poured out. He felt much better.
He faced the right side of the ball. The rest of the field shrugged their shoulders and lined up in postion.
The man under center sprayed cadence into the air. A drizzle of sweat slipping down the flesh.
They were giants in comparison to Riggles. He was outmatched. But still he puffed his chest, and stood strong until the snap.
He shot down the sideline like a bullet. Riggles kept up step for step.
The ball was released and soaring through the air. Cutting the patter of rain drops draping the field. A tight spiral; falling near.
The two leaped to catch the ball at its highest point. Riggles eyes lining up with the ball, with pin point accuracy. His compettitor flaring with the same intensity.
Arms outstrecthed and hands ready to clamp down...
Riggles was given a chance to play ball.
The zebras were letting the boys play.
They are weekend warriors. Grown men refusing to listen to their receptors; ignoring the wave of pain. The trenches were a scrum for postion. Ears pinned back, with a tenacious roar, the home side pressed the visitors heals deep into the ground.
Some were electricians. Warehouse workers. A mailman and a school teacher. They gathered together on Sunday to clash like the mighty Titans.
"pu-em in" coach pronounced with a grizzled Southern tongue. His attention never left the field. He spit his chew, and wiped the excess dribble from his chin, as he knelt down to measure the line.
Dotson Riggles looked up in terror from his sandy brown mop of hair.
"who me?"
It was a plastic Cleveland Browns junior helmet, glossed over with black spray paint. It was scratched and worn, and bubbled from the heat of the sun. While others spent two weeks pay on a Riddell, this helmet was pulled from a trash pile set out on the curb.
Dotson Riggles frame resembled a tooth pick with chicken legs and a tiny head. His skin was fair and freckled. His nose sat crooked, while his eyes much to close together. This was the moment he had been waiting for! All those games he watched intently . His school days now but a distant past.
Riggles secured his hockey shoulder pads, and rushed to the field.
The players scratched and shook their heads, as he lined up on the oppositions side of scrimmage.
"who is this guy" chirped through the air. "Wrong side Opey!"a black helmet scowled.
"oh no" he thought, and his head began to spin. He turned his body to face the sideline and his color changed green. His body lurched forward as his lunch poured out. He felt much better.
He faced the right side of the ball. The rest of the field shrugged their shoulders and lined up in postion.
The man under center sprayed cadence into the air. A drizzle of sweat slipping down the flesh.
They were giants in comparison to Riggles. He was outmatched. But still he puffed his chest, and stood strong until the snap.
He shot down the sideline like a bullet. Riggles kept up step for step.
The ball was released and soaring through the air. Cutting the patter of rain drops draping the field. A tight spiral; falling near.
The two leaped to catch the ball at its highest point. Riggles eyes lining up with the ball, with pin point accuracy. His compettitor flaring with the same intensity.
Arms outstrecthed and hands ready to clamp down...
Riggles was given a chance to play ball.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
horses climb trees
Carnations smell like a funeral home. I don't like flowers much, but I know by bringing them, it makes her feel good. Her lips were dry and crusted. To keep her jaw shut was no longer worth the exertion. She told me she no longer slept at night. When no one was there to nurse her, she felt so lonely. Her cough was a struggle. Wet, crackily, and drowning all the way to her last twilight breath. The sound she couldn't escape, filling her eardrums, crashing like waves upon rocky shores.. even in her dreams.
She held my hand and said to me "it's the scariest place...being here......the loneliness. It makes my heart hurt. I don't want to go" her eyes swelled, as a few tears rolled down her porcelin cheeks. She looked so pretty.
When it was time for me to go, I looked over my shoulder that last time. My grandma guided me towards the door, as the little girl died. She yearned to be free. Free of that bed. Free of that hospital. Free of being sick. A child again.
She looked so... so old.
A few days later, on the eve of her 16th birthday, Tracy lost her fight with cystic fibrosis.
She and I squeeze into a recliner and watch television until the ball falls. Arguing things..Like where we could go if we had wings. Who is the fastest when the recess bell rings. Was it true that horses climb trees?
She was so worked up with the lack of CF awareness. Her idea was to write a petition to be hand delivered to the doorstep of congress advoccating change as loud as she could, with all of her breath. Sadly her lungs weren't quite strong enough, but damn her heart, and fight composed the meanest, most intimidating 4 foot nothing 15yr old this planet has ever seen! Margret RN, helped Tracy write it. It was imperrative that everyone who was dealt this deadly disease is not alone. Imperrative that state represenatives in congress, and the general public, be aware of the importance of KNOWING. It angered ger soo much that not enough was being done! Why were so many suffering in dark. Where was the compassion? Where was the understanding? Why did it have to be her.....That letter with all the signatures were lost after her death.
New Years, when the ball drops, we bang, and clammor pots and pans up and down the block. Bringing the neighborhood alive in the this very infancy of the new year. Each breath cloaking the midnight air. Memories of Tracy.
Over the years, there were others too. The boy who couldn't leave his room when there were arts and crafts on the other wing. The boy who could not catch his breath while running the cones shaped as a diamond path. I never got it back then. I didn't fully understand.
There was this TV movie I remember watching back then. It was about this little girl that had CF and when she was 8 she coughed blood. That image burned into my head.
I'm 28. It's time to wake up. My alarm was ripping my slumber from limb to limb. This morning felt different. I was just informed that my name was given to not just one, but two childhood friends first sons'. Talk about pressure! Pressure to make it the name they could feel proud of.
I was diagnosed with CF when I was at birth. My mother was a single mom, in school at OSU. She had me in a difficult time of her life. She and I lived under my grandparents roof. I loved it! She on the other hand felt what you'd expect; living with her mom and dad at age 20 with a son was hard. Hard not having anything to call her own. Hard to be a mom, when she had school and low paying job. Managing doctor visits by way of public transportation in temperatures of 30 and below. I remember watching her cry. I didn't understand. She cried because she felt like she was failing at being a mom. That it was too hard to raise a child with a chronic disease all alone. But she always managed to gather composure, and carry on.
Mom always wanted to give me the whole world, but her pocket book couldn't do it. It hurt her that she wanted so badly things for me. And she did everything in her power to give. I know now the stretches she would cross for me. She loves me. I am her son, and I love her too.
"mom, how much do you love me?" i say
"I love you infinity and beyonddd!" she says
"well, I love you more"i say
"you do? how so?"she says
"I love you all day.."i say
Now is not the time for her to worry about me. It's come a time, that time was yesterday, that now in order to "get" what I want, I have to be willing to go get it. Willing to make the sacrafices. willing to make changes. To really want it.
TO BE CONTINUED SOON......
She held my hand and said to me "it's the scariest place...being here......the loneliness. It makes my heart hurt. I don't want to go" her eyes swelled, as a few tears rolled down her porcelin cheeks. She looked so pretty.
When it was time for me to go, I looked over my shoulder that last time. My grandma guided me towards the door, as the little girl died. She yearned to be free. Free of that bed. Free of that hospital. Free of being sick. A child again.
She looked so... so old.
A few days later, on the eve of her 16th birthday, Tracy lost her fight with cystic fibrosis.
She and I squeeze into a recliner and watch television until the ball falls. Arguing things..Like where we could go if we had wings. Who is the fastest when the recess bell rings. Was it true that horses climb trees?
She was so worked up with the lack of CF awareness. Her idea was to write a petition to be hand delivered to the doorstep of congress advoccating change as loud as she could, with all of her breath. Sadly her lungs weren't quite strong enough, but damn her heart, and fight composed the meanest, most intimidating 4 foot nothing 15yr old this planet has ever seen! Margret RN, helped Tracy write it. It was imperrative that everyone who was dealt this deadly disease is not alone. Imperrative that state represenatives in congress, and the general public, be aware of the importance of KNOWING. It angered ger soo much that not enough was being done! Why were so many suffering in dark. Where was the compassion? Where was the understanding? Why did it have to be her.....That letter with all the signatures were lost after her death.
New Years, when the ball drops, we bang, and clammor pots and pans up and down the block. Bringing the neighborhood alive in the this very infancy of the new year. Each breath cloaking the midnight air. Memories of Tracy.
Over the years, there were others too. The boy who couldn't leave his room when there were arts and crafts on the other wing. The boy who could not catch his breath while running the cones shaped as a diamond path. I never got it back then. I didn't fully understand.
There was this TV movie I remember watching back then. It was about this little girl that had CF and when she was 8 she coughed blood. That image burned into my head.
I'm 28. It's time to wake up. My alarm was ripping my slumber from limb to limb. This morning felt different. I was just informed that my name was given to not just one, but two childhood friends first sons'. Talk about pressure! Pressure to make it the name they could feel proud of.
I was diagnosed with CF when I was at birth. My mother was a single mom, in school at OSU. She had me in a difficult time of her life. She and I lived under my grandparents roof. I loved it! She on the other hand felt what you'd expect; living with her mom and dad at age 20 with a son was hard. Hard not having anything to call her own. Hard to be a mom, when she had school and low paying job. Managing doctor visits by way of public transportation in temperatures of 30 and below. I remember watching her cry. I didn't understand. She cried because she felt like she was failing at being a mom. That it was too hard to raise a child with a chronic disease all alone. But she always managed to gather composure, and carry on.
Mom always wanted to give me the whole world, but her pocket book couldn't do it. It hurt her that she wanted so badly things for me. And she did everything in her power to give. I know now the stretches she would cross for me. She loves me. I am her son, and I love her too.
"mom, how much do you love me?" i say
"I love you infinity and beyonddd!" she says
"well, I love you more"i say
"you do? how so?"she says
"I love you all day.."i say
Now is not the time for her to worry about me. It's come a time, that time was yesterday, that now in order to "get" what I want, I have to be willing to go get it. Willing to make the sacrafices. willing to make changes. To really want it.
TO BE CONTINUED SOON......
DATING
The three of us were having dinner at the Olive Garden when I was told that cystic fibrosis would be a burden. A heavy weight. That it would be unfair to them.
"you're better off just you."
That rings through. I know it's silly to
Saturday, January 9, 2010
getting to know me
Not sure where this will go... I have very limited blogging experience... I'll keep it simple.
25 things about me to get this whole blogging thing under way...... here's the whirl.
1) I have impeccable timing at finding myself in just about any awkward situation. Its remarkable.
2) With as many nightmarish date stories I have been a part of, I know for a fact I am the center core of many more…..sorry.
3) I try real hard, and then some more. Persistence is my “M.O.” …..even when its only to beat a dead horse….and then beat it some more…and then again.
4) oh, that last one reminded me how I have this inability to STOP talking. I like to call it “zach’s -thirty-seconds-too-long” rule. I am enlisting ANYONE that is present at the time of my garble, to take any means necessary to pull the reigns of my awkward inflicting chatter! I’ll thank you later…
5) I am very competitive. I can’t think of much worse than coming in second place. Just the sound of succumbing to the word I “can’t” is hard to swallow…and that sounds contradicting now that I read through, because I used “can’t” twice….well now three.
6) So a mushroom walks into a bar. Asks the bartender for a heavy drink. Bartender says “why the long face Mushroom? Drinking won’t solve things, bud”Mushroom says “Tell me what will!? I mean, I’ve got no friends. No girl…It’s just not fair!..and you know what sucks!? personally I think that at the end of the day I’m a pretty FUNGI”- if you know me, you would know how I enjoy bad jokes….and the incessant need to repeat them, or to use a play of words on gift ideas.
7) I love movies. Like I really love movies….I repeat lines after a movie in the car while I’m driving, and play roles of the different characters. I can get so involved in this, that I miss my exit, or driveway. I’d see movies in a car. I’d see movies in a box with a fox. I’d see movies in a house. I’d see movies with a mouse…
8) I am scared of rodents.
9) I guess while I am omitting such truths about myself….something like 9 years back I “found” some money, and did not return it. It wasn’t more than a few bucks, but I should have returned it. “One of the hardest things in this world is to admit you are wrong. And nothing is more helpful in resolving a situation than its frank admission.”(Disraeli)… Honesty has since then been my ultimate policy. Trust is the hardest to gain, and the easiest to lose.
10) Before I die, I have to go to Australia. I want to start at “Possession Island”, and then backpack along the eastern coastline…. It’s been an infatuation of mine since I was like 6- to go to Australia, and see a platypus in its natural habitat….seriously.
11) I have three awesome brothers. Christopher, Jackie, and Rap-master V ;)
12) I’ve wanted to be a lot of things, and a superhero is one of them. I’m still waiting for that spider bite, or the chance to play submarine in a barrel of toxic goo.
13) Each time I visit this coffee shop (I’m there currently) there is this women …and she scares the “be-geeby’s” out of me! She is sitting catty-corner to me right now, and reaching into the air chanting….and she has 2 cups of coffee, a juice, and a bottled water, and a glass of tap water lined up in a row just for herself… Like always, she’ll fall asleep in her chair soon.
14) I’d do anything in my power to help a person in need. Friend, even foe…Family, or stranger. Every job I’ve shared, has been to “help”. I’ve always wanted to make a difference, and I live to lend a hand to others.
15) My friends are dear to me. I’ve been fortunate enough to have so many close ones… with that, I am the luckiest person I know.
16) I like to paint. Not great at it, but it’s something that I enjoy…
17) ok ….so I’ve always have had this dream to act one day. I want to be in movies! I want to help produce, and direct a movie! It’s going to happen.
18) Zachary. It’s my name. Zach with an “h” is fine, but I really like to be called Zachary.
19) I am very sensitive. I let the small things drag me down..and initially I’ve felt somewhat lost. BUT reflecting on those times, it seems like I’ve managed a way to pick myself up, and move on. It catches me to surprise…it’s that whole persistent thing I guess.
20) I think I should heed my friends advice and stop accepting so many girls as “just friends”.. I have a lot of ‘em… and that’s cool, but SOMETIMES it’s not all that conducive. But I love the “girl-friend-friends” I do have. They are like sisters, and that’s cool as shit! Just don’t need any more than I’ve already got!
21) the New England Patriots are my team. A record of 11-5, and NO playoff spot!? ?! Are you kidding me!??! The league better watch out next year… They are out for blood.
22) words of advice to those who pondered the thought : DO NOT buy cheese for a girl on a first date. DO NOT give a girl an instrument in a means to court her. If you don’t have a car, a job, or a place to call your own, and instead reside on your friends’ parents’ couch …well, it’s probably safe to say, that right now is better than any time, to reassess your priorities – I think dating may not be the most ideal.All of these, plus many more are bad moves. NOTE: a psychotic stripper with an angry fiance` and mother of a small child/ children, that were all unbeknown to you prior to becoming barely clothed on her couch, are not always the smoothest sailing either...i'd avoid that situation if given the chance again. And do not fall into the trap of fixing a broken appliance while on a first date. Its not a porno...you really will be sweating to fix the vacuum cleaner or such,(for example) while she watches television.
23) I am a vulture to fruit. If someone has a bag of grapes, a bowl of strawberries, a Tupperware of melon, I’ll be there.
24) Chicken and rice. Rice and chicken… It’s all good!
25) I cough, but it’s not contagious….at least as far as we know.
Referring to post 25, let me elaborate: this is a bad time to have CF..I mean, it's not that any other day is better then the next or anything...but because this is swine flu season, people automatically assume I've got it and they're going to catch it. I feel bad! I wouldn't want to use the equipment at the gym after some guy was hacking alung all over it! anyhow.....
25 things about me to get this whole blogging thing under way...... here's the whirl.
1) I have impeccable timing at finding myself in just about any awkward situation. Its remarkable.
2) With as many nightmarish date stories I have been a part of, I know for a fact I am the center core of many more…..sorry.
3) I try real hard, and then some more. Persistence is my “M.O.” …..even when its only to beat a dead horse….and then beat it some more…and then again.
4) oh, that last one reminded me how I have this inability to STOP talking. I like to call it “zach’s -thirty-seconds-too-long” rule. I am enlisting ANYONE that is present at the time of my garble, to take any means necessary to pull the reigns of my awkward inflicting chatter! I’ll thank you later…
5) I am very competitive. I can’t think of much worse than coming in second place. Just the sound of succumbing to the word I “can’t” is hard to swallow…and that sounds contradicting now that I read through, because I used “can’t” twice….well now three.
6) So a mushroom walks into a bar. Asks the bartender for a heavy drink. Bartender says “why the long face Mushroom? Drinking won’t solve things, bud”Mushroom says “Tell me what will!? I mean, I’ve got no friends. No girl…It’s just not fair!..and you know what sucks!? personally I think that at the end of the day I’m a pretty FUNGI”- if you know me, you would know how I enjoy bad jokes….and the incessant need to repeat them, or to use a play of words on gift ideas.
7) I love movies. Like I really love movies….I repeat lines after a movie in the car while I’m driving, and play roles of the different characters. I can get so involved in this, that I miss my exit, or driveway. I’d see movies in a car. I’d see movies in a box with a fox. I’d see movies in a house. I’d see movies with a mouse…
8) I am scared of rodents.
9) I guess while I am omitting such truths about myself….something like 9 years back I “found” some money, and did not return it. It wasn’t more than a few bucks, but I should have returned it. “One of the hardest things in this world is to admit you are wrong. And nothing is more helpful in resolving a situation than its frank admission.”(Disraeli)… Honesty has since then been my ultimate policy. Trust is the hardest to gain, and the easiest to lose.
10) Before I die, I have to go to Australia. I want to start at “Possession Island”, and then backpack along the eastern coastline…. It’s been an infatuation of mine since I was like 6- to go to Australia, and see a platypus in its natural habitat….seriously.
11) I have three awesome brothers. Christopher, Jackie, and Rap-master V ;)
12) I’ve wanted to be a lot of things, and a superhero is one of them. I’m still waiting for that spider bite, or the chance to play submarine in a barrel of toxic goo.
13) Each time I visit this coffee shop (I’m there currently) there is this women …and she scares the “be-geeby’s” out of me! She is sitting catty-corner to me right now, and reaching into the air chanting….and she has 2 cups of coffee, a juice, and a bottled water, and a glass of tap water lined up in a row just for herself… Like always, she’ll fall asleep in her chair soon.
14) I’d do anything in my power to help a person in need. Friend, even foe…Family, or stranger. Every job I’ve shared, has been to “help”. I’ve always wanted to make a difference, and I live to lend a hand to others.
15) My friends are dear to me. I’ve been fortunate enough to have so many close ones… with that, I am the luckiest person I know.
16) I like to paint. Not great at it, but it’s something that I enjoy…
17) ok ….so I’ve always have had this dream to act one day. I want to be in movies! I want to help produce, and direct a movie! It’s going to happen.
18) Zachary. It’s my name. Zach with an “h” is fine, but I really like to be called Zachary.
19) I am very sensitive. I let the small things drag me down..and initially I’ve felt somewhat lost. BUT reflecting on those times, it seems like I’ve managed a way to pick myself up, and move on. It catches me to surprise…it’s that whole persistent thing I guess.
20) I think I should heed my friends advice and stop accepting so many girls as “just friends”.. I have a lot of ‘em… and that’s cool, but SOMETIMES it’s not all that conducive. But I love the “girl-friend-friends” I do have. They are like sisters, and that’s cool as shit! Just don’t need any more than I’ve already got!
21) the New England Patriots are my team. A record of 11-5, and NO playoff spot!? ?! Are you kidding me!??! The league better watch out next year… They are out for blood.
22) words of advice to those who pondered the thought : DO NOT buy cheese for a girl on a first date. DO NOT give a girl an instrument in a means to court her. If you don’t have a car, a job, or a place to call your own, and instead reside on your friends’ parents’ couch …well, it’s probably safe to say, that right now is better than any time, to reassess your priorities – I think dating may not be the most ideal.All of these, plus many more are bad moves. NOTE: a psychotic stripper with an angry fiance` and mother of a small child/ children, that were all unbeknown to you prior to becoming barely clothed on her couch, are not always the smoothest sailing either...i'd avoid that situation if given the chance again. And do not fall into the trap of fixing a broken appliance while on a first date. Its not a porno...you really will be sweating to fix the vacuum cleaner or such,(for example) while she watches television.
23) I am a vulture to fruit. If someone has a bag of grapes, a bowl of strawberries, a Tupperware of melon, I’ll be there.
24) Chicken and rice. Rice and chicken… It’s all good!
25) I cough, but it’s not contagious….at least as far as we know.
Referring to post 25, let me elaborate: this is a bad time to have CF..I mean, it's not that any other day is better then the next or anything...but because this is swine flu season, people automatically assume I've got it and they're going to catch it. I feel bad! I wouldn't want to use the equipment at the gym after some guy was hacking alung all over it! anyhow.....
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