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Sunday, November 1st, 2009
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12:40 am - Norda and the Day of Birthing
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Of which I missed. Hey, my own mother forgot mine. Its what humans do apparently.
Anyway, I hope you BD was a happy occasion. I was still reviving from the worst flu I had in years. I still am, but I am up and moving about now. I think I shall live. :)
Happy Birthday and may the next year bring you all your dreams.
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| Sunday, October 25th, 2009
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7:04 pm - Yeah, its a bad season
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Seems everyone is suffering from one thing or another. Mine is not so bad since my suffering at the moment is brought on by a flu virus. I have been down for a week now, but I THINK I am getting better. My cough isn't as bad at least. I have a myriad of other issues, like diabetes and lots of aches and pains that seem to compound rather than diminish with time.
Its dark and wet and sickness and bad feelings abound. Changes are coming for all of us and people hate change. Its so easy to just keep going, even in a bad situation, than to have to do something out of the norm that will benefit one in the long run. People are like any animal in that they live in the moment. The exception is, we don't accept it and work at the making the best of it. We are self aware and have the curse of a decent memory. So we tend to live as the past directs rather than living the now and creating our own best path for the future.
My flu will be over, hopefully by my birthday on Tuesday. But if its not, its not the end of the world.
We cannot control what others think and do. We can only control our own reaction to it. That is a LOT easier said than followed. Just remember when something pisses you off, think about your reaction. What is gained by a negative reaction. And what more is gained by reacting with something positive.
You can look into the depths of hell and project your life there. Or you can project yourself into a world of light and happiness. Its in your mind and you have the ability to do it. In this very moment.
And don't even start with the "Yeah, but...".
current mood:  chipper
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| Sunday, August 9th, 2009
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4:00 pm - Sad Summer
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I had a dream a couple nights ago. I was sitting in a room and Stan (Kim's father) was there. I looked at him as he sat across from me, silently. Kim can into the room and I pointed at him. She said she knew and that he would be around to watch over us. Comforting.
Stan Garwood passed away last Saturday after a long battle with Mesothelioma. He went quickly. Kim took time off work and went to Newberg to be with him. He died the next morning. He knew everyone was going to be okay and left us. I went up there Wedesday and helped clean the place up. I pressurewashed the cement deck and hosed the walkways. I wish I could have done a lot more.
Stan was amazing. I feared him when I moved here a decade ago. He commanded respect and everyone sought him out when they needed help. He did so much for everyone. He was even a firefighter at one point. He was my idol and my hero. I thought of him as a surrogate father. Kim, her sister, and her mother held up very well. We had a farewell gathering after the funeral Friday afternoon.
I was and remain lost at the thought of Stan being gone. He was the most energetic man I ever met. He was always working on something. Up at dawn or earlier and on the go. On the tractor, fixing a car, or just doing something. The world is just out of sorts now.
I have just been so terribly sad. I, for some reason, decided to be an anchor. I fight back the tears and the feeling of a big whole ripped in my heart. I play Facebook games and try not to think about Stan. But its all I can think of. I don't want him to be gone. I just go on and hope it feels better with time. Because its hard to not just sit here and want to cry. Which, maybe I just need to do to get past it.
But, maybe its a guy thing, but I don't want anyone to see me like that. I am sure there are those at the gathering who believe I didn't care or was there just to support the family, but since I wasn't showing emotion I was okay and it didn't effect me that much. Inside I was just a brokenhearted fool.
Stan, I miss you. And I am sorry I couldn't come close to being as awesome as you were. But you gave me a role model and goals to reach for. I never had a real male role model until I met you.
To the most amazing, respected, hard-working, beautiful soul I ever knew. Here is to Stan. I love you. And I will miss you terribly.
current mood:  sad
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| Friday, May 1st, 2009
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1:09 am - Thoughts on my dad
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No one I know watches "Lost". However, last episode had an interesting scene. One man who has the ability to feel the thoughts of the dead visited a father who lost his son. The father, in tears, desperately needed to know if his son knew he loved him. The man concentrated, but as the father's son had been cremated and ashes scattered he could not read the thoughts of the deceased son.
He looked up and took pity on the father and told a lie. He said that the son knew he loved him. He took his money and left. Later, he came back to the father. He gave the father back the money. He told the father that he lied, he was not able to feel the thoughts of the son.
The father became emotional and asked why. He could have left with the money and just let the father go on believing his son loved him. The man replied that it was not fair to the son. The father looked at him with obvious pain and asked how it was unfair to his son.
The man replied thus: "If you needed your son to know you loved him, you should have told him when he was alive." And the man left. The father was in tears.
So...I thought on that. And I wondered. My father, to the best of my memory, not once told me he loved me. Its just how he was, I suppose. But sometimes there are ways to say it without saying it. Hell, almost all my memories of him are of him taking care of the family. But virtually none of him spending time with me. The only time we shared time was when my brother and I walked him around the block after his cancer surgery. He never spoke, just said thanks when it was done.
Even at the hospital, as he lay in his deathbed, all he said was the nurse might come in and tell us to go because we were too young to be there. My mom and sisters left us alone with him and I remember just watching his face. He was drugged out, yet seemed to be in pain. I had no idea what to even say. I didn't know him. When my sisters returned, they admonished Dale and I for not talking to him. At the time, I did not know he was dying. No one told me. Ever.
And I remember waking early in the morning to the mournful sound of my mom's deep sobbing. I felt sick. I pretended to sleep as she came into my room. She sat on the edge of my bed and said that dad passed away. I stared. Again, I had no idea what to say or how to react. She left the room and I heard my sister tell her that I just didn't understand. But I did.
At night, when I went to bed, I would close my eyes and pray. I would beg. I asked God to PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE bring my dad back. His meant so much to mom. I was nothing. I begged God to bring dad back and take me instead.
And I could not understand why God would kill dad. Why He would take my father. And why He would not let me take dad's place. I was nothing. Dad meant everything. And I thought God was mean. I came to understand that God was just like Santa, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy. Fake. A made up story. If there was a God, he would have brought dad back. And everyone would be happy again.
I would dream for years that dad would just suddenly show at the door. I wanted him back so much. I remembered hiding in the back seat of the car and jumping up and yelling BOO! when mom picked him up at night. I remember him making Dale and I a large batch of home made french fries for lunch when we got home from grade school.
And I knew I loved him. And he loved me. And I wish he would have been there for my graduation from high school and college.
But yeah. It would have been nice to also remember him giving me a hug. And saying "I love you". I have seen a picture of him holding Dale and I. And he was happy. Which made me happy, too.
I tell Lydia every day that I love her. And I give her hugs. She will always know what it took me decades to figure out. I love my dad, and he loved me. And that goes a long way toward making a person whole.
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| Thursday, January 22nd, 2009
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11:35 am - The Bubbleheaded Booby
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| Wednesday, January 14th, 2009
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10:51 am - If I cannot be what I dream, I will be myself.
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The point of a 12-step program is to overcome your past, to reconcile and accept it, and to move on. And you survive by finding something greater than yourself to live for. I realized this early enough on in my recovery to apply it as I know how. I applied it with purpose and realism and determination to make it last a lifetime.
I succeeded without actually following the program. Well, the program as spelled out in the book. And this is where it fails people. They follow it like its a recipe for a better life. Its not. Its a guide. It sets up the foundation. The 12-step program does not create a better life for you. You have to do that. You have to want that. And mostly, you have to mean it.
I thought it was up to me and me alone. I grew up believing that I have to solve every problem by myself. I cannot burden loved ones with them. Even if I cannot do it myself. Wherein lies the problem. We are social beings and we need, let me repeat...NEED, each other. We must open up and talk to each other. Its a basic human need. Its in our psychological makeup. Ever see how many "loners" end up "killers"? They can't cope. They can't solve their problems. They feel helpless. They act out. And not in a good way.
So, I tried self-medicating myself. I withdrew because I didn't know what to do. And I could not ask for help. I even went to a counselor and ended up just telling her what I thought she wanted to hear. She didn't care. Why would she? Because I gave her money? I knew she didn't care.
Well, after crashing the van and busting up the legs, I got with the program. I mean the program called LIFE. Its where you cope with reality. And you survive because you want to. You want to provide for your family. You want to watch your beautiful, intelligent daughter grow. She needs me. My wife needs me. I need them.
And there are times I brood and feel like a big-ass failure and beat myself up. But I remember that its all relative. The past is gone, the future isn't here yet, and I am right here right now. And whatever comes, we deal with it as best we can. And I have the added knowledge that I have done it before. I have faced down the demons. I took a deep breath and did my own bankruptcy. I saved the home from foreclosure once. I found work several times before. I know its not personal. I am not a failure. I will find work. I just can't believe its been so freaking long. Its hard not to think that the reason I am unemployed for months and months is because I just suck. The negative inner-speak tries to tell me I am a has-been. But I don't quit. I don't dwell on the negative. I search every damn day. I apply, I hand out resumes, I talk to people, I call businesses for leads.
I told the JOBS instructor that I felt useless. I heard myself say it. But I think if you ask my wife and children they would disagree. And I realized that I was letting the negative thoughts take control. I can't afford that. I can't quit. I can't give up on myself. I wake up, stay in the moment, live well, believe in myself and my abilities, and go on. I think of my family; Kim, Lydia, Dale, even the pets and how they need me and I need them. And I am good to go another day. Some days are harder than others. Some days are spent fending off crises like having power turned off or having papers served for old debts or arguing with creditors or the mortgage holder.
But dealing with them makes you feel better no matter the outcome. Better than avoiding them. Avoiding them and hiding from them and constantly putting important things off just makes you sick. Its make people angry with you. It creates ten times the problems, anxiety, and stress. And you don't need that. By avoiding life and not talking things out when you are troubled you take the risk of ending up in a crumpled heap on a dark highway with paramedics prying your broken body out of a van. And that is the truth.
A lot of people are suffering hard times today. And they will tomorrow, and the next day and the next. But each one of us has it in us to cope and deal and survive until better times. And if you are doing okay or even great right now, it doesn't hurt to talk to those that are hurting. They need to know someone cares. And rather than sneer at the guy who dares ask you help, maybe a smile instead. It doesn't cost a thing.
current mood:  contemplative
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| Tuesday, January 13th, 2009
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10:45 am - Dumbing down with a side order of Twilight
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All I am going to say about this issue is this: whatever happened to Heinlein, Asimov, Bradbury...???
When I was in school, I read "Stranger in a Strange Land". I read tomes of short stories by Arthur C. Clarke and Frank Herbert and A.E. VanVogt. I can even recommend "Watership Down". The Tarzan and Mars series were excellent. They made you think and helped expand your mind and want to learn more about science and many other subjects.
So, what is with the brainless goop being dished out today? Have you seen Disney? Its all hype and flash. They turn the stars of every show into a pop star. Why? To sell things to kids and make more money? Is this what our country is now? All I see anymore is a bunch of self-involved, mindless, clueless capitalist robots.
In my JOBS class, there is a very distinct difference between those over 30 and under. The tweenagers (twenty-somethings who act like they are 14 or 15) are a disrespectful, self-involved, thoughtless group. When the JOBS instructor left the room to make copies and talk to case managers, they all got up and went to the store. They came back about one minute before she did and they all broke out laughing. She asked if they were doing job search as required. They actually acted insulted and said shot a "YES!" back at her like she dared insinuate they might sneak out and go to the store or something.
Those over 30 tend to stay and quietly use the tools in the class to look for work. The younger ones tend to chat, use their phones for texting, and one even brings in a laptop to get on Myspace. The JOBS instructor reprimands them, but they just laugh at her and say they are doing job search. They were getting pretty loud yesterday and came so very close to just telling them to shut up or get out. Why are they there?
And Dale's post about the grammar is dead on. They do speak better than they write. But I don't know if they know how to write. Camille is almost 22 and sometimes I am amazed at the words that come out of her mouth. Lydia, at 7 years old, often has better grammar. Camille will use words like "aten". As in she has not aten anything all day. She means eaten. And she cannot say one sentence with the "F" word in there. She tones it down at times by saying "the F". Yeah, that is so much better. She was sitting in the livingroom with some people I have never seen before with Lydia in the room and there was a lot of "f...ing" this and that. I guess that is her way of stressing that she means it.
If what I have seen of the younger generations is an indication, I think this country is in deep trouble. But I can't help thinking that this is what my parent's generation thought of mine. I just see a lot of tweenagers running around acting like they are entitled to everything rather than work for it. If its there, they have a right to use it. What...they didn't pay for it? So what? Indeed.
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| Saturday, December 20th, 2008
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8:24 pm - Season of the Sorrows
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Dept of Human Services came by last Thursday night and gave me a trash bag full of wrapped gifts for Lydia. I was stunned (though I knew they were getting her something). I was pleased since I feared looking at an empty tree this year. I know Kim's parents and family got Lydia stuff, but the weather may prevent us from making there on Christmas this year. And how sad would that have been?
I wrote a friend of mine who still works at the Farm. She said she signed up for gifts from the Department, but they told her she was too late. She went to the fire stations only to be told there weren't doing the gift thing this year. She has an ex, however, who gave her some money to get her kids something.
But its rough out there. When I make my cold calls for work, the most common remark I get is "good luck!" I have been told repeatedly that people are laying off and cutting back and in the midst of hiring freezes. I am in a JOBS class supported my the local Community Services Consortium. One of my calls had the person advising me to go to the CSC. I told her I was AT the CSC. She wished me luck as well.
And last Wednesday, as the weather abated, I was one of only five who went to the class that afternoon. I noted that those that made it were the bookkeepers and office people. All the production, sales, customer service, and "anything" people stayed home. I don't know what that means, but it was interesting.
I am listening to Fleetwood Mac's Rumours album. I got it as a graduation gift in 1978, but left it in Cincinnati when I got out of a bad marriage. I found it online last night. Its solid gold, baby. :)
I also downloaded 11 Leonard Cohen albums (1967 - 2004). I then downloaded some Rasputina (three of their first albums) to round it out. But I have one question. The song "You Make Lovin' Fun" begs the question was makin' love a chore before? Ha Ha
I ran across the old Christmas photos from when dad was alive. Yeah, there was a special feeling Christmas Eve back then. I lived for it. It was a beautiful feeling. And it was gone. My step-family made Christmas a nightmare. My next good Christmas came in 1994, I think. And only because my father-in-law bought me this big, heavy, expensive leather jacket that I still have today. That gift actually touched me in a way I hadn't felt in years. Next time came my first Christmas in Oregon. Kim's family has to be experienced. I wish I had grown up around them. Well, I can't speak for how they were in until the last 10 years. But where they are open and accepting, my family was not so much.
So, I have a lot to be thankful for. Oddly, I didn't think so when I started this post. See what writing things out will do for you? :)
current mood: contemplative
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| Wednesday, October 29th, 2008
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2:17 pm - Short addendum
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I realized that this is the first time I have been able the really think about the night of the accident and even write about it. So, I can say for the record it took almost four years to wrap my brain around it all. It felt good to get it all down. But it was only just the start of the story.
current mood: contemplative
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12:51 pm - Jimmy Carter is correct
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Life is not fair. Why would it be? Life is life. Its not a program (unless you are super religious or a robot follower of your political party). Its just there. You live it. You have choices, even if you don't recognize them as such. Its called Free Will. And it allows you to make the most colossal, dumb-ass mistakes. Which is called being "human". Humans make bigger mistakes because we supposedly think.
A human will consume poison (spelled A-L-C-O-H-O-L) intentionally. A human will inhale smoke ON PURPOSE. A human will inject or ingest lethal chemicals because it "feels good". Someone can walk up to a human and say, "Pal, this substance will rot your brain." Then the human will thank that someone and then consume the substance. Humans can be really, really stupid.
November 24, 2004 was a red-letter day for my stupidity. I got off work, stopped at the liquor store (and I remember being determined I was NOT going to), dumped vodka into a bottle of Diet Pepsi and drank that poisonous concoction as I DROVE HOME from work. Oddly, I DON'T REMEMBER drinking it. I remember thinking NOT to drink it. That was strike two. (Strike one was buying it).
I started up the van and I think I recall heading off towards home. That was strike three. I blacked out. As I was later to learn, I had taken that route many times in the past four years. My brain knew the way. I ran the program. But there was no active input. My short-term memory and cognition were shut off by the vodka that I don't even remember drinking.
It was amazing. I drove down a long, dark road and I was not even conscious of it. There was a tremendous crash of folding metal and a major jolt that snapped me back to life. I looked out the window, what was left of it, and saw the front of the van curled up in front of me. It was black outside, but I knew the van was not going to go anywhere. I felt my life was done. There was not explaining this. I thought I had just fallen asleep. I denied to myself the truth. I had no idea what had just happened other than the van was crushed and I was stuck inside. Oddly, I didn't want to get out. I knew Kim would leave me. My job was over. There was no way out. I was dead.
I laid my head on the steering wheel, which was inches from my face. I heard someone talking and I saw a man telling me help was coming. I thought I was physically okay. I felt nothing below the my chest. We both noticed the light and the growing flicker. We both looked up and saw the engine flash up into flame. Oddly, I didn't think much of it. There was nothing more I could do anyway.
The man (I later found out it was the driver of the semi I struck) jumped into action. He reached in and tried to pull me out. Incredibly, as he reached in, I thought that I needed to yell. I didn't really know why. I was in shock. My life was over. I deserved whatever happened next. And if it was to burn to death, then fine. But the man ran off. He came back with a fire extinguisher and put out the flame. Somewhere along the way, he called 911. I think I blacked out again.
I saw the flashing lights come upon me. The fireman came to the door and reassured me I would be okay and they would free me as fast as they could. Free me? From what? The Jaws of Life worked away as I waned in and out of consciousness. I awoke to the feeling of something heavy being removed from my body. Then I awoke but I don't recall seeing anything, on the stretcher or gurney or whatever they used to get me into the ambulance. A male voice asked my name and kept telling me to stay with him. I didn't feel any pain. I didn't feel anything at all. At some point, I remember seeing Kim and she kissed me and I was crying that I was "so sorry". I am not sure when that was.
Again, I peeled back the blackness to hear female voices (nurses) speaking. They were inserting a tube down my throat. I gagged and threw up. I could feel it running down my face. I heard one female voice ask, "I wonder why he did that?". Another answered, "I guess it was just something he had to do." Then it was dark.
I awoke in a room with my legs all bound up. My left leg hurt a lot. I knew they were going to operate (I don't recall how I knew) and wished they would get it over with. I did not realize that it was many hours later and that the operation to put a pin in my broken femur, and put metal braces on my broken right ankle, was already over. From that point on, there was a lot of healing of mind, body, and spirit. Kim stayed with me, even through the months that followed where she had to take care of my every need. I don't know how she did it. I love her more than ever. And if anyone tells you love cannot get you through very hard, bad times, then they haven't found true love. She is my hero and my idol.
I had to go to weekly counseling through Serenity Lane that cost a fortune. Rex was in charge and he knew what he was talking about. He was inspired by me as I was by him. My family was amazing and supportive. I apologized to the kids and they seemed to take it well. They are still around. So, they saw more in me than I did of myself at that time. I have grown stronger in every way.
I found out my blood alcohol level was .196. I was the highest in my group for a time. (People came and went weekly. At one point there was a guy was was over .2). I identified with one man who had a little girl Lydia's age. He said she told him never to go back to the bad place (jail). He said that inspired him. A couple weeks later, he tested positive and went back to jail. He wasn't ready, apparently. As for me, I was done with alcohol. I have no desire for it. The thought of it makes me feel ill. And I enjoy spending time with Lydia and my family far too much to ever put that in jeopardy ever again.
Kim and Dale went to see the van after some time had passed. Kim took pictures and I could not believe what I saw. Some guy passed by and made the thoughtless comment that someone died in that one. In some respects, someone did. But someone better was born. I sent for the police report and from that and what Kim told me, I pieced together what happened. I was traveling around 70 mph and a semi was stopped while starting to make a turn in front of me. I never hit the brakes. My blackout did not recognize something out of the routine. I smashed into the back of the truck and took out the rear axle. The van bounced back, then rolled forward into the opposing lane of traffic. I don't recall how many feet away the van ended up.
A patrolman was at my side in the hospital and told me I was under arrest for DUII. After I was home, Kim had the joy of driving me to the jail to be booked. I had my picture taken, but they let me go. This was after I plead guilty and was put on diversion. I am one of the lucky one. And I mean LUCKY. So many positives came out of it. I was depressed and my job sucked and I couldn't stop self-medicating. Afterward, I learned that speaking up for myself made me feel a lot better about myself. And going home to play with Lydia and be around for my family produced much more REAL joy that and amount of alcohol could pretend to create. Alcoholic joy is a work of fiction. Its not real. Its a chemical stimulant to the pleasure center of the brain. And you need more and more eventually just to be "normal". And the havoc and pain and hardship it creates in its aftermath is not worth it. Not even close.
So, yeah, I made a big mistake and compounded it daily as I drank myself numb (and stupid). By some miracle I survived. And I worry and get upset at times because the utilities are shut off, or the house payment can't be made, or the auto finance company constantly threatens to take the truck, or the job search sucks, and on and on. But hey, if I worry, it means I am alive and it matters to me. And I don't need alcohol to cope. And I still can laugh keep it all in perspective eventually. So I must be okay. And if I can be okay, then so can anyone else. Because the battle is in your mind. And you control that.
Life isn't fair. But it is what you make of it. So why not make it happy. Even if it hurts for the moment.
And my friends and family should know that I will always be there for them. Which is something more valuable than money or gifts. Because I know they will be there for me, too.
current mood: chipper
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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| Tuesday, October 28th, 2008
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7:47 am - Happy Birthday to Norda
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I hope you have a wonderful day. I shall not make the usual "now that you are 21" joke. It is tiresome and weak!
So, now that you are 22....
Yeah, I know. Happy Birthday!!!
current mood: cheerful
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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| Friday, October 17th, 2008
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11:56 am - Super Pissed...US Bank is a thief of funds and dignity
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I have been battling US Bank over their overdraft and negative balance fee policy. They continue to abuse it. They refuse to give me overdraft protection, yet keep offering it to me. They tell me I have a positive balance and allow withdrawals and THEN tell me I am in the negative. They charged me almost $200 in fees for a $40 withdrawal that THEY allowed when I thought (stupidly by looking at my account online) I had enough to cover it. I contacted "customer service" who refused to help. So, I wrote back and they stand by their decision. So, I wrote the following back:
""Well, I think US Bank shows a poor level of compassion, decency, honesty, and willingness to work with its customer base. I have been out of work for quite some time and have had utilities turned off and had to explain to my kid why she went to bed hungry. All I ever ask for is fairness and some dignity from my bank. As I said, I totally agree that I was overdrawn and agree I should pay the fees that are appropriate. But US Bank has continually abused this policy and taken money I desperately need to survive. You have the upper hand since I need this account so I have no recourse. These are very hard economic times. People are hurting and there is a backlash coming against the banking industry for these practices. You will not even give me overdraft protection so I can at least fend off some of these excessive fees. Seriously, you are telling me that you allow a $40 withdrawal (that based on your account balance I thought I had) and I end up with $112 in overdraft fees *plus* something like $80 in negative balance fees? Its all so arbitrary and unnecessary. Your policy gives you the right (I agreed to) to charge for overdrafts. I understand and accept that. But it doesn't give you the right to go into my account and take hundreds of dollars while my 7-year-old goes hungry and the water is shut off. My only option is to find another bank or more probably a credit union. And I can make sure no one I know will ever bank with US Bank. And while I understand that US Bank is in the business to make money, it should do so ethically and with the understanding they are dealing with people's lives. Have a terrific day and try not to think my family while I try to explain why I have no food for them and why the water doesn't run. Take my fees and let your CEO have his million-dollar bonus for the great job he does. Thank you so much."
Banks have the upper hand because we let them. Let us stop giving them the power to run or wreck our lives. If anyone has a lawsuit, count me in. If anyone wants to start one, count me in. I am going to contact my state and congressional representatives. This is damn rediculous.
current mood:  pissed off
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| Sunday, September 28th, 2008
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1:48 pm - Intellectual Shutdown
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I am constantly hit with ideas that I immediately want to write about. I shut down invariably for two reasons. (1) I am interrupted constantly by things going on around me until my inspiration is gone; or (2) Once I get started I realize my thought it nothing new under the sun and delete the entry.
In short, I suffer intellectual shutdown. I feel I ultimately have nothing to contribute. I had this wonderful thought about humans being "problem solvers". This is why we love games (in all aspects of our lives) and why we thrive on believing in the supernatural. We need something to solve. If we solve everything, then we need to invent something to solve. (Bigfoot, Nessie, etc). But, again, ultimately this is something we all already know whether we speak of it or not. So, what's the point in my tossing my redundant two cents in?
I can write about my life. I started writing about last weeks job search. It went from high to low. I had THREE organizations interested. And I struck out. The end result is only that I am signed up with yet another local temp agency. I allowed myself to believe them only to be let down once again. At this point, I am only holding out for the $12/hr plateau. That is where my unemployments is and it doesn't pay the bills. But many of the jobs I have been in the running for in the $7 - $10/hr range. And in Salem. I mean, how do I survive on $9/hr and pay for 4 gallons of gas a day for the commute. Soon I will have no choice. I am hoping for a job (I am really gonna push for it) at Petco which is opening on my doorstep. They built it literally a stone's throw away.
But I log on to LJ daily and almost always start writing. And almost always log off after deleting the two lines I begin. Why this one is different, I don't know. Just felt like writing something permanent I guess.
current mood:  blah
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| Sunday, September 21st, 2008
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2:13 pm - Talk about career and have nightmares
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Dale and I got into a discussion about our past employment. Seems we share having worked for self-important, ego-maniacal, game-playing F-ers. You know, you work your ass off. You don't take vacations and you "donate" overtime. And in the end you get ass-kicked. At the farm, I was "not a good fit". That translates into I was honest and didn't play politics.
I still don't know what the problem was at KK. My boss, in true Christian fashion, did all she could to make me quit. After I had my accident, I came back to a viciously hostile environment. She just wanted me gone. I still gave her 110%. Which she said was not very good. Although I did EXCEED her expectations. And on and on.
So, I go to bed and fall into a quick, deep sleep. And I find myself driving a car with Kim as the passenger. I doze off. I realize this when I awake and I am driving down a suburban street (home, businesses, people walking) at 55mph. I panic and stomp the brakes. I see a car pulling out ahead and hear the screech of brakes.
Next thing I know, Kim and I are at some inn. The room is our actual bedroom. I wonder how we got there and Kim doesn't know, but is just glad to be there and falls asleep next to me.
It is dark, I awake to the sight of the someone seemingly trying to open the double doors that open into the room. It is the old woman who runs the inn. She is tiny with long, white hair. I ask what she wants, but she doesn't answer. The doors never open, but I turn onto my side and feel something brush my face. I open my eyes and see something white floating by my head. I am terrified. I asked if they are there to kill me. To which the innkeeper says from beyond door, "What makes you think you are not already dead?"
I start screaming until I awake and Kim asks if I am okay. It took me awhile to get back to sleep. The hairs sticking up on the back of my neck and all. :)
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| Saturday, September 6th, 2008
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2:10 pm - With a nod to Mr Spock
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Any one of us is our own universe. We control all that we see and hear and how we react to it. Trouble is that we have emotions and fears and brain chemistry that clouds our thoughts and alters our perceptions.
When I was drinking, were I Mr. Spock, I would have said it was illogical and simply stopped on the spot. The key to recovery was accepting that I did not have control and give my will up to my "higher power". In effect, you realize you cannot control yourself so you live for something greater than yourself.
But its all, simply put, a shift in perception. Nothing has changed. You are still you. What you've done is changed your line of reasoning. Spock would say you changed one illogical course for another. With the result that the unwanted behavior is changed to something else. As Doctor Phil says, you have to replace the bad behavior with something better. You can't stop, you have to supplant the urge for drink with the desire to be around your kids. You don't live to drink, you live to love.
Knowing all this means it is all in your head all the time. Which means, people are not wrong when they get angry with an alcoholic and demand to know why he just doesn't stop. Logically, he could. But the human mind is not a Pentium processor. Its a dark and mysterious labyrinth and your thoughts are a bunch of fuzzy dice flushed down that labyrinth bouncing off walls that appear and disappear with each fear and insecurity that chances to turn on or off at that moment.
If we were stone cold computers, we wouldn't need psychologists and psychoanalysts and counselors. If anything catastrophic happens, we would just reboot. When a loved one dies, they are not just a file that was deleted. Everything we do has an effect on something and/or someone else. And our lives are guided by those decisions.
When I was a kid, I shot a BB gun into some bushes to scare out a rabbit. I shot the rabbit in the head. It did not die immediately. I remember placing the rabbit in a pan thinking I could wash the blood off and I would not be a killer of bunnies. And I remember its lifeless body floating in the water. And I realized it was dead and I killed it. For no better reason than I pulled the damn trigger trying to frighten it out of hiding. From that moment on, I could not harm anything. Yeah, I still mash mosquitoes. Still, I am haunted by that rabbit.
And there was the day that my dying father asked to play catch and was turned down. No, I didn't know he was dying. But once I realized (after his death), I felt terrible. It was a reminder that even the most trivial actions can have a lifelong impact.
And so, all these things shape my life and how I react to things outside of my own body. And yes, I am my own universe which is ultimately controlled by me and only me. But life is much more complicated than that. Other universes depend on you. And your universe is invaded and you realize that you do not occupy just one, but many parallel universes.
Life is hard. And its not logical. And it is easy to lose control. So, finding a "higher power" is a big step. Its a start in the journey that removes you from you and make you part of us. And in a world full of war and hate, we can choose to be a factor for peace and love. And once we choose to make our own universe a happy place, we can begin affecting others. And that is a chain reaction I can live with.
current mood:  pensive
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| Sunday, August 31st, 2008
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2:37 pm - And it rains
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My head hurts. So I must vent.
The auto finance company keeps calling because I have made one half payment out of the last two. And the mortgage people keep calling because as of tomorrow, I will have missed two payments. Every time I think I have it, some utility comes to the door to shut me off, so out goes the money saved for the mortgage/truck. I am currently around $500 short of the AUGUST mortgage payment. Every time the doorbell rings or my phone, I jump.
I have contacted several folks last week regarding employment, but I always get "you have a good resume, but there was a guy with just a bit better..." The local paper would rather hire kids who quit every six months, I can only guess because they get away with minimum wage. I have dropped my "required salary" to what I am getting now in unemployment. But what I get now doesn't pay the mortgage. I don't know how often I have prompted local temp agencies about openings they have. I went to the offices of a few of the folk I sent resumes to, but that seems to get me emails telling me "good luck" on my continued search.
I applied for food stamps and was told I have too much income. I applied for Oregon Health Plan (not taking new people right now) hoping they would at least cover Lydia. The woman there told me to reapply later. I did. And I got a letter telling me I STILL have too much income. So, if anything happens to anyone here, what do we do?
My god, I was so arrogant when the farm told me to fuck off. Hell, I'll have another job within a month. And I banked on the temp agencies since they always seemed to find something for me before. I've sent out hundreds of resumes to every conceivable type of business to organizations in multiple cities and towns around Albany.
I go to bed thinking about what I am going to tell the mortgage people or the auto finance guy. When I do fall asleep, it is a restless sleep where I wake all through the night. I feel like I am in a constant bad mood. I snap at Lydia no matter how slight the provocation. But she seems to let it slide off her. I have lost my temper over her getting candy, her bed time, getting her to clean her room, her loose tooth, and so on. To her credit, usually when I say no, she says okay. But other people buy her clothes and school supplies and such and I feel about six inches tall because I can't provide it for her myself.
Kim, Bryant, and Lydia went to a birthday party to which I was invited. I should have gone, but my head is pounding and I just wanted some quiet time. I went outside and it started raining. And I found myself thinking, "Of course it rains." I've been tense and angry and worried.
No, no one is talking repossession or foreclosure or anything super bad. But its the daily drag of fending off creditors and juggling this bill with that payment and always being on the edge of being shut off while being harassed by everyone else.
When you are down and struggling, no one tells you they are "proud" of you. No one tells you "good job". And you've given them no reason to do so. I told Dale a few days ago that I got up that day and said to myself, I am just going to relax. I think it was last Saturday. I got up and was feeling okay. I thought I should have one day where I can try to forget the pressure and re-energize. I stepped outside. And the auto finance guy calls. And I believe within hours, the mortgage people called. And I just spent the rest of the day feeling sick to my stomach.
I know I am the one that controls how I feel. And I know that what happens is going to happen and all I can do it the best I can do. And I know things are really not too bad. But sometimes, it just feels like the mountain is caving in on me and you can only smile so long while being crushed by boulders.
Well, blah. I wish I could vent is something other than a mindless, rambling style.
Hey, you know, I must admit that I have grown a lot. I mean, I can go through a lot of crap. I can face it and deal with it. And survive. I don't crawl into a bottle and hope it goes away. I did my own bankruptcy. I had my car repossessed and didn't lose control. I SUCCESSFULLY fought off foreclosure even after my employers told me to f* off. How many can say they could do that feat of magic????
I did. So there.
current mood:  quixotic
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| Saturday, July 19th, 2008
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6:50 pm - Lydia is gone, diabetes still around
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Lydia went off with Dale to Washington to visit mutual friends. I felt like crying when I drove off from the train station. She gave me two big hugs before she left and worried that she would miss us. I said we would send pics of her cat Charlie and we would also chat on the phone every night.
I have to say one thing about diabetes. Its scary, for sure, but it gets a fella off the sugar train. At the Country Fair I didn't have the ice cream (everyone else did) because of the sugar. But I have and advantage that some diabetics don't have. If I eat anything with more than a tiny bit of sugar, I get a headache. And the more sugar, the worse the ache. I know that sounds negative. But its not. Knowing I get a pounding head, I leave sugary things alone. Which is GOOD for me.
I have no health insurance, so I do worry that my diabetes is going "unchecked". But I generally check myself out daily. How I am feeling, what is going on with my body, etc. I did have one day where my arm and hand felt like they were "on fire" and were tender to every touch. But it faded after a few hours and didn't return. Whew. My right foot has been "fuzzy" ever since the accident, but has not gotten worse. I think that may be a result of the broken ankle the swelling while in the cast. It was pins and needles at times. I recall the nurse saying if its pins and needles, at least its FEELING. They were concerned about the blood flow to my foot for a few days. Its okay now, even with the feeling of I am wearing a fuzzy sock. It has not gotten worse, as I said.
I have many aches and pains and have been feeling older than my years. And it didn't help when the pizza parlor waitress referred to me as a "senior". I am only in my 40's for crying out loud. But I feel 80. I fixed up the old bikes and have ridden one a few times. It makes my legs hurt, but after they feel stronger. I work muscles I haven't in a while. If I keep exercising them, it has to help.
Time keeps on slipping into the future ya know. :)
current mood:  okay
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| Wednesday, May 28th, 2008
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10:32 pm - Belated Rememberance
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Memorial Day has passed, but I still want to take the time to acknowledge a few folks who shaped my life.
Frank J Willaman (dad)
Uncle Earl
Aunt Aggie
Uncle Jack Smith
Uncle Charles Smith
Uncle Bobby Smith
Estelle Priest (stepfather's mom)
Jerome Priest Sr (stepfather's dad)
Jerome V Priest Jr (stepfather)
Violet P Willaman (grandmother)
Uncle James Willaman
Lorraine Shafer (Kim's aunt)
Nora Wanner (mom's friend)
Norman Cox (family friend)
Betty ("with the little eyes") Rampling
Oscar Rampling (loved their pond)
Kate Rogers (mom's friend)
Aunt Irene
Thomas Dureska (creep though he was, he still shaped my life)
Harry Dureska (a truly sweet man)
Patria Brown (Ex's great-grandmother)
Marge French (Ex's grandmother - a wonderful person)
And more that I am too tired to recall right now.
Peace to you all.
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| Friday, May 2nd, 2008
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5:59 pm - Life is great...sucks...whatever
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JOB HUNTING: I had another interview. This was odd, because it was for a company of questionable ethics. I went on the interview Tuesday morning. The people were extra nice and the interviewer actually helped me along with the answers. She seemed to like me. She said it didn't pay "anythuing close" to my minimum. My worry was what to say WHEN they offered me the job. I would have to demand my minimum. Same as before.
But, as before, they didn't even choose me. I don't know why, really, except the money. And I am NOT asking for anything unreasonable here. In face, the person and Express said it was a good range.
But I would at least like the opportunity to turn THEM down. The next candidate was a woman. The HR staff were completely made up of women. Oddly, when I saw the next applicant was female, I thought, "Well, I know I won't get this job." I have no evidence to the contrary. So, I cannot allow myself to slip into negative speak. I am too old, male, or whatever. Something good will come up AND I will be chosen!
Right?
FAMILY: Great news followed my bad news which was not terrible news. After a lifetime of estrangement, my older brother Gary and I have reconnected. And becuause -of all things- Myspace. He sent me a message via Reunion.com to my MSN email that he had a Myspace account and wanted my to approve a "friends request". This was odd, so I assumed it was phishing. And when he didn't respond, I knew it was phishing. But then he responded again, we got set up as "friends" and it WAS my older brother. And, my god, I gotta tell ya, he, Dale and I share so much in common. From likes to sense of humor. From the end of February I have read stories of his childhood and my parents that I never knew. And he is even considering visiting out here this summer.
Bad news? He had a mild heart attack earlier this week. Oh, he is home and fine. He has three stents. And his doctor told him to quit smoking (yay!) AND he found out that he, too, is diabetic. That makes three out of five of us. Dale needs to get tested soon. I don't know about the other sister. But I would guess that she is diabetic as well. This brother has a bad back (like me), too. And we all share a love of computers.
I always assumed he was not interested in the rest of the family. But he asked for contact info for the eldest sister and has sent a friends request for the younger sister. He hadn't heard from her yet, but she is super busy and no online much. But I think she will.
So, we have job hunting blues, family reconnections, bills I can't look at (makes me ill), and so on. Still, when I put it all in perspective, I think my life is fantastic. What will happen will happen. So, I can face it smiling or crying. And in school, they called me Smiley Jr (Dale was Smiley!).
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| Thursday, March 20th, 2008
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8:30 pm - Livejournal Boycott?
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My irritation with Prodigy came at what I perceived was their heavy-handed way of forcing long-time users to pay "or else". I don't like being lied to or strong-armed into action. I still have a Delphi forum, but I tend to forget its there.
Livejournal has choices to make to survive. If it comes to the end of Basic accounts, then fine. That is their decision. I know about business and its not evil. Its charge or die. Having free sites that survive on advertising is a dying model. If you want to survive, you eventually have to have subscribers that pay.
That is unfortunate since I don't have the money, no matter how little, to toss away in online communities. I now do most of my stuff on Myspace. Myspace is not just a bunch of teens looking to hook up. I am part of a community that has reconnected me with my Ohio roots. I am talking to a brother I barely knew and almost never spoke with in forty years.
So, if LJ goes pay, I must leave. Over the years, with the loss of Prodigy and Delphi. I have lost "Mr. Kite", Mike Barkatt, and a host of others. Luckily, Patty is here on LJ. But I go where the "free" communities take me. Eventually Myspace will fold or go to pay only. And if the era of free social sites ends, then I can only hope that something new comes along to keep us together.
Boycotting LJ serves no purpose. The decision is made and made out of the need to survive. They do what they have to do. And so will I.
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