Sunday, September 23, 2012

A Good Feeling

I have been through hell in my life, as has been documented in this blog before. But, here I am at this point, both personally and professionally happy. I worked hard to get here. I had a lot of help, but I worked hard to get here. So, I guess this is a 8 week early Thanksgiving post. I am thankful for all I have gotten and the luck that has crossed my path. I should have been dead the day I was born, not to mention other times when there were some close calls. I have been accused in this calendar year of only caring about myself. I cop to that. Why should I lie? Those who know me, likely see it. They know it. I've always been ego-centric. It stems from the feeling that I need to take care of me. From an early age my parents instilled, if not demanded due to work conditions, that we be responsible for out well being and that we take ownership. I had to look out for me. I grew up short, light-weight, and easily stepped on. If I didn't watch out for me, I wouldn't have made it here alive. I don't apologize for it, I don't expect you to understand it, but I do expect you to embrace it because it is who I am, it's how I am able to survive in this cold, dark world. I want to thank the many doctors, nurses, medical technicians, hospital launderers, and my few family and friends who have guided me along this path. This righteous path that led to a young man who hated himself, who though himself unworthy of love, unworthy of anything, came out the dark end of a tunnel that brought me to redemption. As I enter my 7th, yes 7th, year of teaching I find myself professionally in a solid place where I am more often than not happy with my teaching than disgusted with my teaching. I will never strive to be perfect, I don't think that highly of myself to ever be at that place. But, I am in a place where I feel respected, and if not understood for my oddities that have come out at work since the transplant as I left my hair down, I am accepted as a person who is a professional. Finally, I find myself madly in love with a woman three thousand miles away from me. It's the biggest source of angst and frustration in my life, which is to say, my life is fabulous. My sister will meet her during xmas vacation and I expect they will get along splendidly, if not too splendidly as I expect to take the brunt of the barbs. As I get to the end of this pst I just have to say for those searching, not for their soulmate, but for just something as simple as happiness, that it is out there. I hope it finds you. Take it from someone who was for a long time neck deep in self-loathing despair, even depression... it gets better.

Monday, July 23, 2012

I am engaged to not be married…

So, I have been living life for 30+ years on this planet. All through my years I never wanted to play the dating game, not really play it. I always had a basic set of variables that I felt must be met before I would even consider "dating" someone: No kids, ever. A fellow non-believer. A liberal democrat who was also interested in political & current events discourse in a sometimes intelligent manner (& sometimes hyperbolic manner). Someone who didn't have to get me, but understood & appreciated my oddness. Moreover, a sense of humor that isn't restricted by political correctness. My standards/criteria, I understood, were insanely unrealistic. Not to mention my penchant for not being "chatty" to even some of you who know me well made finding someone extremely unlikely. However, through random chance & dumb luck, I have been lucky enough to find someone who shares all those things & more. As I have written before, she makes me laugh. She also makes me a better man & she makes me want to be a better person. I love her, she loves me, there will be no children in this family. So, as of Saturday night/Sunday morning (timezone dependent) & after asking for her hand in marriage (kinda, more on that later), we are engaged. Her name is Jennifer. She is 50+. She is taller than me by far. She worked in childcare. She is currently unemployed. She resides in Seattle.

Friday, September 17, 2010

Would you rather...

work for a woman who is a bitch or a guy who is a prick?

They are two totally different characters and personalities that have differing affects on the working environment they oversee.

I think I know my answer...

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Monday, May 24, 2010

A Paradox of Sports

I love watching professional sports; I'm a massive Red Sox fan, a big Celtic fan, a good sized Bears and Red Wings fan.

Yet, I despise the jock mentality, the jock attitude, and the ethos.

I don't read fiction very often. Hell, I don't read books period often (short of children's books for my job). I read non-fiction periodicals.

I lived in my real-life hell as has been documented previously in my childhood, yet I find comfort in trying to know and understand reality.

This is why I prefer watching sports and political/current events shows than a plethora of television shows.

In a weird way, sports, while a game, is reality. It's certainly more reality than "reality tv."

There are storylines, there are plotlines that sports writers spill ink about. But, those are largely ficitonalized, contrived stories of bloviating bloviators.

The reality is the action. There is no script. There is no director. There is no producer. There are only actors. Yes, it is a game.

In the scheme of things, these games mean nothing. But, neither do movies, tv shows, nor even fictional stories, or other works of art.

But, sports is spontaneous. Sports is happening now. You can sneak a peak to the end of a movie, or a book. You cannot do so with sport.

There was no way this Sox fan could fast forward to see that incredible, history-making event of Dave Roberts famed steal of 2nd base that vaulted the Sox to overthrow the dreaded Yankees, winning a whopping 4 games straight.

No screen writer would have, could have, written that with a straight face.

I love professional sports. I do. I am picky, however. *shocker!*

I love it for the real drama, the pageantry, and the sheer unpredictability of events.

It is often said that all fiction books follow one of a scant few models, arcs, whatever they're called. There are simple formulas writers can follow to get out a very good story. This is not meant to diminish to writers of good books. I respect them highly. I just am not one who cares for that type of entertainment on balance.

I say all that above about sports acknowledging, even knowing, that those people are too cool for me. They would have nothing to do with me in reality.

So, perhaps that is why I like them: I can't have them. But, I don't think that is it.

There are the bad things about sports that I don't like: I've railed against steroids in baseball, I've called for the NBA to get a clue about some of their blatantly bad & possibly corrupt refs, I don't really like the fact that some players on my own favorite team are paid ridiculous sums of money to hit a baseball as hard as they might...but, nothing is perfect.

Some actors/actresses get paid $20 million per picture, so I chuckle about those opining on A-Fraud get over $20 million per year. Yes, people doing both of these jobs are laughably overpaid. I am a teacher, I think I should get a few of those dollars to add to my bank account.

But, there are imperfections with everything. I do not apologize. I will go on loving the sports I love, with all their flaws. I will try to persuade for changes to be made when changes are needed *cough* re-configuring the divisions in MLB *cough,* but I will continue to watch in amazement at the ability, the drive, the effort of some of the finest athletes in the world.

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Everything & Nothing

I had a post in mind today, but my thoughts ran jumbled and mixed through my feeble mind.

I had everything to say, and yet nothing to say.

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Uno & Affirmation

One year ago on this date, I was chopped open & was delivered a new liver. Happy anniversary to me!

I've been thinking about this post for a while as one might imagine, and I had several ways to tackle what I wanted/felt the need to say.

However, lately a sentiment has crept into my brain:

As of today, I have changed the new year's celebration for myself. This date will now be my new New Year's date.

And with all new year celebrations, comes those silly resolutions. I never believed in/subscribed to those silly resolutions because I thought they were silly things people told themselves to make themselves feel better.

Kind of like religion, ironically...but, I digress...

The past month or so, I have desperately sought to change something for the better. What I have come up with may be a ginormous bite that I can't even begin to chew on, but it's what I've come up with.

A highlight of my week is walking my dog and listening to the curmudgeonly Tony Kornheiser rant and rave about topical things on his Washington D.C. radio podcast.

I am a curmudgeon, a loner, a person who doesn't generally like people; I want to be left mostly alone.

My man Kornheiser typifies what I am in many respects, minus the bank account.

I want to change something though. Despite what someone once told me about nothing good coming out of trying to change, I'm doing it anyway. (Ironically, this person changed some things about themselves for the better recently, so it's weird that this person holds said belief.)

It will be virtually impossible to change this thing. It's not in my nature, it's not in my DNA, it hasn't been my life experience to do such a thing or think such a way. I will try it to the best of my ability though:

Affirmations - in New Age and New Thought terminology refers primarily to the practice of positive thinking - fostering a belief that "a positive mental attitude supported by affirmations will achieve success in anything."

I am going to TRY to think more positively about things via affirmation. Try. Yes, try.

First, I would just like to give a shout out to the doctors and nurses who cared for my ignorant ass. In all honesty, there was really only one day in which I was a total jackass. Otherwise, I treated them extremely well, and they did so in kind. I owe them a lot and I tell them so every time I go in. This anniversary is just as much of a reflection on me and my ability/willingness to fight, but their skill, professionalism, and their heart.

Finally, many thanks to the very select few who provided great comfort & great assistance during this difficult time for me.

Thank you!

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Day 12 - Internal & External Hell

I'm beginning this post with a few lyrics from Aimee Mann's song "Real Bad News:"

"You don't know, so don't say you do --
You don't.
You might think that things will change,
But take my word --
They won't
You paint a lovely picture,
But reality intrudes
With a message for you
And it's real bad news"

I start with those because at this point I had thought things had changed for me, but, I got the bad news that they hadn't really.

This day really starts the night previous, when I got the newsflash that they were considering opening my body back up to fix a problem that had become apparent and do some exploring into seeing what was going on:

Exploring and surgery are not words I prefer to hear together. Last time I'd heard those words, my father ended up dead on an operating table.

To say I was alarmed at this news, would be an exaggeration. I immediately got on the horn to my mother who had abandoned my ass only a few days prior. I had to beg her to come back to ensure things would be okay. She was hesitant to come back, and I could tell she was trying to weasel out of doing so.

I spoke to my uncle who is a doctor, and had him speak to some people. But, I wasn't satisfied, and I lay in bed most of that night annoyed and frustrated. And, scared out of my ever lovin' mind.

My aunt came in and spent the night in my room on a very uncomfortable bed, but not-a-bed thing. I was THAT upset.

Back to Day 12 morning and shortly after waking up, a man came sauntering into my room looking all fancy in dress pants, a dress shirt, and a tie. Mind you I had never seen this man before. EVER. EVER!

He said hello and introduced himself as "Dr. blah blah blah." Okay I thought. What do you want?!

He informed me that they were going to wheel me into surgery "this morning" and he wanted me to sign some forms.

YYYYYYYEAH. This poor bastard made a grave mistake because I lost my mind. I started bawling like I had never bawled before; Not even at my father's funeral, which I didn't bawl at, I was just in total shock (think I still am in a way). There was some serious nasal discharge going on. I used a whole mini box of crappy hospital tissues :)

To say the least, the doctor was caught completely off guard, and he was eventually made to talk to my uncle and explain to HIM why he wanted to do what he wanted. In my rage, in my frustration, and in my fury, I knew enough that I wouldn't sign anything until I got the answers I wanted.

I knew my uncle would get the rational questions and technical questions asked and answered sufficiently, and moreover he could explain to me what was going to happen and provide his opinion.

Eventually, things got answered, I was mollified and shortly thereafter I signed the two papers necessary to open my stomach back up. I called my mother to say it was on, and before I had time to notify anyone else, I was wheeled out of my room.

The last thing I remember before going dark was being in the operating room, which was totally cool. By that time, I had mentally processed the problem, rationally realized WHY this needed to be done and I was relaxed.

Their big mistake was NOT telling me WHY and WHAT they were going to do the night before. I needed more lead time to process the event. I would have been largely fine.

When I awoke later in the day, I remember sitting in my room and asking to get the damn catheter taken out and checking out how much swelling I gained back. I had made some great progress on taking the swelling down and I was going to be pissed if I gained all that back. I had only gained a tiny amount, which was good.

I got a report on how things went, what they did, and that the bloodwork was already looking much better. I felt better too.

This was the very last major hurdle to the path of exodus from the hospital. This was the worst day of the 3 weeks for me personally. It marked the end of the beginning and the beginning of the end.

Further updates on days will come later.