Archive for July, 2011

“Now I may be an idiot, but there’s one thing I am not sir, and that sir, is an idiot.”~Peter Griffin in “Family Guy”.

This story is too funny not to share, I think.

I went out to dinner a few nights ago with my sister and her family. For whatever reason, there was a spike in activity upon my cell phone with text messages from sea to shining sea. Why exactly at that point, I’ll never know.

So as we’re driving along and trying to find a restaurant that was not closed, these flurries of text messages were coming in. Finally, when we selected one place to eat and we were getting out of the vehicle, my cell phone began to ring. I knew exactly who it was without the need to look at my phone. And I said to myself, “Ohh this will be good!”.

I didn’t begin with the opening salutation with the common response. I did not say, “hello?”, I did not say, “hey there!?”.

I answered the phone with “Hey baby!!”. My sister almost had an immediate reaction with confusion piled on with intrigue. Her husband started laughing because he doesn’t hear me talking like that a lot.

I said to the person on the other line that I was with family, having dinner and that I would call her back later. Then my ending salutation was “Love you!!”. And I hung up.

By this time, my sister went into 20,000 questions mode. Her husband still laughing and yet curious as to why in the world I would talk like that. The rest of the night, the two of them kept on and on. Relentlessly asking questions about who it was that I was talking to. I only had answered one question and that was whether or not the person I was speaking with, was my girlfriend. No, she isn’t my girlfriend.

I think that only fueled their curious nature and definitely confused them. Why in the hell would I say that to someone who wasn’t my girlfriend??

I LOVED IT! I gave a text message to the one who had called me and was laughing about it, explaining that I had given them “shock & awe”. But my female friend is used to that kind of banter and talk coming from me. We’ve been friends for years now.

I am just the kind of guy that will tell my friends that I do love them. At least those whom I know will be able to handle such a sentiment without having to Google it, and trying to define what it is I am saying to them or insinuating that the intimate expression is implied with more meaning than its face value that I am offering. Although to be fair, I don’t always use the endearing term, “baby” with them a lot either. Once again, something of banter and I know she’s used to it and doesn’t go overboard taking it too much to heart.

I realized that for one, my sister and her family don’t really know too much about what’s going on with me because they are not around me a lot to understand who it is I associate with and how it can be that I would speak to people in such a way. Besides, I don’t understand all of the time the things that they say and do either. So what one glove will fit a hand, the other will fit as well on the other.

Yet I knew all of this was going to happen as soon as the cell phone began to ring.

I’m sure by now, the gossip has spread amongst the rest of my family that I had done this. And that’s just too bad. They don’t have to like it.

And if people do not like the way that I speak or communicate with them, then they either need to make me aware of it in a kind and mature manner or they can walk away.

I am who I am, and not even the great confusion of family who grows an opinion of what they think I should do or say is going to change that. Everyone in my life is there for a purpose, and I love them for whatever purpose that may be.

I just knew that this was going to happen. So I pulled the biggest joke on my sister and her family that I ever had in years. And still was remaining true to myself and how I behave.

Still though, it was pretty funny!

 

“Whoever loves becomes humble. Those who love have, so to speak, pawned a part of their narcissism.”~Sigmund Freud

Just when I found the day that I believed there would be a change in my habits of socializing over the Internet, mainly regarding social networking sites, I found myself in a gold mine of absolute blog post fodder.

I think I changed my mind after watching the hilarious antics of a narcissist.

This woman was so intense to gain people’s attention on Facebook that others began to notice the pattern and completely shut her off.

She would begin to “roller post”. And trust me, it was A LOT! So many different posts saying the same thing over and over again. Usually, it had something to do with some pain she was experiencing. Or maybe just a bad day. It didn’t matter though, whatever it was, she was posting on her own Facebook profile. So she waited for someone to communicate with her and let her know “it was going to be okay”.

And so when she was not able to reach them that way, she would turn up the heat and contact people in other ways. She did this for the sake of having other people’s attention on her. This was every day life for her.

When nobody was showing her attention, she would go to other people’s profiles on Facebook and begin activity on them. Just looking for a comment or a response or something. When that person fell for it, she let them have it. Suddenly, they found themselves in a situation where she would go on and on and on about her own life and how it was terrible and never really give a chance for the other person to respond, or even talk at all.

Yes, even I had fallen victim to it. But twice and no more. I learned quicker than the others.

What was fun to watch was when someone would confront her about her behavior. Naturally, her walls would go up and she would get defensive. Her response would always be in her defense. Yet when she would see that her excuses were not holding water, she would stop… reflect … and then begin the process of apologizing profusely.

I use the scenario in the past tense because this afternoon I found that this woman threw a major tantrum because she was assuming that someone’s comment was cryptically all about her. She tossed me away from Facebook and moved on. Well, I personally am not going to cry any tears over it.

Still though, her mind of thinking that whatever any one had said on Facebook, male or female, friend or colleague, or someone she barely knew, it was always about her secretly.

So today, she took offense again to someone’s comment. She was just absolutely 100% sure it was about her without having said her name…. and now its “Au revoir!!!”. No skin off of my elbows about it.

Nobody that I have spoken to today who knows her mutually as I do has been impressed. In fact, she’s only closed the door on so many contacts and relationships with her poor attitude and terrible decisions. So whenever she decides to come back, nothing probably will have changed for her. She’ll start over. The humoring question is “how many people will still be around for her resurrection back to Facebook?”.

I do my best not to get so emotionally outrageous whenever I post something. I don’t always succeed, but I am working on it.

Narcissism truly is foul. Some say it should be criminal.

For now though, I’ll stick around a little bit longer on Facebook, just to find something to blog about that I find funny or ridiculous.

 

 

Mother

Posted: July 25, 2011 in Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , , ,

“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness.”~ St. Paul

The 26th of July is a date that is no more absolute in my mind and in my life than Christmas or my own birthday.

The words within the quote of this blog post are the ones written on the tombstone, of my mother.

My mother died of ovarian cancer over twenty years ago and each time when this date arrives, I am reminded of the sorrow, the loss, and the pain that my entire family and I went through on that day.

Some of you who have been keeping up with this blog already know. Some of you don’t. And for those who do not, I had promised that I would write my story of that horrible day so that you may know and understand. As difficult as it is to think about and experience through memory, here it goes.

She battled with it for about four years. I have memories of doing what I could to help make my mother feel more comfortable by massaging her feet because I have very strong hands. Most of the time, it worked. So the story really begins That Tuesday and Wednesday before, mainly Wednesday.

I was called away from the dinner table for the second evening in a row. Interrupted from eating, and called into the bedroom of my parents, to actually help give my mother a back massage. Everywhere I had massaged, my mother claimed that it hurt. She was weak and unable to breathe. My father called the local doctor and asked for him to have oxygen brought to her. The doctor replied that oxygen could be brought into the home, but it would be brought by the following day OR my mother could go into the hospital where she would receive oxygen almost immediately.

I think that for my father, it was a no brainer decision to take my mother into the hospital. I had a terrible feeling about it, but was glad that she was going to get oxygen so she could breathe. Also, I was inwardly happy that I would be able to finish eating that evening, unlike the night before on Tuesday by the time my arms were so exhausted from massaging my mother’s back, it was time for bed and food was gone.

I pleaded with my father to allow me to return to the dinner table to finish eating. He allowed it and I told my mother “I love you.” She replied, “I love you too, sweetie.” in the most shallow of breath I have ever heard anyone speak. A common whisper would have been louder by comparison in volume.

Wednesday night, my mother was admitted into the hospital. She would never return back home. My sister shouted out the same thing as my mother was being helped from her bed to the car to go to the hospital. Almost at the last possible second of being heard, she shouted out, “I LOVE YOU, MOM!”. That time though, I did not notice a response.

The following days my siblings and I tried to go on “life as usual”. We were used to my mother being in the hospital because of chemotherapy and doctor’s visits and tests and what not. Sunday, the 26th was a day that was out of the ordinary.

My father was not in the pulpit, my siblings and I were not a part of the congregation during Sunday morning. It was just “weird”. Instead, we had gone up to the hospital to see my mother. When we got there, all I could see and hear were the sounds of normal routine hospital life. Machines running and beeping. My mother’s pulse and heart rate was terribly slow, but it was there and that’s all that mattered to me at that point. If it was beeping… she was alive. I feared the long steady drone beep while we were there, I just didn’t want to hear it.

My mother lying in her hospital bed, her eyes closed. I gazed upon her chest to watch it move slowly up and down, up and down. All the indications that I needed as a child to be assured that everything was still okay.

My father called out to my mother using her first name. She jumped. Her eyes opened for about a second, then her eyes looked about the room to see all four of her children standing around her in the room. Her eyes shut again, and it was back to slow breathing and machines beeping.

Some of us started to cry. By “us”, I mean us four children. I started to as well. A nurse came in and saw that I was sobbing and she attempted to console me. She actually removed me from my mother’s hospital room and escorted me down the hall, turning the corner and placed me into an empty hospital room where I could be all by myself to cry as much as I wanted…. telling me it was okay to cry.

When I noticed my family had walked by the room in which I was sitting, I sprung up and chased after them to catch up. My father scolded me for running out, but I explained that I was brought there. He then soon apologized.

We had lunch as a family, then came home. My elder brother having to go to work at Wal-Mart that afternoon. The rest of us, who were too young to be by ourselves were kept company by a woman who had a knack for entertainment that we found dreadfully boring in our youth. The board game, “Rummikub” and the card game, “Phase 10”.

These two games whenever I see it, inwardly reminds me of that day when I lost my mother. Even though now, I do play Phase 10 from time to time with my neighbors.

By the evening of the 26th, my younger brother and I were in a fierce battle of Phase 10 with the woman who was there to watch over us. It was coming down to the wire and the game finally came to a conclusion. I thought deep in my mind, “Great! We’re done with this long boring game, and my brother is coming home and so I don’t have to play this stupid game no more!!”.

I was right. My brother came home from work and before he even had time to set down his keys, the telephone rang. By that time, I had got up from the table and refused to clean up the cards and was heading to the bathroom to use it.

For my older brother, it was like he didn’t miss a step. He walked in, kept walking and headed straight for the telephone. By that time, I was making my way down the hall to do what I had to do. But he hung up as quickly as he answered the telephone and shouted, “Everyone. Dad said ‘let’s go’.. so let’s go!”.

Then he looked at me and kind of snarled a bit for going in the other direction. I told him what I had to do, and he let out a sigh of frustration. So I went and did my business.

My older brother and I will talk about this from time to time and he honestly has no memory of coming down on me for having to use the bathroom, and profusely apologizes to this day.

After that, we got into the car and sped like crazy. My older brother ignoring most STOP signs and only pausing for one red light before reaching the hospital.

I remember staring at my sister while riding in the back seat of the car. Her face a completely blank slate. Her mind had to have been racing, just like mine was. But no emotion she showed. Just sitting there breathing softly to herself.

We flew up to the elevator and getting off, we passed the nurse station and was met up by my father who quickly pulled everyone of us four children into a conference room. We did not find this fair at all because my mother’s room was just two doors away from the corner.

My father stood there, ignoring random questions. “Where is Mom?”, “Is she okay?”, “Where have they taken her?”– and so on.

When everyone was sitting down in the room and the doctor walked in, my father announced that my mother had gone into Heaven.

Nothing but grief, pain, and tears could be felt or heard for several minutes.

I asked my father, “When?”. He told me several minutes had gone by when she had died. I looked down at my digital watch that was on my wrist and counted it off. She had died at 7:24 PM.

The doctor that was standing there suggested that we all go in to see her. Two at a time. But I was so scared. I had never seen anyone that I loved dead before. I didn’t know what to expect, so terrified of what I might see. But the doctor was encouraging and eventually I did go into her room. I went up to her side and touched the bed, accidentally I had touched my mother on the arm. I was expecting her to move. I wanted her to jump just like she had when my father called out her name that morning. But she did not.

Even a few days later when we would view the body at the funeral home, I kept hoping and believing that she would wake up.

When we came home, everyone was in tears. My younger brother and I went to bed, staggering to get ready. Filled with grief. He and I shared a bedroom and even slept in a bunk bed. I remember listening to the sounds of my younger brother on the top bunk crying his heart out, it was unnerving. I had never heard him cry like that before and haven’t since.

My mother’s battle with cancer was finished. She also was no longer with us. I had no idea that young, what it would be like without a mother. She was a stay at home mother because of the special needs of me having a disability. She did everything for me. And I mean, EVERYTHING. It took my older brother almost a year after that to teach me how to tie my own shoes.

For many years, I would always think that “If I only didn’t have to pee, things would have been different…”, however that would take a long hard lesson to know, that was not true.

Personally… I was utterly lost and alone. Everything would change. My father would pick up where my mother had left off, because he felt he needed to. My father would eventually re-marry and I would grow and learn as I would need to.

Still, with each 26th of July that passes, nothing in the world surpasses the moments where I will think about my mother. Even after so many years that this happened, it is like it happened just a few days ago.

I will listen to the song that my mother & I would sing together whenever we would hear it on the radio, and think of her fondly.

I’m still here, mother. I love you.

This is too stupid to have been made up. We have our IDIOT for July!

Last night, I was chatting with my best friend when I heard a horrendous noise like someone was dragging something along the outside walls of my home. When the noise had stopped, I saw that one of the wheelchairs that I have sitting on my patio area was knocked over and the other one was missing.

These two wheelchairs are of no real good use to me, unfortunately. They both have seen their better days and so I had then folded up and put up against the wall so that I can use them as patio furniture.

But one was missing. I looked around and saw a man walking up the sidewalk with my wheelchair at his side. When he saw that I had spotted him, he lifted it up into his embrace and tried to run.

All I could do, was laugh. The wheelchair that he took was in the worst condition of the two that were there. And so he got away. But not before I could see who it was.

This morning around 8:30, I was scared out of my wits when there was a long and loud thrashing upon my door. When I finally opened the door, who did I see?

THE MAN WHO HAD STOLEN THE WHEELCHAIR IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!

Like I said, I couldn’t make this junk up if I tried.

He gave me a “hand-written” note, and he smiled.

The note said:

“Your wheelchair is of no good use and does not function properly to the best of its abilities-Therefore I am returning it.”

That is true. The wheelchair will eventually become unreliable soon as it has really been through a lot.

But the situation from this morning gets better. He SIGNED the note.

I reported the incident AND him, and within 20 minutes he was arrested.

What a moron to first steal, then return. But what makes him more of a moron and the winner of this month’s Idiot Award was the fact that he did return it, and he told me about it!!

I asked if whether or not this guy was capable of functioning mentally but the officer said “Probably not.” So he might have been on drugs.

So congratulations “Bernard”. You’re an IDIOT!!

 

 

 

“There comes a time when the witch must be brought down by the fires and returned to the place from where she came from, in order to save all of humanity.”

My return to the local pawn shop has brought me another step closer to making my ex-girlfriend a vanishing memory.

The monstrosity ring that I had purchased while I was in that relationship, was SOLD. The gold ring was by far, something that was ugly or gawdy. It just held too many negative memories for me.

And now, the ring finger on my right hand feels funny and awkward because there’s nothing there. But in time, that will go away. And I won’t have to be reminded of it, of her, or of anything in the past four years.

I was also able to pay the interest on the other ring that I had received a loan on. It didn’t do anything towards getting it back, it just allowed me to pay on it longer and had given me a later due date before I lost it.

Yeah, having the money is fine and everything. But considering what I paid for it and what I sold it for, was only 38% of the price I had paid when I bought it. Things could ALWAYS be worse!!

I believe there is more positives to this situation than negatives. So I made the decision to dump the bad memories and do what I can to retrieve what is good.

There’s a lot on my mind today. And I am thinking that there will be more blog post this week. At least though now, I can put this jewelry thing to rest.

“An apology is the superglue of life. It can repair just about anything.” ~Lynn Johnston

An apology is define as “an expression of sympathy, pity, or regret.”

We can be sorry to find the news that someone is having a rough time. We also can be sorry to know that the person’s negative situation has become worse. But we can also be sorry because we have feelings of regret from what we have said or done.

In the English language, an apology can be expressed by using just two words: “I’m sorry.” It doesn’t take a lot of breath and it doesn’t take a lot of time to express. Two words. More and more I am finding that the English language can be used to say so much by saying so very little.

Situations happen in life to where we must apologize to another person. Or that they must apologize to us because of some kind of circumstance in which that person had done wrong. And a lot of what was previously broken can be fixed by simply offering that expression of regret. Yet it is only half of the link because the person receiving the apology must be willing to forgive and forget.

No matter what we do in life, we’re going to make mistakes. We’re all human and full of fallacies. Once we realize that what we have done or what we have said was wrong, that feeling of shame and regret swallows us whole to the point where we feel that because of what happened, the world has now become totally FUBAR.

Once we apologize though, we get that feeling of the weight being lifted off of us and we begin to heal and feel better. Then all can be right in the world once more. All it takes, is two spoken words.

I’ve done my share of wretched and stupid things. I’ve said things that I shouldn’t have and done things that should not have been done. And I have also felt that regret. When I do, it feels like the biggest and darkest suffocating cloud is surrounding me until I am able to offer an apology in which I had done wrong. Whether or not they tell me that it is forgiven, is their choice but I know that I have expressed my remorse for my words & actions and expressed to them that I am acknowledging what was done was wrong towards them.

There’s a lot of situations in this world that can be solved as well as healed with an apology. Someone must have the strength to say it though. Too many people are at war with one another and they don’t have to be, if only one of them would say they were sorry. And this is not to say who to point the blame to either. When the olive branch is extended, it should be treated as such- no matter who was at fault.

There are some people that have done wrong to me. And I know that if they were to just come to me and say that they were sorry, then the relationship can begin to heal.

So think about it when you’re so angry and pissed off because something happened that went really bad for you. Could the situation be solved with an apology? If you think so, then do it!

Showing or expressing regret is often necessary. A lot of people just don’t know how to do that. And that in and of itself is a shame. Nonetheless, often an apology is just the right thing to say and do in many situations in life where two or more people are fighting so much that their relationships are being torn apart because they focus more on their anger, wrath, and revenge rather than admitting their guilt and remorse.

 

Before anyone begins to cry foul over this post, let me just say that I am going to try to handle this specific subject matter with as much ease as possible, so that my own discernment is not misunderstood.

If I were to add a quote along with this post as I have in many posts before, I think that we all know which would be the preferred selection. This is about assumptions. And since we all already know one by heart, there really is no need for it to be posted here.

With being the totally social person that I am, in that I love to meet new people and make friends, there are those times when an introduction is made and right away I can tell that it probably isn’t going to work out in the end. And so instead of suffering through from beginning until I’ve reached the inevitable end, I simply make the choice not to go after it and allow it to dissolve on its own. Still, I have been told that people have enjoyed my company for one reason or another. I believe that it is always nice to hear something like that. Of course, who really wants to hear something like “You are totally boring! Go away!!”. Well… those who are self-sadistic maybe, but not I.

I have found myself in the past week at three different times, being pulled into a game of “match making” shall we say? Nothing thrilling to write home about by any means, but I guess something to break the monotony of this week’s slow activity. I was introduced to some people by some others that I know.

All of that was fine, until I found out that the reason why these people decided to make the introductions in the first place- was because I have a physical disability and the people in which I was being introduced to some people who ALSO had some kind of disability.

Now I am not talking down against the actual act of the introduction to these people. I am sure that they are wonderful in their own ways as every one of us really and truly are. But what I am vehemently against was the assumption that this person knew two people with disabilities, I and the other person, and believed that some sort of connection would be made based on that fact alone.

As I stated, this happened three times with three separate people over three separate events. The fourth? Well, I actually did find some merit within that person and some interest, so I stuck with it and traded my contact information with them. But the other three was solely based on the other person’s assumptions that “we’d get along great!”, because we have something in common.

Well no, not really. Two of them had different disabilities than mine. Far different lives they live than I do. I can only imagine what they have to go through on a daily basis and by comparison would probably bet money that my life is a bit easier than theirs. But because of the only commonality between these people and myself were that there was a disability… doesn’t always mean that we will automatically end up giving each other the label of BFF.

Yet I was really nice and polite with everyone involved in these awkward instances. It was no surprise to myself and to the other disabled people that we did not make that perfect fit for a friendship. The ones that made the original introductions, stood there scratching their heads in great confusion.

One of them literally came up to me and whispered, “I don’t know what’s going on! I thought you two would hit it off… because you two are so alike, with the wheelchair and all.”

WHAT?!??

#1- Clearly, you are mistakened. #2- You do not know me as well as you thought you did. #3- You did not think this all the way through.

The commonality in this specific example was the fact that the other person uses a wheelchair for mobility. They were not born with Spina Bifida, nor do they have any kind of physical disability in which they deal with on a day to day basis that is medically based. They have the need for the use of a wheelchair because in their past, they were struck by a train and are now confined for the rest of their life to a wheelchair. That was the only thing that was in common.

I really wished that society would think twice before making decisions like these. It really would get rid of any kind of humiliation to be suffered by any one, including those who have made the decisions to assume. Then, it would have been a lot easier on everyone with no pressure.

Now had I gone up to my colleague and they said, “Oh hey, this is ______ , they were struck by a train a few years ago and now use a wheelchair.”, then that probably would have gone over a lot easier than assuming that they would make a perfect match. (Even though it probably would have offended the person from the train accident for having someone else volunteer their personal lives. Probably to the point where it would have still gone over better if they had left it to me to ask them why they were disabled.)

Who knows what could’ve happened then? I might have been able to make a new connection and friendship. But because it was based on an assumption and the entire situation was made uncomfortable for every one there, it failed.

Just because I like women with green hair and three boobs, doesn’t mean you should come up to me and assume that I am going to like your friend who also has green hair and three boobs. Or even white hair and three boobs. You probably just should allow those kinds of decisions to be left up to be made by me.

So I hope that I have not come across like some jerk in this post. Life is frustrating enough for me personally without someone trying to make me into a character from a novel by Anne Rice. Having people lump me together with another group of people based on an outward appearance that shows commonality. It is ridiculous. And I don’t have to say just how stupid it is to assume.

My humiliation from these experiences wore off when I departed from them.  The same probably goes for the other people in which I was introduced. But those who dared to assume that they had someone that would be “perfect” for me will probably bear their shame for some time to come.