yes it is true, a mistake that only I will have to pay for. I bought a chocolate bar and while sampling it, ate the whole thing! Yes, between 8 and 9 pm. Not good, oh the chocolate was excellant. The eating at this late hour, not good. It was laden in caffeine and I will likely suffer consequences. Those will be a bit of insomnia and I can't really afford that, now can I.
Wait! No work tomorrow, just a little meeting at a decent hour. I will be able to read a little and then go to sleep. I have a method for getting to sleep and it works every time!
Sunday, December 29, 2013
Saturday, November 30, 2013
Living as a child, I looked up to adults, because I was short and they were taller. Not only that, but my parents lead me to believe adults had the authority to know what was right and what was wrong. That I should listen to them because they had a heck of a lot more experiences and especially teachers had college educations and were worldly and knew a lot more than I!
My insanity started long ago and I wasn't insane until I started school. I wasn't insane at first, they conditioned me into insanity. The education system has no room for those who think differently and I was one of those. I am still one of those and finally I had a moment of clarity or several along the way and made some changes. I continue to make changes. One of the biggest was don't take anything, that stopped my downhill roller coaster ride to self destruction!
The disdain for myself came from years in the public school system where I was marginalized by administrators, staff, educators and my peers. They would tell me over and over that feelings I expressed were imaginary, that I made them up all without investigating to see if they were in fact real! And they were real. But because I was told that my own nature was impossible, that sent me into despair and desolation, self rejection and self punishment. I was cast into a the a pool of confusion and chaos. I was being made into a crazy person because no one could figure out what kind of sanity I was operating in.
The people who were supposed to be helping me were making me insane.They told me I was behaving badly, that I was doing so on purpose and in spite of them, that I was a hateful child. They said things like "if you don't straighten up, you will end up in jail for crimes against society. And that is what happened! Because they told me who I would become, I became that person because adults at the time were the authority and they knew what was right and what was wrong. I must be wrong, they said so. When I became wrong on purpose, it was to shut them out. I did a good job of it, but in doing so, I also deprived myself of growing up and had to do that when there were some interventions. They stopped my roller coaster ride to self destruction.
A psychologist once told me she was surprised I was not in prison with an extended sentence. I avoided that at all costs, although I was arrested and went to trial many times, there were almost always some circumstances that weighed in on my cases. Thank goodness I didn't kill anyone. Notice how I said not kill anyone? That is because I used to hurt others and myself. I certainly hurt myself the most. I stunted my emerging from childhood, from adolescents and into adulthood by a couple of decades! It has taken a long time to slow down my self abusive nature. I am still struggling with it. I have still been on a downhill ride with sugar and food that is not good for me, probably the basis of my whole makeup! I am not making huge changes, just little adjustments, 2 steps forward, 1 step back kind of exercises.
I did lots of one or two, or 3 day jail stays. One time I ended up in a straightjacket in a rubber room on a 5150. That was when I was 22. That was 41 years ago. I vowed never to be put into that kind of situation again, ever!
I have to keep putting my age in front of my face to believe that I am 63 going on 25. It is hard to imagine, but I am getting the picture. My inner adolescent tells me things, and inner child is there too. And I am sad that I spent so much of my younger life insane with frustration, pain and anger. Explosive anger that almost always got me in jail, even landed in jail when I was maybe 45 or so. The police were real nice about it, they kept telling me I didn't have to go if I did or said something, except my stubborn streak came in and it wouldn't let me do what they said to keep me from going. I don't think I even listened or if I did, I didn't consider all the options. I have struggled with everything since I went to public schools. I would have faired no better if I had gone to private schools. I probably would have been on a slow burn there too, except they would likely have kept me longer to keep the money rolling in from my parents. There was a point my father wanted to send me away to military academy! That would have changed everything or made it turn over much faster. It is what it is. I am who I am from the forming I received in my earlier life. It is at the core of my process, but change is also taking place and I am grateful for the ability to look into changing.
I resist change as much as anyone. There is a difference though it seems to me. Some of us recognize that change is inevitable and we must help ourselves along this path toward the ultimate change of our spirit leaving our bodies.
My insanity started long ago and I wasn't insane until I started school. I wasn't insane at first, they conditioned me into insanity. The education system has no room for those who think differently and I was one of those. I am still one of those and finally I had a moment of clarity or several along the way and made some changes. I continue to make changes. One of the biggest was don't take anything, that stopped my downhill roller coaster ride to self destruction!
The disdain for myself came from years in the public school system where I was marginalized by administrators, staff, educators and my peers. They would tell me over and over that feelings I expressed were imaginary, that I made them up all without investigating to see if they were in fact real! And they were real. But because I was told that my own nature was impossible, that sent me into despair and desolation, self rejection and self punishment. I was cast into a the a pool of confusion and chaos. I was being made into a crazy person because no one could figure out what kind of sanity I was operating in.
The people who were supposed to be helping me were making me insane.They told me I was behaving badly, that I was doing so on purpose and in spite of them, that I was a hateful child. They said things like "if you don't straighten up, you will end up in jail for crimes against society. And that is what happened! Because they told me who I would become, I became that person because adults at the time were the authority and they knew what was right and what was wrong. I must be wrong, they said so. When I became wrong on purpose, it was to shut them out. I did a good job of it, but in doing so, I also deprived myself of growing up and had to do that when there were some interventions. They stopped my roller coaster ride to self destruction.
A psychologist once told me she was surprised I was not in prison with an extended sentence. I avoided that at all costs, although I was arrested and went to trial many times, there were almost always some circumstances that weighed in on my cases. Thank goodness I didn't kill anyone. Notice how I said not kill anyone? That is because I used to hurt others and myself. I certainly hurt myself the most. I stunted my emerging from childhood, from adolescents and into adulthood by a couple of decades! It has taken a long time to slow down my self abusive nature. I am still struggling with it. I have still been on a downhill ride with sugar and food that is not good for me, probably the basis of my whole makeup! I am not making huge changes, just little adjustments, 2 steps forward, 1 step back kind of exercises.
I did lots of one or two, or 3 day jail stays. One time I ended up in a straightjacket in a rubber room on a 5150. That was when I was 22. That was 41 years ago. I vowed never to be put into that kind of situation again, ever!
I have to keep putting my age in front of my face to believe that I am 63 going on 25. It is hard to imagine, but I am getting the picture. My inner adolescent tells me things, and inner child is there too. And I am sad that I spent so much of my younger life insane with frustration, pain and anger. Explosive anger that almost always got me in jail, even landed in jail when I was maybe 45 or so. The police were real nice about it, they kept telling me I didn't have to go if I did or said something, except my stubborn streak came in and it wouldn't let me do what they said to keep me from going. I don't think I even listened or if I did, I didn't consider all the options. I have struggled with everything since I went to public schools. I would have faired no better if I had gone to private schools. I probably would have been on a slow burn there too, except they would likely have kept me longer to keep the money rolling in from my parents. There was a point my father wanted to send me away to military academy! That would have changed everything or made it turn over much faster. It is what it is. I am who I am from the forming I received in my earlier life. It is at the core of my process, but change is also taking place and I am grateful for the ability to look into changing.
I resist change as much as anyone. There is a difference though it seems to me. Some of us recognize that change is inevitable and we must help ourselves along this path toward the ultimate change of our spirit leaving our bodies.
Mourning the passing of my cat Jerky
Not much to write here. Lots of thoughts, missing my cat. Lot's of death in the last 1 1/2 years as my sister MFC pointed out when we spoke today.
Going to pal around with a friend and Shut up and Eat! SE Gladstone and SE Cesar Chavez.
Got to go, go, go! Am
PM Took a hot tub at a place I was checking out 7 years ago, before I even moved here. Thing is, never went there for one reason or another. Sometimes it takes an event that is devastating to our emotions to make a course correction. I have been making some minor course corrections. Putting Jerky down, caused an intense pain and although I was expecting it, the momentary suddenness of the event yesterday took me off guard. Here and not here, my little fluffy ball of full is now a cold lifeless body. Something we are become eventually. Our spirit goes out when our life ends. I am surprised her spirit hasn't come to visit. We were together for 10 years. I never punished her, she had me under her paws. I was slave to her, willingly, sometimes I wished I wasn't, but knowing that day would come eventually and then loving her. Loved her.
Part of the discussion I had with the vet was I wouldn't do this to my mom, felt my own mortality, wouldn't want anyone to put a needle in me and take my live. We are survivors, fighters as was Jerky. Jerky was a survivor. She had survived whatever it was that she lived in before she moved to CA. She survived the woman who gave her up, who was to young to have developed feelings for her cat that I found for her cat. She survived her ailing health. She was beginning to suffer and I couldn't let her suffer her failing body, her failing bodily functions. I couldn't let her and so gave my permission for the vet to inject her with first the powerful sedative, which I think actually slowed her down so much, that just a drop of the other powerful drug, stopped her heart. I was holding her when she stopped breathing. I new even before the vet listened for her heart. I knew and still know the pain of losing her. That pain is probably compounded by my guilt for taking Busters life, by my own mothers death in April. My own mortality and what is my purpose? What have I accomplished? It doesn't seem like much now. Will it seem like much later, not likely. I won't be being so hard on myself. I won't be as grief stricken as I feel now. I wouldn't dare write this on Face Book, I am not so secure in feeling about writing it here, but wtf. I really don't care. I haven't seen my work associated with anything. It is just writing.
it is what I have been doing to sort out my feelings when I get really down. Down. Tomorrow I will straighten up and take care of getting rid of some of Jerky's other things. I already took her food and water bowls out. Next her cat little boxes and the big red carpet that kept her from totally ruining the wood floor in this small space. I have another carpet that is smaller I will install.
And then Monday, back to work. Back to the job that wants us to believe everything is as it was before we left for TG break. Not the same. We'll see how it goes. We are going to have some weather this winter, I think it will snow a bunch, even in the valley. It will certainly snow up in the West Hills. I did last year, the year before and the year before that. It snows up there even when it doesn't snow down here. That is enough for this. I published time originally was 11:45 am about 24 hours after I took my sick cat to the vet. Took me 24 hours to write something about my feelings more than the shallow entry put on FaceBook, to let my friends know.
PM Took a hot tub at a place I was checking out 7 years ago, before I even moved here. Thing is, never went there for one reason or another. Sometimes it takes an event that is devastating to our emotions to make a course correction. I have been making some minor course corrections. Putting Jerky down, caused an intense pain and although I was expecting it, the momentary suddenness of the event yesterday took me off guard. Here and not here, my little fluffy ball of full is now a cold lifeless body. Something we are become eventually. Our spirit goes out when our life ends. I am surprised her spirit hasn't come to visit. We were together for 10 years. I never punished her, she had me under her paws. I was slave to her, willingly, sometimes I wished I wasn't, but knowing that day would come eventually and then loving her. Loved her.
Part of the discussion I had with the vet was I wouldn't do this to my mom, felt my own mortality, wouldn't want anyone to put a needle in me and take my live. We are survivors, fighters as was Jerky. Jerky was a survivor. She had survived whatever it was that she lived in before she moved to CA. She survived the woman who gave her up, who was to young to have developed feelings for her cat that I found for her cat. She survived her ailing health. She was beginning to suffer and I couldn't let her suffer her failing body, her failing bodily functions. I couldn't let her and so gave my permission for the vet to inject her with first the powerful sedative, which I think actually slowed her down so much, that just a drop of the other powerful drug, stopped her heart. I was holding her when she stopped breathing. I new even before the vet listened for her heart. I knew and still know the pain of losing her. That pain is probably compounded by my guilt for taking Busters life, by my own mothers death in April. My own mortality and what is my purpose? What have I accomplished? It doesn't seem like much now. Will it seem like much later, not likely. I won't be being so hard on myself. I won't be as grief stricken as I feel now. I wouldn't dare write this on Face Book, I am not so secure in feeling about writing it here, but wtf. I really don't care. I haven't seen my work associated with anything. It is just writing.
it is what I have been doing to sort out my feelings when I get really down. Down. Tomorrow I will straighten up and take care of getting rid of some of Jerky's other things. I already took her food and water bowls out. Next her cat little boxes and the big red carpet that kept her from totally ruining the wood floor in this small space. I have another carpet that is smaller I will install.
And then Monday, back to work. Back to the job that wants us to believe everything is as it was before we left for TG break. Not the same. We'll see how it goes. We are going to have some weather this winter, I think it will snow a bunch, even in the valley. It will certainly snow up in the West Hills. I did last year, the year before and the year before that. It snows up there even when it doesn't snow down here. That is enough for this. I published time originally was 11:45 am about 24 hours after I took my sick cat to the vet. Took me 24 hours to write something about my feelings more than the shallow entry put on FaceBook, to let my friends know.
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Always a challenge to follow through on ideas
Each time I think of a plan of action it goes by the wayside. It is not uncommon to compare this feeling of not being able to follow through with 2 steps forward, 1 step back. A common trait of being human and interacting with all the thoughts flowing through each and every one of us to some degree or another. I was coming here to work on my latest incarnation of a book I am supposed to be writing, but decided to work on it off line in my word program. Decisions with me are at best impulsive, making my job as a school bus driver easier than if I had no impulsivity like some. Trying to get my assets lined up and using them is more difficult than I had imagined.
I am learning a lot about patience and working towards goals, something that impulsive people get frustrated with, at least this one does. So with that small entry, adios' and until we meet again. :)
I am learning a lot about patience and working towards goals, something that impulsive people get frustrated with, at least this one does. So with that small entry, adios' and until we meet again. :)
Saturday, February 16, 2013
I started a new blog, the abyss
I started another blog, the abyss. It is my second jump into the deepest and darkest of thoughts and expressions. I will, I hope to, I can't remember, I don't hear to well, I hear to much but it is all without the filters others have.
I can't was my early mantra because I would get so frustrated with all the inputs into my brain that I couldn't function even with the simplest of actions. Then I would say, "I can't!" People used to say things like of course you can, now try. They didn't know, I couldn't tell them and even if I did tell them, they weren't hearing what I said.
I continue to relive moments from my past because that is the way my brain works. My brain throws out memory bites of the past and that part of my recollection is as though it were a moment ago. On another note, I don't recollect what I read, what I watched, what you said, what I said. It is the way I am and I have been living with this way for at least 58 of my 63 years of age. I am trying to navigate around it because my condition causes me to blurt out inappropriate expressions from my past, appear not to be paying attention, distractions. I am bored here writing about this because I write about it over and over. I don't seem to make much head way with writing it down and moving on.
I'm planning on going to the gym tomorrow. I am starting slow and working into a routine. I have to go at actions slowly, work into them or I get fearful or bored or self conscious. Part of my on going issues are low self esteem from all the abuse I got as a kid mostly from my dad, from gym class and the punks who used to beat me up there. That is my old gym fear. And the coaches.
Now the gym is a completely personal experience. It is something I am doing for myself, to feel better and I do. I get the endorphins and they add to my confidence, my self esteem. Ah, you say, you are 63 and you should be over that. Those are all things we grow out of. I think there are people who don't grow out of a lot of things that happened in their past. We can replace the bad feelings with better feelings and those better feelings will shine over the old feelings and that is how we survive.
I can't was my early mantra because I would get so frustrated with all the inputs into my brain that I couldn't function even with the simplest of actions. Then I would say, "I can't!" People used to say things like of course you can, now try. They didn't know, I couldn't tell them and even if I did tell them, they weren't hearing what I said.
I continue to relive moments from my past because that is the way my brain works. My brain throws out memory bites of the past and that part of my recollection is as though it were a moment ago. On another note, I don't recollect what I read, what I watched, what you said, what I said. It is the way I am and I have been living with this way for at least 58 of my 63 years of age. I am trying to navigate around it because my condition causes me to blurt out inappropriate expressions from my past, appear not to be paying attention, distractions. I am bored here writing about this because I write about it over and over. I don't seem to make much head way with writing it down and moving on.
I'm planning on going to the gym tomorrow. I am starting slow and working into a routine. I have to go at actions slowly, work into them or I get fearful or bored or self conscious. Part of my on going issues are low self esteem from all the abuse I got as a kid mostly from my dad, from gym class and the punks who used to beat me up there. That is my old gym fear. And the coaches.
Now the gym is a completely personal experience. It is something I am doing for myself, to feel better and I do. I get the endorphins and they add to my confidence, my self esteem. Ah, you say, you are 63 and you should be over that. Those are all things we grow out of. I think there are people who don't grow out of a lot of things that happened in their past. We can replace the bad feelings with better feelings and those better feelings will shine over the old feelings and that is how we survive.
Monday, December 31, 2012
365 or 366 days ago and onward from there
I must note, that if you read my writing on occasion you will notice that it is not very organized. I jump all around with it. I heard once that a real writer will organize what they intend to write, editing all in their heads before putting it to words in a document. I'm not like that at all and for a long time considered that I was not a real writer. Unpublished, barely considered, but a writer no less. What I am attempting to point out here is that although I am not an organized writer, I am not an organized anything. Not an organized mechanic either. This is what this is about, plus what happens because of circumstances of a person who is unorganized doing the best he can with what he has. I have gone bak and reviewed some of my other writings on this subject and it looks like I didn't give as many details about this situation.
On Dec. 30, 2011 I was trying to determine what was wrong with my van. It had died at the auto parts store and wouldn't start again. I couldn't get it going, so I called the two company and had it towed to the front of the house I lived in at the time. Not my house, if it was, I would have put it in the driveway.
I didn't do the things I should have to determine what was wrong with it but decided it was the fuel pump. I ordered a used one and it had to come from Salem. I proceeded to block the tires and jack the van up off the ground. At the time I only had two jack stands and decided that the back would be jacked up because the drain for the fuel tank was in the front area of that tank.
Having accomplished the jacking and putting stands under the support points I got the drain pan and proceeded to drain the nearly full tank of fuel from my van. This was not a very well planned project on my part obviously if I had a nearly full tank of gas. I had never attempted to do this particular job on any vehicle, but had the maintenance manual guiding me along.
I didn't make a tool list and bring all the tools I thought I would need on this job up from my basement room where they were living along with my cat and I. I had brought tools I thought might be needed, but overlooked some and hence made a couple of excursions back into my basement room to retrieve more. It had been raining out earlier and was on and off through out the day. Swell, rain, cold and laying down in the street under my precariously looking jacked up van draining gas and loosening holding straps and all. In order not to tramp through the house with wet feet I opened up the side entrance and used the back door that leads to the stairs that go to the basement.
As the fuel continued to drain into the containers I had lined up for that task I went to the house to make another pot of coffee. I went to the back door entrance and wiped my feet good on the rug I had there for that purpose. I made the pot of coffee and drank a cup. Then I went back out to the van and the flow of gas had stopped. It took me about 2 hours to drain all of that without spilling large quantities on the street. I inspected the tank and there was an extension to my ratchet wrench that I needed and I proceed to go back to the rear entrance and back to the basement tool box. I stepped inside the door, wiped off my feet and took 2 steps down the stair and then I lost my footing and there was a huge pain in my right knee! I described it to people as 15 on a scale of pain 1-10. This must have been the one of the worse pains I have ever felt. Time was suspended with me hanging in the air and then just as unexpectedly gravity to over and I was laying on my back on these hard concrete stairs with a huge pain in my right knee. When I was able to get back my senses other than the pain, I realized I was in trouble, big trouble!
I had to get myself upright and continue down the stairs. I had to find something to help me walk and found it as a bamboo staff that I had hanging around having found it on my school bus route. Then I had some assistance walking, but my knee was really painful. I got a couple of slats of plywood I had accumulated from projects and made a splint and wrapped these with duct tape on the outside of my pants to keep my knee supported. I had to go back up the stairs and that was extremely difficult and painful now having a useless right leg that was now immobilized by a splint. 9 steps to the top, slowly.
Once upstairs had to put all my tools into the van, lift my 60 pound floor jack into the van and generally clean up my mess. That took about an hour or so it seemed. I still had to figure out how I was going to get to the doctor. This was serious and needed some attention from medical professionals. I noticed my neighbor two doors away and hobbled over to him and asked him if I could get a ride to the clinic.
I got the ride and then a ride home from another friend and my landlord made a detailed incident report. He was very annoying taking an hour and a half to write down all that had taken place, trying to cover his ass for the situation, suggesting reasons for me slipping on the substandard stairs that we had discussions about in the past. He tried suggesting that I stepped in some gas and that I was at fault for the whole thing. I was just like in an auto accident, not admitting fault. He was grilling me and I told him a couple of times he was asking for to many details and working on to many assumptions. I should have just told him I'm sorry, I fell and the pain in my leg is tiring me out. You have the general picture of my situation. You see he is a manager in a production company and feels that he had to get all the details, get me to admit to some fault perhaps so if I sued him, he would have my statement from the day of the accident to refute anything I might say later down the road.
I had friends who advised me to sue his ass, take his house etc. I am not like that, I was just hoping his home owners insurance would cover my medical expenses and my loss of work wages. I found out later the insurance doesn't cover that. He would need to have another policy, a business policy because he was renting to me. Of course, it was essentially an illegal rental situation and I was shit out of luck. He did admit 50% responsibility, but in his way of thinking my 50% cancelled out his 50% and he didn't owe me shit. I'm sure his friends and family are telling him he is lucky that I was so dumb for not suing his ass. I already told him at some point that is not who I am. It is important to me to be who I say I am and not change my mind. I did go to a mediation service who essentially told me I would have to get him to come in too. I decided, since I was still living there that I didn't want to make it more uncomfortable by getting him to take time away from his time to haggle over him compensating me for some of my costs. That was what was suggested by my sisters. After hobbling around town seeing people I decided it was more trouble than it was worth in stress.
Today, on the last day of a rather tough year, I have regained about 85-90% of the use of my right knee. It will likely never be 100% of what it was, but I am now walking with more stability than I had up until about July-Sept. of this year.
My living situation changed back in Oct. when I moved back to SE Portland renting space from some friends. It is rough, but way better than I was doing a for the previous 2.5 years. Onward to the next year, another birthday. Going to be 63 in 30 days, oh woot! I hope that the President will address climate change and end all war that USA is involved in! No more drone strikes, no more polluting fossil fuel companies, no more rain forest devastation! No more plutocracy, back to democracy!
On Dec. 30, 2011 I was trying to determine what was wrong with my van. It had died at the auto parts store and wouldn't start again. I couldn't get it going, so I called the two company and had it towed to the front of the house I lived in at the time. Not my house, if it was, I would have put it in the driveway.
I didn't do the things I should have to determine what was wrong with it but decided it was the fuel pump. I ordered a used one and it had to come from Salem. I proceeded to block the tires and jack the van up off the ground. At the time I only had two jack stands and decided that the back would be jacked up because the drain for the fuel tank was in the front area of that tank.
Having accomplished the jacking and putting stands under the support points I got the drain pan and proceeded to drain the nearly full tank of fuel from my van. This was not a very well planned project on my part obviously if I had a nearly full tank of gas. I had never attempted to do this particular job on any vehicle, but had the maintenance manual guiding me along.
I didn't make a tool list and bring all the tools I thought I would need on this job up from my basement room where they were living along with my cat and I. I had brought tools I thought might be needed, but overlooked some and hence made a couple of excursions back into my basement room to retrieve more. It had been raining out earlier and was on and off through out the day. Swell, rain, cold and laying down in the street under my precariously looking jacked up van draining gas and loosening holding straps and all. In order not to tramp through the house with wet feet I opened up the side entrance and used the back door that leads to the stairs that go to the basement.
As the fuel continued to drain into the containers I had lined up for that task I went to the house to make another pot of coffee. I went to the back door entrance and wiped my feet good on the rug I had there for that purpose. I made the pot of coffee and drank a cup. Then I went back out to the van and the flow of gas had stopped. It took me about 2 hours to drain all of that without spilling large quantities on the street. I inspected the tank and there was an extension to my ratchet wrench that I needed and I proceed to go back to the rear entrance and back to the basement tool box. I stepped inside the door, wiped off my feet and took 2 steps down the stair and then I lost my footing and there was a huge pain in my right knee! I described it to people as 15 on a scale of pain 1-10. This must have been the one of the worse pains I have ever felt. Time was suspended with me hanging in the air and then just as unexpectedly gravity to over and I was laying on my back on these hard concrete stairs with a huge pain in my right knee. When I was able to get back my senses other than the pain, I realized I was in trouble, big trouble!
I had to get myself upright and continue down the stairs. I had to find something to help me walk and found it as a bamboo staff that I had hanging around having found it on my school bus route. Then I had some assistance walking, but my knee was really painful. I got a couple of slats of plywood I had accumulated from projects and made a splint and wrapped these with duct tape on the outside of my pants to keep my knee supported. I had to go back up the stairs and that was extremely difficult and painful now having a useless right leg that was now immobilized by a splint. 9 steps to the top, slowly.
Once upstairs had to put all my tools into the van, lift my 60 pound floor jack into the van and generally clean up my mess. That took about an hour or so it seemed. I still had to figure out how I was going to get to the doctor. This was serious and needed some attention from medical professionals. I noticed my neighbor two doors away and hobbled over to him and asked him if I could get a ride to the clinic.
I got the ride and then a ride home from another friend and my landlord made a detailed incident report. He was very annoying taking an hour and a half to write down all that had taken place, trying to cover his ass for the situation, suggesting reasons for me slipping on the substandard stairs that we had discussions about in the past. He tried suggesting that I stepped in some gas and that I was at fault for the whole thing. I was just like in an auto accident, not admitting fault. He was grilling me and I told him a couple of times he was asking for to many details and working on to many assumptions. I should have just told him I'm sorry, I fell and the pain in my leg is tiring me out. You have the general picture of my situation. You see he is a manager in a production company and feels that he had to get all the details, get me to admit to some fault perhaps so if I sued him, he would have my statement from the day of the accident to refute anything I might say later down the road.
I had friends who advised me to sue his ass, take his house etc. I am not like that, I was just hoping his home owners insurance would cover my medical expenses and my loss of work wages. I found out later the insurance doesn't cover that. He would need to have another policy, a business policy because he was renting to me. Of course, it was essentially an illegal rental situation and I was shit out of luck. He did admit 50% responsibility, but in his way of thinking my 50% cancelled out his 50% and he didn't owe me shit. I'm sure his friends and family are telling him he is lucky that I was so dumb for not suing his ass. I already told him at some point that is not who I am. It is important to me to be who I say I am and not change my mind. I did go to a mediation service who essentially told me I would have to get him to come in too. I decided, since I was still living there that I didn't want to make it more uncomfortable by getting him to take time away from his time to haggle over him compensating me for some of my costs. That was what was suggested by my sisters. After hobbling around town seeing people I decided it was more trouble than it was worth in stress.
Today, on the last day of a rather tough year, I have regained about 85-90% of the use of my right knee. It will likely never be 100% of what it was, but I am now walking with more stability than I had up until about July-Sept. of this year.
My living situation changed back in Oct. when I moved back to SE Portland renting space from some friends. It is rough, but way better than I was doing a for the previous 2.5 years. Onward to the next year, another birthday. Going to be 63 in 30 days, oh woot! I hope that the President will address climate change and end all war that USA is involved in! No more drone strikes, no more polluting fossil fuel companies, no more rain forest devastation! No more plutocracy, back to democracy!
Sunday, November 11, 2012
This might just be to personal, but so what?
I'm sure I've been in love in the past. In the not to distant past as well. I've never known how to qualify love, having not understood exactly what it was. One of the age old questions is how to define love. Those who are in love, fallen or grown into it don't seem to find the need to have it defined. Those of us who are or may not have been and lost it seem to keep seeking it out perhaps. Some of us don't.
Some of us just remain isolated not know that the love has always been in our hearts. It was put there before we were born. Being born is a shocking experience for many of us and we lose track for a while. Some of us grow up into households that don't know about love and ours is pushed way down. Some of us are nurtured and we know what love is.
Sharing love is the tough part I believe. I am sure I was in love in my 20's with a woman who shall remain anonymous. At least, I thought it was love. But how could it have been, when she just thought of me as a friend. I was infatuated for sure. I remember calling out her name when I thought I was going to die the second time.
I made a vow when I was 12 to never get married and have children and kept true to that vow. Maybe I cursed myself and that is part of why I never did. I never felt responsible enough to barely care for myself, let alone another person or two. I have always felt immature and as though my peers were growing up and I was still 12 years old, except my body was aging, but my mind didn't feel older. When I was around people my age or a little older, I had no confidence and that really was part of the problem, then the lack of focus was a huge issue and it was compounded by drinking. But the worst part was my confusion and chaos that circulated in my head.
My mind is still giving me that same old story, but it has aged, now it is thinking like I should have been thinking at 32. I am 62 and here is what I wrote about that the other day on a napkin no less:
It is obvious to others from my grey beard, wrinkles and age spots, I am an old guy. It only became obvious to me when I turned 60 & 2. Years later and still resisting age in my mind. This is probably something we all experience. I am no different in that respect. Of course, who can say what my chances of companionship are, because that is really all I am after for the most part. I am not really looking for it. My thing is to become infatuated with someone who is not available either by distance or emotionally or something. Infatuation, imagination something else we all share. And can someone at my age actually find a person who is attractive to more than my retirement account? That is an issue. Can we just be friends, without fear of becoming to close or to distant? Can we let the guard that surrounds our hearts down a little to actually take a risk.
You see my 32 year old brain doesn't really look closely at me and when I go shopping for instance and a young woman smiles at me, it is my 32 year old who is flattered and I am now learning that she could be smiling because I am an aging old guy who might have once been 32 but I am not going to ask her out or for her phone #. That happened yesterday and I discussed it with my male friend who was shopping with me. I said she could have been smiling for the stated previous reasons and because she saw my long hair and that I was with someone that I am not just a boring old guy, but one who has been pushing against the system for longer than she has been on the planet. I am not interested in a woman who is half my age. I have nothing to prove nor the retirement account to put on a flashy front. I am just a guy who never figured out until the last 20 or so years what my relationship with the rest of the world is supposed to be like.
Some of us just remain isolated not know that the love has always been in our hearts. It was put there before we were born. Being born is a shocking experience for many of us and we lose track for a while. Some of us grow up into households that don't know about love and ours is pushed way down. Some of us are nurtured and we know what love is.
Sharing love is the tough part I believe. I am sure I was in love in my 20's with a woman who shall remain anonymous. At least, I thought it was love. But how could it have been, when she just thought of me as a friend. I was infatuated for sure. I remember calling out her name when I thought I was going to die the second time.
I made a vow when I was 12 to never get married and have children and kept true to that vow. Maybe I cursed myself and that is part of why I never did. I never felt responsible enough to barely care for myself, let alone another person or two. I have always felt immature and as though my peers were growing up and I was still 12 years old, except my body was aging, but my mind didn't feel older. When I was around people my age or a little older, I had no confidence and that really was part of the problem, then the lack of focus was a huge issue and it was compounded by drinking. But the worst part was my confusion and chaos that circulated in my head.
My mind is still giving me that same old story, but it has aged, now it is thinking like I should have been thinking at 32. I am 62 and here is what I wrote about that the other day on a napkin no less:
It is obvious to others from my grey beard, wrinkles and age spots, I am an old guy. It only became obvious to me when I turned 60 & 2. Years later and still resisting age in my mind. This is probably something we all experience. I am no different in that respect. Of course, who can say what my chances of companionship are, because that is really all I am after for the most part. I am not really looking for it. My thing is to become infatuated with someone who is not available either by distance or emotionally or something. Infatuation, imagination something else we all share. And can someone at my age actually find a person who is attractive to more than my retirement account? That is an issue. Can we just be friends, without fear of becoming to close or to distant? Can we let the guard that surrounds our hearts down a little to actually take a risk.
You see my 32 year old brain doesn't really look closely at me and when I go shopping for instance and a young woman smiles at me, it is my 32 year old who is flattered and I am now learning that she could be smiling because I am an aging old guy who might have once been 32 but I am not going to ask her out or for her phone #. That happened yesterday and I discussed it with my male friend who was shopping with me. I said she could have been smiling for the stated previous reasons and because she saw my long hair and that I was with someone that I am not just a boring old guy, but one who has been pushing against the system for longer than she has been on the planet. I am not interested in a woman who is half my age. I have nothing to prove nor the retirement account to put on a flashy front. I am just a guy who never figured out until the last 20 or so years what my relationship with the rest of the world is supposed to be like.
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