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Wednesday, November 30, 2005Holla Back New York City - If You Can't Slap 'Em, Snap 'Em!
Holla Back New York City - If You Can't Slap 'Em, Snap 'Em!
This is a cool blog. Here's a bunch of ladies sick and tired of being randomly abused... and using the power of the cameraphone are blowing up their abusers.
Burn those bras!!!
The End of the Season
So today is November 30. The 2005 Hurricane season officially ends today. It is with sadness that I will be unpacking my backpack… and placing my urban camo BDUs into the dry cleaners so they can be neat when I pack them away.
A few years ago a friend of mine, not in the business, asked me why it was that I took such pleasure in other people’s misfortune. I guess from the outside, that’s how it looks… but in reality there is no pleasure or happiness in other people’s misery. It’s more of a pleasure in being in a position to relieve that misery.
Granted… there is a definite adrenaline rush… the anticipation of the unknown… driving through 80+ MPH winds in a torrential downpour… landing in an unknown town darkened by downed power lines… rescuing those in misery from wallowing in the muck… yes, it is an adrenaline rush. Those rushes can be addictive. Hell, I am addicted… and I know it. That makes me the better person because at least I can admit it… I think.
But hey… it wasn’t all about the work either. Let’s be honest… in Louisiana we got tattoos and went to Bennigans drinking. In Texas we ate barbecue every chance we got, had “Critical Incident Debriefings” (aka beer) every night, and went to Sulley’s Disco in Jasper County where we rode Matilda, the mechanical bull.
Going to new places… doing different things… meeting new people. That’s what made it an experience of a lifetime. It’s just sad that the only time I get away is when there is a natural disaster.
Here on the home front, I was back in the dentist’s chair at 6:00am this morning. He did some work on Monday, and yesterday I was so wracked with pain I ended up drooling and overdosing on Tylenol. Last night after the Nick put me to sleep talking about something she had done with a stuffed animal and a dry cleaner, I woke up at 3am in agonizing pain.
The pain shot straight through to the brain… and was NOT good. So I ended up calling poor Christine… and at 5:00am she was picking me up off the floor to drag me back to the Chair of Pain. So it turns out this filling he did for me had come out or was coming out… he fixed it… so now I have some semblance of consciousness without a spike going through my skull. Christine basically dragged me back home… threw me in the shower… and made sure I was on the way to work before leaving... hopefully to go back to the sleep I woke her from.
And people wonder why I love this girl… now if only her husband would take the hint and get out of the way…
Monday, November 21, 2005Scared Bunny
Found this posting/blog on my eternal search for inner peace... and I found this oddly not only charming but painfully true. I have an ex-wife... but it wasn't a gym... it was one of those "Scrapbooking" classes... hence why I say to all true journalers rise up with the mighty BIC and stab and slash those Scrapbookers to bits!!!
Ok... maybe that's a little too far... but hey...
Night Runs: Too Young to Die
Most things don't faze us anymore. We cruise to the jobs we used to careen too... but here's a great example of a reason we all got into this work... because it isn't just about the pretty lights... there are lives at stake here... lives of all kinds... and ages...
It was around two o’clock in the morning. My partner Dial, the slim dark skinned guy you saw me with tonight, and I were curled up in the front of our ambulance casually watching the scene at Club Calypso. The doors would swing open and closed every minute or so, allowing the reggae beats to wash over us like a wave coming in and ebbing away from the shore. Under the dim streetlights below the El train its denizens would ride that wave of sound to the beaches of silence. Alternating between the flashing strobe lights inside for light hearted fun and the dark corners outside for dark deeds.
This is our holy day service. It is here that we sit to commiserate over the week past while those inside the club push the past week a little further along. Usually the high point is signaled by the sounds of gunshots or the slick silence of highly polished metal sliding through tender meat to release the red flow. Our service is one that usually culminates in pain and misery. We deliver communion to the poor wretches in the form of oxygen and bandages. We accept them into our sanctuary and deliver them with the glow of rotating lights and wailing banshees in a box to you and yours on the hill. That is how it usually goes.
But tonight our lord, our dispatcher Marcus, called down to us in his raspy voice from up above, “One David, I need you for the intox.” My partner and I both looked at the microphone, neither of us moving to take it. “One David, I know you’re out there. Answer the radio or I’m giving you the tone,” he called again.
… or not.
Perfection is one of those intangible elements… it’s the myth the mice in the maze cling to. Chasing the cheese… chasing the moment of perfection where they are one with all of their wants, needs, or desires. They never reach that moment… for it is the mice who stop looking for the ideal moment… they are the one’s who the cheese itself finds… and perfection is proven to be a fallacy in the moment of clarity that the cheese is not all it is cracked up to be.
I revel in imperfection. I am an imperfect person… working in an imperfect workplace… with imperfect co-workers… and I have imperfect family and friends as I live my incredibly imperfect life… and above all I have the most imperfect writing.
So why? Why revel in such imperfection? Because imperfection helps to define not only our individuality but also our independence. That, above all, is what I can say I do love about life. The freedom to choose… the freedom of diversity… the freedom of being as imperfect as I want to be.
Freedom comes at a price. To be able to live in imperfection has a price… paid on the outside by forcing us to live on the fringes of society. Paid on the inside by the torturing of our souls on a minutely basis. However we serve a purpose… to remind those stuck within the maze that there is another way out…
These nightly crusades are our mission in life. To tend to the sick and care for the injured. To help those who cannot help themselves. To ease the pain and suffering that people find themselves unable to bear. All of these are noble causes. In truth it is more cab rides than saving lives out here. There are those who try to deny it, but I accept it as my task in this life. Perhaps it is yet another failed attempt to receive reconciliation for the sins of my past, but I have begun to think it is simply that the hours suit me.
…down the rabbit hole…
Friday, November 18, 2005Ambulance Drivers... And Proud Of It!
I found this really really really cool article about ambulance drivers in WWI. It's called Prose and Poetry-Literary Ambulance Drivers of World War I and I'll be honest... I found it inspiring. Hell... I find my job inspiring... I love being an EMT and wouldn't change a damn thing about it!!!
So imagine my glee to see that all these literary giants drove meat wagons in "The Great War". Of course there are the contemporary ambulance writers, like Joe Connelly and the crazy woman in the MidWest who vollies.
I want to be one of those literary giants.
I'd be overjoyed to be a contemporary.
I don't want to have to settle for internet blogger... not that its a bad thing... I just want more.
Last night was interesting though... I got to meet the Steff's new guy. I was pretty ocified... but I do remember I told him I would break both his legs if he broke her heart... and yes I meant it. Of course he then ran away, and had to be dragged back to the table... where I apparently continued to rip him to shreds. Apologies to the Steff... but to hell with it... if he can't handle me then he'll think twice before doing something really really really stupid.
So after getting ocified... I went and had breakfast with one of the friends we were drinking with... and it gets more interesting... because we "hooked" up... not expectedly... in fact not expectedly at all... so unexpected in fact I never made it home or to sleep.
So I've worked all day with cotton mouth... in a euphoric state of sexual satisfaction... but I still have to work tonight on a standby on 7th Avenue and 43 Street for a Shakira concert set-up... and all I really want to do is go to sleep.
Yet I won't... because I'm an ambulance driver... and proud of it!!!
Thursday, November 17, 2005Just another brick in the wall
Just another brick in the wall…
What a week. Besides the massacre performed on my mouth by my dentist Tuesday which has kept me down for a few days… there have been a few other ups and downs.
First… I’ve been entertaining the Steff’s happiness with the new guy… and her depression about everything else. The only cool thing is that she has me give her wake up calls in the morning… so I get to start my day off on a good note… talking to the Steff is always good… at least for me.
Second… work is a mountain of highs and lows. I no longer look long term… but handle things in the form of the short term crisis that occur… and I can’t do anything but go with the flow. My problem is serenity does not exist for me on the things I cannot change… I want to change them all. Inner peace is lacking… and will probably continue to be scarce.
Then of course there is Chris… my one true love… the one who will never be for reasons that are mostly mine rather than hers (and for the same reasons why I’ll never end up with any of them… and why my ex divorced me)… and the fact that after spending an hour sobbing to me last Friday… now I can’t find her.
I hate when people disappear. I should GPS all of them… simply because I know subconsciously that all of them… in one way or another… are bricks in my wall.
And so… when I see stuff and deal with stuff… I have to keep it in… because I’m a page turner and not a talker… and I wonder when this wall will come tumbling down so I can turn the pages again…
Hopefully this is helping…
Monday, November 14, 2005Infatuation With A New Day
So I’ve had a relatively non-eventful yet very interesting weekend.
My friend with the boyfriend troubles lost her job Friday. Ok… its more than that… she works where I work… and in fact I was her boss up until about two months ago. After returning from my work in the deep south, I have a new role and someone else has taken my place… so she had a new boss.
Now because she’s my friend… there was also that workplace jealousy/hatred of her… which I suppose was fair enough too since I do have strong feelings for her and care for her deeply. Was this unfair targeting? I certainly feel so. On the other hand… she really doesn’t care about it… and it seemed I was more upset about her being fired than she was.
So Saturday she calls me at noon… which if you know her is VERY odd. She’s a late sleeper. Sure enough… her boyfriend who she has been fighting with had called her up and told her all about how he spent the night with another girl. This flipped her out… over the edge… and she was crying hysterically. So… while I had been supportive of her attempts to regain her relationship… going so far as to assist her in trying to romance this LOSER back… I had to tell her enough was enough… and that as bad as it may seem… tomorrow’s a new day… and so we talked four more times that day… I even met her in Mandees where she was shopping with a friend to drop her off some medicine I had left over.
So Sunday she calls me… chipper and happy and has great news she needs to tell me in person. So she comes over, and it turns out she met a guy the night before… blah blah blah. So we go out to dinner where she just prattles on and on and on. During dinner… “HE” calls. Needless to say, we went our separate ways… she went to hang out with him… and I cruised the streets of the Hills looking for some action with my boy KC. It was pretty uneventful… a drunk on probation from Connecticut and a 14 year old flipping from failing chemistry. Go figure.
So I expect to hear how wonderful this new guy is… so one and so forth… and why is this somewhat important? Because I need to break this damn block… and I think a big part of it are my feelings for her. See… even here, I write about her… all I can ever write are things to her… she haunts me worse than the rest and it is definitely affecting me.
Well… I’ve always told her the most important thing to me was her happiness… and hopefully with this new guy she can find that… and tomorrow is a new day… hopefully for me too…
The Steff...Just A Brick In My Wall
Thursday, November 10, 2005
So I really have nothing to say today... see that block... there it is again... but hey, here's a picture of me during happier times. This picture was taken on the North Shore of New Orleans by the lake during my Hurricane Katrina relief work. Notice in the background all the boats that are not in the water, but had been grounded.
Sad... I always look happiest during disasters...
Wednesday, November 09, 2005It's Just Like Camping
So a friend sends me this e-mail in an attempt to make me laugh…
The Guys' RulesAt last a guy has taken the time to write this all down Finally, theguys'side of the story.(I must admit, it's pretty good.)We always hear "the rules"From the female side.Now here are the rules from the male side.These are our rules!Please note.. These are all numbered "1"ON PURPOSE!
1. Men are NOT mind readers.1. Learn to work the toilet seat.You're a big girl. If it's up, put it down.We need it up, you need it down.You don't hear us complaining about you leaving it down.
1. Sunday sports. It's like the full moon or the changing of the tides.Let it be.
1. Shopping is NOT a sport.And no, we are never going to think of it that way.
1. Crying is blackmail.
1. Ask for what you want.Let us be clear on this one:Subtle hints do not work!Strong hints do not work!Obvious hints do not work!Just say it!
1. Yes, and No are perfectly Acceptable answers to almost every question.
1. Come to us with a problem only If you want help solving it. That'swhatwe do.Sympathy is what your girlfriends are for.
1. A headache that lasts for 17 months is a problem. See a doctor.
1. Anything we said 6 months ago is inadmissible in an argument.In fact, all comments become null and void after 7 Days.
1. If you won't dress like the Victoria's Secret girls, don't Expect us to act like soap opera guys.
1. If you think you're fat, you probably are. Don't ask us.
1. If something we said can be interpreted two ways and one of the waysmakes you sad or angry, we meant the other one.
1. You can either ask us to do somethingOr tell us how you want it done.Not both.If you already know best how to do it, just do it yourself.
1. Whenever possible, Please say whatever you have to say duringcommercials.
1. Christopher Columbus did NOT need directions and neither do we.
1. ALL men see in only 16 colors, like Windows default settings.Peach, for example, is a fruit, not a color. Pumpkin is also a fruit. Wehave no idea what mauve is.
1. If it itches, it will Be scratched.We do that.
1. If we ask what is wrong and you say "nothing," We will act likenothing'swrong.We know you are lying, but it is just not worth the hassle.
1. If you ask a q question you don't want an answer to, Expect an answeryoudon't want to hear.
1. When we have to go somewhere, absolutely anything you wear Isfine...Really.
1. Don't ask us what we're thinking about unless you are prepared todiscusssuch topics as baseball, the shotgun formation, golf or camping.
1. You have enough clothes.
1. You have too many shoes.
1. I am in shape. Round IS a shape!
1. Thank you for reading this.Yes, I know, I have to sleep on the couch tonight;But did you know men really don't mind that? It's like camping.
Now see… it’s really pretty funny… except for the last line… see… cause I sleep on a damn futon every night. I don’t have a bed, or a room of my own at night… I crash at my mom’s. Now… the really crazy part is I own a house. My house unfortunately is 2.5 hours away from me… and my job remains here in NYC. Hence one more reason I need to break the block… I need my own place.
So… why Blog… why have I decided to start writing on the Internet about meaningless stuff to the rest of the world except to myself? I was told I had to do it… well actually I don’t HAVE to do anything. I’ve proven that time and time again.
So here’s basically what happened. Monday, I realized I couldn’t write anymore. Exactly… I slammed into a brick wall of writer’s block. The problem is, I didn’t exactly slam into it on Monday. I’ve been slammed into it for the past 4 years. Yes, I know, 4 years is a long time. It wasn’t a total block… just a block on the most important things I wanted to write.
Like my memoirs. I’ve written this 20+ Chapter Memoir about the time I’ve spent in my local volunteer ambulance corps… but yet it sits and lingers now for over 4 years with nothing. I also had another novel I had started… 750,000+ words in… and now stalled for the past 4 years as well.
What have I written within these 4 years? Well, actually I’ve written quite a bit of Policy and Procedure. I’ve written some gaming articles for Scrye Magazine. Everything else… well… it seems it can’t come from my mind. It seems I’m stuck writing from my heart. It’s as if the first two words aren’t “Dear X” (insert female name where X is… female name of your choice, for I know the few I am stuck on) then it just won’t work. See, even now… although you won’t see it… those two words are at the top of the page.
Yes… I said a few. I have an ex-wife I still care for, even though she can be a total horror show. A friend from high school who is my “ultimate love”, you know the one who will never be. A friend from work with a piece of crap boyfriend, who of all the insane and torturous things I do to myself, I help HER write love letters to HIM hoping he’ll take her back when they break up. I have an ex-girlfriend who I still write and talk to… I even helped her and her husband move to New Jersey, so no, nothing more than platonicness there. Finally, the mysterious pen pal in California… who says she’s twenty-four but with my luck is probably a fifty-seven year old dude playacting.
So what have I not been able to write? Well, all the articles I got ideas for over the past four years for JEMS… Journalof Emergency Medical Services is where I want my writing. There… and Playboy… and wherever I can so I don’t have to continually watch over my back and worry about getting fired for being the outspoken, brash, get’r’done type of person I am in a corporate environment of hand holding while placing the execution mark on your head.
I want freedom. I need to break this block. I need to write. I need a place and a purpose to do these things from. I need to be able to feed my son, keep the ex-wife happy, find my friend a new boyfriend who loves her, get my ex-girlfriend and her husband season tickets to the Jersey Devils (just one reason we broke up… I’m a Ranger fan), and eventually fly to California to meet Ms. Mystery and hopefully to play in the Bay 101 Shooting Star Poker Tournament. This is what I need to do… and so if writing here and posting will help me break this block… this is what I’ll be doing.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005Bottom of the heap...
So… here I sit… watching over a domain smoldering with the souls of the ancients being burned by the butane torches of the young… sitting at the bottom of the heap.
Someone remind me why I sit here… doomed to press enter a thousand times a day… watch the rows of colors begin their journey at the bottom of the screen… only to be eaten by the monster at the top... why?I guess because someone has to… so if not me, then who?
Well… if I didn’t sit here, then how would I be able to relay my interesting life and times… and my interesting exploits. I have had an interesting life thus far… and at the ripe old age of 31, I’m ready to retire… but not before a recount myself amongst the masses.
So here I sit… at the bottom of the heap… going through this old dog’s bones… plucking the meat and sucking out the marrow...