Circling In

I wonder if you guys out ( envision my hands splayed starting at the middle front of me, and then swooping out wide) thereeeeeeee.....ever write an entry that right after you've posted you become irritated with yourself (now envision me looking at you with inquiring eye gestures) by the content? Because I do, I have, and a good example is my last one.

The truth is in the pudding, my last entry for example, although my ailments are annoying, somewhat concerning and downright agitating at times, I shall live. I will continue to be me, I will adorn my battle gear every time I go outside and I will continue to flip off the sun with my middle finger in the most enduring way I know how. But my entry was simply the outer rung of a ring of concerns I carry lately. Not for myself, but for others.

Because, although I've always been vigilant about my skin care, the honest moi needs to acknowledge I had the cards of fate stacked against me to begin with. I know this because I take so much after my dear Father and he has skin cancer as well. Since I am fiercely protective, I would never blame him for my ailments, but there, that's out there as well.....Genetic Inheritance at it's finest.

His skin cancer is the most common of all, I actually have up stepped him by going straight to squamous cell cancer a level higher.....His is Highly treatable, won't kill him, and he's been dealing with it for a long time. But......in him I see a piece of my propensity filled future.

Although Basil cell skin cancer is the baby of the group, it has a nasty side and my Dad will start paying the price for it tomorrow. El Doctors Slice and Dice will be removing one whole side/half of his nose tomorrow.....(yes, the basil cells have grown fingers all up through his nose, tiny red dot on the outside, a whole party train growing on the inside)...then on Friday he goes back for more surgery to start the cosmetic reconstruction of a nose taken by a simple, highly treatable, non worrisome skin cancer. So in my female/mere human perspective, I have a moment of Holy fuck, that could be me, holy shit, I hope he's ok, holy hell, I'm worried, for a varied number of reasons.

This is probably far more detail than really warranted on my journal, but it's my party and I'll explain if I want to.......So, in order to recreate a nose, they will borrow cartilage and skin from various other body parts. Once that's installed, they will then start the long drawn out process of cutting his cheek skin and forehead skin in order to 'pull it' over the hopeful nose to be, and let it 'grow' for a bit with the help of balloons and skin stretching. Once and hopefully that comes together, they will again surgically try to create the resemblance of a nose. Brilliant.

I personally think that entire process sucks. Eloquent I know. But sucks with a capitol S. So now you know why I'm a wee bit paranoid and sensitive of my own sketchy skin future. It's akin to riding a canoe down a river, I am following my Fathers wake and he's hours away from going off a recoverable waterfall I will someday be going off. The difference is, unlike my Father, I skipped stage one skin cancer, went straight to stage two and I've had 9 (I think that's the current number) pre-melanomas (the Niagara Falls of all waterfalls) removed from my body...(my dads had one, uno)..and all of them are now swirling black and full of propensity behind my little boat.

Sigh. It is what it is. Well, now that I have that out and off my skin (pun intended) I need something else to focus on.

How about, I can't drink tea. I wish I could. I've tried, ohhh I've tried. I'm quite envious of people who can drink tea. I wish I knew how you tea drinkers can do it. I want the ritual. I want the fancy shmancy tea sets and a designated tea time to kick back and gaze out on the world.

I want to drink green tea, for all it's important health benefits. But when I've tried to gag it down I choke up, my eye's bug out and I run to the nearest sink to eradicate it's vile taste. I want to drink cinnamon tea's and orange tea's. I want to have an entire world of tea festivities and flavors at my beck and call, but alas, they all make me want to hurl.

I think it's really the ritual I covet. The, dip your little tea bag, or use those sweet strainers on a chain I see. I even want the fragile little tea set and I want to have a tea party...and I want a teapot to scream at me from my stove letting me know it's time to kick back......A forced focus of the simple things. There is little enjoyment to pulling back the aluminum ring on a diet coke. Sure, there's that moment of 'pop' a fresh soda can make, but otherwise, it's an empty ritual full of formaldehyde.

If I counted up the money I've wasted on tea over the years, searching for the elusive flavor I could learn to appreciate, well, I'm certain I could have purchased something that didn't end cold and poured (spit) in a sink. So, if you're still laboring through this long ass entry, and you're a tea drinker, I commend you, el lucky one.

I've decided to add Hospice volunteer to my little universe. I go in for 'training' later this week and believe I start next week with my first patient. I'm not sure why I decided to do this, other then I would like to believe people at the end of their lives might have something to say, and I would like to hear it.....really hear it. My understanding is I'm just a visitor, I can read to them, talk to them, and simply be someone who cares. I like that. The only piece I'm worried about, is the obvious, losing them in the end and that end is soon for any hospice patient. I'm not sure how I will contain that factor inside myself, but I'm sure I'll work it out. Has anyone else done this out there? If so, I would love to hear your perspective on what to expect.......................

Ok, that's enough rambling for one day. This entry should count as two, one for thoughts, two for sheer random space quantity................

Laser ....The Electromagnetic Sign of My Future

I think I've got the entire, "For every action there is an equal reaction" ...."For every choice, there is a consequence" ...."For every white, there is an opposite black" yadayadayada concept down. Check. Point taken. I got it for the love of...............

The thing is, I always looked at that piece of reality in the foreboding light of... steal a candy bar and you'll go to jail. The... do bad, you get the direct punishment for such a choice, kind of deal. Slap me, I'll slap you concept. But recently, I'm finally realizing the choices of good things can also come back to bite you in the ass, or in my case, my head.

For example, my first case of fun filled backlash. I have epilepsy. Evidence leans directly on two possibilities of acquiring such a joyous affliction. One, was the many, many head bashing's I suffered during my growing up years. Now, those head bashing's were simple consequences to some glorious fun. Cherry drops off the high bar at school. Bucked off a few horses while galloping across beautiful fields. A few accidental slips down some rocky mountainsides. True fun, that just happened to result in several knocks to the skull. The other evidence actually resembles the first paragraphs conventional wisdom. I did drugs in my late teen years. Lots of them, a huge nasty assortment. Now, believe it or not, the drug time certainly had it's 'fun' points. I can't deny that. But anyway, it certainly could have fried an electrical highway in my brain that loves to short circuit now. Anyway.....I like to lean toward the more respectable means of getting epilepsy, skull bashing's........

Next up, I got skin cancer last year. Not the bad type, just level II, slice and dice, laser, your on your way sort. Of course, as my luck would have it, I got another one this fall, I had that little ummm, squamous a-hole eradicated and now I'm on constant vigil. Skin cancer........the direct result of frolicking in the sun and fun. The completely and totally unjust result of living a life strolling though nature and all her glory. I'm utterly disgusted by that entire situation.

And now, just to add insult to injury, the doctors (or maybe they are simply blaming, but the result is the same) are attacking my fly fishing. For the love of all things outdoors....I simply can't seem to win. Now it's this...in my eye...Pterygium. Which is a benign growth of the conjunctiva. Caused by....big shocker here....Ultraviolet rays. And UV rays bouncing off water is like staring directly in the sun~~damnit~~~It's not an unusual thang' actually, I've discovered from my doctor it's quite typical of a 60 year old farmer who spent his entire life sowing his wild oats in the fields. (That's my point, I'm 35) ....visual bonus and ick factor..in their white and red glory. P.S. the Pterygium isn't actually red, it's a swanky yellowish growth (I couldn't capture in film) that has now enflamed my entire eye into glowing red, just to make sure everyone notices :o) Again, Laser is my new buddy~

                                                         

Before my entire entry falls into the coastal shores of a tidal wave pity party (to late I know) I shall try swimming. It seems, there is a lot of really good things in life that have a crummy potential result. But the truth is, I can't even fathom giving up any of my activities. The mere thought of protecting my traitorous body by staying locked up indoors seems horrific. At this rate, by the time I make it to a 60 year old non-farming, but outdoor fanatic, I won't have much of a face or eyes left.

Maybe I'm just finally realizing the body I used to take for granted, think was invincible, believed would remain as loyal and devoted as my mind likes to think it should be, indeed has it's weak points. Has a side of fragile and cracks. I've believed for quite some time now that people, ALL people, are warriors, strong and brilliant, able to leap from building to building in a single bound, but now, I think it's our minds that are resistant, and persistent, able to heal and mend despite the things that we encounter........but our vessels, our precious bodies are delicate. I just wish Ihad realized that ages and ages ago................

((If you see a person walking down the street with Hollywood Sunglasses over a full facial veil, complimented by a huge sombrero, long sleeve shirt, fancy gloves and not a speck of skin showing, yet reeking of strong sun block....yes, well, that's probably me <grin>))

Try It, You'll Appreciate It........

Awhile ago....sometime in 2007, after a most horrendous eating experience at a local establishment, I decided I would try changing my tactics with dealing with bad service. Although it may seem like an insignificant movement, I've been rather satisfied with the results thus far and thought I would share.

I no longer complain about bad service. Nope, I suck it up, pay my bill, leave a marginal tip and walk away. Giving zero energy to a negative moment.

Instead I now focus on good service...in all public establishments.

For example, last night at a simple dinner. My waitress was wonderful. Spot on and did her job well. In my past, I would have paid my bill, left a hefty tip and wandered out about my own life. She would have forgotten me in 10 minutes, her boss would be oblivious to her job well done and I would be focused on my new destination.

But now, I don't think that's the case. For one, I believe I gave her a small unforgettable heart attack based on the look on her face. When she handed me my bill, I asked her to please send her manager over to my table. 

She hesitated, looking a bit crestfallen, asked me "Are you unhappy about your meal? My service, is there anything I can do?" to which I smiled slightly and said, "No, but I would like to speak with your manager."

Now, I imagine in that line of service, that's about the worst thing a waitress or cook can hear from a customer, I know that, but I had a purpose, a plan..............

Lapse two minutes and a solemn looking manager and a worried looking waitress approached my table. I then proceeded to tell the manager what wonderful service his waitress had given us. They both went from smile-less souls to beaming faces of what I shall call relief, pride and good feelings.

I was thanked by the manager and the waitress and I was a satisfied soul. But the real reason I am sharing this on my journal is what happened a few minutes later.

When I was walking out, the Manager caught up with my party and stopped us. I shall let his words speak for themselves..................

He said, "Thank you again for telling me what a good job one of my staff gave. To be honest, rarely, if ever does that happen. The only thing I ever hear is when someone's order is wrong, a waiter or waitress isn't doing what the customer thinks is a good job, or someone is unhappy with their food. I'm just amazed and very grateful someone took the time to tell me such a good thing. Thank You soooo much"

He's right you know. I used to be the Manager of an establishment. I had 25 employee's to be accountable for and all I ever heard was the negative from customers. Once in a VERY great moon would someone just stop by to tell me something nice............

It's a great thing to tell a person they did a wonderful job......it's an amazing thing to tell someones 'boss' who may not even realize it, or hear about it. A boss only has two eye's. (And the ability to give a person a raise, or positive notation in an employee file)

Try it sometime....
give someone a heart attack....
then make their day, just because you can~~

P.S. This concept works in many various places. Dinning. Home Depot. Hair Salon. Grocery Stores. If it's a service center....there's a manager who would love to hear something nice about one of their own and an employee who could use kind words to make the job alittle easier~

Green Backs of Choice

                        

    I had a conversation yesterday with a colleague about the all mighty green thing we call MONEY. For me, it's always interesting talking to him about such things because he grew up on the right side of the tracks. Actually, I think that's an understatement. If there is a poor side, and a rich side, he grew up 25 miles past the golden side of the tracks and atop a mountain of lush wealth. As for me, I was the good old fashioned, sitting in the middle section of the train tracks growing up.

Now, although his parents have more money then I could comprehend, this person is absolutely out, on his own, building his own fortune without any "here's a million to help you out" from his Parental units. I admire that. I knew him for over a year before I even realized I was in the presence of one of "those kids", the ones that grew up in 24 K gold. How could I not appreciate his humble demeanor.

We ended up on the topic of "What do you spend your money on, for personal enjoyment."

For him, at the ripe old age of mid 20's he already knows exactly what and if he has spare change it will be spent on. It's cars. Beautiful, classic, exotic, muscle, imported, fast, etc etc. He luvs 'em. Cars do nadda for me. Absolutely nothing.....

For me, I have to admit it took until my early 30's to finally nail down something worthy of my spare change. Before I found my monetary reward calling, I can assume I spent my money on clothes, a new purse or odds and ends. Then again, I didn't exactly have handfuls of money lingering around with nothing to do in my 20's. I was typically broke as hell and a spare 5 bucks was rolled around in my hand in spectacular awe.

But a time did come, several years ago, that I found myself with alittle extra money. Extra beyond bills, necessities, savings, blah blah, the boring stuff. I think at first I did what any red blooded American would do. I spent the hell out of it on things I couldn't even name at this point in time."Things" I had always felt deprived of, left out on, "things" I thought were the right material effects to covet...... After awhile though, I learned I wasn't exactly a shopper by instinct, and those things I had purchased had very little meaning to me. Empty satisfaction comes to mind.

Which brings me to Art. I never thought I would morph into a collector of Art, but it seems I have. I counted today and realize I have collected 17 beautiful pieces of art to cherish and linger over in my home. I finally found something that I could reward myself, treat myself and actually feel good about it's purchase days, months and years after I parted with the cash.

Now, for public clarification, or in case someone felt the urge to stake out my house and go shopping, my art collection isn't worth millions, or even 10's of thousands. The majority of my pieces cost under a reasonable $500 bucks. Some are worth exactly what I paid for them, some have climbed the totem pole of 'value' and one in specific is worth enough now to make tears come to the corner of my eye's, but I'd rather be run over then part with it.

I guess what I'm saying, is that art comes in all shapes and forms and all dollar figures. We normal humans certainly have the ability to acquire the illusive if we are inclined. I guess I once thought art was for the rich. Rich held the corner market on fine things and I've proven to myself that's not the case.

I'm glad I discovered something in life I adore and cherish. My art collection is for me and myself and always I. The three of us have a specific taste and there isn't a day that goes by that I don't walk through my house and say hello to all my pieces. Which, all but 3, happen to be female figurative. It seems, I like the ladies of portrait~~~

Do you have a specific treat you do for yourself? Something that is for you and you alone? Be it buying something? Doing something? Just my nosey curiosity of course. For my friend it is all things cars. For me, it's all things Art.........For you it's all things??

Speaking of Art. There is a blogger who deserves far more readers and comments then he gets in my humble opinion. His name is Marc and I've been reading him for awhile now. He has an interesting perspective on life that can only be found through someone who has experienced the world in several different dimensions. He's a talented writer and has been delighting me for sometime now with his Hy-Art pieces. I suggest going over for a look~~~~>>>>Sober Gay Poz Ex-Con  Don't let that title trick you .....trust me~~

Good Intention, Wrong Person

I adore a good intention.
I love to watch other people do the "right thing" ...the "honorable thing" ....the " kind thing"....and like to think of myself as a person who would do anything, within my power, to help another human being.

But today, I find myself at odds with what was supposed to be a random act of kindness last night, that feels like a major f*** up today. The short of it~~ I was driving when I noticed a small truck that had slid off the road. It had been snowing all day, was slick out and the fact a truck was off the road wasn't exactly alarming, considering.......so I slowed down enough to notice a woman wandering around behind her truck. I pulled over to see if she needed help, a pretty much automatic reaction, right?

This woman hurried over to my vehicle, breathless, panicked, frantic and when I asked if I could do something she exclaimed a ride home would be perfect, she'll just grab her truck later. The truck looked pretty stuck, at a strangle angle, etc etc. A ride I could do, not a big detour off my course, and off we went. Random act of kindness in live action............

But this is where my feel good thoughts turned bad. For one, she was ranting and raving about extremely strange topics. She would say, "Thank You, Thank You, your 're my angel!" and then in the next breath says " Don't you just HATE woman, aren't woman just horrible ,<insert several colorful cuss words here> " and so on.....

....and the more she talked, the more my vehicle filled up with the stench of alcohol.

This is where I started to feel sick. I realized I was helping a drunk driver evade facing the consequences of driving while intoxicated.....gut sick about it.

I have a notion about drunk drivers. For one, I don't give a shit who you are, if you drink and drive, you deserve nothing less then a nice little jail cell to sober you up. No excuses, no exceptions, no mercy. In my world, there is no gray zone for drinking and driving. Not even the 'just a beer or two' slides past my no tolerance for drinking and driving ideals when it comes to this topic. So, imagine my dilemma to discover I was helping a drunk driver.

And yes, I asked, "So, how much have you had to drink tonight??"
To which she replied, laughing, slurring, " I'm sooo like fucking wasted, I just luvvvvv Whiskey!"

I did drop this woman off at her house.
Although, today I wish I would have turned around, taken her back to her truck, kicked her out my door, made a call, and then waited for the police to show up. I wish I had, but I didn't and today it hasn't settled very well with me. Not well at all.

In a world where actions and consequences reign supreme, I helped a woman avoid the pain of her choices........

Isn't that like most situations, where there's this constant collision of human to human in life, that it takes time... 5 minutes, or a day to create 10 extra possibilities we could have enacted. A better come back, a better action, a better reaction, a better sentence or choice. Today I've thought of 10 things I could have done that would have made my choices last night sit alittle more upright within myself.

For Jennae, the moronic woman in Boise Idaho, age 41, driving a black Toyota truck. Your truck was in the ditch off Broadway. You embarrass me, you and your choices. I regret helping you for one single second. I fear you will drink and drive again and maybe next time you'll harm an innocent........that makes me nauseous. You left your CD player faceplate from your truck on my dashboard. Although I remember where you live, I have no intentions of dropping it off out of kindness. Perhaps you'll feel 'alittle somethin' when you have to pay to replace it. Let's call it, a much cheaper consequence then the cost of a DUI, or killing someone...............