Remembering DJ

Sweat

When I was younger I had a Lego fetish.  The colored plastic blocks were pretty much the constant toy from my kindergarten years up through high school.  In fact, I still have them.  All two footlockers worth of them are stored safely, minus an essential handful that I had given to DJ awhile ago.  I had hoped that eventually he would take one of the footlockers and that they would be as inspirational and educational to him as they were to me.  In fact, one of the most important things building Legos did for me was to teach me how to follow directions and drawing schematics.

The SteffSo last night I put that education to good use.  The Steff bought a computer desk a few weeks ago that she needed put together and she asked me to do it since the Donkey has two left hooves when it comes to this kind of stuff.  So after a hellish day at work (a 9 hour day turned into 12) yesterday, I headed over to her house for the great assembly.

So I got there and dragged the box downstairs with the Donkey.  I opened the box and began combing through the pieces and looking at the instructions.  Once I had everything set I set about getting it together.  After literally 5 minutes, I was sweating profusely.  She does have an air conditioner, but it wasn’t helping me keep my salty fluid in my skin.  It was an 8 step process… and by step 2 I was so drenched my shirt had changed color.  The directions weren’t the clearest, but I was able to get the basic gist even though there were a few times I needed to undo what I had done to flip stuff around.  In all fairness, Donkey did help out a bit, but I was still the one sweating like a pig.  Finally, after 45 minutes, the desk was together.

So after the desk was up and done… it was suggested the bed should be done while I was there.  See, she had taken her uncle’s furniture when he moved to Las Vegas earlier in the year, and it included a wrought iron bed to replace the bed that needed fixin‘ last year.  Now since the bed was fixed more permanently by her father (using some glue or something) it hasn’t given her any problems… but a new bed is still a new bed and it came with matching dressers.  The thing is this furniture has been stored away for almost 6 months because no one seemed to want to put it together.  So… Donkey and I knocked it out… and yes I continued to sweat profusely.  The bed took about 30 minutes and I stepped back and admired the sturdy wrought iron frame that had replaced the rackety wooden bed.

There are no schematics to life.  There are no manuals, directions, or advice that will just make my life better by itself.  While they can guide you, what will change your life is the same thing that brought that sturdy wrought iron behemoth together… understanding… determination… help from your friends… and your own sweat.  I have a lot of sweating to do. 

I think I’ll invest in a Richard Simmons headband. 

posted by NYC Watchdog at Tuesday - 08.07.07 @ 1:27 AM
categories:   Personal  The Steff  Memories  Remembering DJ

Stages

Harry Houdini's Grave

In high school I was first introduced to the book Death and Dying by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross.  It wasn’t actually in a psychology class, but believe it or not Business Law.  Here’s a really quick summary:

Five Stages Of Grief

1. Denial and Isolation- At first, we tend to deny the loss has taken place, and may withdraw from our usual social contacts. This stage may last a few moments, or longer.
2. Anger- The grieving person may then be furious at the person who inflicted the hurt (even if she’s dead), or at the world, for letting it happen. He may be angry with himself for letting the event take place, even if, realistically, nothing could have stopped it.
3. Bargaining- Now the grieving person may make bargains with God, asking, “If I do this, will you take away the loss?”
4. Depression- The person feels numb, although anger and sadness may remain underneath.
5. Acceptance- This is when the anger, sadness and mourning have tapered off. The person simply accepts the reality of the loss.

So where am I on the list?

1. Denial and Isolation- Did it.  Denied it at the hospital.  Tried to deny it at the wake.  Tried harder to deny it at the funeral.  In the end, when the flowers were gone and the mound of dirt remained, there was no denying it anymore.  As for Isolation, well I’m pretty damn lucky to have the support of my family and my friends both in real life and virtually.  In fact, to be honest, all the company and being dragged places was starting to get to me since I usually have copious amounts of “alone” time… but it was all for my well being and I realize that.

2. Anger- Yeah.  Surprisingly the hospital has not sent me a bill for the table I smashed, and the doctor didn’t press charges after I knocked him over.  I freely admit I still get angry, but not only at myself also at a lot of other people.  I keep it in check, and have actually been working to channel that energy elsewhere.  The outcome has been… surprising to say the least all things considered.

3. Bargaining- No big secret here.  The Big Man and I haven’t been on speaking terms for the past 5+ years, did you think this would change it?  It did to a degree.  I didn’t bargain… I demanded.  My demands though had nothing to do with the impossible.  They were simple really, just take care of him.  That’s usually where my angry energy goes when I can’t channel it where I want it.

4. Depression- Had it before this so there’s no surprise its there.  Its possible that because I’m so used to dealing with it, that it hasn’t affected me as badly as it would have if I wasn’t already damaged with the PTSD.  Since I’m off the meds, I haven’t had a bad episode.  One day and counting.

5. Acceptance- I’ve accepted what has happened is real.  I’ve accepted that my life is forever changed.  I’ve accepted that I need to move forward, but not away.  So is there acceptance?  Definitely not totally.

I think this is really a very simplified list.  Maybe that’s what its supposed to be… but in reality I think its alot more complicated than it seems.

The glaring omission is the actual physical pain.  Yes, there is actual Physical Pain in grief.  It’s not the stomach churning pain you normally feel when bad things happen.  It’s a sharp chest pain.  While I am familiar with the pain from previous times, this time it is magnified at least a hundred fold.  It’s the pain of a broken heart.

My conclusion on the whole thing?  It speaks in generalities and things don’t necessarily happen in the order they have it listed in.  I think time limits on them are unrealistic since everyone is an individual and will handle the situation on an individual basis.  I also don’t believe in “mourning tapering off”.  Sure, your going to move forward… but its not necessarily something your going to move away from.  So while I can appreciate the scientific evaluation, and the following that this theory has garnered, I can’t help to feel that it is flawed by fundamentally treating people as sheep in an emotion that is as unique to the situation as it is to the person.

The fact it does this… well… it kinda makes me angry.

posted by NYC Watchdog at Friday - 07.13.07 @ 4:36 AM
categories:   It's All About Me  Personal  Memories  Remembering DJ

Cereal Wednesday: The Secret One

It speaks for itself.

posted by NYC Watchdog at Wednesday - 07.11.07 @ 1:52 AM
categories:   Cereal Wednesday  Personal  Memories  Remembering DJ

Strength

image

I consider myself very lucky to have the amount of support from my family and my friends through this that I have had.  Over 400 people walked through the doors of the chapel last week between Sunday and Monday… and those are just the ones who signed the book.  The room (which was actually a double room) was lined with flowers.  The procession Tuesday morning was over a mile long.  Yet, it is my honest belief that this is not necessarily where I garnered the strength from for Tuesday morning.

When I spoke to Miss Ann Saturday night, to be honest I was still pretty dazed and numb.  She had made a mention to me of both the fact I had a large number of comments and what Adam and Amy had started for me, but I was really in no condition to log on or to even think clearly at that point.  I was on auto drive with my priorities ahead of me.

I became acutely aware of it on Monday when Pudding called me about some website taking donations.  I was dumbfounded at first… until she mentioned someone eating ice cream with Hitler.  So I knew right away who it was, and everything was fine… until I learned at the funeral home that one of her friends had jumped the proverbial gun and posted something against it on a forum.  Pudding remedied that situation, because she understands that my online life extends past MySpace.

Monday night I was walking around the room after everyone left and the cards from the flowers were being collected.  I was tired, weak, weepy, and pretty much at wits end.  I sat in one of the big oversized chairs they had, the first time I had sat for more than a minute in 2 days, and I looked over at a basket of flowers on the table.  The card was still attached, and it read “With Deepest Sympathy, Jared and Britt (Miss Britt).” I was both shocked and amazed… and somewhat invigorated enough to go through all the cards to find flowers also came from Girl Dislocated, Adam Avitable, and Poppy.  Those were the names I recognized, or those whose online identities were on the card.

So I came home Monday night and needed to write down my thoughts for the next day.  I had jotted some words down, and needed to organize them so I turned on my computer for the first time since the previous Friday.  Needless to say, my e-mail exploded.  The number of comment e-mails I had was staggering.  So after I sent one or two e-mails and organized the post you should have seen Tuesday morning (which of course b/c I was beat I never changed it from AM to PM so it showed up 12 hours late), I read the comments.

It took me an hour, but I read each and every one.  There were comments from the blogs I frequent and those who frequent mine.  There were comments from people I know in passing.  There were comments from people who I have had huge disagreements with.  There were comments from people who I do not know, and admittedly do not know me.  All of them were not just comments though, they were actions.  The action of reaching out to someone in pain, and to offer comfort in the only way that they could.

That night I slept for four hours (the car was coming at 7:00am so I was up at 6:30am) unmedicated… but peacefully.  That morning I went to the funeral home, the church, and the cemetery all unmedicated.  Considering I had practically been treating the meds like candy up until that point I’m sure people are wondering how I did it.  The answer is really simple.

I did it off the power of your prayers, your comments, and your actions of love and support.  I was enabled to do it by Miss Ann, Avitable, Bluepaintred, Mistress Yoda, Miss Britt, Amy, Poppy, Shelli, Wayne, Tug, Stephanie, Jay, Heather, Dave, Colleen, Spanky, Soda, Mr. Fab, Bonnie, KG, Crazy Lady In Vegas, Heartless Lass, Tense Teacher, Rich, Dawn, Ann, Miss, Sheila, Kellie, Jane, Annie, Luin, Ethel, RW, Tracy, Joefish, Tracy Lynn, Erratic Scribbler, Usedtobeme, Janna, Mixednut, Hilly, Angel, Leanne, Geek, LA Daddy, Lucy, Jodi, Whit, Melanie, Jester, Blogarita, ADW, Amanda, Judy, Virginia, Marlee, Paticus, Laci, Who-sane, Mrs. RW, Helen, Flutter, Old old lady of the hills, Chatty, Sam, Nicole, y not i, Tiiana, Rik, Jacki, Yoshi, Liz, Ananke, Kellie, Diane, Mike, Bella, Soapbox Superstar, Jasmine, Lynda, Michael, Metalmom, Marilyn, Catherine, Amanda, Shelli, Steven, Jen, Tori, Danandwill, CP, Paz, Bec, Todd, Spicybug, Manic Witch, Jen, NotFaintHearted, Jo, Shutteredeye, Denise, Peggy, Erin, Sxymom, Strings, Quin, Azgreeneyes, TheBL, Blue Monkey Jammies, Hol, kat, Melony Louise, Anthony Jones, Neil, Adena, BlondeBlogger, Fogspinner, Suzy, Neoblupanther, Margalit, Suzi, Shina, Mooselet, Dutchbitch, CanadianSwiss, OldGuy, Birdie, LisaBinDaCity, Golfwidow, Boogiemum, Cosmic, Cindy, Geeky Tai-Tai, Absent Canadian, Frankie, Girl Dislocated, SJ, Sue, Howard, AnnieB, Jeff, LadyBug Crossing, Nancycle, Rache, HoosierGirl5, J., Michelle, The Scoot, Doctor Chip, Jenn, DaisyJo, Sassy, Amy, Franky, Niteowl, Lisa, Mrs. Fab, Rachel, Matthew James Didier, Janelle, Chica, Dawn, Elle, Andy, Snuz, Paula, Stacy, Robin J., Laurence, Karen, Brandon, Eva, Yvonne, Debkitty, Tana, Much More Than A Mom, Goran, Snapper, anon mom, Loon, Melanie, dvrchk, Newsbitch, Long Story Longer, Teebopop, Jessie Terwilliger, Kyra, Carmel Beauty, Robin, April, Psychobabble, Nancy, Canadianflake, Katrice, Angel, Ahna, Gidget Bones, Jules, Jenny, Taylor Blue, Dirty Bitch Society, Susan, Lisa, ANO, Mitzi Green, Michelle, Froggiewoogie, Shortie, Mom, Ordinary Shark, People in the Sun, Danny, Debbie Weinbel, Jenny, Mel, Stacy, IRV, Bethie, Brad K, Thebluestbutterfly, Maxime, chandramoon, Annie Drogynous, Nicotine Jones, Yoffi, Chickie, Melissa, Kimmyk, Wendy, Janda, Natalie, Helen, Vince, Laurie, Joe the Troll, Melissa, justme.jen, Travis, Traygamb, n0name28, angieb, Monique, lisalisabobisa, Larawannabe, Cristina, Oceanshaman, Philip, Cappy, T, Jason, Miss Misery, Turnbaby, notfearingchange, fantastagirl, shoeadict, CocoPrawn, Jo, Melissa, Silvara, Busy Mom, Angie, Jen, Rhea, Vanessa, Cazzie, abbagirl74, Jenny-up the hill, Bear Silber, Jenny, Catt, Rosana, Dawn, Christina, Steve, Mark, Tish, 3rdtimesacharm, Linda, Mod*mom, Julie, Beckie, wanna.b.slim, Julianne, Sue, Ev Nucci, Jessica, Bon, Janet aka Wondermom, Attila the Mom, Jasmine, Moosh in Indy, Peg, Elizabeth, coolbeans, Elaine, London Southern Belle, Suebob, Divalicious, Cheeky, Ellie, Jeff K, neverEZme, Tuesday, PJ, Shelly, TheMuttPrincess, Hot Coffee Girl, limpy99, sig, Ashley, Believer in Balance, Jolie, Christamatina, Sabina, Misunderstood, Jenn, marmitetoasty, Kelly aka Squirrel, Meril, Beca, Mr. K, George, Haley-O, Craze, Da Duck, maisha, mar, Michael Manning, Marie, Nicole, Rhianna, Loretta, Marisa, baseballmom, mom101, Polliwog, Jeanette, Kimberly, Katherine, passerby, Jennyjinx, Mrs. Fliphead, Amanda, Dawn, Kimberly, Jen, Looney, debangel, fidget, Lynda, Jen3, Lauren, Bob-kat, Monica DeGruchy, Sarah, Crys, Carrie, Renee, Jenna, Claire Daly, Pawpads, Curiositykiller, Crystal, Snuz, Jaime, N, Trisha W, Kingfisher, Theresa, Tony Brookes, Laurie, Big Mama, Michelle, Trundling Grunt, Shauna, bogup, Sandra, Devra Renner, Artemis, Jess, Little Miss Kylie, hotband, Kat in GA, Cat, Galloping, Heather, Dan, Shelly, Beverely, Charlie, J, Molly, nabbalicious, goteeman, Tabz, Ev Nucci, DirtCrashr, DW, Stephanie, Marlayna, Jacer, Let’s Pretend, Jurgen Nation, Pidgie, Susie, Rizlablue, Airah, Janelle, Dawsie, Dawn, Karen, Rachel, Doctor Mom, Katrina, Luka, Skeet, Trish, Justine Whitaker, Elleoz, and Zed.

So while you’re sitting there, wondering if “virtual” friendships can mean the same thing, be as giving, and be as fulfilling as “real life” friendships… allow me to assure you… they can.


In other news, while I would probably prefer to sleep this day of all days away with my head under the covers, I will be going to see the movie I have waited 23 years for.  I will be going to see The Transformers.  While I still make daily pilgrimages to the graveside, still look at photos, and watch the YouTube videos amongst other things, the world has moved on.  At some point I’ll need to start moving too.  I had the opportunity this past weekend to start, but didn’t do so well with it.  Hopefully today’s attempt will be a little better.

posted by NYC Watchdog at Tuesday - 07.03.07 @ 1:01 AM
categories:   Blogging  Personal  Memories  Remembering DJ

Family

Family

Whether it be a group, a club, or a secret society, there is the need and desire to “belong”.  Of course those are organizations we choose to “belong” too.  We don’t choose our families.  In that aspect, DJ loved his brothers and sister.  He would talk about them constantly, looked up to them, wanted to do everything they could do, and be like them.  He wanted to play video games like Daniel, listen to music like Mikey, read books like Chris, and have Mary’s incredible fashion sense.  While genetically, they were only half related to him, you would never know it.  He wasn’t treated any different (other than being called “the baby” for a few years longer than maybe he should have… but hey, he was) than any of the others.  He never had any idea that they were anything but his brothers and his sister.

It’s no big secret that there were often times when after working a night on the streets I would “watch the wolves”, but in reality… it was more them watching me sleep on the couch.  Covering me with a blanket, putting my half drunk ice coffee in the fridge, and tucking each other in while I snored.  On the nights I would be awake, after tucking them in, I would always smile listening from behind the door at their hushed conversations.  I don’t think they realize it… but they live a slumber party.  Being family is fun.

If we’re one of the lucky ones, in the face of crisis, our family will come together to support us.  I’m one of the lucky ones.

posted by NYC Watchdog at Monday - 07.02.07 @ 5:31 AM
categories:   Personal  Memories  Remembering DJ

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