Artistic sadness can be found at Melancholy of Sorrow X. In some ways I wish I could be as artistic as this… but I’m more of a sorrowful rager… and although I can relate… they seem fake… but still worthy of a looksey.
Fixing Humpty Lumpty is an interesting blog. I find it amazing the different ways that different people see themselves. Thinking about her problems as compared to my own… I could always go order me up an escort. The problem with that is I’d have to pay hourly… K.T. only had to pay once and boom… her problem is fixed. So… an escort is out of the question.
The Bunny Lovers Shop might just be the place I need to go… maybe if I got a bunny I wouldn’t be so damn lonely. Although… my friends would probably think I want a “snow” bunny… which I’m not against… but these brown things are pretty darn cool too.
Too bad their in France.
Too bad their in France.
The diference between being alone and being lonely… is there truly a difference? Yes… I would have to say there definitely is.
See… last night I wasn’t “alone”… I spent it with my son and my 4 ex-step kids… we watched some Spongebob and some Cartoon Network before I flipped over to the World Poker Tour and entertained about a zillion questions (all of which I answer every week… but hey… start’em young is what I say) before they all went to bed. So… I definitely was not alone.
Yet… I still felt empty. For yet another week my notebook sat in my bag while I was there… and not a word in it did I write. Laziness? Potentially. Depression? Possibly… that’s really one of the hardest things about writing… actually doing it. It really can be a task if your not in the right mindset.
So I wonder… what bricks make up this wall that is blocking me from doing the writing I want to do? For awhile I thought there was The Steff, The Nick, Christine, and of course the Pudding. But are they really bricks in the wall… or are they the inspiration that drives me? Will the REAL brick in the wall please stand up… please stand up… please stand up.
Ok… maybe I should be standing. Maybe I am the only brick in my wall… but how do I remove myself? Fear definitely has something to do with it… I mean especially after what happened with the Pudding… I fear trusting and loving someone like that again… I fear it worse now than before after Patty broke off our engagement 12 some odd years ago. At least the Pudding said yes, and we were married for 3 years, so at least the “what if?” doesn’t haunt me so badly.
I shouldn’t even be here writing this. I mean, besides the fact that I am surprised how well I’ve kept this up (then again, I’ve always been a page turner as opposed to a talker), I really should be out Christmas
shopping. DJ’s Star Wars bike already arrived… I ordered some stuff for The Steff already, but I still need to figure out about the air hockey table she wants… I already got mom and dad the movie tickets… I already got Christine our traditional Xmas/Chanukkah book (this year is the Gunslinger series by Stephen King… then maybe she’ll understand why I think my name should have been Roland instead)… ordered the Rios a picture of her online… got the Barista some DnD coffee and a Target card… but there’s still my brother, The Nick (she mentioned something cashmere), The Pudding (although I did get her the collection of the BK Star Wars figures she wanted), and my aunt in New Hampshire.
So… here I am… haunted by my past… fearing the future… and lonely as all hell while the rest of the world is festive and enjoys the holiday season. I need a few bottles of wine… my Love Actually DVD… and a few days to myself.
Tonight is George’s wake, and the funeral is tomorrow. So it would be bad to sink into a drunken stupor and end up not going… very bad.
Anway… I suppose that’s what is rumbling through my brain… anyone have any ideas to get me out of this slump??? No… I didn’t think so…
See… last night I wasn’t “alone”… I spent it with my son and my 4 ex-step kids… we watched some Spongebob and some Cartoon Network before I flipped over to the World Poker Tour and entertained about a zillion questions (all of which I answer every week… but hey… start’em young is what I say) before they all went to bed. So… I definitely was not alone.
Yet… I still felt empty. For yet another week my notebook sat in my bag while I was there… and not a word in it did I write. Laziness? Potentially. Depression? Possibly… that’s really one of the hardest things about writing… actually doing it. It really can be a task if your not in the right mindset.
So I wonder… what bricks make up this wall that is blocking me from doing the writing I want to do? For awhile I thought there was The Steff, The Nick, Christine, and of course the Pudding. But are they really bricks in the wall… or are they the inspiration that drives me? Will the REAL brick in the wall please stand up… please stand up… please stand up.
Ok… maybe I should be standing. Maybe I am the only brick in my wall… but how do I remove myself? Fear definitely has something to do with it… I mean especially after what happened with the Pudding… I fear trusting and loving someone like that again… I fear it worse now than before after Patty broke off our engagement 12 some odd years ago. At least the Pudding said yes, and we were married for 3 years, so at least the “what if?” doesn’t haunt me so badly.
I shouldn’t even be here writing this. I mean, besides the fact that I am surprised how well I’ve kept this up (then again, I’ve always been a page turner as opposed to a talker), I really should be out Christmas
shopping. DJ’s Star Wars bike already arrived… I ordered some stuff for The Steff already, but I still need to figure out about the air hockey table she wants… I already got mom and dad the movie tickets… I already got Christine our traditional Xmas/Chanukkah book (this year is the Gunslinger series by Stephen King… then maybe she’ll understand why I think my name should have been Roland instead)… ordered the Rios a picture of her online… got the Barista some DnD coffee and a Target card… but there’s still my brother, The Nick (she mentioned something cashmere), The Pudding (although I did get her the collection of the BK Star Wars figures she wanted), and my aunt in New Hampshire.So… here I am… haunted by my past… fearing the future… and lonely as all hell while the rest of the world is festive and enjoys the holiday season. I need a few bottles of wine… my Love Actually DVD… and a few days to myself.
Tonight is George’s wake, and the funeral is tomorrow. So it would be bad to sink into a drunken stupor and end up not going… very bad.
Anway… I suppose that’s what is rumbling through my brain… anyone have any ideas to get me out of this slump??? No… I didn’t think so…
I hate doing a school career day. Having to stand in front of a class of young minds who
want to ask you about what you do should be a thrilling experience. At first, to be honest, it was. But the same question always comes up… “Has anyone ever died?”
The obvious answer, at least to us, is a big yes. People die in my business all the time… probably because my business revolves around the sick and dying to begin with… but one thing I always stress is “No one ever dies in the ambulance.”
This, technically is true. While they may arrest in the back of the vehicle, they don’t actually “die” because we use CPR to keep the blood pumping. Every now and then you hear of a hospice patient dying in the back if the bus… those are patients who are terminally ill and have signed DNR orders or Advance Directives… and then the bus becomes tainted and discriminated against by the EMTs and Medics. We just consider it bad luck.
The next question that always comes is the one I hate… and although it usually comes in different forms the nut is the same… “How do you feel when they die?” Now remember… we’re dealing with kids here… so of course we give a canned answer of, “Well we’re sad… but then we move on because someone else needs us.”
The truth is a lot harder to explain. There are those patients where you feel relieved for them… like the 80 year old lady who dies in a nursing home… or the man who decomposed in his apartment for 5 months because no one missed him. Then… there is the outrageous grief we feel when we find the blue babies in their strollers… or we carry away nothing but a bloody car seat. The majority of the patients… we just move on. There is no feeling… or if there is we store it up inside.
As cold and callous as it sounds… we don’t know these people… so their passing doesn’t affect us the same way as it will those who knew them.
At 4:10am this morning, my close friend Kenny lost his father, George. I’ve known Kenny and George for at least 20 years. Kenny and I were in the same Boy Scout Troop 119 and his father George was active with the troop. Kenny and I also volunteer at the same ambulance Corps, where we both served on the Executive Board and worked as partners on the ambulance.
George had been sick for awhile… fighting cancer like a champ for over 3 years. So this morning, with his sons Kenny and Tommy at his side, he passed away on the 7th floor of North Shore University Hospital at Forest Hills… going to a better place… where he won’t be alone.
I guess what bothers me about this whole thing more than normal is that Kenny’s mom also passed away… 10 days ago. Carol had been taking care of George, and they’ve been married for over 30 years. These were two people who basically lived for each other and cared deeply for each other. It’s kind of like the book The Notebook… George may have officially died of renal failure due to complications with cancer… but in reality he died of a broken heart.
Death is different when you know the person. There is a definite feeling of loss… and something in the back of your head that nags “what if?”
I can only hope and pray that somewhere along the line I can be with someone who will love me like that. The hidden fears of loneliness and solitude have crept back up… and while I know that I have solid friends and family… there is still that ache for that person to fill in the gap left in my heart.
I used to revel in being alone… I used to sit in solitude with pride… because I was the Watchdog… He Who Stood Alone… In my eyes you can see the pain of the masses… In my heart you can sense the coldness I feel… but that is not what I want. I’m tired of being cold… tired of being alone… but it seems to be the only thing I know.
Rest in Peace George… your in a better place… and with better company.
