Skip to main content

Random Thoughts at 5:20AM

I used to do this quite often. Then there was the hundred days of Hopper and Free Writing experiments. I've not written just to write and I've written even less for therapy lately. This morning is Father's Day and again, I won't be celebrating. My father doesn't deserve the recognition, the false praise or to have his already inflated ego, boosted by any sort of contact from me. Hell, not even a phone call to ask how I was doing after surgery. I guess he was "busy."

Come to think of it, in our world of technology, I received zero phone calls. A handful of texts that could quite literally be counted on one hand and maybe a dozen comments on social media. I did not publicize it, because despite my type A rants on Facebook, they're rarely aimed at self recognition. The only time I crave that is when surrounded by a room full of kids. It's how I know they're having fun and that is important to me.

I miss my Swag. Today, at 1PM, it will be two full weeks without him. His laying at my feet, meowing for food at this current hour and his over desire to either nap with me or drive me crazy, is what I miss most. I realize rehabbing this hip will impede on my care for him. I sense he'll understand. I just wish I was more confident in bringing him home. The little things like bending down to show him affection, feed him and scooping his litter, are all hindered by my temporary disability. I love him so and hope the two weeks hasn't changed him or even worse, made him forget our bond.

I got back some of my patience in the hospital. I realized the night before, I'd lost some of it. I also realized, how hard it is to explain to an entire staff at a hospital that you have no friends of family that can assist in the recovery process, not even a ride home. Make you realize that those social media 'friend counts" are all a mirage. I listened more than I talked the past two weeks, which is a difficult thing for me. I also realized, despite being put on layaway, I've not lost my social skills. Twenty years ago, who knows, my hospital stay may have ended up with some true friendships.

I've also learned that the little things in life, like a picture drawn by a child, as a welcome home sign is wonderfully touching. It also hurt to know, I'll never experience that from one of my one. I also came to the realization, and yes this sounds maniacally egotistical, that I care too much about other people. Whether it be the 87-year-old man sharing a room with me, his upset daughter, the nurse caring for us both, who I overheard say had $5.26 in her bank account. The therapist whose child is working all summer for a dirt bike, but who is secretly putting her own money into a gas card for him, essentially stripping her of 10% of her take home pay. The mother of two who works 12 hour days at night, so she can spend her days with her kids, never once showing an ounce of  fatigue. Then of course, all the problems in the world, big and small. So many affecting me directly.

Finally, the last two weeks has given me an odd break. It allowed me to think about myself and ignore, that, if not for a potential (repeated) favor, I'll be homeless in two three weeks. It's the little things in life we value, because we don't even think of the big things. I've thought about them every day for three years almost and they're exhausting. Doing it alone, is at time terrifying. That being said, right now, in this very moment, I'm better off than most in this chaotic world and despite some guilt, I'll take it.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

11 Rules of Life - Bill Gates?

I read this on Facebook this morning.  A friend had posted it and said that every child should have to receive this. I of course read it and started to think.  I immediately wondered who really wrote this, as I rarely see things like this attributed to the proper person.  I immediately found it was written by Conservative Charles J. Sykes when he wrote a book about how America is dumbing down our youth.  I read it twice and started to wonder how true it was.  Below is a link to the actual picture I saw.





So let's look at each of the rules and analyze them.

Rule 1: Life is not fair — get used to it! - Life is not fair in that we are not all afforded the same opportunities based on race, creed, color, socio-economic background, but in general, those who are afforded the same opportunities to succeed are very often rewarded for their individual efforts.  Sure there may be underlying circumstances, but hard work is proven to pay more often than not and those who strive for success, migh…

Out Of Options

Two winters ago, I was in a bad place. Physically, financially, but especially emotionally. Life, which has rarely been anything I could view as fair, had really begun to weigh me down. I was living in a motel room, paid for by my brother while awaiting a move to another state. A little late research revealed my soon-to-be new home was a bit of a nightmare. Think of Melrose Place with meth and hookers. The idea of flying halfway across the country with my cat, Swag, and less than $200 in my pocket was scary. Leaving everything I knew wasn't what scared me, it was knowing deep in my heart, I'd never return. 
It's always easy to put off keeping up with people when you're close, but as I've learned over the last four years, distance tests friendships, even those we view as true. One can't imagine the alienation of being broke, physically unable to walk, and having to rely on a motel staff's daily pleasantries to remind yourself you're alive. At times I que…

In Memoriam

For Shane

Yesterday, I sat in the library, thinking of you. As I pored over vegan recipes, tales of medieval monks, and descriptive biography of Yasujiro Ozu, I thought about you more. Who else could I call and discuss all three? Who else would be able to add insight to my last meal, movie, and chapter? I was tempted to walk, arrive work sweaty, but feeling accomplished, but a bump in the rode arose and I found myself driving. You'd have scoffed, claimed I took the easy way or accused me of always avoiding the circuitous route, in favor of ease. I'd agree, then buy you a beer.

Last night, I thought about us twenty-five years ago, maybe more. Rows of six dimes stacked on the bar. Cold Schaefer puckering our lips. Commenting on the old-timers, of which I am now one. You're not here to share those moments, that repartee or the serious moments we often shared. With every meal, movie and mountain life throws at me, I miss you more. There were years where we only spoke once. Thi…