So, sometimes i dream in black and white. Very film noir.

November 13th, 2012

It had started in the rain. I was walking down the street. Wearing a tank top under my trench coat. fedora on my head, chewing an unlit mini cigar with a wood top. I guess i saw a broad up ahead, in the glow of a street light. She was nothing special. Just your average looking name. probably hard working. probably coming home to her husband after a long night at work. I don’t know what it was that made me look at her just then. But it happened.Some punk kid Walking up behind her. Saying things only she could hear. She didn’t like it. She turned away from the punk and kept walking.

I looked around for anyone else on the street, but it was empty. The punk grabbed the broad right in the hind quarters, she pulled out of his grasp. I quickened my pase, my left arm running across my belt to see if my old faithful friend was still there.  It was. At least some things in the miserable life never change. I closed the distance as he pushed her to the street. Was yelling something about regretting it. In one flash, my right hook connected squarely with the underside of his jaw. I heard bones crack,and i wished right then to the gods that they belonged to him. He went down like a sack of potatoes. I helped the lady up. Dabbed my dirty handkerchief on her split lip, a futile effort in the pouring rain. From out of the building, a man in a waistcoat and a scraggly tie came out, helped the lady inside.

The cops showed up, big black sedan with a cherry on the roof. The smaller one hulked over me, bad breath and a thick mick accept under the brim of his hat. The dumber one never moved, never talked. Just stood there blinking. Chewing his toothpick. A big black foreign job glided to the curb. It had those big headlights, and those big fenders. The rear window opened a crack. Blue smoke wafted out. The cop leaned down, listened, and nodded. The girl got inside and the car drove away.

“Well, you’ve done it now, Jimmy” the cop said. “You’ve got an angel on your shoulder. The lady’s dad, he has connections.” The two cops drug the lifeless lowlife onto the curb, and rolled him over into the gutter. Then they drove off.

When I finally walked into the dark and smoky bar, the rain and stopped. I dropped my hat on the countertop, and she walked over. She cracked the top of a bottle, dropped it and a dirty glass in front of me. “Kayla, you’re too good to me” I say as I dropped a wad of Washingtons in front of me.
“Why dont you just take that home. Take a load off. Build a nice fire, and drift away in front of it. Or better yet, why dont you just call on her.”
I watched every step she took as she walked away from me. I threw a couple back, then pulled my flask from it’s leather holster on my belt, and drained the bottle into it. She was right, you know. Bartenders. They always are.
Why dont I just call on her. The one who haunts my dreams. The one who always answers my call when someone takes me out, and I need someone to pick me back up. The only one who will show up to my funeral when I die alone. They say that everybody needs somebody. They just forget to tell you what happens when you cant actually have your somebody. How watching from the distance just tears at your heart, one thread at a time.
She was the kind of babe that walks by, and every man in the room watches her every step. When she talks, every ear strains to listen. Men fall at her feet, and line her path with roses. And second only to my forty five, shes the longest relationship i’ve had in my life. Too bad she doesnt know the half of it. She used to come when I needed. Lift me up out of the gutter, run her nails sweetly across the scars both on my chest, and in my soul. Now, not so much. Now, I love her from afar. Watching as she fights the same demons of loneliness dance around her shoulders.
She could have any man she wanted, why she ever chose me, i’ll never know. But my ship left that port long ago, never to return. Now, she spends her nights alone, hair up wrapped tightly and held in place, wearing glasses that are like windows into her soul. I’ll never have that chance again, not because distance separates us, instead biology is the cruel hand of fate that took her away. For her dreams at night are now filled with other dames, and she will never have another of my kind. And that leaves me alone at night, knowing that i’ll never again find someone who I could trust like that again. Someone who gets past every wall I ever built around my heart and soul. The one who lets me fall asleep to the sound of her breathing, her hand upon my chest as I slip away into the place where I need to be.
So, I get home, i slip my piece under the pillow to it’s usual spot. I lift the bottom of my flask to the heavens in tribute to seeing another sunset. my eyes get heavy and soon I lose the battle with consciousness. The last thought on my mind is a familiar one. I wonder what demons I get to meet when the sun rises again.

What intimidates me?

October 22nd, 2012

I am 31 years old. I’ve put my life on the line serving the public for most of the last 14 years.  This doesnt really intimidate me.

I walk into burned out buildings, i stare down fire (usually from the comfort of the tailgate of my unit, with a pepsi max in my hand, but still). I head into the unknown every time my blackberry goes off. This also doesnt intimidate me.

I get into the heads of really scary people. No intimidation there. Just a lot of mind-fuckery.

The state, for some reason, trusts me to carry a firearm, and use it in the defense of others. This used to intimidate me, but not so much anymore.

I’m living with an extremely rare, life threatening, thus far uncurable (but well controlled at the moment) medical condition that has hospitalized me 98 times in the last 7 years, a condition that has caused me to lose my gallbladder, 40% of my pancreas, and some of my liver. Now that I know i’ll probably live long enough to see my son grow up, it doesnt intimidate me anymore.

I have pissed off some pretty powerful people, including the most politically powerful woman in this state. Nope, not intimidated.

In english class today, my group managed to elect me to go up and present something in front of the class that I wasnt really paying attention to. I drew dead fishies and a cute algae on the board, but I wasnt intimidated.

In my lifetime, i’ve married and divorced a sociopath. I’ve dated strippers and models, and cops, and crazy daredevil rednecks. Even dated a lesbian. Not a single damn intimidating thing about any of those.

And yet…

She’s 5’8. 130 pounds if that. Really likes purple. And purple brings out the sparkle in her eyes. She has the most beautiful, mysterious smile. Shes probably at least 8 years younger then me. I know her name. I know she doesnt like driving on the freeway or in the rain. I know she has the self confidence to correct the teacher if she knows shes right. I know shes growing her hair back out and letting the natural brown and gold show thru, and it looks amazing in the sunlight.

I dont really know anything else about her, although I wish i did.

And she intimidates the fuck out of me.

And I dont even know why.

This is what happens when Im told to write a paper introducing MYSELF.

September 25th, 2012

How can anyone really define who they are? This may be one of the hardest tasks that anyone might assign to another, because it requires an honest evaluation of themselves. Most people, by habit, lie to themselves when it comes to internal reflection. This may be conscious, or subconscious, but it still occurs. Of course, on the opposite side of the coin, most people, when talking to another, rarely will give an honest opinion of the other to their face. So, how do you define yourself, especially detailed enough to fill two pages.
A person’s identity is popularly considered to be a summation of their experiences, with a strong influence of their environment, with a little bit of what one would call personality mixed in. With this in mind, I actually wonder why i’m not more screwed up in the head then I actually am. Unless, of course, i’m lying to myself, and I actually am clinically gone. Good thing, then, that this is a sociology class, and there is more of an emphasis on my interaction with society.
I am 31 years old. For the last two years, I have served my state (and I point out, that I mean my geographical state, not my mental state) as an investigator for a statewide agency. I work around lyers, cheats, criminals, and the insane, and this is just listing my fellow employees. My job consists of solving puzzles, enforcing laws and codes, and pretending to play the political game. Prior to this, I spent a full third of my life working in the emergency medical profession in some capacity. When that didn’t pay the bills, I also managed a rather successful information technology and telecommunications company. While this allowed me to live comfortably, it was not enough to keep my mind occupied, so I decided that i’d rather spend my time helping other.
In my present job, the psychological and sociological aspect of why people do the things they do plays a big part in figuring out who and why things happen. A person’s behavior, actions and interactions tell us so much during an investigation. I always have been fascinated by human behavior, both internal and external, and this job just makes it that much more interesting. As such, I plan on taking as many courses on sociology, psychology, and related disciplines as I can afford, and/or con the state into paying for. I’m going to be spending the next few years in school, primarily as a way to advance in my current position, to be able to learn as much as i can in order to better myself, and to make myself more attractive to other agencies that I would prefer to work for in the future. I want to learn everything possible about people, society, behavior and interaction, what makes people tick, and why people do what they do. This subject is fun, it’s challenging, and it makes me think.
Now, reflecting on how I both do and do not fit into society, I know that there are social norms which I ignore, both consciously and subconsciously. I rarely find the need to sugar coat anything, I’ve been told that I can be too honest in my interactions, and fail to take other people’s emotional needs into consideration. This probably explains why I choose to live my life on my own terms, set my own schedule, and do my own thing.
The only thing I think you should know about me as a student is that I tried to bribe my friends with pie to write this on the night it was due. It was unsuccessful. The only people that truly know me well enough to write a paper on me are such cynical jerks that they’d intentionally write a failing paper AND want two slices of pie.

Well, my smartphone is smarter, thanks to a Llama.

August 29th, 2012

Yes. Llama llama llama face.

I rarely write reviews on apps, mostly because I generally dont stick around with apps much.

I mean hell, I was religious about Draw something, even having like 32 games open at at time.

Havent even bothered reinstalling it since I got the Droid 3 back from the repair shop.

But I found an app that is so brilliant, that its probably going to find a home on every android device i’ll ever own.

Yes. Its actually called Llama, from a one-man outfit in London.

It is, basically, the most powerful profile automation app i’ve ever seen. Far exceeds my expectations.

Simply put… You do certain things with your phone under certain circumstances, right?

When you get to work or school, you put it on vibrate. When you get to the gym, you turn it up. When you’re in your car, you pair it to the bluetooth.

Occasionally, you forget.

This is where Llama comes in.

It does those things FOR YOU.

Read the rest of this entry »

X-mas

December 25th, 2011

Earlier this month, I read a well written, eloquent comment on a Facebook discussion about X-Mas. I even learned something from it.

Regrettably, i cant find it again, probably because the original thread was deleted, due to the FB profile’s owner not enjoying being owned by an old lady while on the interwebs.

Therefore, You’ll just have to deal with me copypasta’ing a few wiki articles together and adding my own comments.

Oh Noes, dont take Christ out of Christmas and replace him with an X.

Oh, but wait…

“Xmas” is a common abbreviation of the word “Christmas”. It is sometimes pronounced /ˈɛksməs/, but it, and variants such as “Xtemass”, originated as handwriting abbreviations for the typical pronunciation /ˈkrɪsməs/. The “-mas” part is from the Latin-derived Old English word for “Mass”,while the “X” comes from the Greek letter Chi, which is the first letter of the Greek word Χριστός, translated as “Christ”.

There is a common misconception that the word Xmas is a secular attempt to remove the religious tradition from Christmas by taking the “Christ” out of “Christmas”.

The word “Christ” and its compounds, including “Christmas”, have been abbreviated in English for at least the past 1,000 years, long before the modern “Xmas” was commonly used.

That was the weirdest craigslist transaction i’ve ever done.

December 12th, 2011

I wanted a new wireless mouse that works with my new keyboard. Sam’s had the model I wanted for 29 bucks, and I was going to get it there. But I got on CL to see what I could find.

And I found. For 35 bucks, that model mouse AND a wireless keyboard.

So I emailed the guy to confirm the model number.

And it was correct.

So I said i’ll take it.

The first indication that something might be amiss was him asking if I’m sure I wanted to do it so late in the day… um, 6pm after work was late? He asked if I was sure I could make it out, with the possibility of snow. Of course, I have a truck. How far could it be, he said Rio Rancho.

Yeah. Rio Rancho. Specifically, that one subdivision way the heck out there by the armory, 10 miles outside of the city’s heart. You know the one, with those weird random O shaped things.

I stopped at the Walgreens to get some cash, and a snack. Then I noticed the GPS said i was 20 miles away. I was like wait, no way.

Then, 15 miles later, instead of routing me over 700 feet of perfectly good road, the GPS, not beliving it existed, routed me thru a nearly 2 mile loop of mud, ice, and a snow covered hill.,, which I must admit, was the best part of the trip. Finally I get to the loop he lived on… all the cookie cutter houses looked the same.

But of course, how could I miss it, since he told me the scientific name of the trees alongside his driveway… Yeah, next time, just say “the 2 skinny ones” So, I arrived. Being that I wasnt working, the taurus was in the usual off-duty spot, in my tac bag. Which was in the back seat of the truck. Why would I need it? After all, i’m just going to ring the doorbell, pick up the keyboard and mouse, and hand over some cash.

I walk to the door, he invites me in. My spidey sense is way tingling. 3 steps inside his house, alarm bells are going off in my head, and I think to myself,  ”oh. crap. can I take this guy if I have to? Do I have a weapon on my person? Oh, right, theres a pocket knife in my cargo pocket. Whew. Can I reach it? I dont know”

We turn the corner and the only open door in the hallway is a bedroom. I’m like WTF did i get myself into here? and why are my 13 hollowpoints on the other side of a door, and 20 feet of ice and snow, rather then tucked in my belt. He points to the linen closet, and when he opens the door, I expect the worst, like a decapitated head, or some S&M gear to be hanging.

Instead, there was the mouse and keyboard on a shelf. I pick up the mouse and inspect it, its just what I wanted. I hand him the money and back towards the door. I thank him, and walk outside to the truck. It hesitates for a split second before starting and i’m like WTF, seriously? I back out of the corner lot, and head down the street.

Of course, I take the frozen muddy hill again, that shit was fun the first time.

PS, this mouse, the Logitech m705, is freaking awesome.

September 21st, 2011

 If you’ve been reading me at all, you may know I have a chronic medical condition. About 3 weeks ago, I was hospitalized with it again. I was held in the ER for about half the day, given 4 liters of fluid via slow drip IV, and when my electrolytes normalized and my blood sugar dropped to acceptable ranges, they discharged me. There were a few problems with that. First off, my lipid levels were high on admit, 2145, which was near the top of their ability to actually read the levels. Not exactly a personal record though, as i’ve been much higher in the past. After the fluids, they had only dropped to just under 2000.

Normal treatment for my condition is a minimum 24 hours with no food, a 72 hour minimum admit with constant fluids, with a 5-8 liter bolus to start with, and then 200 ml/hour infusion after that… it literally dilutes my blood, then filters it clean by just pure volume.
So, the fact that they only gave me 3 liters in the ER (1 was in the ambulance) meant that I had nowhere near the required amount of fluid for treatment.
So, its not surprising that after being borderline sick for 2 weeks, i ended up back in the ER.
This time, however, my lipid levels were higher then the hospitals in-house lab could read, and it resulted in an admission for stabilizing treatment.
During this admission, my medical team made a few changes to my overall care.
First off, the drug regime i’ve been on for about 2 years, which has lead to a stablization of my condition (2-3 crashes per year, vs 7-10… this is good) also has a serious possible side effect, a serious muscle condition called Rhabdomyolysis. However, over the last 2 years, they were more concerned about me dying of my condition then the minor possibility of a muscle condition, which I agreed with.
Now that i’ve been mostly stable, they decided to change the combination of drugs i’m on to some newer ones, with a significantly lower chance of the side effect… if these new ones are as effective (or, hopefully more effective) then we’ll stay. If not, we can always go back.

Second, they’re going to try a procedure called Plasmapheresis on an experimental basis. They’re going for total serum replacement. Basically, its similar to donating plasma, except, they’re destroying the plasma they take out, and replaceing it with a plasma replacement serum… originally, they considered just filtering it, and reinjecting, but they decided otherwise.

Assuming this goes well, they want to consider doing it quarterly as a preventative measure, as well as having the option to do it as an emergency measure in the event of another crash.
The advantage is, that my blood gets completely filtered of lipids in a 2 hour procedure outside my body, instead of by my organs in a 72 hour hospitalization. Its safer, and stablizes me much sooner then treating me for the condition.

My first appointment is Friday morning, so we’ll see how that goes.

An update of sorts.

May 24th, 2011

Now. Lets talk about… um. Cookies.
I want cookies… that is all.

Penny says ‘ambulance’ funny.

My phone has been acting up, i’m giving it one last chance then im replacing it with a Droid X.

I dont know the last time i’ve taken my meds… oops. I’ll take them as soon as this posts.

I hope my latest paycheck gets here before i leave town wed eve.

I have a 8am! work order an hour from my parents house in El Paso. WTF.

WTF. Penny just sent me a FB message from the other room… she wants… oh.

Um. I still want cookies.

If you are going to comment, at least use your own damn email address so I know who it is… or, alternatively, subscribe, so I dont have to moderate the comments each time like from an anon user.

New toy. :)

March 28th, 2011

My kindle was pretty much dead… it was a first generation unit, that i got used on craigslist for 40 bucks. It pretty much lived in my hospital bag (the bag by the door that i take to the hospital with me when I get admitted) and the battery was just failing, and the screen had a few issues.

So, i figured it was time to get a new one… except, i was saving the cash for an android tablet… so I went to B&N to look at the Nook color, and ended up buying one.
Rooted it, installed newer android software, and the kindle app.
Yes. I have the kindle app on a Nook. Yay irony.
And honestly, for under 300 bucks, its a pretty damn nice little tablet. fast, pretty lightweight, does almost everything I wanted a tablet to do (except play Stupid Zombies, which requires android 2.2, but thats a month away)
Battery life is pretty decent, had it playing slacker radio for a few hours while we took a nap, and it was barely down to 90%.
Plays Angry Birds pretty well also.

I’m happy with it, it fulfills 3 of my needs… it can display work PDF’s pretty well, so I dont have to print out 30 or 40 page instruction manuals at sites (i REALLY liked the ipad’s ability to do this when i had it) it does all the internet apps i want on android pretty damn well… like my phone, just with a significantly larger screen, and it makes a pretty nice e-reader… well, at least on the kindle app… i dont have any B&N books.

I wish it had its own data radio like the ipad did, or like the tablets that the cell carriers sell, but my truck has wifi, my phone can broadcast a wifi hotspot as well, so thats something that works out.

Prologue

February 14th, 2011
    It smelled like rain. The desert landscape was dry as a bone, and the tires kicked up plumes of dirt as the dusty old pickup truck crept along the dirt road. Anyone who has lived in the desert long enough knows that, even on the driest day, the mesquite bush, when disturbed, gives off the familiar smell of fresh rain.
     He did not belong there, the stranger driving the well worn Ford. In fact, this was his first trip out on the reservation, although his parents often spoke of the land of their parents. The green and white flashes of the airport beacon off to his right shone thru the dust streaked windows, and reflected off of the buckle on his hat, and the traditional turquoise and bone jewelry he wore around his neck.
     The stranger was dressed all in black, in a worn and threadbare suit that the thrift shop in Albuquerque charged him ten dollars for. The boots were a parting gift from an old friend, who knew that he was never to return. Only the hat was his own, a felt cowboy hat that had been his sole companion for most of his adult life. The eagle feather woven into his long grey braid fluttered in the wind as he rolled down the window and adjusted the side mirror again.
     He was almost to his destination, to the home he had never known. To the land that his grandparents had both been born on, and had both died on. The land of his people, even though until now, he had never even been to that part of the state. Soon, he’ll be home. And soon, he’ll die.