| We The Tribe. |
[10 Apr 2008|09:56pm] |
You are quaking, sitting in your irretrievably mangled car. The powder issuing from your recently-deployed airbag burns your nostrils and makes you uneasy. You are not trapped inside your vehicle, but you feel as if moving is impossible - anxiety overwhelms you.
Lights, horns, sirens. Officials scurry in an organized but undiscernable fashion. Gloved hands hold your head in place with a firm and reassuring grip. Strangers surround you and descend upon you, to care for you.
My voice is laconic as I coach you. It sounds deep and deliberate. I take time to articulate my words, and I try to soften them. You think that I am slow, mentally, as some people tend to, due to the attributes of my voice. It is odd, but it eases you. The smell of the latex gloves that encompass your shivering head is a smell you will remember for months hence. You acknowledge words spoken to you but hardly comprehend them. Many times you try to survey the damage done to your body, but are unable to due the the firm placement of the hands on the sides of your head and neck. Words are spoken in your direction with great emphasis when you try to wriggle free of the grasp. Again you become at ease. This is the ebb and flow of true drama unfolding.
You recall the petty arguments and altercations of recent memory. Arguing sports, belittling your spouse over a sink filled with dishes. You have resented your cat for shedding on your bed. You have called in sick to work because you did not feel like stirring from your slumber. He said, she said, they have always said. Drama from everyday life which agitates an otherwise unremarkable gelatinous life now seems trivial. In your car, certain that you are bleeding entirely too much, and in the care of strangers, you realize this is truly 'drama.'
Moments have passed. How long has it been? You come to and see fluorescent lights; two strangers are hovering around you; an intermittent beep checks in to your right; your head is completely immobilized by a cervical collar; and finally, you gather, your body is exposed. Are you naked? You are unable to tell.
Anxiety turns you inside-out. You forcefully hoist your left arm to survey it and gasp in horror as you see a fragmented bone which has erupted through your skin. You gather that it has been hastily bandaged and the bleeding has possibly stopped.
Inside your body, the sympathetic nervous response has taken over. Adrenaline (epinephrine, norepinephrine) surges through you, making your heart race, your eyes dilate, and your injuries seem frivolous. Your body is perfection and it is taking you away from the pain of your injuries on its own. A true marvel.
You acquire lucidity. You comprehend my voice over time. You shake your head yes and no.
"I am going to be doing a number of things to you," the paramedic, my partner, says. "Dustin will start an IV in your arm, and you may or may not feel a pinch as he does. I will give you pain management drugs through that IV..." and in a stream of audible mentation, he interjects his own sentence. "--Did you lose consciousness?"
It becomes too laborious to follow what the stranger says. You are not compliant with his questions. Phantom receptors fire rapidly to inform you of vague emergency; that you are bleeding out. Your limbs are becoming cool and you wonder what you look like on the outside. If you were a fly on the wall of this ambulance, would you be watching yourself die?
My stylet pierces your skin; you flinch. The catheter advances into your vein. An invigorating sensation consumes you as fluid courses through your veins. In moments you become euphoric.
And as I'm caring for you, I just wish you could understand what has occurred. We are strangers; did you know that? We have never met. A warmth within me radiates toward you, and you are nurtured. This is how I've longed for the world to be...
We were all tribes once, so long ago. Natives to every plot of land. We were communal and our needs were visceral. We erected shelters for one another, hunted and gathered plants and game for everyone, and cooked. Tremendous crowds of tribespeople encircled the fire as we roasted our spoils of the day. Everyone was family. There was no such thing as a stranger. It was not weird then, to care for someone who was not a family or friend. It was expected.
There were no rifts. No economical barriers to separate a ghetto from a castle, a bus stop from a golf course. Racism, centricism, ageism, religion, and government did not exist. All barriers were permeated by humanity...
...a concept now inconcievable and irretrievable as we transport you to the hospital. We were once a tribe, my patient, and this was not a duty which required compensation.
I am privy to complexities and nuances and ugly vantage points of human life. Life is often unforgiving or worse, stripped away. Many times in my past and many times in my future I will long to have you as my friend, patient. I would wonder what it is like to share coffee, have a drink, or take a walk through a park with you. What would you tell me?
It did not happen, and it will not happen. We're the tribe of muffled desires. These desires, if uncorked, would reach in every direction voraciously, seeking human companionship. Unwarranted, genuine, dizzying and warm! I would not have to respond to you in your time of need, stranger meeting stranger, to validate our entangling of lives!
But today, and for every forseeable day hence, this is an absurd longing. I will keep it to myself, until I explode again.
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| Poor Dead Horse. |
[29 Feb 2008|06:06pm] |
It's odd; we establish new acquaintances with handshakes and henceforth find it necessary to determine what traits about this acquaintance we dislike. The handshake - in all its altruism - is therefore quite misleading; just another ineffectual gesture that somehow found a home in our social programming.
My mind is in need of re-framing. You may read this and decide (if you have not already) that your mind also needs re-framing. I want to shirk that initial synapse that instructs me to find bad traits in strangers. I want to displace that synapse and in its place plant the seed of a more amiable synapse that compels me to seek the good traits in strangers. Even if the bad trait seeking synapse is not compulsory or repetitive, it is still my default mode of evaluation. I want to recognize and exalt the confidence in men who have worked hard to define their mannerisms, and worship the assertive stride of a mid-twenties woman as she pays me no mind and has me convinced that hers is a state of constant aloofness.
So can we? With effort, I would say yes. My mind tires from rigorous examination and re-examination of its own processes. It fatigues from looking in the mirror too much. When my mind is tired, I can see the justification in stereotypes and generalizations - sometimes even profiling. It is a terribly bad state of mind to be in but I admit that I do. For some people it is more than a status the mind tires itself into: it is a constant state of being. Worse yet, some people are in this state irretrievably. Convinced in the sureness of their ways, and in vast enough numbers, it makes the potential mind re-framers feel like their efforts are insignificant, and the mission too daunting. I believe the people chronically in a state of judgment and profiling remain there because they are unaware that their mode of thinking is harmful to their social proxy, and to themselves. And because this mode of thinking spreads exponentially, you have circles of persons teeming with scathe and judgment, ethnocentricism and and racism.
I am not sure that tentative mind re-framers will ever be the majority. When the problem was born - whenever that was - it should have been addressed promptly. I can guess that the it was borne of a pursuit of money or power (or both).
I ingrain this incessantly into those who take the time to read my writing: be thoughtful, and be careful with your evaluation(s) of people around you and events that take place. Gather data, perspectives; calibrate and re-calibrate your mindset toward these issues. Do not assert until you are sure. Seek and bask in the multitudinous unique and incredible traits of your friends, your family, and the strangers all around. Extricate strangers from the wreckage of normal, pre-programmed conversation and engage them. Bring out the best in them and find their interests. Entangle yourselves in those interests and become lost in the lull of correspondence and genuine vibe. Feel intoxicated by it so that you seek to do it again.
As a final thought; remember to take notice of the little things and discard the details. When you feel overwhelmed with responsibility and tasks, remember the heart of the matter and what you truly care for. We're overstimulated. Sometimes we can't imagine a commute to work without coffee in hand, wireless headset, GPS directing us, and the radio blaring. Turn the radio off, put the coffee down and the headset aside, and pay no mind to the GPS. Look outside. Look at everyone all around you in the streets and in traffic. Survey the scenery. Appreciate.
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| My (Tentative and Fallible) Philosophy. |
[24 Feb 2008|10:20am] |
It is not that I am antisocial, nor am I incredibly introverted. It is just that I require a billboard right now. And if you go so far as to construct this billboard for me, I would like it to state "Please leave me be; I am manufacturing words in a clever manner at the moment." Were I not engaged in this endeavor, it is likely that I would embrace - Eric is interrupting me again; bless him. (Although, I am not religious.) As I was saying, I would likely enjoy a good interaction with co-workers were I not making muddy my hands with the toils of wordsmithery.
Surely, the statement "Please leave me be; I am manufacturing words in a clever manner at the moment." is a very slanted and inappropriate statement to make. I, the humble smithy, cannot very well determine whether or not this rhetoric is clever. Then, who holds the intellectual platform and disseminates judgment of such works? Is it the Grand Duchess of Proseville? Maybe it is the entity known as the Creative Writing Police. An imposing abbreviation indeed; the CWP!
My thought process is too linear, too linear! To my surprise, it may not be a human at all! It could be the invaders from a galaxy uncomfortably proximal to our own. The Blue-Skinned Crustopods! Beings with a crustacean-like structure, but the carapace has the texture of skin! Well maintained and soft to the touch: supple skin! And blue! This is an uncomfortable vision to behold. I digress. . .
Eric interrupts me again. Hardly a worry to me, oh talkative co-worker, for momentum is on my side. The rail car has long since started skating downhill. But without a proper rail to guide it (in this case, my mind, which is not right right* now), where may this vessel recklessly voyage?
And if the judicial entity of both grammar and storytelling is neither of this race or of this planet, it could still be a creature which existed not within this era! The portrayal of dread to so many thinkwriters so many eras ago: the Criticosaurus Rex. No neanderthal was safe, as I vaguely recall. Scribing on cave walls their most intimate and wild thoughts, they etched tentatively for fear of being found. Even then, prestigious cavewriters did not react well to criticism. This is especially true when you consider the tendency of the Criticosaurus Rex not only to critique their musings with unrelenting abrasion, but also to rip to shreds all hapless cavewriters that he or she found.
In this time, we should be so lucky! To carry home our bruised ego after a critique of our work which did not end so favorably. We still have our wit, the wholeness of our physical selves, and most importantly, the notion that if we are persistent and dumb and verbose enough, we may one day garner a following.
And everyone, my endearing reader, wants a following. So don't let the harsh words get you down. Instead, fly off the walls as you write. Abandon intellectual posturing in your work in lieu of incomprehensible chicken scratch which expounds of the virtues of eating on the greasy skin of fried otter for seven days straight. With your effort and recognition of the futility of being smart, we can achieve a horde of groupies unfathomable by doctors, scientists, speechwriters, and philosophers. After all, philosophy is just failed excrement of the human mind that did not quite become a law.
That's my philosophy.
* In my twenty-fourth year of living, I am finally comfortable with using two of the same words in succession. I must thank the noble George Orwell for this. Right right on!
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| The Mediocre Baseball Analogy. |
[14 Jan 2008|09:22pm] |
Rummaging. Rummaging rummaging rummaging rummaging rummaging rummaging rummaging. Rummaging is similar to snooping around in someone's personal belongings, except it sounds so much less malicious when you call it 'rummaging' and not 'snooping.' I was rummaging through my old journal entries on Tensaiji, untrust, and this account. Over time I got away from personal accounts for the most part and I resorted to being informative and offering perspective. That is good sometimes, but there is a certain human, vulnerable characteristic about personal blogging that I like. I've withheld personal accounts for various reasons - but mostly because I felt imparting personal information would be a burden or the truth just scared the living shit out of me.
Herein, because it feels good for the moment, I'll make a personal blog.
I will be glad when certain things are over. EMT school; my final court hearing for the divorce; my mother leaving Greg. I like EMT school and learning, but not being able to have time to run or work a second job is an inconvenience. I look forward to working for a private ambulance service and determining whether my erection for EMS is merely a fairweather reaction to the information in EMT class or if I really do enjoy EMS - although for certain philosophical and personal reasons I believe I truly have a passion for it. My final court hearing is tomorrow at 9:30 AM. It will be nice to finalize the divorce, and I am grateful that it is something Lesley and I both want at this point. My mom has asked that I don't answer the phone if my stepdad (Greg) calls me. She has also asked that if he comes to the station while I am on duty and asks me where she is living, that I reply by stating that she is living with Chris and I temporarily. This is a lie. I hate being a pivot for any of this. I try not to think about the fact that I love Greg, past differences aside.
In the next week I begin ambulance clinicals. At minimum I need 24 hours of ride time, 4-5 successful IVs, and a few other interventions documented. Like a girly-man, I worry about my ineptitude in the back of an ambulance. This worry is born out of unfamiliarity with the layout of the back of the ambulance, as well as doing procedures in the real world; not poking a synthetic human arm with an IV needle, because synthetic arms don't flinch and plastic veins don't roll.
The past two months have been dedicated to extensive inner restructuring. When I was younger and I imagined myself at age 24, I never really suspected that I would not be able to identify myself. 24 sounds mature and resolute and concrete. For me, it is not so. I love the foundation of myself and I've lucked out in terms of raw materials but I stay in my head too often to get out of my own goddamn way. One revelation I have had (and this really applies to dealing with women), is that it is not WHAT I say, but HOW I say it and how my body language conveys it. This comes full circle when I apply this logic to the actions of others. Instead of analyzing the content of words, it seems more accurate to identify what emotion people convey their statements with. This has been a true work in progress for me, an overly cerebral individual.
Being right is a disease that plagued me for a while. Rarely is it truly important to be right. When there is a disagreement between two people, most of the time there is a common goal that both would like to achieve. I can apply this best to a relationship. When lovers argue intensely, feelings are hurt, staticky thoughts are conveyed and die in the air, and if it is bad enough, there is a period of silence, and hopefully later, there is reconciliation. Through it all, the two want nothing more than to be content with one another, but because both people find it imperative to be right, they continue arguing. It is unfortunate when two lovers argue over right and wrong and it proves to be their demise, but I suppose Darwinism can apply to relationships as well.
And now for my humble analogy: In the great, big game of baseball that is life, we're all switch hitters. From the right side we bat with apathy and it yields a consistent batting average, and this in turn leads to very little risk or scrutiny. From the left side we bat with passion and produce awe-inspiring home runs and triples. Swinging in passion and with all that we have, we sometimes miss. This does draw scrutiny. Us, being our greatest critics, feel condemned and defeated for a certain amount of time, and regress to batting on the apathetic side of the plate again.
The reason I dislike political campaigns now is because of the impassioned high hopes and 100% energy carried into the campaign. They're batting from the left side. In the end, there will only be one candidate elected, and the rest who constructed elaborate dreams and visions strike out, regardless of how much batting practice they put in. Seeing man defeated is one of the greater portrayals of despair that I have seen.
Admittedly, I'm on the right side of the plate for now. I embrace the time when I can stick my neck out again, go for the big swing, and aim for the bleachers. It'll happen eventually.
We all dig in and take our stance, eventually.
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| Moar Good Stuff. |
[13 Jan 2008|01:53pm] |
To any LJers who may be financially destitute:
http://consumerist.com/344124/get-100-gallons-of-heating-oil-for-free
It's an article on receiving free heating oil for this cold season. There is a link to an application that you fill out, and if you meet the economic criteria (or lack thereof) then benevolent hippy dwarves deliver drums of oil to your doorstep via pocket airplanes. As an aside, these airplanes have a remarkable payload, to the sum of 112,500 pounds. Fascinatin'.
I watched an episode of Bullshit by Penn & Teller and it was about boobies. At one point it touches on America's movement to support breast cancer awareness and how corporations have rode that dense-in-moral-fiber cash cow all the way to the bank. Yeah, that pink ribbon equates to staggering sales numbers, but there are approximately ZERO charities in the US of A which forward its coffers to *researching and curing* breast cancer. All efforts currently are pointed toward awareness; which can be as simple as people acknowledging that women are dying of breast cancer in this age. Puts a whole new spin on those 'Save the Ta-Tas' stickers, huh? Just another farce that makes the general public feel good to contribute toward, which yields no real results. Me likey.
There sure is a lot of fluff in this entry. The only reason I made this second entry was to inform you (my 4.. no 3 devoted readers) that I'll be taking more pictures to accompany entries now. I feel like a lot of my life has went by visually uncharted. What with this new fancy digital camera which I received for Christmas. I'm terrible. I'll be doing something about that.
Among the things you can anticipate seeing pictures of are:
- Me!
- Oddities which I behold on the job
- People-meetin'; friend makin'
- Elite dance moves
- Bacon
It's gonna be a what to do.
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| 7 Reasons the 21st Century is Making You Miserable |
[13 Jan 2008|09:58am] |
Hey guys and girls. I like this article.
http://www.cracked.com/article_15231_7-reasons-21st-century-making-you-miserable.html
My friend from the somewhat far west, Kyle, posted it in a bulletin. I feel like it's worthy of extra exposure, so I made a blog about it! A lot of the information is illuminating, if only in the sense that it evokes thoughts which have been dormant all along. A lot of us suffer from an inability to commit wholeheartedly to a physical interaction - I am guilty of this as well.
Remaining within proximity of one of its statements, I think our 'online selves' are an idealized projection, and as mentioned in the article, subject to far less scrutiny that your real person. We are indeed held accountable for far less. In real life, I get dragged off by my roommate Chris to run errands and accomplish small victories all the time (and I assure you, we always win). On the internet, at most I have to impart information or provide solace in an IM or e-mail. This requires far less commitment.
I have to stop myself at times. I become dependent on the comfortable, cozy lifestyle that the internet and text messaging provides. I communicate on my terms, I engage when I want. If I don't want to talk, I ignore your IM. As far as you know, I'm not there. In reality? I'm probably reading a forum or playing a video game. That's something I can't get away with in a real life confrontation.
If I spend long enough living my life through the internet and messaging, I DO notice myself feeling a bit empty; lacking purpose.
And somewhat unrelated: when I feel my day becoming bad, or my mood worsening, there are certain things I can do to improve things. I'll bullet them out really quick. Most of them are obvious, but underlining the obvious is sometimes necessary to validate its implementation. Hopefully it can help!:
- Smile! Seriously. I know I'm not the only person who is easily tricked. Roll out of bed and start grinning like a doped-up preteen with an extra chromosome. It works WONDERS and you can literally fool yourself into a pleasant mood. Smile big. Make your face hurt. Yeah, that's it.
- Do work. Accomplish something that needs to be done. Mow the lawn, pay some bills, call your grandma back. It's little things such as these which build up a debt of stress slowly and surely. Instead of letting that feeling of stress dismantle you, take the offensive and knock out the stressors. The feeling of accomplishment is an immediate reward and provides good momentum for the rest of the day. Ever notice how you accomplish one thing and the rest of your tasks become easier? I oftentimes build up certain tasks to be tougher than they really are. Once I am engaged in the activity, it's not so bad. =)
- Exercise! Run/jog/walk a couple of miles. After a few miles I feel a bit euphoric (you know, after the misery of burning muscles and aching lungs subsides), and that carries into how I feel for the rest of the day. I don't feel so bad for rewarding myself with a drink or an entire pizza (is that pushing it?); I actually feel justified in doing so. Not only that, but since I started running regularly two years ago I've been sleeping soundly ever since. I fall into a deeper sleep and my body recovers more. That's why I'm a raging, annoying, up and at 'em morning person. The kind that you hate.
- Regulate! If someone has pissed you off, let them know. Don't engage in an argument of right versus wrong. Simply saying "Look X, you ticked me off when you pissed on my cat last night. I want you to know that it made me mad." works great. After you get mad at this person, you can genuinely forgive them. It's a crazy world we live in. Most of the time when we forgive someone, we do so out of formality and it is ineffectual. We don't reap the rewards of actually forgiving someone. When we become flagrantly angry before someone and then forgive them, the sentiment is genuine and the problem is actually solved. I'll be the first to say I suck at this, but I am working on it. Not genuinely stating anger or forgiving only leads to resentment, he-said she-said drama, and flaking out on that person as a means of passive griefing.
This stuff works for me when I have the fortitude to carry it out. Unfortunately I still hide behind my PC some, I drink more than necessary, and I let certain things which piss me off roll off my back (except it doesn't roll off, it absorbs). It would be cool if this information benefited you, but I'm a simpleton so it probably won't.
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| Deleted! |
[03 Jan 2008|07:54pm] |
I typed up a long entry chronicling the unfortunate happenings of 2008. Yes, 2008; all 3 days of it. Instead I'll just bullet it.
- I was a victim of identity theft, again. It was determined to be Lesley's card on the transactions. Not sure if it was the genuine card or a duplicate.
- Too many forays with meaningless women.
- My mom is leaving my stepdad. She has been cheating on him for a little while now and will be telling him within a few days that she wants a divorce.
My previous draft for this entry was centered around describing the aforementioned bullets. Instead I'll redirect that energy into a different subject.
Drama. Ok, as much as everyone resents drama on the surface, it is a necessary spice that we use to give life a little more zing. Just by saying the word "drama" I have hopefully garnered the interest of those involved. While drama is a trait of life unto itself, the amount of drama (and thusly, how long it is perpetuated) can be controlled in an adult fashion.
I do not wish to be a liasion or pivot to the drama of others. First, it is an unnecessary addition of stress to an already stockpiled amount. Second, there's a chance I won't deliver the message or advice in its intended packaging, because everyone has a different interpretation of words. I'm not a conduit. Nip it in the bud, hash things out. Get mad at each other so that you may apologize to each other. Do what ya gotta, 'na mean?
Or don't.
But I'm not a conduit.
And I will do my part to stop being so paranoid about how you guys perceive me. It surely is not a charming habit to assume.
Merry part for now, LJiggas.
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| Succinct and Success Sound Similar. |
[23 Dec 2007|02:07pm] |
X-posted from MySpace:
www.hackyourself.org is a neat little trinket I happened upon thanks to my friend Chris, yesterday. It's a short passage of self-improvement tips.
Enjoy and happy holidays.
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| You're So Sensitive . . . |
[20 Nov 2007|06:06pm] |
I am, I am a machine.
You're so sensitive,
I am, I am a machine.
Pardon the influx of blogging. Pardon also for the fact that I could have consolidated these two blogs, since they are two similar veins running parallel.
I sometimes worry about becoming a robot. In order to do this job for any duration and maintain a healthy mindset, one must perceive the calls you run as 'business as usual.' In order to carry out this business, we must train. We train to make procedures into habit. These habits cast a mold that is not the person carrying out the habits, but a projection of that person. This can apply to other jobs (namely service related) which are not Fire/EMS.
When severe calls occur and they do not affect me, I wonder if it is the correct response to have. I have control over how I react to any given circumstance. It is my choice to remain impartial in the face of human despair. I write my report in terms of how many inches of intrusion the tractor trailer created in the passenger side of your daughter's SUV; not the emotional toll it takes on your family when you find out she was transported to a trauma center via helicopter ambulance. When I am conducting a primary search in a burning building, I am looking to complete my objective - perform a search pattern and rescue anyone inside - not become distraught at the thought of someone actually being trapped. It is understandable, then, that I feel like a robot when I behold tragic visions and I emote next to nothing.
Conversely, I perform my job with passion. I believe I provide great patient care. When I walk into your home, I am trying to become your friend within just a few moments, so that you will trust me enough to care for you. Very often, the calls we run seem unwarranted (the vernacular is 'bullshit calls'), but even still I find a way to rationalize the perspective of the patient in my mind. It is necessary to me to rationalize these perspectives, because it is otherwise misinterpreted as a malicious 911 call - we insinuate that this person is abusing the system. In reality, it is not my job to make that assessment. If they are abusing 911, it is not for me to know or care. I respond to calls. People who take it upon themselves to assess whether or not each call is worth their time eventually become burnouts. Burnouts no longer care about their job or the patients they respond to. They are mercenaries now, only here to collect their paycheck.
A burnout will place blame on the job itself. They do not want to acknowledge that they are subjected to the reality they have created for themselves. It's one great big mindfuck. Perception is reality. You hate this job because you wanted to. You are the poor inundated tragic hero that we should feel sorry for. You are another selfless martyr that got beat down by the system.
That's a load of whale shit.
Emotionally intelligent people realize that there are circumstances associated with every call they run. No one is out to get you. This is not some great conspiracy to make you not sleep at night. Sleepless nights do happen - a lot. It's part of the job that we do.
I have been told that once I am a 'veteran' of the fire service, I will stop caring so much about the calls that I run and the people that I meet. This is a cop-out burnouts use to justify their disposition. It is incredibly contagious. It only serves to turn my stomach.
In short; I have the stiff upper lip necessary to perform this job and not be worn down by what I must see. I still reserve a fraction of my heart for the people I meet on these calls. I got into this job because I was an adrenaline junkie; I'm sticking around now because I have a deep-seated passion for people.
The only issue I must contend with is reserving enough of my heart to delegate to people outside of the job, when I take the uniform off. It's hard sometimes.
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| Of Few Things Can I Impart. |
[20 Nov 2007|05:54pm] |
Of few things can I impart, but this is one of them: never stop being weird. If you're around my age, give or take some years, then you are already starting to realize this; even if you do not mull over it consciously.
As kids, and throughout our childhood, we are instructed to abide by certain formalities and moral codes. As a by-product, individualism and being 'weird' is de-emphasized. Now, 15 to 20 years later, the weird people with eccentric qualities and distinctions are the individuals we seek to engage. It requires courage and persistence to stay true to yourself and maintain your unique qualities in the light of scrutiny. However, life is simply not long enough to take this time for granted.
Be weird. Paint the walls green. Snap with your ring fingers. Do the damn thing.
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| Night Divides the Day. |
[05 Nov 2007|08:09pm] |
Many people have interpretations about the song "Break on Through (To the Other Side)" by the Doors. I think that it is about depression and the moment, at the crescendo of your depression, when you realize you're about to coast down the hillside into a state of happiness again.
I was sitting in my chair at work and I was contemplating making an entry about my interpretation of the song, when I was interrupted by Eric, my co-worker and presiding officer. Rewind to this morning. I arrived at Station 51 only to be told I was reassigned to Station 52 for 24 hours. I packed my things and reported to Station 52. It has been a quiet day here until this point.
I was interrupted by Eric, who asked if I could assist a lady with a flat tire outside the station. Eric did not feel as though he could be bothered to help the lady, as he had to study for a test tomorrow. Initially, I was perturbed because I too had a test tomorrow. Obviously I delegated myself to the task of updating my journal instead of the more practical assignment of studying, so I had no excuses for being upset at this task. I went outside and met the person I was about to help.
She was an older black lady. Delicate and slight; it quickly became commonplace that I implored her to speak up. She had a lazy eye and she seemed shaken up by the fact that her tire was flat and it was dark outside. Very quickly I surmised that it was petty of me to feel inconvenienced by helping someone who was quite clearly having a worse day than me.
As luck would have it, my portable air compressor was in my truck. I picked it up the day before from my house and declared it necessary to keep it in tow in case of roadside calamity. Or to help a perfect stranger.
I drove my truck up alongside her vehicle and inspected her flat tire. It was indeed flat, with what appeared to be a section of chainlink fractured and jutting out of the tread of the tire. I used pliers to remove it, which left a sizeable hole.
"You may want to start looking in the phonebook for local tire stores and tow services. I may not be able to fill this tire. The hole is very big." I advised her.
Hesitantly, she complied, and walked back inside the station to look through the phone book. Meanwhile, I tried filling the tire. As expected, the hole was too big and the tire would not hold pressure. I searched my truck for other tools. Ah! I found my tire plug kit, which had two plugs remaining. Of all the things my stepdad ever tried to teach me in making me into a man, I actually listened to him when he told me how to locate and repair small leaks in a tire.
When the lady returned, she was very glum. "There are no tire shops open right now. I don't really have the money for a tow truck." She quaked. I felt very uncomfortable knowing that I'd be in the presence of a crying stranger.
To defuse the situation, I rammed a spike into the already exposed hole in the tread of the tire, augmenting it. I explained that I was making the hole bigger, in an attempt to plug it with a small cord of material which had the same consistency as rubber cement. She didn't really understand the logic behind it, but I told her I may be able to get her back on the road.
As I'm doing this, I recall the last time I tried to plug a tire - it wasn't even necessary to attempt it.
After enough struggle and display of ineptitude, I managed to plug the tire. I sprayed the damaged area with Windex to check my work - no bubbles formed. I plugged her tire. (No innuendo)
I explained to her that I had fixed her tire and she could drive on it again. I told her to have it checked as soon as possible, because it was only a temporary fix.
Throughout the time it took to repair the leak, I thought about how little things in life can feel so catastrophic at times. Before she spoke to me, I knew that this problem was the crux of a very bad day or week, or month.
"I've had such a bad day. When I found out I had a hole in my tire, I wanted to cry..."
"I figured. Flat tires always seem to come at the worst time. I'm sorry I could not work any faster. I'm glad it is fixed though." I feigned some degree of humbleness.
"God bless you. I cannot explain to you how thankful I am." She began to cry, but at least this time it was for her good fortune and relief.
For the next five minutes she tried to give me ten dollars and I played extreme defense on her - I wasn't having any of it.
And while there is nothing truly remarkable about the entire exchange, I felt something very exposed and very human about the situation. I had this person pouring their heart out - crying no less - as I was doing something which I considered minor. These moments come so unexpectedly and they are what we live for.
We go to bars. We go to concerts. We travel the world. We kiss strangers. We listen to music. We go to movies. We do all of this in a veiled attempt to live more and feel alive. We thrive on chance encounters with the energy and spirituality of one another. (this portion of my entry was interrupted by a call)
I think Jim Morrison wanted us to push through the barrier; push hard. Break on through to the other side.
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| Ego Masks. |
[04 Nov 2007|09:08am] |
The text below is a post from a message board I visit. It was submitted by a Ukrainian member whose English is not the best; but it is still readable. The point he homes in on is really cool to me. It's very taboo. For every moment of every day it seems like we walk around with masks on. Let this sink in:
"Hi everyone, I have something to say now, because yesterday was a huge break-through point for me.
I've suddenly realized it after I watched my two best friend - a couple, boy and girl, relating to each other.
They relationship is close to be perfect, and what I mean by that I want to tell in this specific post.
After this realization I had a talk this my girlfriend, almost after we had a big "fight" about hurting each other every now and then.
So I sat with her and asked her "I wonder what would our relationships looks like if we were open absolutely the most vulnerable sides of ourself one to another, what if would feels like for our love?"
Ok, I will start from start.
I will be refer to "we" in my post 'coz I think we're all guilty for this in almost avery aspect of our lives, at one point or another.
We are all wear those masks, in our every-day life. It's almost like Halloween, ascept we're not using "dreadful scary" ones, but the "cool" ones, and even most preciesly, "The Strong" ones...
And I have to say, that the funny thing is, if you take this mask and look at qualities that it communicates, you would really realized that in reality there's absolutely no people so strong in our whole world.
We're all weak and far far from perfect. The strongest persons that I feel gratitude for knowing them are the ones who really not hiding their weaknesses... Their just comfortable enough to show this world their real faces. And I think about it and realized that those masks are the only thing that kills love.
And I know what you're thinking right now, that you've heard it all before...
But I doubt that you thought about the other side, the complete opposite to those masks.
And it's vulnerability, and what I mean by that is total absence of self-defense.
I would like to go really abstract from here...
If you read and what Eckhart Tolle is teaching about, my abstracts will be more understandable for you, and I pretty much sure that most of you would dig it.
When you in a relationship, 90% of you time that you spend together is ego-driven, if only your not blissful or something. And if you here, I'm pretty much sure that you're not in this sense. No offence, I talk only to your ego right now ...
So let's say that most of the time you communicate with one another through your egos, and sometimes, maybe in the rare moments of deep intimacy, you're absolutely present and not in your head.
But when it's ego-driven, I grasp that the TRUE you, in any given moment, can easily welcome it and CHOOSE the mask for you ego, 'coz you ego is nothing but collection of all your masks.
And I never said anything about "social" masks anywere in this post, because those mask are social AND personal at the same time. And they all your illusions anyways.
So what I want to say here is ask you what it would be like if in any given interaction, in any given moment you would decide to choose your most vulnerable, most "undefendable" ego. Because you CAN control this, you really can do that easily.
It is yourself with absolutely no self-defence.
What would you love feels like?
What would your interactions be like?
For me, it feels like totally life-transforming, and I'm glad I could share it with all of you, guys."
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| The Intoxication of the "They" Mentality. |
[25 Oct 2007|08:44pm] |
The Intoxication of the "They" Mentality
Author: Dustin Pumm
I will type this quickly and without spellcheck, because after cramming 8 hours of class, 27 hours of work, and 2 hours of traffic into a nonstop 37 hour block of time, I am tired and ready for bed. This will be crossposted to Myspace.
People, when met with adversity in trying to be progressive, typically react to this adversity in one of two ways.
"They":
The "They" mentality runs amok in the fire department, and surely in workplaces everywhere. I define it as the notion that we are victims of circumstance; we are subjected to certain scenarios by the powers that be, and we are helpless to reverse the effects.
Looking closer, it often seems that we use "They" as a nondescript and tyrannical entity - a hinderance to us when we seek out to accomplish goals - and we use "They said this", "They ordered that we cannot do that" as a cop-out. We sell ourselves short. Subconciously, we realize that we could accomplish these goals despite what "They" say if we really wanted to, but the path of least resistance is to comply.
I do not want this to be misconstrued as endorsing insubordination, so I will use an example from my fulltime fire department.
Recently, the administration purchased RIT bags for us, which require experience and/or training to implement correctly on the fireground. Not just any lay person could be assigned to this duty. Immediately, the majority of us - including myself - objected to its use because we were not trained on it. We said this while acknowledging that we could train ourselves using drills easily found online, in books, or in fire magazines. But because it was not placed directly before us, we objected, and succumbed to the powers that be.
After long enough, my crew decided we were tired of this RIT bag collecting dust and being unused, and we researched RIT evolutions and webbing tactics for two hours before we got on with the dirty work of RIT training. After the training, we all felt much more knowledgable about the RIT bag and we felt comfortable having it on the truck. Had we adopted this mentality from the start, we could have been competant with the RIT bag much sooner. What we employed was the "We" mentality, and it felt good!
As an overview, we objected to using new technology because the lessons were not spoonfed to us by those responsible for doing so. In reality, we don't have it bad and if the most that "They" ask of us is to show some intiative and train on the new equipment ourselves, then we should do so. They did purchase the equipment for us, after all. And whether or not it is laziness on the part of "They" for not scheduling training to be done on the new equipment is a non-issue; we still could have taken responsibility into our own hands, and from now on, I hope "We" do.
Humanity has moved forward and thrived because brave men and women were not displacing the blame on "They", but rather placing great importance on the capabilities of "We". We assumed responsibility for ourselves and our actions and trudged forward, training be damned. I feel like this can be applied quite liberally to many settings.
We need to enforce better habits in ourselves - don't sell ourselves short and think that we cannot do something simply because the road hasn't been paved for us. This is my movement to DE-EMPHASIZE the "They" mentality. Do what takes effort and assume responsibility. Sometimes doing what's right isn't the easy thing to do but we must strive to do it anyway. We are much less subject to tyranny than we believe we are.
And before I dismount from this soapbox I'm perched atop, I'd like to press another hot button in my conscience.
Idle griping.
At nearly every firehouse on the planet you will hear the guys idly griping about what is wrong with our present state; whether it's union dues, lack of funding, lack of equipment, scarcity of raises, or whatever. What gets me, is most of the time, the people griping aren't even upset! The vibe is cancerous. We gripe just to gripe without realizing what we're doing. But that impressionable jake is soaking all of this up and in a year or so he'll be griping in a very similar fashion. Do you see where this is headed?
Don't get me wrong. When the crew is mad about an injustice in the department, there is no better motivation than hate and discontent. What I am referring to, is the habit of complaining without substance - complaining just to make small talk, for lack of anything better to say. Even if you get hit with several 'unwarranted' requests for help via 911, remember that the person dialing 911 is the reason why we are here. That may seem like a bitter pill to swallow, but just because we don't view the request as an emergency, does not mean the caller doesn't think it is.
Take a step back. In the grand scheme of things, there are few jobs better or more fulfilling than the fire department and EMS. I don't feel like I need to kick and scream in order for that to be realized. And once you do realize it, please kick the habit of griping about trivial things - it erodes morality in the house and it sounds a lot like clatter to me. Oh, and if you hear me idly griping, smack me and remind me why I'm here. No one's perfect and it's easy to regress back into those old habits.
Cliff notes: Don't sell yourself short. Take initiative and accomplish goals that the lazy mind deems intangible. And the next time you have the impulse to complain about something that in reality is a very small detail, reconsider before speaking your mind. The crew will be much better off without the contagious bellyaching.
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| A Great Read. |
[04 Aug 2007|09:45pm] |
Source: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19001200/site/newsweek/page/8/
Here is the article in full.
( Here )
The point made about maintaining national posturing after a terrorist attack seems so completely logical and abundantly practical to me, that I am amazed I hadn't heard it prior to tonight. Of course, to sit idly by and wait to be attacked would be a bad idea, but the article also states that most terrorist movements are local, not nationwide, making them nearly impossible to anticipate.
As I see it, and this article so clearly points it out, we've become a nation always in a guarded position, keeping insiders and outsiders at arm's length because we live in fear. Everyone is untrustworthy!
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| Toiling in Taboo Topics. |
[23 Jul 2007|08:02pm] |
Aside from the epic alliteration of this entry's title, this passage will have little to do with grammar or anything that may pique the interest of the average LJ reader, but it needs to be remarked upon nonetheless. It will, at least, raise awareness in citizens under their local fire department's jurisdictions about bureaucracy and the safety-oriented mantra which is sweeping across the fire service community. Indeed, we are deviating further and further from the basics which got us here, and we may soon begin tarnishing the romanticized vision that the citizens behold us with.
Let me establish this foremost: no one likes to hear about a firefighter dying. This applies tenfold for the firefighters in the service and a hundredfold for the people who were family to these fallen. Line of duty deaths (LODDs) have a resounding impact and disheartening effect among firefighters nation and worldwide. We've lost a lot this year too; the numbers will be higher than last year, at this rate. The response that has been implemented is one which emphasizes firefighter safety, which is fine. However, we're starting to stray from some fundamental principles which made the fire service great.
When we, the fire department, arrive on scene at a house fire, we begin assessing our course of action by prioritzation; life before exposures before extinguishment. The first question we ask a bystander is "Is anyone inside?" Regardless of their answer, we should be sending a team in to search the burning building for victims. We protect loss of life foremost. Only after we have completed a primary search of the structure can we begin fighting fire. If the building on fire is already fully involved and likely to be a loss, but it is close to burning the neighboring building/car/property, we protect the intact property until we have enough resources on scene to extinguish the main fire.
The newfound thought process of protecting our firefighters can often times cloud our ability to do this on-scene prioritization. It seems to me that the bureaucracy of fire chiefs, commissioners, mayors, and so on has truly beleaguered our service. Where we may have sent an aggressive attack team to the interior of a house fire ten years ago, we are not doing it so much these days. We are also building houses with more lightweight and freely burning materials. Roof systems are lightweight truss construction and collapse after only 8-12 minutes of fire exposure. We are fighting less fire these days due to people making less mistakes and because of sprinkler systems. All of this, along with the mantra of safety, has greatly affected our knowledge and aggressiveness on the company level. Unfit firefighters further inundate our service.
The best way to offset these odds which we have stacked against us is to train as much as possible, stay in shape, and learn from mistakes; whether they are yours or someone else's. A line of duty death is an awful thing but we almost always learn something from it. I am concerned that we are going to become so concerned with the risks we take that we may forget about why we're here in the first place. If we are not searching burning buildings for victims then we are nothing more than glorified sprinklers with red lights that make a lot of cool noises.
And contrary to what you may be thinking, I do value my own life and the lives of those I work with. There are ways to attack a fire aggressively and still maintain a sense of safety, but (at the risk of sounding repetitive and longwinded) it requires training. Even if we train for ten years and only ever rescue one victim, it is still worth it. If we make an aggressive interior attack on a house fire and at the end of the day we've saved 75% of the structure, then the physical strain involved was worth it. Actions like that are what validate us. And if we fall victim to a building collapse while searching for a mother's two year old child, then we gave our lives doing what we acknowledged could happen in the first place, and we've done so for a justifiable reason.
The technology we have developed and the safety systems in place are nice tools for the job, but they are not something we should overly rely on. If we do not have a Thermal Imaging Camera, we should still be able to do a fast and effective search. It boils down to assuming responsibility for yourself and hitting the books, hitting the weights, and doing the company-level training.
I don't have all of the answers when it comes to the fire service. I'm still very new (I've only been doing this for a little more than three years), but if you have any questions then feel free to comment!
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| Some Idle Thoughts. |
[21 May 2007|10:05pm] |
I think it is important to take to heart and commit to memory every amount of incidental knowledge you pick up along the way. It is equally important to question the things placed before you (but not to the extent that you would convey yourself as a cynical, skeptical isotope) so that you can draw your own conclusions and make firm the mold that is your being.
And speaking of implementing knowledge: Thank you Josh Hamrick for making me a more frequent and precise flosser; and thank you Roberta Westcott for informing me that brushing the roof of my mouth will help my breath after meals.
Lichen is the fungus that saved George Washington's battalion from starvation during the Revolutionary War.
Here is my knowledge to you: (Insert diatribe concering soda, fast food, and lack of exercise here)!
Tomorrow is the first shift I work since ten days ago; however, even then I had to leave work early due to a conjunctival abrasion (scratch to the eye). I'm ready to learn and work out and goof off and drink coffee with my elderly coworkers.
And one final thank you to Lesley AraPlummgo for teaching me why it is that we say "bless you" to a person after they sneeze.
Good night!
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| Hitting Your Stride. |
[21 May 2007|01:49pm] |
Whether you realize it or not, your occupation is a projection of yourself. Or perhaps, you are a projection of your occupation. And if you pay attention to the nuances and subtleties of your toil, you realize that you have your good days and your bad days. I think this applies to you whether you are a shopping cart gatherer, an animal psychologist, a political lobbyist, or a call center representative. And then again, maybe I am remiss in assuming that everyone has hot streaks and cold streaks regardless of occupation - maybe I have watched way too much baseball and ESPN Sportscenter. After reading this, maybe you will begin to recognize hot streaks and cold streaks in your occupation. Maybe you will feel like a professional athlete who must endure the highs and the lows of your job.
For me, highs and lows can be minor and imperceptible to the naked eye, or they can be clearly abundant and emphatic. Regardless of how the third person would perceive these occurrences, I give attention to all of them.
An accurate patient report that is quick and concise makes me feel good. It is a small victory, and it doesn't even begin to scratch the surface on a patient's condition, but it is the initial push that gets the sleigh moving. If I notice dull, left-sided chest pain that radiates to the left arm of a patient, then I have identified the onset of a heart attack. The patient is not likely to go into cardiac arrest before my eyes, but there is reason to transport this patient as fast as possible to the hospital. If the patient has the symptoms listed, and is pale, cool, and diaphoretic (sweating), then I can rightly assume that I will be doing CPR and using the AED fairly soon. Noticing these signs and being prepared for what may or may not happen on scene is a moderate victory. The AED, bag-valve mask, and backboard should probably be in arm's reach.
If my patient has a tight, burning pain in the back of his neck, and remnants of a headache which have been around for a few days, then I could easily write this off as an unwarranted 911 call - this guy has a headache and he called us? - and just do a primary assessment and wait on the ambulance to arrive. Or, I could see that these are symptoms of meningitis (imflammation of the meninges - the lining of the brain), and I could put on a facemask while giving patient care, as meningitis is airborne. Not noticing this could result in a lifelong malignancy; I'd call it a huge victory.
These events, strung together, act as a series of wins - a sweep - and leave me riding high. It's fun to look at my job from this perspective. It invigorates me and makes me want to try harder to perpetuate these wins and go for the single season record for wins. Alas, you can't win 'em all. Sometimes you're just vapid and cloudy-headed and you cannot for the life of you get in the game and focus on the task at hand. Sometimes I am in the middle of training and all I can think about is this new dance move I just conjured up. When I'm driving the truck, I'm missing shortcuts to calls, I'm drawn into the lull of the siren, and I'm not navigating through the city as expeditiously as I am required to.
I arrive on scene to a cardiac call and the patient is quite obviously having chest pains. By the time the paramedic arrives on scene, I have not applied high flow 02 to the patient (one of the best and most remedial treatments one can give) and the moment those scornful eyes fall on me, I know what I have (not) done.
Or we are dispatched to a house fire and I'm on the nozzle. I advance the line in and I make entry to the room where I believe the fire is, only to find out the seat of the fire is on the floor below me. By the time I've backed the cumbersome firehose out of the room and the floow above the fire and I try to advance it to the room below me, the fire is already too big to fight inside the house. The on-scene commander tells us to back out and go into defenseive firefighting mode. Now we will lose most of the house and even though the home-owner will not know that the house was completely lost due to my lack of attentiveness, I will know, and that in itself is a killer. To further twist that knife of irony which is so deeply embedded in my gut, the home-owner will send us a thank you card and some other gift in appreciation for the work we did when we were trying to save his house. That is what you'd call a streak-ender. It's going to leave a mark, produce some wrinkles, and make you older. Things become less fun when you are burdened by something that huge.
Events like those mentioned in succession will induce a losing streak. The only way to get back on the horse is to compile some smaller victories and re-establish your confidence enough to have faith in your ability to diagnose a patient or extinguish a fire precisely. And to be frank, the job is not always so action-packed - as a matter of fact it rarely is - and not being drawn into the lull of unwarranted 911 calls and minor medical calls is hard to do. Maintaining a state of readiness for the big calls is hard to do when you're so accustomed to fire alarms, stubbed toes, and trees in the roadway.
I guess you just have to hope that when the bells ring, your head will be in the right place.
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| In ur church, eloping with ur Plummz. |
[14 May 2007|07:10pm] |
Obligatory introductory sentence where I state that I have not updated as much as I should. Follow-up sentence where I apologize to my imaginary reader-base and vow to update more often.
Formalities aside, I can't really say that the wedding is the reason why I have not updated lately. I guess my primary reason for not posting lately is because my life just wasn't intriguing enough to post about. Very recently, however, something interesting did occur; I married Lesley Arango.
The wedding and planning for it and the financial inundation were stressors, certainly, but the experiences I had on my wedding day more than atoned for any hardships that planning for the wedding created. I learned a lot about people and I rediscovered a lot of fundamental principles about human spirit and good intentions.
So many people came through in a big way, some came through as I knew they would, and some completely amazed me with their unyielding selflessness (Nathan). I (re)learned that people are worth going the extra mile for. I learned that you can break through anyone's jaded facade if you just show them you are willing to make the effort for them.
I'm going to keep this entry short and sweet. To my family, Lesley's family (that is now my family), the wedding party, and our friends; thank you for coming through for us. Whether we broadcasted the sentiment clearly enough or not prior to the wedding, we did need the help. The experience was made surreal by everyone involved.
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