THINGS FALL APART
My car started stalling on me while I was driving. I tried as best I could to diagnose it; checked the battery and fuses , tested the alternator, furrowed my brow and googled the hell out of "Volvo 780 stall check engine" and nothing helped...at lunch today it wouldn't start and jumping it didn't work...fortunately, I had taken my Twin's advice earlier this year and enrolled in AAA, so I was able to get it towed for free. Now I'm just sitting at work, waiting for the phone to ring and hoping it's something relatively cheap (like a sensor) and not something horrible (like the timing chain). If it is something major, my brother will help me get it fixed.
I am very fortunate to have such a good brother.
My eldest cat has been unable to control her pee and she's not getting better on her own, but luckily I have a friend here who loves cats and has a good job- he has offered to help me with my personal financial crisises but pride has prevented me from accepting- but it's my cat and I love the little fucker, so tonight I will call my friend and ask him for help.
My boss spent his lunch hour helping me with my car. It was seriously low on oil and I had no money- he bought two quarts for me and told me not to worry about it and that I could have as much time off as I need, (which I hope is none). A co-worker has offered me a ride home tonight and a ride back to work in the morning, so I won't miss anymore hours. There are some very cool people here at work, it turns out. I'm lucky to work for and with them.
Last week, my PC died on me and a different friend repaired it for me free of charge.
Also, I've been quite ill lately and yet another friend has helped me get medicine which seems to be working.
I've been feeling overwhelmed by my volunteer duties at the radio station. "Isn't there anyone else who knows how to do this?" has been my mantra. A friend at the station connected me with a young man who wants to learn how to do live audio for bands and now he is my intern and was very helpful during last night's double-band broadcast and I am looking forward to having his help in the future.
On top of it all, I have been experiencing a personal heartache that I don't want to blog about but I seem to be unable to cope with on my own- guess what? Friends have helped me with that, too.
Literally, hardly a day has passed in the last month without something bad happening and some of it is more than I can handle. Last week I felt the urge to drink again- something that I never thought I would feel - and I reached out to friends and they were there for me. The feeling has passed. I have too much to live for to throw it away by drinking. I needed to be reminded of that.
Some of the friends who have bailed me out recently live in the same city as me and some of them are sitting in your chair right now. I have friends everywhere and I wouldn't be here without them. Without you.
I'm really lucky to have so many friends.
Thank you.
P.S. - Just as I was getting ready to post this, a co-worker popped in to tell me that ice cream is being served in the lobby. How about that for good timing?
Showing posts with label gratitude. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gratitude. Show all posts
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Pause
My grandmother had a heart attack Friday following her surgery. She's in an induced coma and may never wake up. All we can do is pace the floor and wait. I will be going home soon.
I might not be around blog much in the near future so I wanted to say thanks for all the wonderful
gifts, wishes, candles and prayers that have been sent this way; this long ordeal has left me feeling rather isolated in real life ( I hate inflicting my woes on people who can't escape with a click) but I find comfort and reassurance in knowing that there are people all over the world who care.
That's amazing.
See you soon,
Allan
I might not be around blog much in the near future so I wanted to say thanks for all the wonderful
gifts, wishes, candles and prayers that have been sent this way; this long ordeal has left me feeling rather isolated in real life ( I hate inflicting my woes on people who can't escape with a click) but I find comfort and reassurance in knowing that there are people all over the world who care.
That's amazing.
See you soon,
Allan
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Mary and Matthew
I stood on the crest of a moonlit hill, looking down at the sea of graves that separated me from my lover and I asked myself a question.
Is this worth it?
I didn't know, so I hopped the low iron fence and started across the cemetery that served as a short-cut to Mary's house.
Our house, but not for long.
------------------------------------------------------------------
I met Mary when I was 19 and she was 30. It was at a club that no longer exists. She was short, auburn-haired and rather plain-looking; a brooding, neurotic drug dealer with a violent temper and a half-wild wolfhound named Gwen. My kinda gal.
I don't recall what was said when we first met-the music was horrible and loud- our first words were probably: "what? huh?" , but she grabbed my hand, pulled me out of the crowd and announced her intentions very clearly. We walked to her nearby house and , three or four months later, she decided that I should move in with her. I was living in a Dude House at the time, so I was ready to accept this offer. I told my roommates to rent my room to the next Dude in line and my belongings started making their way to Mary's home, one backpack at a time. Neither of us had a vehicle, but I didn't own much that wouldn't fit into a rucksack, so the move was made one day at a time, over the course of a month.
In the 30 days before I moved in I started not noticing a number of things that I should have noticed...Mary, for instance, had plenty of her own cocaine- yet mine was disappearing at an alarming rate- and Mary, who was a cook at a fancy hotel during the day, suddenly started working a lot of nights- but with no extra pay to show for it. In fact, the more she 'worked', the more money she had to borrow from me and the more of my blow vanished. Hmmm.
But I was 19 , stupid and unwilling to accept the fact that my girlfriend was trying to destroy me. And herself.
One afternoon I noticed a strange new painting in her living room. There was something familiar... had I seen it before?. I asked Mary about it. She gave me a curious answer:
"Oh, that. My friend stole that from the Museum. I'm holding onto it for him until things cool down."
It started to dawn on me that not only was my girlfriend a drug dealer, she was also a criminal.
-----------------------------------------------------------
The day before the move was complete, Mary called me at a friend's house.
We need to talk. Now.
Why?
I am in trouble. We are in trouble.
Are you calling from jail?
No. Just come over now. We won't see each other again until Sunday and this can't wait.
When I reached the other side of the graveyard, I crawled through a well-used hole in the chain link fence and stood at the end of Mary's street. I made a slow, circling approach, looking for police or FBI vehicles...the neighborhood looked normal. Mary didn't.
Mary looked insane. Her normally narrow eyes were wide with cocaine intensity as she told me the news: She was pregnant. I thought we'd been careful, but...
Wow. I was only 19 and I had some serious misgivings about making a lifetime investment with a woman who was revealing herself to be more and more dangerous every day. I was terrified, my mind was wrapped in tentacles of fear and doubt...this wasn't happening...couldn't be...oh, my God...
Suddenly, I knew.
Am I the father?, I asked.
I don't think so, she replied.
------------------------------------------------
With those words still ringing through my head, I found myself on the squalid basement doorstep of my friend Matt, who lived nearby. Matt was a junkie and he had knowledge that I needed.
"Matt, I need you to show me how to shoot up."
I threw a bag of coke on his table.
"Whoa...why? Are you sure? What's going on?"
I started telling him the whole sorry tale, but he stopped me.
"I know", he said. " She has been coming over here with that guy and shooting up. I didn't know it was your stash. Sorry."
"Wh...why didn't you tell me?"
"What would you have done?"
I thought about that question. "I probably would have hit you", I answered.
"You see?", said Matt.
"Well, fuck that bitch...just show me how to use the fucking needle and I'll be on my way- you can keep that bag." I had plenty of coke, more than enough to OD, which was what I wanted.
Matt looked at me and for a moment the jaundice seemed to lift from his eyes.
"No. I won't help you with this. Look at my life- is this what you want?"
As if on cue, a large rat crawled out of his kitchen sink and into a cupboard. It acted as if it knew the route well.
"Allan", he continued," nothing is worth this. Mary is a lost cause. I am a lost cause. Don't be a lost cause. Don't get into this shit...I will not help you do this. Put your coke back in your pocket and stick it up your nose or up your ass, but you are not sticking it in your arm, not here."
---------------------------------------------------------------
I didn't see Matt again for over ten years; I assumed that he had died, but he hadn't. During an afternoon stroll , I passed a house and Matt was perched on the porch, painting the windows. There was a ladder leaning against the side of the building.
"Climb on up!"
So I did. Matt had been clean for years and he looked great. He was getting married- or maybe he already had- I forget the details, but his life had turned completely around. Things were looking up for him.
I was doing pretty good too...I hadn't done coke for years and the drinking hadn't caught up with me yet. I was enjoying life. It was nice to see Matt. I had something to tell him.
"Matt", I said, "you saved my life back then. I never told you that, but you did. I don't know how to repay you."
"You don't", he told me.
"You don't?"
"No", he tried to explain. "I didn't do that for you. I did that for me. You don't owe me anything."
I didn't quite understand that at the time, but I do now.
It's never too late to say thank you.
Thank you.
Is this worth it?
I didn't know, so I hopped the low iron fence and started across the cemetery that served as a short-cut to Mary's house.
Our house, but not for long.
------------------------------------------------------------------
I met Mary when I was 19 and she was 30. It was at a club that no longer exists. She was short, auburn-haired and rather plain-looking; a brooding, neurotic drug dealer with a violent temper and a half-wild wolfhound named Gwen. My kinda gal.
I don't recall what was said when we first met-the music was horrible and loud- our first words were probably: "what? huh?" , but she grabbed my hand, pulled me out of the crowd and announced her intentions very clearly. We walked to her nearby house and , three or four months later, she decided that I should move in with her. I was living in a Dude House at the time, so I was ready to accept this offer. I told my roommates to rent my room to the next Dude in line and my belongings started making their way to Mary's home, one backpack at a time. Neither of us had a vehicle, but I didn't own much that wouldn't fit into a rucksack, so the move was made one day at a time, over the course of a month.
In the 30 days before I moved in I started not noticing a number of things that I should have noticed...Mary, for instance, had plenty of her own cocaine- yet mine was disappearing at an alarming rate- and Mary, who was a cook at a fancy hotel during the day, suddenly started working a lot of nights- but with no extra pay to show for it. In fact, the more she 'worked', the more money she had to borrow from me and the more of my blow vanished. Hmmm.
But I was 19 , stupid and unwilling to accept the fact that my girlfriend was trying to destroy me. And herself.
One afternoon I noticed a strange new painting in her living room. There was something familiar... had I seen it before?. I asked Mary about it. She gave me a curious answer:
"Oh, that. My friend stole that from the Museum. I'm holding onto it for him until things cool down."
It started to dawn on me that not only was my girlfriend a drug dealer, she was also a criminal.
-----------------------------------------------------------
The day before the move was complete, Mary called me at a friend's house.
We need to talk. Now.
Why?
I am in trouble. We are in trouble.
Are you calling from jail?
No. Just come over now. We won't see each other again until Sunday and this can't wait.
When I reached the other side of the graveyard, I crawled through a well-used hole in the chain link fence and stood at the end of Mary's street. I made a slow, circling approach, looking for police or FBI vehicles...the neighborhood looked normal. Mary didn't.
Mary looked insane. Her normally narrow eyes were wide with cocaine intensity as she told me the news: She was pregnant. I thought we'd been careful, but...
Wow. I was only 19 and I had some serious misgivings about making a lifetime investment with a woman who was revealing herself to be more and more dangerous every day. I was terrified, my mind was wrapped in tentacles of fear and doubt...this wasn't happening...couldn't be...oh, my God...
Suddenly, I knew.
Am I the father?, I asked.
I don't think so, she replied.
------------------------------------------------
With those words still ringing through my head, I found myself on the squalid basement doorstep of my friend Matt, who lived nearby. Matt was a junkie and he had knowledge that I needed.
"Matt, I need you to show me how to shoot up."
I threw a bag of coke on his table.
"Whoa...why? Are you sure? What's going on?"
I started telling him the whole sorry tale, but he stopped me.
"I know", he said. " She has been coming over here with that guy and shooting up. I didn't know it was your stash. Sorry."
"Wh...why didn't you tell me?"
"What would you have done?"
I thought about that question. "I probably would have hit you", I answered.
"You see?", said Matt.
"Well, fuck that bitch...just show me how to use the fucking needle and I'll be on my way- you can keep that bag." I had plenty of coke, more than enough to OD, which was what I wanted.
Matt looked at me and for a moment the jaundice seemed to lift from his eyes.
"No. I won't help you with this. Look at my life- is this what you want?"
As if on cue, a large rat crawled out of his kitchen sink and into a cupboard. It acted as if it knew the route well.
"Allan", he continued," nothing is worth this. Mary is a lost cause. I am a lost cause. Don't be a lost cause. Don't get into this shit...I will not help you do this. Put your coke back in your pocket and stick it up your nose or up your ass, but you are not sticking it in your arm, not here."
---------------------------------------------------------------
I didn't see Matt again for over ten years; I assumed that he had died, but he hadn't. During an afternoon stroll , I passed a house and Matt was perched on the porch, painting the windows. There was a ladder leaning against the side of the building.
"Climb on up!"
So I did. Matt had been clean for years and he looked great. He was getting married- or maybe he already had- I forget the details, but his life had turned completely around. Things were looking up for him.
I was doing pretty good too...I hadn't done coke for years and the drinking hadn't caught up with me yet. I was enjoying life. It was nice to see Matt. I had something to tell him.
"Matt", I said, "you saved my life back then. I never told you that, but you did. I don't know how to repay you."
"You don't", he told me.
"You don't?"
"No", he tried to explain. "I didn't do that for you. I did that for me. You don't owe me anything."
I didn't quite understand that at the time, but I do now.
It's never too late to say thank you.
Thank you.
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