I spent this weekend in Denver. It wasn't a planned trip, and it wasn't a particularly fun trip. I needed to be there for my dad as he was taken back into the hospital a month after his spinal fusion (no, it's not a delicious sushi meal), he got mysteriously sick and was rushed back into surgery. He had a fever, vomiting, delusions, ultimate pain and hardcore difficulty breathing. At any rate, he was in the hospital for four long days. And I have some conclusions about days spent in the hospital.
First, there are about 30 different nurses on each day. This is great, except for the fact that when they each enter the room they will ask questions to my father that they should probably already know the answer to. So when nurse number three asks my father (who has just had a conversation with me about whether the Nuggets will beat the Rockies and what I will do with my lawn) what meds he is on, I am thinking that he may not have the most accurate answer. He is on some heavy shit.....he can't talk (in a language I understand) and I am fairly sure that the Ooompa-Loompas are keeping him company in the bathroom. My dad is not in good shape and should not be answering these medical questions. He can barely answer the easy ones- What is your name? No dad....it's not Mikey. So the nurses not only ask what pain meds he is on, but how much of that....he has NO idea! That was a little scary for me to watch. I know that the nurses do the best they can, and bless them,. It can't be easy taking care of people at their worst.
And, it's not easy taking care of a man, my father, at his worst. He believes you should work until you drop. This is not the mentality someone recovering from two spinal surgeries needs to have. But he asks good questions, how to know what is enough. How does he know when he is over doing it? How does one take it easy after he has spent 40 years working as hard as his tiny feet and strangely designed body will let him. He is my hero, for a lot of things. I just hope he can breathe in a lot of air and not have to see the plethora of nurses and don those super stylish hospital gowns with the pocket in the front for a long time.
If my dad ever reads this (he won't- he doesn't understand what blog is-he thinks a blog comes out of your nose); I hope he knows how much I love and respect him.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
Manifesto?
Since no one really reads all these blogs, I figure I can go ahead and have a full fledged pity party.
As many of you know, I am single. I have the worst luck with men. I have stopped trying. I have started a new job (about 5 months ago) and am convinced that I am no good at it. I always feel like a failure, insignificant in a very narcissistic way. How, you ask? Well, I feel like I am always being talked about, and thought about, but not because of good things. I feel like people talk about me because they hate me. I feel like everything that I ever thought I was sort of good at....not really. It's hard to write all of this, but I have been struggling for a while. I am nothing special, and as I approach my 32nd birthday, I realize that I am nothing. I thought about this the other day, since I tried a little experiment. there is exactly one person on the planet who would call me if she didn't hear from me first....Allison. I love you.....my best friend (no I am not drunk!). But if I never called my parents, weeks could go by. If I never emailed my brother--- weeks could go by. By the time they realized anything had happened to me, I would be floating in the bathtub while my cat ate parts of my flesh (because no one would be here to feed her). Does anyone else ever feel like this? I feel that the sense of futility has evaded my life.
Now I don't want to alarm anyone. Nothing bad will happen to me, mostly because I am too chicken to do anything. I just wait for things to happen. I am not a catalyst of change, as I often admire in other people. Instead, I await the next shoe to drop. It sounds oppressive, but it's not. It's just there- hanging around my head much like the smog that covers Los Angeles. Am I grumpy because it is hotter than Hades outside, or because my boss broke his leg and now hovers in the office and makes us all miserable? Am I sad because I don't know how to assert myself without an apology. All of the self advocating I have done over the last year, pretty much a lie. I feel okay some of the time, and I mean it when I say that I LOVE not having to sleep with anyone. Not that I am saying that I don't want sex-- let's be honest, this is one of a handful of things that can be really good and free (though when you look like me, it might not be free and it certainly doesn't happen without a boat load of anxieties about being naked and having unequal boobs with nipples the size of silver dollars). I do love to have a whole bed to myself without worrying about moving too much (did you know that restless leg syndrome REALLY is a syndrome?) or about farting too loud or about what happens when I can't regulate my body temperature. I am pretty sure that the road to most divorces starts with people being sleep deprived because they are sharing a bed.
That aside, I am lonely. I am lonely for contact, yet when someone asks me to do something I typically flake out? What is that all about? There are a few that I will go to no matter what- because I have reached that comfort point with. Joey, Tanisha and Michael...Jill; some people in Colorado, Andre.... But typically these are the people who are too busy. They have lives, people who love them and demand time from them. People whom they enjoy spending time with; yet in order to spend time with most of these people I have to pull teeth.
And then I think about other things, and feel guilty for feeling sorry for myself. I think about Chris Gonzales, about my age, who died over the weekend. I worked with him over the past few months, and found him to be delightful. I don't know how he died, but I know that he died. I think about all of the people who I have lost over the past years.....I think often of Julie. My dear aunt Julie. What would she say to me? She would tell me to smile, that there is someone out there to love me. She would tell me that there is a community out there for me, where I will feel important. That was Julie for you. She had so much adversity in her life, but she was the happiest person I knew. She led a simple life, loved her family, lost her little brother to a serial killer and her older brother to heroin. Her husband and two kids were everything. She used to read tea leaves and believe in magic crystals, she used to smoke pot and looked for love in everything around her. She found Jesus and was born again- not necessarily my path, but she found meaning in it. She never judged me for not accepting Jesus, for not going to church. She never looked down on me, she only loved me. And she died, at about 45 years old, in her living room; three weeks after Tom and Marianne died in a plane crash.
Julie was like a mother to me, a best friend who I knew I could call in the middle of the night and would never be too busy for me. She understood when I was needy, and understood when to tell me to buck up and get over myself, and when to listen to me and give me a shoulder to cry on. And I am not a cryer, I am a yeller. I get angry because anger is easier than sadness. I could be who I am with her, I didn't have to pretend to be noble or have integrity or character. I could be weak, dumb, simple, angry and sad, and she didn't make me explain it. More than that, she didn't do what my own mother does, she didn't try to "one up" me. She never would listen to my tales of woe, or tales of success, only to chime in how her life was harder, or she was smarter, or smaller, or better. The competition wasn't there. I felt accepted, and she died. So I feel abandoned, like I feel that my family has abandoned me. I feel that many friends have left, because there were too man other more important things to do. I feel, alone, exhausted, scared. I am tired of being scared. I am angry at myself for being scared, fear is weakness and in my family you can't be weak. You can be mean, selfish,cold, and hypocritical, but you can't be weak.
So, I am out in LA on an island, though I have family a mere 45 miles to the south. I am left by my parents, who never really connected with me because they were and are too busy with their own lives. My brother, though he has made tremendous strides in the last few years, still is unknown and absent to me. The four people I moved to LA for- Tom, Marianne, Julie and Geoff. Three have died, and the other was a horrible relationship error on my part.
What's left?
As many of you know, I am single. I have the worst luck with men. I have stopped trying. I have started a new job (about 5 months ago) and am convinced that I am no good at it. I always feel like a failure, insignificant in a very narcissistic way. How, you ask? Well, I feel like I am always being talked about, and thought about, but not because of good things. I feel like people talk about me because they hate me. I feel like everything that I ever thought I was sort of good at....not really. It's hard to write all of this, but I have been struggling for a while. I am nothing special, and as I approach my 32nd birthday, I realize that I am nothing. I thought about this the other day, since I tried a little experiment. there is exactly one person on the planet who would call me if she didn't hear from me first....Allison. I love you.....my best friend (no I am not drunk!). But if I never called my parents, weeks could go by. If I never emailed my brother--- weeks could go by. By the time they realized anything had happened to me, I would be floating in the bathtub while my cat ate parts of my flesh (because no one would be here to feed her). Does anyone else ever feel like this? I feel that the sense of futility has evaded my life.
Now I don't want to alarm anyone. Nothing bad will happen to me, mostly because I am too chicken to do anything. I just wait for things to happen. I am not a catalyst of change, as I often admire in other people. Instead, I await the next shoe to drop. It sounds oppressive, but it's not. It's just there- hanging around my head much like the smog that covers Los Angeles. Am I grumpy because it is hotter than Hades outside, or because my boss broke his leg and now hovers in the office and makes us all miserable? Am I sad because I don't know how to assert myself without an apology. All of the self advocating I have done over the last year, pretty much a lie. I feel okay some of the time, and I mean it when I say that I LOVE not having to sleep with anyone. Not that I am saying that I don't want sex-- let's be honest, this is one of a handful of things that can be really good and free (though when you look like me, it might not be free and it certainly doesn't happen without a boat load of anxieties about being naked and having unequal boobs with nipples the size of silver dollars). I do love to have a whole bed to myself without worrying about moving too much (did you know that restless leg syndrome REALLY is a syndrome?) or about farting too loud or about what happens when I can't regulate my body temperature. I am pretty sure that the road to most divorces starts with people being sleep deprived because they are sharing a bed.
That aside, I am lonely. I am lonely for contact, yet when someone asks me to do something I typically flake out? What is that all about? There are a few that I will go to no matter what- because I have reached that comfort point with. Joey, Tanisha and Michael...Jill; some people in Colorado, Andre.... But typically these are the people who are too busy. They have lives, people who love them and demand time from them. People whom they enjoy spending time with; yet in order to spend time with most of these people I have to pull teeth.
And then I think about other things, and feel guilty for feeling sorry for myself. I think about Chris Gonzales, about my age, who died over the weekend. I worked with him over the past few months, and found him to be delightful. I don't know how he died, but I know that he died. I think about all of the people who I have lost over the past years.....I think often of Julie. My dear aunt Julie. What would she say to me? She would tell me to smile, that there is someone out there to love me. She would tell me that there is a community out there for me, where I will feel important. That was Julie for you. She had so much adversity in her life, but she was the happiest person I knew. She led a simple life, loved her family, lost her little brother to a serial killer and her older brother to heroin. Her husband and two kids were everything. She used to read tea leaves and believe in magic crystals, she used to smoke pot and looked for love in everything around her. She found Jesus and was born again- not necessarily my path, but she found meaning in it. She never judged me for not accepting Jesus, for not going to church. She never looked down on me, she only loved me. And she died, at about 45 years old, in her living room; three weeks after Tom and Marianne died in a plane crash.
Julie was like a mother to me, a best friend who I knew I could call in the middle of the night and would never be too busy for me. She understood when I was needy, and understood when to tell me to buck up and get over myself, and when to listen to me and give me a shoulder to cry on. And I am not a cryer, I am a yeller. I get angry because anger is easier than sadness. I could be who I am with her, I didn't have to pretend to be noble or have integrity or character. I could be weak, dumb, simple, angry and sad, and she didn't make me explain it. More than that, she didn't do what my own mother does, she didn't try to "one up" me. She never would listen to my tales of woe, or tales of success, only to chime in how her life was harder, or she was smarter, or smaller, or better. The competition wasn't there. I felt accepted, and she died. So I feel abandoned, like I feel that my family has abandoned me. I feel that many friends have left, because there were too man other more important things to do. I feel, alone, exhausted, scared. I am tired of being scared. I am angry at myself for being scared, fear is weakness and in my family you can't be weak. You can be mean, selfish,cold, and hypocritical, but you can't be weak.
So, I am out in LA on an island, though I have family a mere 45 miles to the south. I am left by my parents, who never really connected with me because they were and are too busy with their own lives. My brother, though he has made tremendous strides in the last few years, still is unknown and absent to me. The four people I moved to LA for- Tom, Marianne, Julie and Geoff. Three have died, and the other was a horrible relationship error on my part.
What's left?
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
It all adds up
The average home price in this depressed economy in So Cal is something like $400k. This is not a huge house, either, this would be small by Colorado standards. This would be a single story, 3 bedrooms, modest backyard, modest front yard, maybe a garage...... I figure with a 30 year fixed mortgage this would cost about $3700 a month; for approx. 1800 sf.
In order to pay for the house (because every respectable person is supposed to have a mortgage) a person would have to secure a decent job. In order to secure a decent job, the person would have to go to college and obtain a BA (preferably a MBA). The average private tuition is about $25,000 a year; tuition at a state school is considerably less (about $9,000). So, I say that it is reasonable to assume that most of us would choose a private school because it has more networking and theoretically more worth when you graduate. However, they fail to tell you that you will be about $25k in the hole with student loans when you graduate with a BA. If you chose an MBA, it will be about $100k in debt and heaven forbid you become a lawyer or doctor because we are talking $200+ in student loans.
But let's not get ahead of ourselves. I think that most of us graduate from college with a about $20k in student loans, and we are 22 years old. And because we are 22 when we graduate, we have ABSOLUTELY no idea what we want to do when we grow up. Who would put that pressure on an 18 or 19 year old to decide what we want to major in and then go......no looking back! Then we graduate from school and find ourselves in a world of $30,000 in student loan debt, a car we have had from high school, and the cost of living.
So we have a 22 year old with a BA in business. He or she will land an entry level job making little money. In a good economy he would find a job as an assistant desk trader, financial manager, something along those lines. This income, in Southern california would earn a 25 wet behind the ears worker a salary of about $35k in the door. So lets crunch some numbers, shall we? I presume that my business major graduates from USC with a nice degree and a nice entry level job to pay for that. So, our hero will plug the numbers. He is more and more sophisticated and getting to his late 20's. The student loans are following him and he has decided that he needs to find a job. It may or may not be something that will fulfill him as a person, but really, most jobs are a means to the end.
I am guessing on graduation day, there are a lot of expenses being charged on the credit cards. Its time to have an apartment (were you have to pay rent monthly). Its time to go out and get that grown up job which includes waking up early all days of the week and actually having to go to an office. So you go to this mind numbing land o cubicals because that is the only work that the new one's get hired for. I am guesing you are earning about $35k a year (in the mid west this might be dooable). Where I live-No,
Lets talk numbers at this point--
You are 22 -24 years old with about $25-$30k in student loans and you still don't know what you want to be when you grow up. You find an apartment in the area which you can afford- so it's a single which costs you $975 in Koreatown. Nothing wrong Korea town, if you are Korean, They don't like gigantic white broads walking into their turf!
So, I have a $1300 a month rent.....because there is no way that on my $60+ income I could ever ever dream of buying a house and being able to afford a monthly mortgage of $3500! Sheesh. Then all our college cars start to break down and now, especially now, we are all teased with the notion that I too, can own a SOCAL socially acceptable car.
So how are people supposed to make it? How are people supposed to take on a insurmountable amount of debt to get an education; without which I would be unemployable and possibly homeless without. So, what is the right answer? The people that work at Barnes and Nobles appear to enjoy their job They aren't getting rich, but getting by.
Here, in the reality island of LA, people cant afford to buy a house- the lease payments on their land rover is WAY too high to allow for savings. People my aged in this city, are FUCKED. People didn't save money; they don't have retirement aspirations, they have HUGE student loans......
Wonder if I can get a bail out??????? I was properly managed (Unlike GM and Chrysler) and I was not part of a ponzi scheme. I played by the rules and am getting the shaft when it comes to alleviating debts. I took out debts to go to school I would do it again. But I ,know that starting in July I will have to pay back $300 a month in student loans. With expenses like that and a car that is kid of old, I just cant eve afford the idea of dating and having a family. I don't think it is in my financial plan.........bummer.
How the hell does everyone else do it??????
In order to pay for the house (because every respectable person is supposed to have a mortgage) a person would have to secure a decent job. In order to secure a decent job, the person would have to go to college and obtain a BA (preferably a MBA). The average private tuition is about $25,000 a year; tuition at a state school is considerably less (about $9,000). So, I say that it is reasonable to assume that most of us would choose a private school because it has more networking and theoretically more worth when you graduate. However, they fail to tell you that you will be about $25k in the hole with student loans when you graduate with a BA. If you chose an MBA, it will be about $100k in debt and heaven forbid you become a lawyer or doctor because we are talking $200+ in student loans.
But let's not get ahead of ourselves. I think that most of us graduate from college with a about $20k in student loans, and we are 22 years old. And because we are 22 when we graduate, we have ABSOLUTELY no idea what we want to do when we grow up. Who would put that pressure on an 18 or 19 year old to decide what we want to major in and then go......no looking back! Then we graduate from school and find ourselves in a world of $30,000 in student loan debt, a car we have had from high school, and the cost of living.
So we have a 22 year old with a BA in business. He or she will land an entry level job making little money. In a good economy he would find a job as an assistant desk trader, financial manager, something along those lines. This income, in Southern california would earn a 25 wet behind the ears worker a salary of about $35k in the door. So lets crunch some numbers, shall we? I presume that my business major graduates from USC with a nice degree and a nice entry level job to pay for that. So, our hero will plug the numbers. He is more and more sophisticated and getting to his late 20's. The student loans are following him and he has decided that he needs to find a job. It may or may not be something that will fulfill him as a person, but really, most jobs are a means to the end.
I am guessing on graduation day, there are a lot of expenses being charged on the credit cards. Its time to have an apartment (were you have to pay rent monthly). Its time to go out and get that grown up job which includes waking up early all days of the week and actually having to go to an office. So you go to this mind numbing land o cubicals because that is the only work that the new one's get hired for. I am guesing you are earning about $35k a year (in the mid west this might be dooable). Where I live-No,
Lets talk numbers at this point--
You are 22 -24 years old with about $25-$30k in student loans and you still don't know what you want to be when you grow up. You find an apartment in the area which you can afford- so it's a single which costs you $975 in Koreatown. Nothing wrong Korea town, if you are Korean, They don't like gigantic white broads walking into their turf!
So, I have a $1300 a month rent.....because there is no way that on my $60+ income I could ever ever dream of buying a house and being able to afford a monthly mortgage of $3500! Sheesh. Then all our college cars start to break down and now, especially now, we are all teased with the notion that I too, can own a SOCAL socially acceptable car.
So how are people supposed to make it? How are people supposed to take on a insurmountable amount of debt to get an education; without which I would be unemployable and possibly homeless without. So, what is the right answer? The people that work at Barnes and Nobles appear to enjoy their job They aren't getting rich, but getting by.
Here, in the reality island of LA, people cant afford to buy a house- the lease payments on their land rover is WAY too high to allow for savings. People my aged in this city, are FUCKED. People didn't save money; they don't have retirement aspirations, they have HUGE student loans......
Wonder if I can get a bail out??????? I was properly managed (Unlike GM and Chrysler) and I was not part of a ponzi scheme. I played by the rules and am getting the shaft when it comes to alleviating debts. I took out debts to go to school I would do it again. But I ,know that starting in July I will have to pay back $300 a month in student loans. With expenses like that and a car that is kid of old, I just cant eve afford the idea of dating and having a family. I don't think it is in my financial plan.........bummer.
How the hell does everyone else do it??????
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
It's all in a name.....
There will never be a President Chrissy. There will likely never be a Dr. Chrissy, or a lawyer; or a rocket scientist. But there will be a porn star....
I have come to the conclusion that there is a lot of destiny within a name. Be careful how you name your children. Now days there is a lot of liberty being taken with naming children; and with the spellings (yes Allison, this is directed at you). Let us consider a perfectly normal name- Fred. Just normal Fred is a fine name-for a fish, or a turtle. When you add an "i" to the end- so the name Fredi- I think of a little "dog" with too much hair and a little head. But there are people with that name. And what about names that are androgenous? Not that there is anything wrong with that- but when I see the name Tracy, or Sasha, or Kelly on a piece of paper, I automatically think of a female. So it is quite confusing when I make a phone call and it's a guy! Oh, and let me tell you about the disappointment when the guy with a gal's name ends up being really hot. Man, I can't imagine screaming out "Tracy" in the heat of passion!
Some of you may be thinking that I am being a bit of a hypocrite, seeing as most people refer to me as Chris. But, I have a defense for this. Chris is a cool name.
I have come to the conclusion that there is a lot of destiny within a name. Be careful how you name your children. Now days there is a lot of liberty being taken with naming children; and with the spellings (yes Allison, this is directed at you). Let us consider a perfectly normal name- Fred. Just normal Fred is a fine name-for a fish, or a turtle. When you add an "i" to the end- so the name Fredi- I think of a little "dog" with too much hair and a little head. But there are people with that name. And what about names that are androgenous? Not that there is anything wrong with that- but when I see the name Tracy, or Sasha, or Kelly on a piece of paper, I automatically think of a female. So it is quite confusing when I make a phone call and it's a guy! Oh, and let me tell you about the disappointment when the guy with a gal's name ends up being really hot. Man, I can't imagine screaming out "Tracy" in the heat of passion!
Some of you may be thinking that I am being a bit of a hypocrite, seeing as most people refer to me as Chris. But, I have a defense for this. Chris is a cool name.
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