Another Piece

This morning I woke up around two with a sharp pain in my chest. It went away, but I was also remembering something, almost like a dream, but I think it's real.

Previously I had several missing hours around the time of my car wreck. I remember getting onto the freeway and the car making a weird noise when I turned right coming onto the freeway. I remember driving a bit, slowly, and decided the car was all right and I know I moved over to the number two lane. That would be my usual lane, but I don't remember anything much past entering the freeway.

The next thing I recall is a one second glance to my right and the realization that I was in an accident. I recall seeing the car to my right and thinking I was going to hit it (and may have already hit something or someone), and I'm pretty sure I swerved to avoid hitting him.

Then, waking up in the MRI machine, hearing a voice tell me not to move around. I remember the stripes of light on the semi-circle over my head, moving either my eyes or my head from side to side to see what was going on, then falling asleep (or lapsing back into unconsciousness).

Then, talking to a cop and asking how much trouble I was in. I think he told me not to worry about that, then I asked about messing up traffic and he told me not to worry about that, either.

Then, waking up for good, some three or four hours after the wreck.

This morning I woke up and in addition to the pain in my chest I recalled being strapped to the back board and either in the ambulance or being loaded into it. I felt an overwhelming and thorough sense of panic, frightened to my core and unable to be rational. Also, the following exchange:
Me: Where the fuck am I? -or- "What the fuck is going on?"
[ I recall swearing, though I may not have done so. I can remember swearing a lot, mostly because I needed to get someone's attention]
Some guy: You were in an accident
Me: An accident?
[I remember being incredulous, if that's the word I want]
I look around in a panic, may have been crying, and I recall this horrible, deep and solitary, sense of fear. Then, nothing.

I think it's real. Also, it explains why my brain is reluctant to subject itself to *that* again!

More Snide Olympic Remarks

Id' been avoiding it because I confused it with white water kayaks.

Canoeing demands to be kept as a sport. Those athletes get no other major stage, have no professional use for their abilities, and all look to be statues waiting to happen. I think it would be better if instead of tank tops they wore fringed jackets or maybe feathered headbands, though.

The kayakers can leave the Olympics and just return to having fun on the weekends.

I should also point out that I love the California cheese commercials and always have. I guess they only show them in Californial, so some of you may have missed pictures of cows surviving earthquakes or making getaways from Wisconsin. I was brought up a notch or two by the one with the rooster, whom I recognized immediately as Bobcat Goldwait. I love him, cranky fellow that he is.

And I had to watch a lot of the wrestling on the Spanish station since NBC only showed (when I was watching) the US people competing. The things I most like about wrestling is The World According to Garp, which featured a wrestler as the main character, and those ears.

I don't think participants in any other sport are as immediately and uniquely identifiable as wrestlers. No one else has cauliflower ears and only wrestlers have them. You can see someone tall and think he plays basketball, but you could be wrong. Someone muscular may or may not be a weightlifter, but no one except wrestlers have cauliflower ears. I think they wear them as a badge, and well they should.

I need not point out that none of the phony TV wrestlers have them.

Recovering

I just talked myself out of feeling I had any worth. This is a good thing.

For the past few days I've been what I call depressed. It's not that I feel bad and want to die, it's that I don't care, am apathetic, and see no reason to do anything at all. This state is what I refer to as my "2 mood." It was worse this time than I can remember, and is still with me about three-fourths of the time, but right now it's not my companion.

When I have feelings like "you aren't any good" or "you aren't (or can't) do that" that's normal for me. What had been happening is that I hadn't even been having anything to talk myself out of. That's when it hurts, that's when I'm least happy with myself. Just now I've had a few ideas about how things would improve and when I had to talk myself out of them I knew I was resurfacing, getting back to normal. It's much more bleak when I fail to have encouraging thoughts at all.

I expect to maintain a three by later today, that it won't be a blip but will be my standard, and that's a state I hope to enjoy. It's kind of like a headache, though. When I have one I know it, but when I take aspirin it's not until much later I realize I no longer do.

I wonder, now, if I'll get enough money from my old job to fix up my eyesight. I'm embarrassed by my growing deafness, and ashamed that I'm only now seeing what my vision trouble is. Maybe it just started, or maybe I just now have identified that my right eye is only good for seeing colors. Part of me sees this deterioration as a natural thing, but I may wish to fight it.

Maybe I'm Getting Old...

It must be my age.

Right now the Olympics are on and featuring (naturally) two US teams competing for the semi-final in Women's Beach Volleyball. I suppose they're drawing a large audience, mostly of men, and mostly of those who've perhaps never seen a woman in a bathing suit.

Okay, they're wearing thongs and young enough to ignore me, but I just can't get interested in watching them run and pretend to be Olympic Athletes. Every day at the beach people are playing this game and every day I ignore them. It's a pastime fer chrissakes, an amusement, it's not a Goddamn Olympic Event!

I'm heartened, somewhat, by the tans the competitors have, which show at least a nod to the location of the event, but that's not enough to save it for me. I sadly couldn't care less how much these women have struggled and sacrificed to be in Athens. I'd much prefer to see the Croatian and Bulgarian entrants in the Decathalon, but I'm not sure anyone other than two Americans are competing.

This coverage sucks.

Pedigree to the Rescue!

I don't often subject myself to TV commercials but sometimes it can't be helped. Whenever I do, I end up regretting it.

There's some ad running for some new birth control pill that claims to be the product of the world's largest birth control pill company, or the oldest, or the most well-respected. Trouble is, nowhere in the ad is the name of the company given, which I consider a sham.

Some new scenter says in their first line that "Everyone's talking about the Oust" (or whatever the product name is). I think I'd like to sue them, because NOBODY I know is talking about it, and it's a lie. When I was young my mother used to take me out when she collected door to door for charities, and I visited many of the same homes myself when I later had a paper route. Some of the houses did indeed have a smell that could be considered offensive (and there used to be an ad talking about "houseotosis"). I've seen, though, that most any smell is one that I get used to, usually within minutes, and I find covering odors with those oil things (not candles!) that smell like pine or apple or ocean breezes just cloying.

The winner of the day, however, must be Pedigree dog food. In an attempt to capitalize on a recent food fad, their weight loss formula for overweight dogs does in fact claim to contain fewer carbohydrates.

Olympics

I wasn't asked, but I'd get rid of many of the Olympic sports. There's just too many and I blame money, mostly people

wanting more of it or the honor and prestige of having their pet sport in the Olympics. It's either money or power

that ruins things for me every time.

I guess it's like dogs. People who (make money) breeding Shar-Peis want to be recognized as being important. So, they

hold little contests, create standards, award points and eventually do the politicking necessary to get their breed

recognized by the AKC. I imagine it's a lot the same with the powerful and self-serving Beach Volleyball lobby.

Anyway, here's a list of all the Olympic events from the NBC site. The first thing I'd get rid of are all the sports

that more properly belong in the X-games. More to the point, and it hurts me to do this is some cases, I'd also

eliminate any sport that has its own championship thing already. Ideally the only time I'd like to see the athletes

compete in their Olympic Events is during the Olympics. That there are world games for track and field and gymnastics

and swimming already is just a sad reflection on everyone's obsession with money.

·Archery - Stays
·Badminton - Sorry. This is a pastime not a sport.
·Baseball - Nope. It has nothing to do with the Olympics.
·Basketball - Nope. They already have leagues and teams and championships.
·Beach Volleyball - No. This is another fun thing to do at the beach, not an Olympic event.
·Boxing - Yes
·Canoe/Kayak - No. This is no sport, either. It's recreation.
·Cycling - Nope. They already have some big race through France. The Velodrome stuff has nothing to do with life.
·Diving - Stays, but only one person at a time.
·Equestrian - Nope. If the rich people who compete in this want to, they can start their own meet.
·Fencing - Stays
·Field Hockey - It's a team sport. I don't think I believe in team sports.
·Gymnastics - Stays, but they should be harsher in the judging. If you fall off, you fail.
·Handball - Two strikes and it's out. It may be a team sport, and it's something I've played. I am not an athlete and anything I've done should be discarded on general principles.
·Judo - No. Wrestling is an event, we don't need every form of melee.
·Modern Pent. - Stays
·Rhythmic Gymn. - Goes. Stupidest attempt to doing something artful, ever.
·Rowing - Stays.
·Sailing - I think it should be just single sailors in little supplied boats. None of this team crap.
·Shooting - Stays
·Soccer - They have the World Cup. This is unnecessary
·Softball - Goes.
·Swimming - Stays
·Synch. Swimming - Goes. Not a sport. Neither are cat shows.
·Table Tennis - Again, this is something I play and I'm no athlete so it must go.
·Taekwondo - Goes (see Judo)
·Tennis - Goes. Don't they have Wimbledon and things like that?
·Track & Field - Stays.
·Trampoline - This is in the Olympics? Not if I have anything to say about it.
·Triathlon - Goes. This is all over the TV all the time.
·Volleyball - Not a sport, it's another pastime.
·Water Polo - Stays. These people never get any coverage and the sport is unknown, so it can stay.
·Weightlifting - Stays
·Wrestling - Stays.

So, out of the original 34 listed sports I'd cut it down to a little over a dozen. This should make it easier for

countries such as Greece to hold the games since there'd be far fewer "athletes" needing venues and pampering.

My Major Apologies

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. To everyoine for everything.

Empty Seats

I'm wondering if the terroritsts have won.

There are enough empty seats at the Olympics to make me sad, to make me feel bad for Greece. They're doing a great job but, like Rodney Dangerfield, aren't getting any respect. Now it's true that I'm a huge fan of Greek culture and am pretty dead set against the chauvinism that runs through all the US coverage of the games, but I wonder how much of the rest of the world is dancing to our song or following our lead.

Leading up to the games I remember hearing lots of stuff about security concerns. I don't know, of course, but I wonder if that, along with the whole ugly American habit, is what kept people away from these games. The US news was full of stories about how far behind the Greeks were when it came to finishing the venues and I think that, along with our national skittishness, may have kept lots of people away.

The Greeks said it would all be ready, but we reported that with a wink.

The good news is I can watch the games without continual shots of idiots yelling "USA" and being obnoxious with "We're #1" signs and shit. Um, I don't think it's a question that we're richer and more powerful than the other countries. This isn't news. What I don't like is how obnoxious and arrogant we have to be about it all.

It started with the "Dream Team" basketball thing a few Olympics ago, when we could send professionals. How some people felt any pride at all about how we beat the rest of the world by forty points a game while fielding Magic Johnson and Larrry Bird is a sad mystery to me. Now I like the events Americans don't care about, the ones we consider beneath us and not worth competing in. Those are the ones I enjoy, watching the athletes who don't get nonstop US coverage doing their best and winning and losing.

Nothing to me says more about the Olympics than watching a Thai fencer, or a match between Uruguay and Romania. Nothing says less about the Olympics than Medal Counts or focusing on that swimmer guy.

Missed Profession

I should have been a secret agent, man.

I'm afraid of being caught, of being discovered. Most of the shit I do is fine, but I much prefer doing all my things in private where no one can see me and, most importantly, judge me. This extends to everything. I get nervous when people watch me eat or brush my teeth, and I guess I'm afraid that I'll attract comment.

Instead of being caught taking out the trash or doing my laundry, I like to do it when no one's watching or can see me. I may have a serious problem here. I love the feeling of accomplishment, but I guess I want everyone to think I'm some sort of magical guy who just gets things done without ever having to do the work necessary to do it.

I don't want to be caught paying my bills or cleaning up. I don't mind doing those things, I just don't want to be seen doing them. I think part of this stems from what happens, or can happen, if someone sees me doing these things. They may comment on it, or ask about it, and then I'll feel as if I'm being judged and, of course, found wanting.

People will correct how I sweep or fold clothes, and I live in fear of that happening, of being caught doing something "wrong." I have no self-esteem and am constantly in fear of being corrected. I do many things, and some of them are even done well and are good things, but until I'm convinced I'm okay I'm scared that I'll be judged and lose.

no good

Goddamit. Everything is better if I leave it alone.

Things could be worse, but that doesn't prevent them from being fucked now.

Fuck everything.

You know how a boxer or someone is supposed to jump right up after being knocked down, is supposed to steel himself and go back and get into it? I just wanna lay there, not get up, just make it all go away.

I am so fucked. I'm making a normal life a problem. Just fuck it all. I really don't care, not about me, not about my shit. It's all shit in my life, and I just don't want it any more.

(Blank Entry)

I offer my apologies. I have little to say and don't feel much like much of anything. Maybe later.

Dunno

I guess things are back to normal. My ribs sitll hurt, and my head does, too, but I'm getting better I guess. More importantly, someone else's hospital visit was successful beyond my wildest expectations. It's so good to see people happy and recovering quickly.

I'm learning about buses, but mostly because of necessity. They go through many areas of town, distinguished mostly by the shops that appear alongside the roads. Huge sections of strip malls featuring the same stores everyone has everwhere in the world (Why in the world would anyone shop at them?), then in priveledged areas stores which provide nothing but services or things desired by those higher up the Maslow Hierarchy of Needs. No chains there (except Starbucks), though many of the names are familiar.

I'm thinking fifty years old is a good milestone. By now enough things have changed that the world I knew is no longer in existence. People are basically the same (I don't think we've changed all that much in the last ten thousand years), but they want different things now. That's good, that's progress, but the world that shows me isn't one I feel comfortable in.

The other day I counted four out of ten drivers talking on phones. I wonder what's so important in their lives. I saw the majority of the people on the bus and outside walking listening to iPods or Walkmen. I guess their own lives and wants are more important than the outside world, and I'm not sure if I'm jealous or saddened by that. I still don't see the sense in shutting yourself inside your wants, isolating yourself like that. I suppose it's the same reason I like convertibles.

Waiting

Right now I have hopes. No information, though, and everything is out of my hands.

End of an era

Leo is now behind me.

This car carried me and many of friends places. Some people liked him, others wished he had a top or that it was up.

I'm not sure non-ragtop people ever understand convertibles, and I can't explain why I like them so. They're noisy, dirty, windy, and everyone feels it's okay to ask you questions or try and talk to you.

Still. I wish I still had my car. I wish lots of things. As they say, wish in one hand, shit in the other, and see which fills up first.

Minor Progress

I've done a little today. Very little. And hardly any of it important.

I *did* file the DMV paper, but have avoided all afternoon calling the place where my car is stored, arranging for a wrecking yard to take the damn thing, or renting a car so I can go to the wrecking yard and get the valuable stuff out of the car.

I need to do that. I just won't face reality or facts.

I wish I was a better person about getting things done, or that I had a Personal Asst to do things for me.

I hate myself, but got all my laundry done. Little things like that I can do. Big things, important things, I shirk or avoid.

Motion Sickness

Yesterday was my first full day after my accident when I was back home. Yesterday, after my move, I was sullen and didn't care too much what happened to me, ever.

Today, so far, not that bad. I'm not excited or hopeful, I'm going through the motions of being alive, of getting things done, but I miss everything except some sort of intellectual involvement with my life. There's hardly any spark, I don't care much if my ribs hurt or not, am not fired up about anything.

Not bad, but not good, either.

I'm waiting to see how all the money stuff works out, how much I owe everyone, how much I have. I hate having my life defined by money, but there are times when that's how everyone sees me. I guess it's not so much what I am, but what I can furnish that determines my worth.

The harsh realities of my fucking up are voerwhelming the tenderness I remember and seek. I'm unsure if it's better to have no hopes or to learn to understand and accept that they often won't be met. My guess is I would do well in the final third of my life to accept rejection graciously, to not be bowed by things not going my way, but to act as normal people do, shrug it off, dust myself off, and smile into the future.

I just can't see me doing that.