Jump to content

CarlHoliday

Classic Author
 View Profile  See their activity

  • Posts

    1,821

  • Joined

  • Last visited

 Content Type 

Blog Entries posted by CarlHoliday

  1. CarlHoliday

    Getting Older

    By CarlHoliday,

    One of the joys of getting older is the need to subject yourself to various and sundry tests and procedures meant to diagnose cancer early.
     
    Beware of the Flexible Sigmoidoscopy.
     
    It's not like a Colonoscopy because it doesn't turn the corner between the traverse colon and the descending colon. It only goes up to the corner. Also, they don't use any drugs to ease the comfort of having your colon blown up like a balloon or having a long, hard, flexible probe run up the tunnel.
     
    It was nice, though, to be able to watch the show and not see any polyps, tumors, or anything else that might cause a problem. Also, the probe didn't perforate the lining, which I understand causes another procedure you don't want to go through.
     
  2. CarlHoliday

    60

    By CarlHoliday,

    I tried writing an entry yesterday, as it was my 60th birthday, but luck would have it I was in a pissy mood.
     
    Maybe it was the mojitos I had the previous night. I'd never tried one, much less two. They're good, but they remind me of the mint growing like weeds where we searched for wild asparagus when I was much, much younger. You know, kid days, when tromping around in mint to find fresh asparagus heads was fun.
     
    Or, maybe it was the news, which I've been watching too much lately. The gullibility of people can be downright aggravating sometimes.
     
    Then there was the NPR interview I listened to a few days ago, but now that I go back to link it, they've summarized the interview into a story, taking out the part the pissed me off. It's so nice when someone decides to clean the stupidity out of a story.
     
    What all this means is that the bipolar swapped positions. Before my birthday I was depressed a lot and then I wake up sixty years old and in a pissy mood. What a joyous occasion.
     
    The mood stabilizer I take helps the depression very well, but I still have to watch out when it flips because, for me, the opposite of depression is being angry. In the past, it was road rage angry. I'm much better now, if you like pissy, that is.
     
     
  3. CarlHoliday

    104

    By CarlHoliday,

    I am so not ready for today's forecasted high temperature.
     
    On the other hand, I am enjoying the reading on the bathroom scale every morning after gallons and gallons of sweat have seeped out of my body overnight. This is the kind of weight loss program a couch potato loves, except I'm not a couch potato. I have a recliner. A Lazy Boy at that.
     
    The good thing about the hot weather is having a bit of an incentive to work on The Artists. It looks like this story will definitely end at Chapter 20. Once you read Chapter 19, which I hope will be out sometime in August, I'm sure you'll understand.
     
    Yesterday I read the last two and a half chapters of Olive Kitteridge, this year's Pulitzer Prize winner for fiction. It's a fairly easy read and I remember coming across only one "literary" word, i.e., those words that never occur in common usage but tend to show up in literary work if only to justify all those years it took to get that MFA. This one was asseverate. This novel is a collection of short stories where Olive Kitteridge appears in each as either protagonist, antagonist, a secondary character, or in a few cases simply mentioned. There's a study guide at the end of the book and one of the questions was: Did you like Olive? I said No. It also asked if Olive reminded me of someone. I said my mother. If you're interested in reading about a domineering, opinionated, unforgiving bitch, I recommend Olive Kitteridge.
     
    Last night I started God's Little Acre, a book which surprisingly I have never read. I haven't read Tobacco Road, either, and will probably read that next. The only bad thing about both of these books is that they'll probably remind me too much of my in-laws. The wife tells stories about being raised in rural Arkansas down in the delta lands around Dumas, and later in Lincoln County when her father started hauling pulp wood with his brother, and they were poor. They built their first house using lumber from a barn that was destroyed in a tornado. The kids went to the dump quite often to find useful things. When you're really poor, the dump becomes your department store.
     
    Damn it's hot and it's not even noon.
  4. CarlHoliday
    We don't do hot here worth a damn. Drizzly rain yes, but not heat. As the song goes, "we're having a heat wave." And not liking it one bit.
     
    For the record, our friends at NOAA have posted Excessive Heat and Air Stagnation Warnings. Not good.
     
    Plus, humidity is going up. Or, like I enjoy saying, hum-a-ditty, like, "we're having a heat wave." Run that one through your brain a couple times and you, too, will be humin-a-ditty. Over and over and over and over. Can't get those things out of your head. Especially that one. Not like "Hot town summer in the city." No, "we're having a heat wave" is much nastier.
     
    And, can't hum "Hot town summer in the city" anyway cause this is the burbs bub, not even close to the city, a big one anyway. There's Tacoma up the road, but it doesn't even come close the the words in that song.
     
    Anyway, I kind of wish we could get out of here this week. Maybe take a road trip down to Mojave, CA, and take in some real heat, 'cause it ain't good up here with this heat wave.
     
    "We're having a heat wave . . ."
  5. CarlHoliday
    For the past month or so I've been reading Blake Bailey's biography of John Cheever. Rather I should say up until this morning I've been reading this bio. It's one thing to suffer from depression and quite another thing to read about someone who not only was exceedingly depressed, but was drunk most of the time. I've done the drunk most of the time bit and it wasn't fun reading about the fifths of gin and whiskey Cheever was downing on a daily basis.
     
    So why start? Well, I didn't know he was an alcholic. I did know his children found out after he died that he was proud of the fact he'd never taken it up the ass. Throughout his life he was in constant fear his family would find out he was a bisexual and he thought that fear was one of the reasons he drank.
     
    I suppose I was looking for more than what was there. I certainly didn't expect to find a very depressed man who drank himself into an early death, even though he was a terrific writer.
     
    But after so much depression I had to put the book on the shelf and find something else. I bought the huge Stories of John Cheever. It will replace the bio on the breakfast table. I also picked up this year's Pulitzer winner, Olive Kitteridge, for the nightstand and 180 More: Estraordinary Poems for Every Day for the recliner in my office. I'm trying to find something to lift me up a little more and thought maybe poetry might do it.
  6. CarlHoliday

    Return

    By CarlHoliday,

    Okay, I seem to be getting over whatever it was that had me down.
     
    It's not that happy days are here again, but the sun is shining and I'm looking forward.
     
    I've returned to working on The Artists. This gives me two long stories to write, learning Spanish, learning my digital camera, forcing myself to read poetry, and coping with near constant pain in my knee. I might even tackle an upcoming Anthology.
     
    I did not get a new knee. I am not old enough. Replacement knees only last 15 to 20 years, so you have to be really, really, really bad or at least 65 years old to get a replacement.
     
    Other news: The wife went blind in April because of her diabetes. They operated on the right eye (which was full of blood), doing a vitrectomy and cataract removal. The left eye is a goner due to pre-existing underdevelopment worsened by diabetic retinopathy. She goes to the optometrist this morning to get her new prescription for the right eye. Hopefully, she'll be seeing okie-dokie in a couple weeks.
     
    More other news: Did you see the recent news about depression now being recognized as being an increased risk for heart disease? All this time I was worried about suicide when I should have been doing all I could to lessen my overall chances by exercising more, watching my diet, and reducing stress. Of course, doing nothing could be seen as a long term method of eventual suicide, but that takes all the fun out of offing yourself with spur of the moment stupidity.
     
  7. CarlHoliday

    The Old Squaw

    By CarlHoliday,

    She was my great-great-grandmother. She came into the marriage with children having lost her first husband in the California Gold Rush; she bore a few more.
     
    There were two tintypes; one of my great-great-grandfather and one of her. She looks very dark, too dark to have been out in the sun too long. Her features are very Native American. There is one family story that says she was half Indian. My grandfather said she was born in Norfolk, Virginia, but he never acknowledged her as being half Indian. He never saw her before she died, so never knew.
     
    Her tintype is missing.
     
    Her existence never bothered me until now when one of my cousins asked to see my mother's photo album for additions to the family archive. She asked if I had the tintype for "the old squaw."
     
    She would've been born in Virginia of the early 19th Century; a time when being Indian wasn't good. According to one report I read on the web, Virginians weren't quite certain what to do with the Indians living among them. They were definitely not white, but neither were they black. They just didn't fit into the social scheme. Another report said that full-blooded Indians not on reservations were practically nonexistent by the early 19th Century, so her being half-Indian comes into question.
     
    And, yet, she bothers me almost daily.
     
    There is a story in all that mess and I've been trying to work out the pieces.
     
  8. CarlHoliday
    Renting a motor home didn't work out because of tow weight limits and Bonita being a nonhuman species, which seems to bother some people, why I don't know.
     
    We're renting a Suburban or Expedition, instead. Our son and I will drive, leaving the wife and Bonita to do whatever it is they do while riding in a vehicle. I know the wife usually falls asleep a few moments after drive is engaged, which is one of the reasons she won't be behind the wheel, and Bonita quites lays in her carrier thinking tiny, little nonhuman species thoughts, patiently waiting for the next stop where she'll be able to run her nose across some vary strange odors.
     
    Primarily, this will be a photo shoot expedition into the wilds of the central U.S. where I hope the son will be able to encounter various native peoples such as Hoosiers, Okies, Arkies, and maybe an authentic cowboy or two. We're definitely not going to be driving between here and Salt Lake as the son seems to have developed a strong aversion to all things Utahan. Frankly, I could care less to the point where I was originally planning on stopping in Moab to take some pictures of various results of erosion on the native red sandstone.
     
    Unable to pursue a more direct route will require some careful planning weatherwise considering March isn't the best time to be venturing across the Rockies or wandering down the Great Plains. There is a strong possibility we may be forced to head due south to the Big CA, then east across the northern edge of the Sonoran Desert. There are things to see that way, but, having been around the U.S. a bit, there's just something about coming up atop a rise in Kansas and seeing absolutely nothing for miles around. Travelers talk about central Australia being the Big Empty, but obviously they haven't toured Kansas. Plus, there are all those places where Laura Ingalls Wilder slept. That's a tour in itself.
     
    How ever we get there, our primary goal will be to spend as much time as possible around Lincoln County, Arkansas, where most of the wife's people live. Hopefully, the son will be fortunate to see some trashy trailer parks, a few overly ardent Baptists, and quite possibly one or two down-and-out pulpwood haulers, an occupation originally pursued by the family's progenitor after an abortive attempt at sharecropping.
     
     
     
  9. CarlHoliday

    Awake, pt. 5

    By CarlHoliday,

    As usual it's close to 02:30 while I'm starting this entry.
     
    The surgery went well, I suppose as the meeting with the surgeon it's till next week. Pain medication lasted a few days meaning I still have lots if I need them in the future.
     
    I've started to teach myself Spanish (Latin American). I subscribed to Rosetta Stone and have finished two units so far. I like their immersion process as it is similar to the language training (North Vietnamese) I had in the Air Force back in the late Sixties.
     
    I am feeling a lot better now, though I think the Zoloft has done a number on the libido.
     
     
  10. CarlHoliday

    Oh, damn!

    By CarlHoliday,

    Damn! Damn! Damn!
     
    Expletive! Expletive! Expletive!
     
    I've actually been nominated in one of the GA Readers Award categories.
     
    Shit!
     
     
  11. CarlHoliday

    Steve

    By CarlHoliday,

    I think it was a couple weeks ago when I thought it was a shame you can't dream when you're dead. My dreams of late have been very, very good, so good, in fact, I want to dream more than I desire to be conscious. Of course, that's not right; probably borders on insanity.
     
    A lot has been going on here. We bought a pickup Friday. It's a red 2003 Ford Ranger Edge SuperCab. It has the towing option so we might be able to get a travel trailer sometime in the future. I know getting the truck was not something I should've done, but the wife went along with it so what am I to say. I have a tendency to be financially irresponsible and she can't say no to anything I do. Rather a pathetic pair if you ask me.
     
    The one good thing we're getting with the inheritance is a new roof. The deal is done and all we have to do is wait for the job scheduler to call and let us know when they'll be out. We still owe them about $10K.
     
    Not writing, period. Have thought about writing. Even thought about writing a short story, but realized I couldn't get it to go anywhere. I was writing it in response to a documentary I'd seen on Logo this weekend and a kid I saw at our Mexican restaurant yesterday. It was about a father who begins to suspect his son, Mike, is gay. He wants to say something, but is afraid of stepping into something he's not welcome. Then Steve enters Mike's life. In the words of the Mike's father, "Steve was pretty, but not in a girly or fem way. He was simply pretty, maybe even beautiful. He was nearly as tall as Mike, but without the bulk of a jock. Yet, he didn't lack muscles that might belie too much time in front of a computer or television. His voice was tinged with some nonspecific accent as if his parents were from another country and he grew up speaking their language, but dropped it when entering school."
     
    I tried to work the story in my mind, but couldn't see where this story could possibly end up. I just can't concentrate long enough to get the story to go anywhere.
     
     
  12. CarlHoliday

    An unmerry Christmas

    By CarlHoliday,

    On the whole it wasn't totally bad, just kind of unmerry.
     
    To put it simply, the wife and our son still do not get along. I think I'm getting tired of the subtle disrespect for each other. I don't know how many years this can continue. It's depressing, actually.
     
    There was a good foot and a half of snow at my son's new house when we arrived Christmas Eve and it was snowing. The wind was blowing, too. Frankly, it looked rather nice, but the wind was making it miserable. When we woke Christmas morning there was at least six inches on top of our new car, but the wind had stopped. We gave our son a decorative Santa, a gardening book, and a bottle of twelve-year-old single malt Scotch. He gave us nothing. Frankly, we expected nothing.
     
    We drove home Christmas day. We weren't expected to stay any longer.
     
    I suppose I shouldn't expect too much out of any of this since our son basically left our lives at fifteen and didn't come back until nearly fifteen years later. Ties get broken and aren't easily put back together.
     
    It could've been very depressing, but I'm already depressed enough to cover it. I think maybe I should call the shrink. It's not that I feel bad, but I don't feel good, either. It's kind of like being on the constantly tired, unhappy side of okie-dokie. I'm still sleeping a lot.
     
    Oh, yeah, the Subaru Forester won out and is sitting in our driveway. It's Silver with gray leather interior. Having it makes me feel good.
     
     
  13. CarlHoliday

    What's your limit?

    By CarlHoliday,

    http://www.kpho.com/news/18154062/detail.html
     
    Ever think about limits, especialy your own?
     
    Ever consider life so bad you have to set a limit to the grief or punishment you endure?
     
    It seems the 8-year-old boy in Arizona who is charged with murdering his father and the man renting a room in their house had a limit.
     
    1,000 spankings.
     
    1,000.
     
    One Thousand.
     
    Think of an eight-year-old boy keeping a list of the spankings he received, probably for the meerest of reasons.
     
    The irony in this story is father was troubled over whether to give his son a rifle to shoot prairie dogs.
     
    Seems the boy had his own definition of a varmint.
     
    I keep thinking about 1,000 spankings, but I can't comprehend hitting a child that many times.
     
     
  15. CarlHoliday

    Annapolis, MD

    By CarlHoliday,

    Honestly, there are some places big trucks are not meant to go. Yet, to get a Common Carrier Alcohol Permit I had to go to 80 Calvert Street, Annapolis, MD.
     
    Luckily, I had the foresight to leave my trailer at the customer's locaton. I can see driving a truck and trailer into Annapolis, but I can't see getting the silly thing turned around to get it back out.
     
    Quaint and big trucks do not go together. It took me forever to find a parking place for the truck.
     
    I came in on Rowe, turned right on Calvert; there was a 15-minute spot over by the credit union, not good at all. Turned right on West and noticed an empty spot right there, but on the other side of the street. Went up West to the traffic circle, missed my turn-off and went around twice. Coming back down West, I looked at the spot, but it didn't appear to be big enough for my big truck.
     
    Turned left on Calvert and headed out of town on Rowe. Turned left into the Court of Appeals road, but didn't find anything other than the Naval Academy stadium where there was some kind of big party going on or soon to occur. Followed little road down past Police Station and the back of The Westin, coming out at the dreaded traffic circle.
     
    Went back down West and parked in that spot, totally pissing off a little old lady who was using the crosswalk at the time. Well, she wasn't exactly little, more like tallish and wiry, with a mean look under her cataract sunglasses.
     
    This load has been about as shitty as they come and I'm already looking forward to my next load. It isn't going where I want to, but I'm willing to take anything that'll get me away from the East Coast.
     
     
  16. CarlHoliday

    Jamestown, ND

    By CarlHoliday,

    It's been awhile since I've done this and even now it seems like an undesirable chore.
     
    Home time was spent working at my mother's house getting it ready to sell; it goes on the market at the end of the month. My son and I will split the proceeds which won't be a whole lot, but might be enough for him to buy a house and for us to pay off 95% of our debt and fix up our house.
     
    I also went to my shrink who was all smiles. He smiles all the time. He smiles so much you wonder if he's wearing a butt plug. He changed me over to the generic form of time release valproic acid. I guess it's doing a bang up job of keeping people like me on the straight and narrow. He also increased the dosage of my antidepressant. I really didn't want to do 40 mg of Celexa because it messes with my sexual response, but I'm tired of being too depressed most of the time so I guess I'll take a bit of negative to get positive. Besides, it's not like Prozac which shut everything down completely. At least I can appreciate sexual input; I might not be able to respond fully, but I can still feel something.
     
    Final(?) revision of Winter Anthology story back to editor for review.
     
  17. CarlHoliday

    Fountain, CO

    By CarlHoliday,

    It's across the interstate. Fountain, Colorado, is famous for "The Blast," the result of a passenger train colliding with part of a freight train carrying 18 tons of explosive naptha. Today the event is celebrated with a street dance in July.
     
    My blood test in Hays went off without any problems at all. Unlike those people in Kentucky, these guys knew a customer when they saw one and were more than willing to test my blood. Unfortunately, my INR came out 3.3. Not significantly higher, but still up. They're dropping the extra half milligram I take on Mondays and Thursdays. A half milligram might not sound like much, but I guess it has a significant effect on clotting time. I read the entry in Wiki, but it's too technical for me to summarize. Go there if you dare.
     
    Yesterday, as I was driving on US-24 from Limon, CO, to Colorado Springs, I came across the small town of Simla. Just to let you know, there are no other towns in the entire USA with that name, but Simla, CO, is pretty damned small; total area is one-half square mile on which live 663 people (2000 census).
     
    If you know anything about India, you've probably heard of Simla. The more famous city has 163,000 people (2001) on 25 square kilometers. Surprisingly, their elevations are quite close with Simla, CO, at 5978 ft. and the other Simla at 6988. The one in Colorado is out in the plains with mountains in the far distance. The other is in the mountains.
     
    So why have a Simla in the plains of Colorado? My guess is that is has to do with the Chicago, Rock Island and Pacific Railraod that used to run past Simla. Railroads came up with a lot of the place names in America because every siding had to have an identifying name. I imagine someone in the Rock Island organization had been to Simla in India, or maybe worked on the narrow guage railroad that climbs up to that city, and put that name on that siding.
     
    Today, I deliver my load down the road in Pueblo and then drive over to Lamar for the night and most of tomorrow. I don't have to be in Liberal, KS, until 2154 tomorrow night, but since it is a beef load, I won't leave Liberal until the following morning.
     
    We were planning on scattering my mother's ashes this Saturday or Sunday, but this load delivers on Sunday. I'd hate to have to reschedule the dispersal, but that's one of the difficult aspects of doing this job. You miss family events, it's just a part of the job.
     
    Whew! My boss just let me know he'll try to get me authorization to drop the load. That saves me a lot of worry I don't need.
     
  18. CarlHoliday

    Bunker Hill, KS

    By CarlHoliday,

    Let's get this out of the way first, my grandfather may have been born in Kansas and his parents may have been married in Kansas, but I still do not like Kansas, except for the service plaza on their turnpike. See, I can't hate them because hate is an all out, total rejection, but these guys have nice service plazas. Rest areas are another situation entirely as they range from "I not even peeing in there" to "this is rather nice for a public toilet."
     
    According to Wiki, Bunker Hill has 1.4 square miles of land on which reside 101 people (2000 census), giving you a population density of 73.2 people per square mile. Interestingly, 100% of the population is white, but Hispanics or Latinos of any race make up 6.93% of the population. Don't you just love statistics, especially those government ones.
     
    The clerk at the truck stop last night was a "god blesser." I did not offend him by saying "I doubt it." That would've only confused him. Besides, it was dark and I still had my sunglasses on.
     
    I've had my sunglasses on since Ohio when the frame broke on my regular pair. Luckily, the sunglasses sort of work okay at night. I can see, but if Mr./Ms. State Trooper stops me, I'm up that proverbial creek not only without a paddle, I won't have a canoe either.
     
    I have to get my blood tested today. There isn't a place in Bunker Hill to do it; with 101 people, everyone would have to be sick at least one or two times a week just to pay rent.
     
    There is a place up the road in Hays, significantly larger than Bunker Hill and home to Fort Hays State University. Hopefully, the place I think can help will help. I thought the "state-of-the-art" place in Kentucky could help, but they were too wrapped up in procedures and policies to help a person in need of a simple blood test. It's not like I was asking for a blood transfusion because I hadn't been able to find a victim to satisfy my perverse need to drink the blood of another human. No, take a little blood. Use the machine if you want. They did that in Bountiful, UT. Works just like a diabetic blood monitor only it gives its results in INR. If my INR is too high, I have a greater risk of bleeding to death, probably internally. If it's too low, that clot in my leg will get bigger or another clot will form somewhere else. I hope they'll help.
     
    Now, all I have to do is get the big truck into Hays and not run into any "NO! trucks" signs.
     
    Oh, and I hate Microsoft. Last month the updates to my computer included the famous blue screen of death with every shutdown or restart. Vista was extremely helpful by saying it could solve the problem online, but never seemed to get around to it; or maybe it did and didn't tell me, Vista seems to be like that. This month Windows Media Player isn't working properly; properly as I see it. Since, I'm not a techie in any sense of the word (I have trouble not cross-threading screws), I can't say for certain was is proper and what isn't. All of a sudden when I click on an video sample on the internet, nothing happens; well, something happens, but it doesn't start the media player. I'm thinking they've changed my security settings, probably for my own good since what I click on is trashy gay porn, anyway.
     
    I also hate my laptop. Suddenly it doesn't like my wireless mouse and I've been using the laptop's mouse pad with it's handy-dandy "I'm going to move the cursor over here because that's where the mouse is pointing;" or, even more dangerous, "I'm clicking this while you move the mouse over there because, while I know you don't what to look at what's there, I might be interested." That's why I bought the wireless mouse to begin with, so I wouldn't have to deal with a mouse with a mind of its own. I didn't want to buy a wireless mouse, by the way. I wanted to buy a wired mouse, but they don't make them anymore; or if they do make them, they don't sell them where I buy my stuff.
     
    Well, let's see, Kansas, Microsoft, and laptop, that pretty much wraps up my hates for the day. Yes, I really do hate Kansas. They're not as bad as Nebraska or Iowa, but they're way down on my list.
     
    Oh, have you noticed? There aren't as many birds this year. In fact, in a lot of place, it seems there aren't any birds at all. I get around a lot and it just seems to be a particularly bad year for West Nile Virus.
     
  19. CarlHoliday

    Avon, NY

    By CarlHoliday,

    And you were thinking, "Whew! He's forgotten to do an entry."
     
    Sorry, but I was busy finishing Chapter 16. It's all done and sent to my editor. It should be up before the weekend.
     
    Then I had to drive here to pick up my next load.
     
    They seemed quite anxious for me to get here, but I've been sitting in the dock for an hour and nary a pallet has thumped onto my trailer. Actually, it's the forklift the does the thumping.
     
    At least it's not hot. There's a nice breeze blowing and enough clouds to scare the sun away.
     
    Avon is a nice little town with a lot of those turn of the century houses yuppies enjoy rennovating. This is the kind of town HGTV or This Old House might be in right now filming a remodel.
     
    Avon is also the home of Cool Whip. I bet you can guess what's going to be put in my trailer.
     
    I've got three days to get to my destination. Sorry, but there have to be a few secrets.
     
    I'll probably work on The Pet for the next week or so, or until I get Chapter 2 completed. Then I'll start work on Chapter 17 of The Artists.
     
  20. CarlHoliday

    West Valley City, UT

    By CarlHoliday,

    Another day, another buck-fifty in the kitty.
     
    Today, was okay. Busted my ass helping to unload my trailer. It's part of the deal. The customer is a major account and the drivers must help unload. This means picking up boxes that fall off of pallets that are stacked to the ceiling, picking up boxes that are stuffed between pallets, and generally helping the forklift operator with the unload. We don't get paid to help, by the way, which is only logical in the greater scheme of things.
     
    And, I got my blood test. My INR was 3.1, which isn't within the 2-3 range, but isn't horribly over. We'll continue as we have been with 7.5 mg of Warfarin on Mondays and Thursday and 5 mg all the other days. Only five more months of this, I hope.
     
    I'm depressed.
     
    There's no other way to describe it. I've been dealing with this shit for four years now and, well it's been bad before, real bad, badder than it is right now, but I'm sinking into unbelievable sadness. This is definitely the cause of those thoughts that are cycling through my head right now; and, yes, they slipped out a couple times today when I saw and passed an opportunity to cease being. As long as I keep passing them, eventually things will get better. It's either that or I'm going to have to call the shrink and get stronger medicine, which might hinder my ability to drive.
     
    I just have to hope for a bounce. That's what I need right now. A bounce back to normality or a little bit higher.
     
    I'll be leaving tomorrow taking a load headed to Rochester, NY. It doesn't sound like fun. Those old Eastern cities have alleys and loading docks not designed for 53 foot trailers. I can only hope the receiver built a new warehouse some where out in the burbs.
     
    I am working on Chapter 16 of The Artists. It's going slow. My sadness exacerbates my inability to put thoughts into words.
     
  21. CarlHoliday

    I'm not there yet, UT

    By CarlHoliday,

    I got as far as Tremonton, but I'm supposed to be in Logan. I was supposed to be in Logan at 3 p.m. today, but obviously that didn't happen. My boss is really pissed. I'm pissed, too, but for an entirely different reason. The trailer I picked up had a flat tire. I tried to fix it and eventually got it filled with air on Tuesday, but this morning when I checked it before leaving it had gone down to 55 psi.
     
    So, I contacted our over the road maintenance people and they sent me to a tire shop in The Dalles, OR, which didn't open until 8 a.m. In total, I lost 7 hours on the front end of this load.
     
    Then I said I'd be in Logan at 10 p.m. tonight, but I ran out of hours and had to stop in Tremonton. My boss is going to be pissed, again, tomorrow.
     
    On a happier note, I think I'm getting suicidal, again. I just can't stop thinking about how things would be so much easier if I wasn't doing them or worrying about whether they got done at all. If this continues, of course, it may actually lead to be having to stop driving, again. I definitely don't want that, but I don't know what else to do.
     
    I think it has a lot to do with the amount of stress I allow to affect me and the negative way my mind handles it. What I should be doing is trying to find someway to lessen the stress other than formulating plans for doing myself in; or, putting myself away. I've always thought of that as a preferred means to leaving this present life without actually killing myself. Do some act that is either perceived as insane and leads to hospitalization or do something definitely illegal and enter the criminal justice system. I'd prefer hospitalization, but it's next to impossible to end up in one of those places unless you do something horrendously illegal and are deemed to have acted in an insane manner. That would take too much planning.
     
    On the other hand I could consider just acting out attempting suicide. That would probably ensure a short stay in a facility and if it was done in some location far away from home, I might not be able to make it back. That could lead to essentially dropping off the radar screen for however many years it took for my crazy mind to actually do itself in.
     
    Oh well, it's late and I need to get some sleep before my boss yells at me for not being in Logan, which I said I would be. It'd probably go a lot better if I cared, but I don't. I don't care about a lot of things these days and that might be my biggest problem. I'll have to think about that some more.
     
    No Harold and Bernie tonight as my mind is running out of steam.
  22. CarlHoliday

    Breezewood, PA

    By CarlHoliday,

    Sounds kind of idyllic such that you might expect to see Clark Gable or William Powell driving by in a 1934 Oldsmobile L-34 convertible with Mirna Loy or Claudette Colbert sitting in the passenger seat. Actually, it's a lot of neon and tourists.
     
    I got my load going west, but it doesn't pick up until Monday afternoon. So I drove over here to sit until tomorrow morning when I also need a blood test. According to the AT&T online Yellow Pages, there's a diagnostic lab in Greensburg where I can get my blood drawn. Then it's back down the road to Youngwood to pick up something going to Oregon.
     
    It's going to be a rush load as I have to be on the other side of the country Friday afternoon. That's about 2,700 miles in just under five days. It's doable, but I won't be doing much writing.
     
    Which is kind of good because I did work on Chapter 16, at least I got it started.
     
    I also wrote the first chapter of my next long story which I'm tentatively calling "The Pet." It's the same one I was talking about in my last entry, only now it's getting serious and needs to be put down on paper. Basically, it is about 19 yr old Darik was involved with a subversive group that was going to use an atomic device to blow up the embassy of their sworn enemy. Unfortunately, they got caught and all were killed except for Darik because his father is the President of the planet's Guild of Selectmen. Darik was saved to embarrass his father, but dear old dad has been in politics a long time and came up with a solution, a fate slightly better than death. It has always been Darik's dream to travel to a foreign planet and live an extraordinary life. Well, guess what!
     
    This truly has a chance of being a rather nice story. There are even going to be kiddies. But the dark side is always there and it shows up in the first chapter, which might turn out to be the goriest. Honest, I really do want to write a nice story without a lot of blood and gore. Actually, they're called kits and they usually show up in pairs, but triplets or quads are not unheard of.
     
    I'm going to work on both stories, but The Pet won't be coming out until I've written a few more chapters.
     
  23. CarlHoliday

    West of Fargo, ND

    By CarlHoliday,

    I'm not quite certain how far west because it was late last night and I was too tired to venture into that wonderful city. I have to venture in this morning because I need a blood test. I've picked out a clinic and hopefully they'll be willing to help a trucker in need. What I really hope is there'll be parking for the big rig somewhere close to the clinic. I don't have a lot of time to drive all over Fargo looking for a place to park the big rig so I can get some blood drawn.
     
    Last night as I was driving across North Dakota something strange happened. I was somewhere west of Dickinson when I came up to the top of a hill and off in the distance on what must have been the horizon there was a huge, strange looking, dark orange object. At first I thought it must be a giant water tank or possibly some sort of petroleum tank because there were a lot of oil wells around. Then I went down in a valley and couldn't see it any more.
     
    Having nothing better to do than drive the big rig down the road at the impossibly slow speed of 62 mph, I began to work up some theories on what the big orange thing was. Of course, I was also working on various scenarios for Chapter 16 of The Artists (Yes, I finished Chapter 15 and will be getting it off to my wonderful editor later this week.) when I came to the top of the next hill. The big, dark orange thing was even bigger now making it easily identifiable. It was the moon. Full moon, actually.
     
    And, then I began to think about the moon.
     
    Like I said, there's not a lot of activity going on in the big rig allowing for a lot of self-conversation. You'd be surprised the number of arguments we get ourselves into sometimes. Anyway, it's full moon time, again. If you're in customer service, the retail or food service industry, criminal justice, or any other occupation that places you in contact with people on a daily basis, you know about full moon days and nights. It seems all the crazies come out and, if you're one of the unlucky ones, come to you to show you how crazy crazy can be sometimes.
     
    I was feeling a bit crazy myself, but then I am taking medicine to make me not so crazy. Yet, I'm feeling pretty damned good right now. In fact, I think it was the day before yesterday, I was driving across Montana so it could be either day, when I experienced this incredible sense of peace. I've never had this feeling before so it was quite a shock when I began to delve into it.
     
    Then it got to be a bit scary because you see for the first time in my life I was at peace with the universe. I realized that I was okay with death.
     
    I know, THIS GUY IS THINKING CRAZY THOUGHTS! But, you see, that's because it's full moon time and you can do that, especially if you're leaning a lilttle toward crazy anyway. I'm not saying everyone should go out looking for this sense of peace because it really gets you where it matters. Right now I think this feeling I had was a lot like when I used to meditate, but, of course, I wasn't meditating while driving across Montana.
     
    Anyway, I needed to get that out and now I need to get ready to get down the road. I have to be in Roscoe, IL, tonight, so I can be in Indianapolis tomorrow afternoon.
     
     
  24. CarlHoliday

    Happy Birthday!

    By CarlHoliday,

    I've always considered 13 to be a lucky number for me mostly because I was born at 11:30 p.m. Another thirty minutes and I'd have been an August 14th baby, but that was not to be as my mother had been in labor since the 10th of August. I've heard labor in an agonizing experience and I'm glad I didn't have to go through it. Depositing my seed in the proper recepticle was a lot more fun, even though at the time I was probably imagining it was Robert Redford who was the receiver.
     
    Don't ask me why, but I've always had this thing for Robert Redford. Even today I find him to be an incredibly beautiful man who I wouldn't mind snuggling up to.
     
    So, today I'm 59. I never believed I'd live this long. My father's side of my genes is not known for long-lived men and I've lived longer than all of my known predecessors, which is an accomplishment, I guess.
     
    This past year has not been fun and when you think about it too much, there was probably a long of stress put on my various physiological systems that could lead to an early death, except that's impossible because I've lived longer than I'm going to from here on out.
     
    My mother died. I was not there. I couldn't be there. I couldn't bring myself to be with her after the last seizure knocked her back to 1970 something.
     
    My mother's death led to a near suicide, actually a couple. It''s a good thing I really don't want to go, otherwise I would've. I have this unnatural bright, cheery attitude that makes me believe everything is going to turn out okey-dokey if I don't try too hard to make things right.
     
    After a few months of rather intensive therapy, I was deemed safe to travel America's highways again.
     
    I was diagnosed as being Type II Bipolar, which simply means I'll never end up in the state hospital as being a danger to myself or others. My lows can be horrendous, but I can't quite pull the trigger (there is a reason I don't have a gun in the house). My highs are fun and I laugh a lot at the silliest shit, but I don't try to fly like Superman. Now, with Valproic Acid I'm stable. I still get low, but not too low. I get high, but not too high. It's somewhere in the middle where life is okey-dokey all the time no matter what is going on. In fact, my life could crumble around me and everything would be okey-dokey. Kind of scary if you think about it too much.
     
    And, now, I have a DVT in my calf and I'm taking Warfarin to keep my blood from making too many platets and to keep the ones I have from sticking together. I have to carry a card stating that fact in case I get in an accident and the EMTs and ER docs wonder why I don't stop bleeding. Luckily, the DVT should be gone in 3 to 6 months and I won't have to take Warfarin after that. We've figured out it is the Valproic Acid that is the culprit. I can't take aspirin with it. So, when I go off the Warfarin, I'll have to change mood stabilizers so I can go back on aspirin. (I had been taking at least 2 a day before starting Valproic Acid.)
     
    So, it's been a fun year and I'm hoping next year will be even more funner. If certain things work out like I want, there's a chance that next year could turn out to be the most funnest in a long, long time.
     
    Chapter 15 of The Artists is coming along. It's going slow, though.
     
    Friday I go back to work, so if you're out there on the highways and byways of America watch out for my black truck and wave as you drive on by. With my rig governed at 62 mph, I don't pass anyone except the gray hairs in their motorhomes, grandma on the way to Wal-Mart, and sixteen-year-old girls. (I haven't quite figured that one out, but sixteen-year-old girls seem to be very, very timid when driving and timid drivers do some real scary shit when the big black truck comes up behind them.)
     
    Take care, be safe, and remember to tell someone you love them.
     
  25. CarlHoliday

    Distracted

    By CarlHoliday,

    Today's blood test came back with an INR of 2.2 meaning the Warfarin is at a therapeutic level in my blood, which also means no more Enoxaparin shots in the belly. Yaay!
     
    Yet, I'm distracted.
     
    So far I've written just over a page on Chapter 15.
     
    Not a lot, but you see I'm distracted.
     
    CALL 911 IMMEDIATELY IF YOU EXPERIENCE ANY OF THE FOLLOWING:
    Severe and extraordinary,

    Chest Pain
    Shortness of Breath
    Dizziness
    Headache

    Any of the above means the blood clot or a piece of it has dislodged and moved to my heart, lungs, or brain, which normally results in DEATH or a close proximity thereto.
     
    I'm just a bit distracted.
     
    I've seen death by embolism. It is not a pretty sight.
     
    Of course, death by anything isn't something you want to see, but an embolism lodged in a critical artery is not something anyone wants. It's surprising how quickly tissue death occurs, followed by organ death, followed by the Big D.
     
    Chances of this happening are pretty slim. The percentage of people experiencing embolic death once treatment has begun is fairly negligible, but it's still out there.
     
    It's a distraction to go from being fairly healthy to having a death threatening condition.
     
    Maybe I should concentrate on what my GP said, "If you're going to have a DVT, yours is in the correct vein. There are more dangerous veins." That's encouraging in a way, sort of, but the way life has been going lately, I'm having a little difficulty being encouraged.
     
    So, I end up being distracted.
     
×
×
  • Create New...