Poem of the Week - Part 7

This one goes out to Miss Mason. She is a classy lady who I am quite fond of. **Note: this is a different Brooke than the post about A Crooked and Babbling Brooke. Here is the story.

Back in the day I met Brooke through a mutual friend. We became friends and I had this thing for her. Here was my problem. She had this other roommate that I also found attractive. So I tried to figure out if I had a chance with either of them. In doing so I was able to alienate both.

I wanted to make out with the other girl because she had that draw. She did something to my loins…I think they yearned for her. Brooke on the other hand, equally attractive, desirable...and a definite yearning, but is the kind of girl you don’t just roll and bone out. You hang onto her because she is smart, classy; she’s got this smile that makes your eyes think they have been resurrected and able to see heavenly things. I can’t get enough of it. I could probably just stare at her face all day. Her eyes are like gold and milk chocolate had a baby. She’s got long dark hair that Pantene commercials brag about.

So there I am…torn. Loins vs. Commitment and Meaning. So it was hard for me to decide what I wanted. You know that old, have your cake and eat it too, adage? Well, I would have liked both and I guess I made that too obvious because as I said, I didn’t get to enjoy either of them.

A lyric comes to mind now as I reflect on that attempt. It is a song called Dirty Mouth, from a Utah band that I really like called The Devil Whale. “I never made my intentions clear/I held them all in.” I don’t know if I ever did a good job at telling her how I felt. I saw her this past weekend when I visited Utah and I could have slapped myself. I told her I would make my next post about her because I had a poem about her. This poem in its original form ended up on her door one night randomly. I don’t know if I signed it or if she ever got it. So here you go Brooke. So here are my intentions, clearly. I don't know if they have changed all that much. I'd still date her til she loved me or couldn't stand me.

Miss Mason

If you were on the phone
I’d say I’ve been acting dumb
Wanting to be with you
But never being with you
I want to kiss you
I’ve cried because I’ve missed you
Now I think I have lost you
And it’s causing me to pause and see
What you really meant to me
I looked at you and Brooke it’s true
Every time you spoke to me
I wanted to be
The guy that you’d decide
To stand by through hard times
I wanted to be there for you
If you had a bad day at school
I wanted you to call me from the ticket booth
And tell me how your day has been
I wanted to be there
When things were good
And if things went bad
Or if you got mad
I wanted to be there
To make you laugh
So hard you’d cry
And you’d forget why
You were mad in the first place
This is why I’ve been acting strange
This is why I feel insane
And why I say the things I say
I’m secretly, madly in love with you
And you don’t know
And I can’t tell you
I’m scared that you’ll hate me
Not want to see me
Or come near me
So I go on hurting inside
But outside I’m fine

Poem of the Week #6

Desert Lands

This truely is a desert.
Abandoned. Deserted. Desolate. Barren.
Its not easy to live, to exist.
Yet despite knowing this, I journey in.
I do not resist.
With cantene depleating
And no thoughts of retreating,
only humbling feelings.
I'm not the explorer I dreamed I'd be.
A fleeting dream of succeeding immediately.
Its hard. Its hard to Be.
The oasis I need is avoiding me.
In some time I'll find one.
Until then I will ration my supplies
and try to last through the desert skies.
The seemingly endless sand.
Cold bitter nights.
Scorching sun and relentless heat.
Though I'm facing defeat,
I cannot retreat,
choosing instead to rise to my feet.
That one day release from this tedious feat will be my prize.

This poem seemed fitting because I am out of a job and looking for a new one. A new job is what brought me to Arizona in the first place and that is what this poem is about. So if you hear of anything, anywhere, in the marketing field or something you think I'd be good at, give me a holler.

I moved to Arizona in January of 2006. I was starting a new life, and a new job; I didn’t know anyone. I went to my ward the first Sunday and was flabbergasted. I got there a few minutes early and chose a seat in the overflow section between the chapel and the gym, right in the middle of the row. Suddenly, they open the accordion door and unveil that the gym is full of chairs as well. People filled the chapel, the overflow, the gym. There were nearly 500 people at church and I didn’t know a soul.

My plan was to be outgoing and the fun new guy. But I was intimidated. They read like 15 names of the new people and I felt lost in a crowd. My plans weren’t as easy as I had uh…planned.

A few weeks of living in Arizona and I scribbled this poem down on the back of a program. It was a tough adjustment. Making new guy friends is especially tough. You wouldn’t think so but it is. I’ll tell you about it later.

Halloween Dicotemy

So I had this great costume that was totally inappropriate for church sponsored events so I went back to a costume bestowed upon me by the good graces of Dave Beck. He served an LDS mission in the Baltic States (former USSR) and brought home a little memorabilia for me from the cold war. I played the part well and had trouble breaking character. I have a surprisingly good Russian accent.

My original costume is super funny and I wore it to non-church related events. It is based on a skit done on SNL with Justin Timberlake. It won an Emmy. Here is the link to the video. I did a fine job, I think. Sure it’s a bit provocative and inappropriate but it is funny! The box is fully functional but I just put some candy in there so people would have something to grab when I got them to step 3. (Watch the video)

Please spare me the lectures because it is far too late to do anything about it. The past has passed.

Poem of the Week #5

You said.

Ok the details on this one are fuzzy. I won’t name names. Let me put it this way. This is for people that say they want to be friends but never return the favor. I’m not the type of person that gives of myself freely, just to give of myself. Call it selfish, or call me a bad friend, call it what you want but honestly, if there isn’t equilibrium or reciprocity in a relationship what is the point? I enjoy balance. I am punctual. If I tell someone I am going to call at 7, I do it. I expect the same courtesy. It’s not too much to ask.

I am insecure in some relationships. Maybe I am more sensitive to this type of thing in because I don’t know where I stand. Notwithstanding that, if you are telling me you are my friend, my real friend, you better be that. Don’t tell me something just because you think it is what I want to hear. I don’t need a friend that doesn’t mean it.

You said you’d call me
But you didn’t remember me once yesterday
It makes me think and wonder if you even care at all
Please don’t lead me on
Please don’t make me believe, what really isn’t there.
Don’t say what you don’t mean
Just to please me
You are better than that
And so am I
I can’t understand I don’t know if I want to
Thank you for everything you haven’t done for me recently
I have gone out of my way to be there
You haven’t at all
You leave me
What am I supposed to think?
What am I supposed to do?
I am so lost when it comes to you
I want to call or text
But I won’t
You said you’d call
So I’ll wait to see if you ever come through
What will I say?
She knows how I feel
You know how I feel
I told you
And look where it left me!

Austrailian Pink Floyd

I went to the above mentioned concert on Tuesday with Robb MacDonald. He's the one who got me into Pink Floyd back in the day. I had one of those moments where you hear a song and you remember everything about it. We were working on his Eagle Project collecting "books for the barrios." Driving around in the clan van as it was called on a cloudy, probably fall Saturday; Robb was playing a tape of a mix of Floyd songs. One side was a bunch on songs from The Final Cut, an obscure, lesser known album of Floyd's. I remember hearing these songs and connecting with the passion and soul with which the music was played and sung. I could tell that the guy who wrote it really meant it. I had Robb make me some tapes...maybe it was CD's but I think they were still tapes at this point in life.

The show we went to was really awesome. Any fan of Pink Floyd would enjoy this concert. They sound and play nearly identical to the original versions of the songs. The stage set up, video, and effects are all replications of an actual Floyd show. I was happy I went.

Poem of the Week #4

Yes, I know…I missed last week. So I decided to bring it back with a vengeance! Tragically long, pathetically awesome, insignificantly human. Huh?

Here is the ebb and flow of how it comes out of me when I am going through it. I will give it you in order of how it went down during this attempt.

Her name was Michelle. At first I didn’t think she was anything special but the more I looked at her and talked with her the more I liked her. She was on the UVSC Dance team. That really is only important because of what happened.

Ok…so I like this girl. As I said, she had grown on me quite a bit and I developed this thing for her. It was a crush. I won’t call it anything more or less than that. It was a crush. I pursued it as such.

I wrote this poem at the onset of what was happening. I was torn because I liked her but she was only 18 and I was 24…younger than my younger sister…I vowed to never date an 18 year old because I found that between 18-20 girls grow up a lot…most of them anyways. That is not to say that getting into a relationship at 18 is a bad thing. It worked for my little sister Krista. She just had her 2nd baby a couple weeks ago. Happily married for 4 years.

Back to the story. Didn’t really know what I was getting into. I knew I was starting to like her but she was mostly a mystery to me. That is when I wrote Empty Shells. It was a play on words obviously, her name Michelle, and the ideas of not having established any sort of real relationship yet.

As time progresses, maybe a week or so, I was torn. I wanted something to happen but I didn’t want to get involved. My feeling is that I don’t want to take away that opportunity for them to mature and grow…I guess I could be a notch on their belt…probably wouldn’t mind.

I wrote Crushed. One of the last lines in there, “relationships aren't found, they're made." That's what she told me once in relation to some other topic but I took it to heart.

Then I took it a step closer/deeper. My buddy Spencer was digging on this other girl on the dance team and he was a little more bout it than I was. He convinced me, though it didn’t take much, to go to the National Championships in Daytona Beach Florida. It was a big surprise. We fly down secretly, and just show up before their first performance and start cheering like crazy. They were all totally floored. It was pretty awesome.

The trip was a lot of fun but didn’t get any real vibes from her despite my travels. Spencer and I talked about it and on the flight home and I wrote Forever Away. It was inspired by a time when her and a couple of friends came over to our ballin hotel room and hung out of a few hours. We were there on my bed chit chatting and eventually I think the girls fell asleep. She was right there next to me and I couldn’t make the connection.

A couple of weeks later, after a couple dates, I invited her and her friend that Spencer was interested in up to my cabin in Park City and cooked them an amazing Birthday meal. I don’t know what I made besides steak but if you’ve ever had a steak of mine…well, who really needs anything else. For those haters and skeptics, I had gotten permission from my parents to have ladies up there unsupervised. It was a trust thing because when I first asked they met me with extreme caution and said no way. I told them that if I was going to be having sex with chicks up at the cabin (which I think was their main concern) I wasn’t going to call them and ask permission to have them up there. I would just go and do it. Also the fact that I wasn’t inviting just one girl up but two was probably comforting. There’s safety in numbers or something. Sure, I have skills, major skills, and that is why I wrote Game. That’s not part of this story. Consider it a bonus.

So yeah, a couple of weeks later I get on a plane to fly to New Hampshire to visit my sister Brittany and my parents who were out there at the time. I get on the plane and I have this crazy feeling inside me. I didn’t like it, very unsettling. I felt like I had something to lose, something I wanted to stick around for. I wrote Fear and Trembling before take off.

Then, while I was up in the garage/loft/fly fishing design center/Cottage Road Designs central I wrote 5/28/05 9:39pm Eastern. Obviously the time I wrote the poem. A prophetic vision into what was about to happen up my return.

I got home and figured it all out. It was exactly as I had written. This wasn’t self-fulfilling prophecy; my actions or lack thereof didn’t make this happen. It’s just how it was. So in a desperate whimsical plea, I fashioned The Dissolution Proclamation. It was a poem that pled my case for some kind of a relationship even though it probably wouldn’t work out; having the little pieces, between forging the relationship and breaking it off, seemed like it was worth having a relationship.

And then it was over. I had gotten into it more than I had initially planned. I changed the name in my phone to ‘Her’ because I didn’t like seeing that name any more. Probably 9 months ago I walked passed her in the Salt Lake Airport with a dude and a ring on her finger. It caught me off guard and all I said was ‘hey!’ That’s really all there was to say.

Poem of the Week - Part 3 - Restless

Week 3. Well, I knew last week would get me in a little trouble but it aint no thang. Everything is everything.

This week…let’s see…Ah yes. This one is relevant and recently on my mind. I wrote this poem a few years back. I was still living in Utah I suppose and I went back home to Alamo for a short visit. I show up at church and I see this girl and I am struck down with a familiar feeling. You see I can fall for a girl in a glance. Usually it is because of a pretty smile attached to a pretty face. I know exactly what I like and when I see it…I don’t know why but it hits me like, BAM!

There she was. I got nervous for a good reason…she was gorgeous. I had never seen her before which made me feel like I had been cheated my whole life. I didn’t know there were ones like this out there!

Anyways, I probed and found out a little bit about her. Her name was (and I suppose it still is) Ariel. Yes, just like the Little Mermaid. She did have a Disney Princess thing going on...like, I don't think she is real. I didn’t have much of an opportunity to talk to her. It all kind of just happened and was over with nothing to show for it.

A few hours later, with her face still fresh in my mind, I got on a plane to head back to Utah and I wrote this poem about her. There were bits of prophesy which came true. I never did lay eyes on her again.

Restless

I can’t sleep
I can’t get comfortable
I can’t even speak
I can’t believe my eyes
Awestruck, frozen, un-fearless
And intimidated needless to say
I have so much to say
And no way to make words
Courage, in a time like this
Would be a guilty pleasure
More wasted feelings

It’s likely my eyes
Will never have that pleasure again
Sometimes a memory isn’t enough
I crave for more
I long for something to remind me
Did I really just see her?
You are more than beautiful
As you fade away
Isn’t there another way?

I lived in Utah, she in California and if I recall I she may have had an on-again-off-again boyfriend which complicated the situation. I guess our moms knew each other so I got her email address and we emailed a few times and that is the story.

The reason this poem is on my mind because a couple of weeks ago I have some strange married lady with a kid add me to her friends list on myspace. About a week ago I ask her if I know her. That sort of hurt her feelings because I didn’t remember her. She jogged my memory and it all came rushing back to me. It was her...and here she is. Click!

A Crooked Babbling Brooke - Poem of the Week

I’ll put up a disclaimer up knowing that this will get imported to facebook and the person who inspired this poem may very well end up reading it. I think lyrically this is one of my favorite poems. Not because of what it says but how it is said.

Check it, I love your guts, you know this. It was my fault for falling so quickly for you back then…but then again it was your fault for being so easy to fall for. ;)

Here is the story. I have a bunch of other poems about this attempt at a relationship. What can I say it impacted me. It takes place about 4 years ago in Provo. My boy Dave introduces me to this girl and she was stacked; so easy on the eyes and so much fun. It was one of those moments that when I saw her, I smiled and I knew I was totally screwed. It happens to me on occasion. I can make up my mind to like some one in an instant. It is a weakness and fault that I have. It has caused me quite a bit of pain in my life thus far.

I fell hard knowing full well that it was a dangerous path I was taking. Anyhow, we had so much fun hanging out and being friends and just comfortable with each other. After going out and being together and feeling like things were cool I started to worry and feel like she wasn’t on the same path…we weren’t really walking towards each other…more so parallel…I guess. I dealt with my insecurities and doubts the best I could but the time came that I couldn’t hold out any longer and I had to find out what, if anything, was going to happen.

So we’re text messaging and I ask the question. I don’t remember what it was exactly but it got me an answer. One I dreaded. It said, roughly, 'blah blah blah, something something something, but I’m not physically or sexually attracted to you.'

Ow. I mean, I appreciate the honesty, for real, I do. I don’t blame her for it, that’s just how it is sometimes. I’ve felt that as I’m sure we all have at one point…it just sucks really bad to be on the receiving end of it. It is that moment where the hope and the fear come together and join to somehow form a deep agony.

I hate running. I’m not a fan at all. I read that text and it all came out and all I could think to do was run. People say it is therapeutic. I say what ever works for you. But there I was, running. I ran and got tired and realized that I still had to run back. I came home and didn’t feel any better…worse now because my body hurts. Remember, I just RUNNOFT (catch the O Brother Where Art Thou reference) I’m not a runner so I shocked my body a bit.

I sat down on my bed and cleared my mind the proper Caleb Way. I let the ink spill. This is what came out.

A Crooked Babbling Brooke

What, I’m not good enough? Do I give up?
Close the door behind me?
Well, the truth hurts. And what is worse, it is blinding.
Constantly reminding me, finding my weaknesses, hiding.
Bringing me grief, stealing my peace, a thief.
She a beauty, and me, the beast.
These kinds of stories, with no happy ending, they adore me, they form me.
No more pretending, lending me fantasies that can never be, only possibilities.
My heart is adrift on random seas.
Play me a heartbreak anthem please.
I can’t breathe, with tendencies to grieve.
She’s out of my league.
It’s cold. I freeze. Oh reality!
My needs never met, bereft, upset.
Yet, I can’t forget, or let go!
Still, I know this is how it ends again.
Lacking, never packing the total package though.
I’ll be good enough for someone, somewhere, someday, maybe.
I hope…

Note: I keep hearing that 2nd to last line and while it may be true it does not bring an ounce of comfort or a hint of relief.

Introduction: Poem of the Week

I don't know if this ruins it for people...if it does just let me know, but as I listen to various songs I sometimes think about what inspired them. I sometimes wonder if it is hard for them to perform some of those songs knowing that the feelings involved are so deep, personal, and hard to reflect on. How hard is it to stand in front of thousands of people and recall the all of those feelings and emotions that caused that song to be written.

I also find it amazing that a song can so succinctly describe a frame of mind or a certain emotion that I am feeling. I'd love to ask some these artists about how the song came to be. How and why did it get written?

In that light, I am going to explain a poem that I wrote each week (hopefully) to give people insight into that inspiration.

I wrote this poem reflecting on one of the nights that I hold closest to my heart. In the moment there wasn't any place I would have rather been. I sometimes wish I could relive that moment on repeat until the day that might actually get tired of it.

It was near the end of October 2006 and I took a trip to California and met my love interest at the time. My dad and I picked her up at the airport and headed to our beach house in Carmel. We had dinner and got settled a bit. It was probably past 11 when we took a walk down to the beach. The poem gives a sound narrative of the scenery and surroundings. It was very memorable to me. The title came from a song by Dashboard Confessional called Dusk and Summer. The line is in there at the beginning. I think these are somewhat sister songs.

I didn't write the poem for many months after. We had broken up and I still remembered and longed for this day. I know what we felt that night and I am waiting to feel that again. I don't know when, where, or with who it will be, but truly, I wait and hope for it. So while this poem holds some sadness in the fact that it is a happiness that didn't last the way I'd hoped, it gave me perspective into what is possible, and that is why this poem is a happy one.

Down By the Shore

We made our way in the darkness,
Down the path and steps
Towards a sandy beach below that awaited us, we crept
The fire burning in our hearts was enough to keep us warm
Yet we were met, a fire left burning, flickering on the shore
As strong waves crashed and stars filled the sky
We stood in the sand in the moonless night
We walked towards the sound of breaking swells
Breathing in the ocean's air, love had cast its spell
Hand in hand; then eye-to-eye Then lip to lip and finally a kiss
Cherishing the moments,
I held you by the fire's side
Holding to each other closely, shooting stars sparked the sky
Clinging to the seconds, pleading as they passed
To slow them down forever, so this night might last

The Art of the Heckle

I love googling myself...especially when gems like this pop up.

http://www.netxnews.net/vnews/display.v?TARGET=printable&article_id=422c956072724

Ketamine! Ketamine!

I went in last week to get the 4 screws removed that attached Bethany, my fixator, to my leg. I was told it would be easy, like tearing re-bar out of concrete. Though, it was a quick procedure from what I understand. I spent more time in recovery than I did in the operating room.

My anesthesiologist Dr. Butler told me that he was going to use a drug called Ketamine. He went into some details about the drug. Apparently Ketamine is closely related to PCP. It puts you in a “disassociative mind state.” He explained that I wouldn’t be unconscious but I’d have no idea anything was going on. Basically it makes you just crazy enough and out of touch from your brain that you don’t realize what is going on…or feel anything.

Butler asked me if I like any specific music. I hesitated for a minute and my mom jumped in and said that I like Pink Floyd. She was exactly right; I do like Pink Floyd. Butler told me he had Tool covering The Wall. I thought, ‘should be interesting, good enough.’

Dr. Maling, my podiatrist and surgeon, walked up and Butler asked him, “Do you have any Pink Floyd on your iPod?” Maling’s response…with a big knowing smile ”Why, you giving him Ketamine?” I knew right then I was in for it…what ‘IT’ was wasn’t clear.

Butler injects my IV with the pharmaceutical PCP and a few moments later things get fuzzy. I’m not out though. In fish-eyed lens vision I see the strange lights above me as I get rolled into the operating room. I then hear the music and the words, “We don’t need no education.” It was indeed Tool covering Another Brick in the Wall Part 2 by Pink Floyd. Since I was still “coherent” I tried to make a joke about how the 4 or 5 doctors around me shouldn’t listen to the words and that they should be educated so they don’t mess up my leg. That was the last clear thought I had for about an hour.

Next thing I know I’m rapping the song Business by Eminem; precisely, I was later told. As they wheeled me out I could feel the movement. This is when I realized that my being had split into two. Basically there were 2 of me from this point on. Let me try to explain.

My eyes weren’t working…but they were. Huh? Yeah, exactly. One side of me was active, talking, seeing, interacting with my surroundings. Call this person Caleb. The other side of me that was there was trying to comprehend it. It was like a passive observer, like a driving instructor, just there to watch and maybe keep things in line. Call this person Dan, not my dad but my middle name. It was like I was split in two and they were very distinct and separate from each other.

It was as I was being wheeled out of the OR, finishing my Eminem song, that my two sides formally were introduced.

Dan: Wow you are really trippin out right now.
Caleb: I know, it’s awesome Let's see where this goes.

A hallucinogenic curtain rushes over me. It’s light pink but turns to pale yellow. It is a flowing, wind blown curtain, almost like water in a river, fluid. I actually see the curtain.  I know I’m trippin. I also know there is nothing I can do to stop it. So I embrace it and coast into Ketamine’s special world.

A doctor on hand told me that as I was being wheeled to recovery there was a cute nurse that Caleb decided to flirt with. “Hey there cute nurse. How are you? You should come to my recovery station.” Dan remembers none of it.

Slowly Dan became more aware of his surroundings and found that Caleb is a real blabbermouth. The kid won’t shut up. He’s talking and talking and singing…it is nonstop. As Dan’s vision starts to come back in millisecond flashes, Caleb talks about everything that is being seen. Dan realizes Caleb is socializing, making jokes, and that he can’t stop him. So Dan just takes notes.

Caleb: Ketamine, kids buy this stuff on the street. They shouldn’t be doing drugs but I can see why they are. This stuff is awesome. Ketamine, Ketamine.”

“Recovery. Recovery Phase. Recovery Phase 1” (I was reading the sign hanging from the ceiling.)

“Hey what’s your name?” She tells me but like in normal life I didn’t listen closely. “Hey your hair has blonde streaks in it. That’s not natural is it? I like it.”

Caleb starts talking to the nurses. “My mom wants some Kentucky Fried Chicken.” The nurse tells me I shouldn’t eat any KFC. I babbled on about this and that. Sometimes I think I was shouting. The nurses yelled at me a couple of times telling me I was scaring the kid next to me in the recovery room. Dan pipes in, “I’m sorry kid. It’s the Ketamine. I’m not accountable. Don't do drugs.”

I knew what was happening...kind of. I knew it was funny and probably a one-time thing. I was enjoying myself as I tried to grip a piece of reality here and there. Dan was constantly fighting to get in control of the situation.  I wondered if I would remember any of it so I tried hard. I remember talking about how I knew how awesome the experience was. “Is anyone filming this? This is the funniest thing ever! You know how much money you could make on a TV show for this? Is anyone recording this? Where is my mom? Is she seeing this?”  I needed a witness.  I wanted a record of it.

Me:  “Tell me I’m funny!”
Nurse: “You’re funny”
Me:  “No, I want you to mean it. Tell me I’m the funniest person ever.” I’m pretty sure she ignored me. Seriously though, how many other people were possibly as funny as I was feeling?

“Babies! I love babies! Babies, babies babies! I want lots of babies!” I found out I yelled this after the fact on a subsequent visit to see the Doc.

I see Dr. Maling sitting behind the nurse’s station, “I see you laughing at me back there Maling.”
“No I’m not laughing at you.”
“You liar. I know you are.”

I look over, “Baxter! Barker!”
The nurse whispers, “It’s Bulter.” (the guy who injected me with this stuff.)
“Bulter! This stuff is awesome! Gimme a high five.”
“I can’t I have a patient on the table right now.”
“I’ll remember this!” I yell with a vindictive tone.

Suddenly in a flash, Dan realizes that Caleb has been talking in a strange high pitch voice...this whole time! In that voice Caleb and maybe it is Dan that speaks up and asks a nurse, “Why am I talking in a high pitched voice? It doesn’t make any sense.” The nurse replies, “I don't know. You should stop doing it because it will make your throat hurt.” Then I say, in my high-pitched voice, “You’re right I should talk in a normal voice.” I think it took a few minutes for me to get back to my normal voice. My doctor told me the next day that another doctor passing through heard me talking and asked, “Is that his regular voice?” To which Dr. Maling said, “No, that is the Ketamine.” A sufficient reason I am guessing since no follow up question was asked.


Something switches inside me and I start talking about Nicole. She was coming to visit the coming weekend and I hadn’t seen her since we had called it quits at the beginning of January. Caleb, but I’m sure Dan agreed, “I love Nicole. I want to marry her. I love her.” Then the thought, followed by a verbal confirmation and tears, yes I started crying, “I don’t know if she loves me. I don’t know why she is coming to visit.” More tears and more apologies to the nurses. “I’m sorry. It is the Ketamine.” I can’t let it go though. I'm losing my mind. Crying like a baby over this girl.  “Nurse! You need to get my cell phone and call Nicole and tell her that I love her! Please!” The nurse respectfully declined, plus my cell phone was safe with mommy. She sits me up and feeds me a spoon full of ice slush.

Caleb and Dan are joining together more as the Special-K, as they call it on the streets, filters out of me. Dan is in full disaster clean up mode.  “Jennifer!” “It’s Jessica,” she replies. “Oh sorry. Hey I didn’t ask you out on a date or anything did I? This stuff messed me up. I apologize. I embarrassed myself a lot huh?” “Not too bad,” she says, “ and no, you didn’t ask me out. I think you are in love with Nicole…at least that is what you kept saying.” Wow.

Things start coming together more and more but I am still in a daze. I apologize more. I’m close to getting released, which is a shock because I can’t feel my face. It feels like I am looking at stuff from 2 inches inside my head. No matter. The nurse asks me where my mom is, “Is she at KFC?” “No, I don’t think so. I think she’s waiting for me. Call her cell phone. The number is…925…area code 925…2…8…6…286…awe what is it…4…110? 41…00? 44…1…0?” I still don’t know what it is. They have the number written down fortunately for me. “She’s in the waiting room,” says the nurse. Jessica goes to get her. As she’s walking away I yell to her, “She’s short with blonde hair and she loves me.” Of that I was certain.

As Jessica went to get my mom, 3 other nurses gathered around to help put on my new walking boot…the walking boot that I’m not allowed to put any weight on let alone walk on. The nurses are struggling with getting the boot on and with me. One nurse grabs my foot and tries to push down on it to get into the bottom of the boot. I scream in pain and burst into tears.  Whimpering in pain and pleading, “AHHHH! That hurts! Why would you do that? That hurt so bad! Just because I am out of my mind on drugs doesn’t mean I can’t feel the pain! Please, you need to be careful. That really hurt!” They stood back in some sort of bewilderment. It was like they had just seen a pig fly or a parrot doing calculus. Kind of confused, a little stunned, maybe offended, but astonished at the same time. Several more tries and a lot more careful they got it on.

Stuff is becoming clearer to me. Caleb and Dan join more fully than ever before. I can’t tell them apart anymore even though I still have a propensity to speak out about my random observations. They get me up slowly and I warn them that I might vomit. It’s happened in the past. Carefully I end up in a wheel chair and they roll me around the corner. There’s my mom sitting there patiently. I can see the worried look fade to relief when she sees I’m alive and mostly well.

The medicine at this point has faded to the point where I mostly just sit there quietly, a little dizzy, and with newborn wobbly neck syndrome. I couldn’t keep that thing straight. The nurse gave my mom a few warnings about how I may start talking about stuff that doesn’t make any sense or that I may become emotional for no apparent reason. As if! Jessica wheels me to the car. During that ride I find out that her husband, yes, the nurse I was flirting with was married, went to BYU. She was nice. I got in the back seat and tried to not get sick. I tried to not tell my mom how to drive. I just sat in the back seat…still coming down.

My sister Brooke met us at my house. I saw her look at me and I knew that she knew that I was hammered. Not my fault. She helped me get out of the car. I struggled. Leaning on her with most of my weight I inch towards my door. I had to stop every couple of steps because the hopping was making me sick. 

Into bed, trace amounts of Ketamine still linger but not much. I laid there, mom and sister trying to help the helpless one. It was over. The Ketamine was gone and I had already begun to tell my story.

*     *     *

After visiting Dr. Maling the next day and a couple times after that I got more of the story which I included in this account.  He told me I was the funniest person he had ever seen on Ketamine.  I didn't even have to ask him to say it.  He said that most people have a very different reaction.  Most people are mean and negative.  Apparently I defied the odds and Maling said I should do some stand up while on it.

*     *     *

The final bit of the story is that a few months later, in November, I went to get a screw pulled out of my heel.  I asked the Doctor for Ketamine and he looked at me like I was crazy.  "I have never had anyone ASK for Ketamine before."  I explained that I had a good reaction last time and I was hoping to go for a repeat.  He decline.


A nurse came up to me to finish the final prep work.  This girl looked familiar to me for some reason.  I look hard and ask, "Do I know you?"  She replied with, "Nicole, right?"  I was slightly embarrassed.  She totally remembered and this was a solid 4-5 months later.  My sister Brooke was there to witness that part of the story.  

Ankle from the Crypt - Part Duex

Bye Bye Stitches

Hello Nasty!



Getting my stitches out.

Ankle from the Crypt

This is the outcome of my surgery a week ago today.

That's Bethany, my fixator. She is the one in charge of making sure nothing moves. She does a great job. She's drilled into my bones.

That is the outside of my ankle. There is a screw in my heel perpendicular to the stitches. Feel my PAIN!

Transformers!

This is really the best movie I have seen. Go see it and tell me you didn't like it. If you don't like it....you're lame. It is pure entertainment and worth any penny you spend on it. That's my word.

Yay for Me!

A lot has been going on in my life…or has it? I found out that my left ankle is destroyed. Not the ouch I sprained my ankle destroyed but the operate on it because the ligaments are shot to pieces, your heel isn’t vertical so cut a wedge out of it to straighten it, bone spurs the size of peanuts, in permanent state of partial dislocation, you have arthritis forming destroyed sort of way. So on July 11th I go in to get it fixed. I am being told that I won’t be putting my full weight on it for 9 weeks. There goes the summer! YAY! Not that summer in Phoenix is anything to brag about…it was 111 degrees today. I am happy to finally be getting it fixed. If I waited much longer the doctor said they would have had to fuse my ankle. I don’t roll like that. Hopefully the end result will be an ankle that will last me another 28 years or more.

Work is great. I can’t complain. I have a lot going on and I am staying super busy. With this busyness comes a pay raise that I am negotiating at the moment. That makes me happy.

Despite my ankle problems I am playing softball on Monday nights and soccer on Wednesday nights. I’m pretty much hard core and still dominate; despite my ankle. I scored a goal a couple weeks ago and have 2 assists. When my team goes up by a few goals I make them put me in the field so I can run around and get some exercise. It just so happens that I can do a little something now and again out in the field. As for softball, I’m awesome. So much for humility. Sometimes I make plays where I impress myself. I’ve never been a fast person but I can react quickly and I have an arm that makes up for anything else. I am trying to get it all in before I have to stop for what will be 2-3 months.

I hope to recover quickly because my roommate is planning on starting a baseball team; that’s right, BASEBALL. The games start in August so I will probably miss most of the season. But if the opportunity presents itself and I am ok’d by the doctor then you can bet I’ll be playing. I figure I’ll play catcher and pitch when needed. No one else has the guts to play catcher but I ain’t scared. I relish the chances I’ll have to throw out people trying to steal on me.
I’m tired and I have a headache but I thought I’d take the chance to catch you up on a few things. Enjoy!