North to the Cold

Monday December 23, 2013

            The morning was beautiful yesterday.  It was almost 80 degrees before I saw my first patient at 0800.  It was 86 when we finished our dinner and finally headed north.  In the seventies until midnight when we finally stopped we both wanted to put the top down, but the Christmas presents were over-taking all the extra space in the car.  We did not want any small ones to fly out.  Who knew the wind noise in the convertible would be worse with the top up?

            We woke to a downpour of rain and a small newly formed river flowing down the middle of the road going through the rest stop.  I had charting to finish for work and didn’t mind the delay.  The only problem was that I had to pee.  We, of course, parked at the end where it was dark to sleep.  It was the farthest we could go from the bathroom and still be in the rest stop.  So, I did get my morning shower and then we headed down the road.

            The rain began to slow and the flooding dissipated, but the sun had not come up.  At 0700 it was still as dark as it had been at midnight.  I was beginning to gather concern that I had bounced into the twilight zone.  The idea of being in a famous TV show is somewhat appealing, but I did not want to be late for Christmas.  What excuse can you possibly use for that?  Christmas is scheduled for December 25^th every year until the end of time.  It is not like we don’t all know when it is.  Late is just not an option for any reason.

            The ride has included a truck full of kindling headed to “stick city.”  At least that was the name on the side of the truck.  It was full of the kindling size sticks I was sent to fetch as a kid every time we went camping.  I was thinking Stick city must be next to Straw city and Brick City.  I think that is where the three little pigs live.

            What I have found most humorous thus far is the “Falling Rock” sign that was crushed by a falling rock.  As we drove down the road I saw two signposts with no sign.  Placed in front of the posts was a small wooden sign with the words “falling rock” spray-painted on it.  When we got closer I realized a large rock was resting on top of the original sign on the ground.

            What I find the least humorous is the temperature gage in my car that now tells me as we drive through Tennessee that it is 35 degrees.  At the last rest stop I said, “I am going to get my hat and gloves out of the trunk.”  The Goat Man just laughed at me.  We have not seen any snow yet.

Hiding in plain view

Tuesday December 17, 2013 1038

            At work yesterday I went into a very familiar patient’s home to find an occupational therapist visiting the patient already, so I sat back to wait my turn.  I was not in the home more than ten minutes when the physical therapist showed up. 

            “Come on back to the party. Did you bring a dish to pass?” yelled the patient when she knocked on the door.  So now in a small room we all gathered.  It was the patient (an elderly woman), her caregiver, and three professionals talking in the room about the lottery.  There was joking, laughing and dreaming.

            “If I won 580 million dollars I would donate a good portion of the profits to the real homeless people.”  The therapist spoke up.

            “As opposed to the fake homeless?”  I said to hide the words that were forming in the back of my throat.

            “Yes, those that are trying, but just need help.”  I do not know what the rest of the conversation entailed.  I simply wondered if she even saw me.  I am the invisible hiding in plain view. 

            Is it because I hold down a job?  Is it because I maintain clean clothes?  I try to maintain wrinkle free uniforms, but lets face it when I had a house I couldn’t pull that off.  Is it because I have an education?  It is because I drive a decent car?  How am I supposed to act so I can be seen?

            When this adventure began The Goat Man and I were told that we could not go into a shelter together because they do not take couples at all! Anywhere!  They had a shelter spot for him, but because I had no small children to look after I would have to remain on the streets. 

            I thank The Goat Man with all of my heart that he chose to stay with me.  He was there to hold me last winter in 22 degree snowy weather.  I held down a job then too.  I held down a job through chemotherapy because I didn’t have a choice.  Those that I had counted on to spend their lives with me had left me.  But The Goat Man held me to keep me warm and spent the last few dollars he had to feed me.  He took care of me when nobody else would.

            A book signing for The Unconventional Dwarf took place last weekend at Sci-Fi City in Orlando.  It was a moment of success for me.  I am not a person that gets very excited about much.  I feel satisfaction when I get an A in a course.  I had my own private moment alone in the bathroom each time a diploma came in the mail.  I have never walked in a formal graduation.  I keep trudging along and no one seems to notice.  The book signing was no exception.

A photo of the Thalassic Dwarf.
I believe another contributing author,
Malcolm is the artist.

            Always the square peg trying to be crammed into the round hole I made a weekend for me to celebrate and everything went wrong.   My hand did not grow tired signing books, the interview left me with no answers, and photos marking the event on Facebook and twitter do not show my presence.  It is a monumental moment in my life, my career as a writer, and my dreams and I am invisible hiding in plain view.

            Because I am not a member of some fantasy community or play fantasy games is my writing less valid?  Does my writing achieve something different than the rest of the contributing authors?  Are my dwarves less because a middle-aged nurse developed them?  If I looked more like a typical nerd would I fit in?

            The Unconventional is a term about breaking free from the molds of society and becoming individuals and independent beings sharing the same space.  Is it possible that I am not a gamer because I didn’t fit the mold when I was younger?  That I was perceived to fit into a different mold and despite my rebellious nature this square peg fell through that round hole?

            I walk through this world watching it with a perspective of the invisible.  I see humor.  I see signs of our cultures demise. And I see scary things.  I see people when they do not know they are not alone.

            The other day sitting in the YMCA watching some TV on the Internet (because we no longer have a place to watch TV the old fashion way.) A man at a table next to us answered his cell phone, talked for a minute, and then looked at The Goat Man, holding his phone out, and said, “They want my credit card.  Do you have a credit card I can use?”

            The Goat Man and I had a big night out on Friday before the book signing.  We went to a very small bar in a very small town, ate a really good burger, and watched the elderly karaoke.  It was like a four-hour extension of the scene in The Wedding Singer where the elderly lady began to rap.

            And today, we watched a man (I would call him a boy, but I think he looked that young because I am getting that old.) come into the room with an attitude with his body language, his actions (he grabbed a chair with his foot and loudly pulled it away from the row before sitting down.) and with his words.  He said he did not want to work, but the manager came with an apology and sent him to work anyway.  The room was full of at least two-dozen able bodied and willing men waiting for work.  What is wrong with our culture?

Tuesday at two o'clock

               I’m going to finally lose my self, my mind, and my every thing.  I have prayed for this moment for so long.  I am amazed at how easy it is without him.

I’m going to live in Tuesday’s two o’clock.

            Once a long time ago the future held everything.  It held a life to be lived, memories to be made, and dreams to be had.  I rose each morning bright eyed looking to this amazing future, but that was when I had value.

            I had value as a person.  I was the quiet one in the corner, but I still held presence.  I was a mother, a daughter (everyone remembered my name) and I was a woman.  Men looked at me.  Men flirted with me.  Men wanted me as a woman.

            I held value once, but somewhere while striving for my amazing future my value became measured by income.  My looks faded, my eyes wrinkle, and my children grew.  Men stopped looking.  Men stopped flirting.  Men stopped wanting me as a woman.  Even my husband grew weary of intimacy with me.

            My value changed from a loved, respected, woman to money and strength.  I had the strength to continue to be responsible when no one else around me could.  I had the strength to “do what had to be done.”  I was so busy fostering my strength and building my comfortable living I lost my self, my mind, and my every thing.

             At two o’clock today I felt like I again held value, but I was wrong.

            I let all of my possessions go and I have given up my money and my comfortable living looking for the man who places value in a weak, old, unattractive, broke woman.  I had him at two o’clock, but I answered the phone with a giddy laugh and he was gone before my reflexes even knew to react.

            He is a beautiful man with a big heart, soft gentle hands, and a cocky grin that makes everyone around him smile.  He is bull-headed and stubborn and refuses to admit when he is wrong.  But, he has morals, convictions, ideals, and dreams.  He dreams big.  He counts his chickens before they hatch and he use to hold me so tight I didn’t think he would ever let go.  But today at three o’clock he released me from his hug, turned his back, and disappeared into my memories.

            That is when I lost the last few shreds of humanity holding me together.   That is when I stopped moving forward.  That is when I froze at Tuesday and two o’clock.  The one place left where I hold value.

             I was curled up into a ball when he found me.  He has seen me weak and he still held on.  He has seen me strong and he still held on.  He has seen me angry and he has seen me hurt.  He has seen me foolish and childlike, and he has seen me stress over the smallest things.  Every night he held me tighter and every morning he loved me still.

            He didn’t care that my beauty faded, that my eyes wrinkled, and that my children were grown.  He held me close to him and vowed to never let me go.  But yesterday he made me giddy.  Yesterday he made me laugh. Yesterday he let go.

            My value is money and now that I have given up my money my value is gone.  The evidence is in tonight.  I sit alone in my convertible at the end of a Walmart parking lot with everything I own here or in storage.  I am alone.  My husband left when I no longer provided a comfortable living.  The beautiful man found employment today and he is gone.  My daughter can no longer mooch off of me and suck me dry and she is gone.  I am alone because I refuse to buy love.  I am alone because I refuse to settle.  I refuse to accept people who do not see my value through the weakness and the faults.

            I do not know when my value as a person seeped out and my value became money.  I did not see it coming, but I can feel it.  It is this big heavy weight on my chest and this overpowering knowledge in my mind.

            The knowledge that I am not loved for me, the knowledge that I am no longer loveable, and the knowledge that I have no value, no purpose, and no desire for this earth is more pain than I can handle.  This is where my strength weakens.  He is where my strength weakens.

            I am going to live in Tuesday’s two o’clock.  I am going to live like I have value.  I am going to live like I have love.  I am going to pretend I have a future with life to live, memories to make and dreams to have.

           

            I am a woman even if it is not easily seen.  I am the responsible one even when I try to just let it go.  I am the one who will keep going through fever, pain, and fatigue because this world always lets me.  I cry in the shower and I ignore the pain of middle age.  I dread the pain of elderly.  I hold my sensual, sensitive, loving and longing parts of me deep inside.  But, I long for a day when I can trust someone enough to let them in.

            It is Wednesday in my lonely world where I internally combust into hidden tears, but as I head to work I will step into my Tuesday at two o’clock.  I thank God I had that one moment of complete again.  I thank God I for giving me today, so I can continue to search for somebody who sees my value.

Forever Forward

November 27, 2013

            This morning I put the top down on my car, turned the heat up full blast and shot down the road.  The sky was beyond blue and the white puffy clouds danced along the shelf between them and me.  I could see a sliver of the moon over staying its welcome.  The air was cold and brisk.  The smell was pine like.  The radio blared “Electric Avenue.”  It was a moment in time like no other moment in time and completely irreplaceable.

            For a moment I had conquered the world.  Beside me was a white kindle keyboard ready and willing to read my next choice.  I drove a convertible all over Spring Hill to visit patients and the copies of my book sat on my couch sporting my name in black ink.  The world was mine.

            I have a job, a convertible, a kindle keyboard, and money in the bank.  I am published with a book signing on December 14^th.  School is progressing as planned.  My life was back on track.  So, just hours from a four day weekend involving manatees, airboats, sunsets, fishing, and a restaurant called The Freezer ahead of me I coast through the 53 degree air on top of the world.

            I have freshly manicured hands, pedicured feet, and a haircut.   I can hardly remember the nights fighting the bugs even though my legs still sport the scars.  I have been sleeping on a bed long enough my muscles have almost forgot what it felt like to cram in the front seat of the truck and fight The Goat Man for space.  No more attack turtles, wet belongings, or wondering where the next meal will come from.

            Back to life as usual, The Goat Man and I’s adventures have changed course.  We are heading for personal interest now instead of survival.  We are starting to work on an online magazine I dreamed up a long time ago while sick in the master bathroom of a house my kids grew up in on Van Buren.  The magazine is called Do Not Eat The Chicken Salad.

            (A sneak peek at my business plan)

Do Not Eat the Chicken Salad (chicken salad) is an interactive website about cooking after the apocalypse.  AKWalraven, LLC intends to publish at regular intervals a recipe, re-cap video, and commentary for the public to view.

·      Recipe:  The recipe will be just that a recipe of what dish was made during the video.

·      Re-cap Video:  It is still in discussion how long the video should be.  For revenue purposes it has been proposed a small video be free and a subscription allowing a full video to be seen become available at a reasonable price.  The video will be a rendition of the recipe being prepared.

·      Commentary article:  This article will discuss any difficulties or tricks discovered throughout the cooking process, but more importantly it will rate the food based on the apocalypse categories.  The article will cover each area and assign a number value to the recipe or main food in the recipe.  Any other relevant information will also be discussed in the article.

o   The food will be judged on:

§  Sustainability – How well the food remains edible with and without refrigeration.

§  Portability – how easily the food is carried or kept in a bag for further eating during travel.

§  Nutritional advantages – Is this food good maintaining muscle, energy, or just wasted calories.  Basic nutritional information.

§  Availability – Where does this food grow naturally?  What environments can this food grow in?  Will it be available?

§  Ease of preparation – How quick can this be prepared?  Will it take days?  This may be a risk of others finding a person’s camp or of animals coming to eat.

Further development:  I would like to see more articles on the site to fill the days between the video presentations involving food on more of an educational emphasis.  Anything related to food nutrition, growth, storage, or the apocalypse would be accepted.  The FOE or SOB will judge each article subject individually for its relevant topic area before being published.

            The newest interesting twist is that The Goat Man is a prepper and very interested in articles and information about prepping.  I myself am more of a germ a phobic.  Basically, I want food without chemicals, pesticides, and steroids.  I want fresh food that has flavor because I love to eat.  Food is my first love and I would like to foster that relationship.

            Do Not Eat the Chicken Salad has a blog site already, (http://donoteatthechickensalad.blogspot.com/) so please go check it out.  I am crawling out of rock bottom and finishing my PhD, but it will be up and going as soon as I can.  I am making an extra effort to follow every single dream I have.

            Since October, The Goat Man and I have been living in a haunted house and it has yielded some very interesting stories.  I cannot do them justice on here, so I have begun my book.  I am writing a book about the beginning of The Goat Man and I that discusses homelessness (yes, that includes all the weird things I couldn’t put on the blog), the haunted house, and some real personal issues that need to be discussed. (These include PTSD, brain tumors, cancer, and addiction). 

            I am going to close this blog entry with the first page of the book.  I apologize for the long absence in writing, but after the book has been written everyone will see what has kept me busy.  Enjoy the first page.  And will somebody please tell the ghost I want the laundry room doors left shut!!!

The First Page:

            I sit here on the couch in this freezing room.  I can see my breath!  It was 80 a minute ago, but now I am frozen to the bone.  My skeletal system feels like it is made from metal just freshly pulled out of a snow bank in Alaska.

            I have lived in this house almost six weeks now, but it feels unfamiliar tonight in this very dim light.  It must be about three in the morning.  The air is thick and heavy in a very uncomfortable way.  This house has never felt this eerie before.

            I thought when we came here life was going to give us a break, but right now all I can do is dart my gaze around to examine the moving shadows in this room and pray what just happened never happened.  I am a logical person and my logic tells me something other than the reality I wish to believe.

            My logic tells me I just had sex with a demon!

            I do not mean a really bad person or a wild and out of control toddler, but a demon from the realm of spirits.  I am not sure why we call it a realm because that implies they stay there and we stay here.  It turns out it is a double standard, they are allowed to come into our realm, but we do not get to go to there’s.

            From what I can tell, I do not have any interest in going to the demon’s realm and I would appreciate if he stayed out of mine.  I prefer to deal with him directly, but he only comes in shadows, voices on the baby monitor, cold air, and unseen moved objects.  There is no respect from this demon.  He has been coming unannounced for weeks and just a couple of hours ago he told me his name. 

            He said his name was Herrick Jablonski born September 18, 1968.  He is just three years older than myself and he has not learned respect yet.  Now that we have gotten so personal I have questions.  I have tons of questions.

            Was he once alive?  If yes, how long has he been dead?  Am I supposed to be afraid of him?  What is he able to do in this realm?  How does he get here?  How does he leave?  What is it like in his realm?  Do they have bodies like us when they are in their realm and if I went to their realm would I be a spirit?

            Now I sit on this couch that belongs to a ninety seven year old woman who I care for and wondered how I got here.  I am freezing inside and out.  I am empty inside.  My stomach actually feels empty.  Although, I am thinking about the root beer and ice cream in the fridge, I am not going to eat until the weight of this air is removed.

            About two years ago I also arose at three in the morning with an empty stomach and ice-cold bones.  I had also just had sex, but it was with a demon of a different kind.  The sex that time was with the man I was married to.  That is the night this all started.

            I sat on my own couch that night.  It was a couch