There are names that just always seem to apply to everyone with that name, no matter who the person. For me, there is one name that connotates Asshole. That name?
Tom
Allow me to illustrate...
Toms that are assholes:
Tom Brady: Football players should not be pussies and have publicists. Get out of the limo, off your vapid model girlfriend, and get dirty. Oh, and way to go abandoning the mother of your bastard child 3 months before she's due. Asshole
Tom Cruise: Hostage to a religion that is not a religion makes you an asshole
Tom Arnold: Still not funny on Best Goddamned Sports Show Ever
Tom Hanks: Because you made a movie about astronauts, that does not make you an astronaut, stupid asshole
Tom Brokaw: You blew a chance to let the candidates implode on national television. You've lost it, and Peter Jennings would be calling you an asshole
Tommy Bahama: Thanks for starting a clothing trend for self-serving rich assholes who would rather sink a putt than a dollar in social services
Tommy Tune: child molester. asshole.
Tom Sizemore: since when did drinking, doing drugs and beating your girlfriend senseless get you a cable show?
Tommy Chong: from funny to pathetic
Tom Poston: asshole made me tune in to Newhart
Thomas Jefferson; hypocrite slave owner: founding asshole
George W Bush: should have been named Tom
Tom Bergeron: DWTS is an abomination. AFV is another abomination. Stop killing America's braincells, asshole
C Thomas Howell: Soul Man, really?
Tom Selleck: makes anyone else with a mustache look like an asshole
Tom Waitts: if I tried to sing like that, I'd be asked to stop; you sing like that and my wife's heart melts. asshole
Tom Collicchio: you get to be next to Padme Lakshmi for weeks on end for Top Chef. asshole!
Doubting Thomas: I'm not even a Christian and I think you're an asshole. Way to support the team, dude....
Tom Clancy: Jack Ryan is a stupid CIA name. Go write for a soap opera, asshole
Tom Landry: You're no Curly Lambeau, asshole (and the Cowboys are NOT America's team...any team that has had two pussies for QB (Troy Aikman and Tony Romo) cannot lay claim).
Tom Spenard: Yes, there's a story there, lets just leave it at: super collossal asshole
If your name happens to be Tom, go by your middle name. Trust me, otherwise you'll just end up being an .....
Monday, October 27, 2008
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
My first day in my new future
Today was the first day of my journey towards realizing a goal that I had here-to-for feared chasing.
Today was my first day of school.
In sixteen years.
After being forced from the facetious world of luxury retail, I found myself, to be cliche, at a crossroads. My health had brought me to realize that I was not physically up to the challenge of a 60 hour work week, nor mentally up to the politics of the corporate world. I was burned out in every way and defeated in a manner that left me jaded and confused. Weeks and months passed as I sought an answer to the bigger dillema now facing me: what was I to do with my life?
I knew I did not want to go back to the retail world. I couldn't see the benefit of supplying unneeded services to the over-priveleged. If I were to take on another go at the working world, it would have to be something that held purpose, meaning, honor, and would make a difference.
After countless dissertations on the lack of moral compass in the world at large, I realized that simply ranting about the ills of the world wouldn't fix them in the slightest. If I saw a glimmer of hope in the future of our soceity, I had to be one of the brave few who might actually make things different, leave a mark, make my voice heard through others.
There were two very important people in my life that imprinted upon me the sacred nature of teaching and of teachers. My great uncle Earl and my great aunt Frannie were both teachers in rural Indiana. A great majority of my youth was spent in their care. Because of the them, I learned to read and write earlier than most. I was encouraged to be curious about the world, to ask questions, to be proud of knowledge.
While I may have benefited early, by the time I got to college, my grades were nothing if not embarassing. Looking back, I should have been ashamed of my lack of discipline, pride, commitment. I sullied all that they worked so hard to instill in me. My parents, too, were soundly slapped in the face by my ignominious tenure. They paid for everything out of pocket. I didn't even have a job during my college years and yet I still managed to squirrel away my time and resources.
I flunked out of college during my Junior year.
Returning home, I was forced to get a job. A friend got me a position as a waiter in a Mexican restaurant. Within a year, I was moving up quickly. Moving on to a new restaurant, I made my way from waiter to Assistant Manager, and in every subsequent job thereafter, I was a training manager and/or a General Manager. While I had failed in following through on the promise of my educational future, I managed to find and follow the example of my Dad in the business world: work hard, keep your word, be loyal, have integrity.
Knowing that I had let my Dad and others down with my education, I vowed to redeem myself in the business world. I was proud that I had accomplished as much as I had without a degree. But knowing that it was missing constantly nagged me. I was embarassed that I had flunked out. The older I got and took on more of my own fiscal responsibilities, the more I felt guilty about wasting my parent's money.
My performance in school, though, kept me from going back. The fear that I was a terrible student, that I would fail again was my excuse for not returning.
Then, as circumstances would play out, I felt I failed at the business world, too, and had once again let my Dad down. Here I was, home, with no job, looking at a future that might just prevent me from being able to do what I had always done. For me, the label "disabled" meant "lazy" because I had no outwardly visable sign of ailment to indicate such a state. Would people think I was shirking responsibility once again because I had to limit what I could do?
So then it was that I found myself at this crossroads, looking for a purpose and a role in the world.
And I knew, after looking back on what I had done in my life, with my life, that I could not allow fear or mistakes in my past dicatate my future.
Knowing that I have an incurable genetic disroder that will govern the remainder of my days made me realize that I had to fight to get back some semblance of control over what path this disease would take me. It had controlled too much of my life in the last five years. No longer. No more.
For once in my life, I would not surrender to fate, but make my own.
My biggest challenge? Impatience.
I am an impatient man. I do not like to wait, for anything. I prefer immediate results. I have never been one to think long term. My only decision that has ever taken "the long term" into account was my marrying Lisa.
What I wanted to do was going to take time. Five years, possibly more. But I had realized my calling and I set upon putting it into motion.
I applied to Portland State University. My transcript from my earlier college years kept me from entering as a transfer student. My GPA was just shy of acceptable. It wasn't a surprise. If anything, my grades were actually a little better than I remembered. I would have to appeal for special consideration for the winter term.
January was too long to wait to get the ball rolling. Considering how far I had to go, I needed to get going. Besides, I was now eager to get back to school. An advisor at PSU recommeded taking relevant courses at the Community College that would transfer over once I achieved admittance to PSU, and it would allow me an easier transition back into school life.
Today was my first day of classes at Portland Community College. I have gotten a student loan and have begun my appeal process with PSU. Although my wife has plenty of experience with the finacial aid processes, I was determined to do it myself. It was important to me that I do it all myself. My goal, my responsibility. My folks did everything for me the first time around. This was going to be all me.
Giddiness would be the best word to describe my mood today. And proud. Proud of myself for eclipsing my fear of failing, of following through with my plan, for not getting discouraged when starting off at PSU became an impossibility, for finding the resources to make it happen.
So what is the goal?
Strangely enough, I accumulated over 70 credits at Western Illinois University. The majority of them in Political Science. The plan is to get my B.A. in Political Science with a minor in Philosophy. Afterwards I will enter the Teaching Certification Program and complete my masters in education.
And then I will teach. High School government and civics.
My passion combined with my experience: politics and teaching.
I've spent years teaching others how to be managers. I have never stopped loving and following all things political.
I will do what I love and what I know. I will fulfill a promise to loved ones now gone. I will finsih what my parents sent me to do 20 years ago. And I will have a say in our future by hopefully making a difference in a few kids' lives.
I can't rant about the world and not do anything to fix what I rant about.
And I can't let my fear of the past dictate my future.
Well, I guess I can be a little afraid: the last time I wrote a term paper, it was on a typewriter.
Seriously.
Today was my first day of school.
In sixteen years.
After being forced from the facetious world of luxury retail, I found myself, to be cliche, at a crossroads. My health had brought me to realize that I was not physically up to the challenge of a 60 hour work week, nor mentally up to the politics of the corporate world. I was burned out in every way and defeated in a manner that left me jaded and confused. Weeks and months passed as I sought an answer to the bigger dillema now facing me: what was I to do with my life?
I knew I did not want to go back to the retail world. I couldn't see the benefit of supplying unneeded services to the over-priveleged. If I were to take on another go at the working world, it would have to be something that held purpose, meaning, honor, and would make a difference.
After countless dissertations on the lack of moral compass in the world at large, I realized that simply ranting about the ills of the world wouldn't fix them in the slightest. If I saw a glimmer of hope in the future of our soceity, I had to be one of the brave few who might actually make things different, leave a mark, make my voice heard through others.
There were two very important people in my life that imprinted upon me the sacred nature of teaching and of teachers. My great uncle Earl and my great aunt Frannie were both teachers in rural Indiana. A great majority of my youth was spent in their care. Because of the them, I learned to read and write earlier than most. I was encouraged to be curious about the world, to ask questions, to be proud of knowledge.
While I may have benefited early, by the time I got to college, my grades were nothing if not embarassing. Looking back, I should have been ashamed of my lack of discipline, pride, commitment. I sullied all that they worked so hard to instill in me. My parents, too, were soundly slapped in the face by my ignominious tenure. They paid for everything out of pocket. I didn't even have a job during my college years and yet I still managed to squirrel away my time and resources.
I flunked out of college during my Junior year.
Returning home, I was forced to get a job. A friend got me a position as a waiter in a Mexican restaurant. Within a year, I was moving up quickly. Moving on to a new restaurant, I made my way from waiter to Assistant Manager, and in every subsequent job thereafter, I was a training manager and/or a General Manager. While I had failed in following through on the promise of my educational future, I managed to find and follow the example of my Dad in the business world: work hard, keep your word, be loyal, have integrity.
Knowing that I had let my Dad and others down with my education, I vowed to redeem myself in the business world. I was proud that I had accomplished as much as I had without a degree. But knowing that it was missing constantly nagged me. I was embarassed that I had flunked out. The older I got and took on more of my own fiscal responsibilities, the more I felt guilty about wasting my parent's money.
My performance in school, though, kept me from going back. The fear that I was a terrible student, that I would fail again was my excuse for not returning.
Then, as circumstances would play out, I felt I failed at the business world, too, and had once again let my Dad down. Here I was, home, with no job, looking at a future that might just prevent me from being able to do what I had always done. For me, the label "disabled" meant "lazy" because I had no outwardly visable sign of ailment to indicate such a state. Would people think I was shirking responsibility once again because I had to limit what I could do?
So then it was that I found myself at this crossroads, looking for a purpose and a role in the world.
And I knew, after looking back on what I had done in my life, with my life, that I could not allow fear or mistakes in my past dicatate my future.
Knowing that I have an incurable genetic disroder that will govern the remainder of my days made me realize that I had to fight to get back some semblance of control over what path this disease would take me. It had controlled too much of my life in the last five years. No longer. No more.
For once in my life, I would not surrender to fate, but make my own.
My biggest challenge? Impatience.
I am an impatient man. I do not like to wait, for anything. I prefer immediate results. I have never been one to think long term. My only decision that has ever taken "the long term" into account was my marrying Lisa.
What I wanted to do was going to take time. Five years, possibly more. But I had realized my calling and I set upon putting it into motion.
I applied to Portland State University. My transcript from my earlier college years kept me from entering as a transfer student. My GPA was just shy of acceptable. It wasn't a surprise. If anything, my grades were actually a little better than I remembered. I would have to appeal for special consideration for the winter term.
January was too long to wait to get the ball rolling. Considering how far I had to go, I needed to get going. Besides, I was now eager to get back to school. An advisor at PSU recommeded taking relevant courses at the Community College that would transfer over once I achieved admittance to PSU, and it would allow me an easier transition back into school life.
Today was my first day of classes at Portland Community College. I have gotten a student loan and have begun my appeal process with PSU. Although my wife has plenty of experience with the finacial aid processes, I was determined to do it myself. It was important to me that I do it all myself. My goal, my responsibility. My folks did everything for me the first time around. This was going to be all me.
Giddiness would be the best word to describe my mood today. And proud. Proud of myself for eclipsing my fear of failing, of following through with my plan, for not getting discouraged when starting off at PSU became an impossibility, for finding the resources to make it happen.
So what is the goal?
Strangely enough, I accumulated over 70 credits at Western Illinois University. The majority of them in Political Science. The plan is to get my B.A. in Political Science with a minor in Philosophy. Afterwards I will enter the Teaching Certification Program and complete my masters in education.
And then I will teach. High School government and civics.
My passion combined with my experience: politics and teaching.
I've spent years teaching others how to be managers. I have never stopped loving and following all things political.
I will do what I love and what I know. I will fulfill a promise to loved ones now gone. I will finsih what my parents sent me to do 20 years ago. And I will have a say in our future by hopefully making a difference in a few kids' lives.
I can't rant about the world and not do anything to fix what I rant about.
And I can't let my fear of the past dictate my future.
Well, I guess I can be a little afraid: the last time I wrote a term paper, it was on a typewriter.
Seriously.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Heroes
Lets talk about heroes.
In this year of Obama, an historic election, Michael Phelps and the Olympics, the term hero has been tossed about in such a cavallier manner that it is beginning to lose it's weight, it's heft, it's sway, it's swagger, it's importance. I admire many celebrities, politicians, sports heroes. Folks like soldiers, cops, firefighters, and teachers are unanimously lauded with the term.
But a hero is someone who does great deeds for the selfless benefit of others. So while the last group I mentioned fall under that definition, they are broad-based heroes who's job requires them to perform selfless acts as the norm.
Personal heroes, on the other hand, are different. And while certain accomplished individuals may be thought of as heroes to certain people, individuals like Michael Jordan or Hillary Clinton, they are not personal heroes, but should rather classified as role models or inspirations.
Heroes, personal heroes, are those that you owe a debt to, that have changed your life through personal interaction.
These are mine:
My Dad. My Dad, in technical terms is my stepdad, but in reality, he is the only father I have ever known or loved. Our early years together were tumultuous, to put it lightly, but in retrospect, only so due to his profound desire to see me live up to my full potential. He saw things in me I didn't and pushed me toward a life of responsibility. It took a long time for me to realize the benefit of his tough love, but I can say that the only reason I ever succeeded in the business and real world is by coming to follow his example. In all my working years, I always tried to conduct myself as I imagined he would. I did everything to prove him right, and I hope I have. Now that I am in a position where I may not be able to return to the working world , I feel as if I have let him down by not being able to continue my journey in the business world. Now, I look to his example for guidance as I learn to adapt to a new lifestyle. I owe more to my Dad than anyone else. Others have touched my life, and made great impacts, but none more so or in a more lasting manner than he. My Dad is my hero.
Friends come and go, but two stand out for remaining by my side for over twenty years:
Jenifer Kloss was the first to befriend a gawky but arrogant teen joining the college world for the first time. She has always been a sounding board, an encouraging word, a laugh in dark hours, a reliable passport to Wrigley Field. She has shared her heartbreaks and wins, her thoughts, dreams, and aspirations. She has laid herself bare before me and has given me every ounce of trust one friend can give another. She has always been there when I needed her, and has tolerated my slow and tedious evolution from Alex P Keaton to Stephen Keaton. She is a part of my family and I know that twenty years from now, I could write this same affirmation word for word. Her ability to overcome setback after setback makes it very hard for me to slip into despair over my own. Jenifer is my hero friend.
Bob Walters has been the brother I never had. We hated each other for the first year we knew one another. Jenifer Kloss is the one who saw how very alike we are and was responsible for pushing us together, most forcibly, I might add. Bob has always been the one who has set out with specific life goals in mind and has never failed to accomplish them. He is the epitome of "yes I can." Never one to meddle, proffer advice, or chastise, he simply lends an ear, and tries to change the subject toward something summarily odd. Bob is a storyteller. Bob is a strange mix of Midwestern sensibility and Hollywood indifference to the extraordinary. Nothing phases him. Nothing flusters him. Nothing stops him. Bob's ability to remain a consistent force of calm and distraction, an example that you can do whatever you put your mind to, makes Bob Walters one of my heroes.
Marsha Goldberg worked with me for a short time, but her devotion to the good will of others has led to my subsequent diagnosis and treatment that has eluded me for so long. She simply said: I want to help you and I will help you. And she did. With no ulterior motive, she set about lobbying her doctor-husband to get me treatment with his colleagues at Oregon Health and Sciences University. She has called to check on my well being, she takes the time to write thoughtful and heartfelt responses to my writing. She has written the most glowing appraisal of my abilities to aid my return to the collegiate world. A published author and former teacher, she has spent her life giving to others without want of reward. There are so few of her kind in this world and I am beyond blessed to have her in my life and in my corner. For re-affirming my belief that there are good, honest, and true people in this ever increasingly selfish and self-possessed world. Marsha Goldberg is my hero.
Her nickname is Cheese Sammich. Her real name is Anni and she is my huge-hearted sister-in-law. In-law affections can always be iffy, but this is not about our getting along. It is about her whole-hearted commitment to the well-being of Lisa. Not even blood-related (it's hard to explain), they share a collective consciousness that borders on the uncanny. Generosity oozes from her, genuine compassion, and a love for Lisa that transcends family. Selfless. Empathetic. Brilliant. Talented. Somehow she has made it her mission to try and rescue us from our troubles simply because that is her heart. She is a hero to me because she has been able to buttress Lisa in her times of need in a way that shows her that family, even without blood ties, matters. She is my family, she is my sister, she is my hero.
But my life, my entire existence would be for naught without one person. Without Lisa, I would have remained a drifting, lost, and hopeless soul. I was so afraid of love and commitment. I never thought anyone would be able to see through all the walls, obfuscation, and resistance to opening my heart to others. I tried to dissuade her many many times, nearly breaking her heart, selfishly out of fear that she would break mine like so many others had. But she persevered, knowing that we were two souls unable to shake destiny. She saw those things that my Dad saw so long ago. She saw my potential to love, to grow, to be a better man. She has never lost faith that I might be better than I could imagine myself being. She has never given up on our future together as I continue to battle illness and she battles hers. Two hearts, linked together by pain, sympathy, and undeniable love. I know know that she will never leave, never give up on me or on us, will never resent or blame. She has taught me ultimate trust and there has never been a greater gift given me in my life. This woman, this amazing woman, loves me without pause. This amazing woman is my love, my wife, my hero.
To be sure, there are many others who have touched me and supported me: my Mom (to be sure; no one has been more in my corner or put up with more), my sister, my Aunt Frannie, to name a few. So many good people have come and gone in my life, but my heroes are the ones who have literally changed my life for the better and continue to do so.
So take a moment and reassess your definition of a hero. They may not be on posters, but they are plastered all over the walls of your heart.
In this year of Obama, an historic election, Michael Phelps and the Olympics, the term hero has been tossed about in such a cavallier manner that it is beginning to lose it's weight, it's heft, it's sway, it's swagger, it's importance. I admire many celebrities, politicians, sports heroes. Folks like soldiers, cops, firefighters, and teachers are unanimously lauded with the term.
But a hero is someone who does great deeds for the selfless benefit of others. So while the last group I mentioned fall under that definition, they are broad-based heroes who's job requires them to perform selfless acts as the norm.
Personal heroes, on the other hand, are different. And while certain accomplished individuals may be thought of as heroes to certain people, individuals like Michael Jordan or Hillary Clinton, they are not personal heroes, but should rather classified as role models or inspirations.
Heroes, personal heroes, are those that you owe a debt to, that have changed your life through personal interaction.
These are mine:
My Dad. My Dad, in technical terms is my stepdad, but in reality, he is the only father I have ever known or loved. Our early years together were tumultuous, to put it lightly, but in retrospect, only so due to his profound desire to see me live up to my full potential. He saw things in me I didn't and pushed me toward a life of responsibility. It took a long time for me to realize the benefit of his tough love, but I can say that the only reason I ever succeeded in the business and real world is by coming to follow his example. In all my working years, I always tried to conduct myself as I imagined he would. I did everything to prove him right, and I hope I have. Now that I am in a position where I may not be able to return to the working world , I feel as if I have let him down by not being able to continue my journey in the business world. Now, I look to his example for guidance as I learn to adapt to a new lifestyle. I owe more to my Dad than anyone else. Others have touched my life, and made great impacts, but none more so or in a more lasting manner than he. My Dad is my hero.
Friends come and go, but two stand out for remaining by my side for over twenty years:
Jenifer Kloss was the first to befriend a gawky but arrogant teen joining the college world for the first time. She has always been a sounding board, an encouraging word, a laugh in dark hours, a reliable passport to Wrigley Field. She has shared her heartbreaks and wins, her thoughts, dreams, and aspirations. She has laid herself bare before me and has given me every ounce of trust one friend can give another. She has always been there when I needed her, and has tolerated my slow and tedious evolution from Alex P Keaton to Stephen Keaton. She is a part of my family and I know that twenty years from now, I could write this same affirmation word for word. Her ability to overcome setback after setback makes it very hard for me to slip into despair over my own. Jenifer is my hero friend.
Bob Walters has been the brother I never had. We hated each other for the first year we knew one another. Jenifer Kloss is the one who saw how very alike we are and was responsible for pushing us together, most forcibly, I might add. Bob has always been the one who has set out with specific life goals in mind and has never failed to accomplish them. He is the epitome of "yes I can." Never one to meddle, proffer advice, or chastise, he simply lends an ear, and tries to change the subject toward something summarily odd. Bob is a storyteller. Bob is a strange mix of Midwestern sensibility and Hollywood indifference to the extraordinary. Nothing phases him. Nothing flusters him. Nothing stops him. Bob's ability to remain a consistent force of calm and distraction, an example that you can do whatever you put your mind to, makes Bob Walters one of my heroes.
Marsha Goldberg worked with me for a short time, but her devotion to the good will of others has led to my subsequent diagnosis and treatment that has eluded me for so long. She simply said: I want to help you and I will help you. And she did. With no ulterior motive, she set about lobbying her doctor-husband to get me treatment with his colleagues at Oregon Health and Sciences University. She has called to check on my well being, she takes the time to write thoughtful and heartfelt responses to my writing. She has written the most glowing appraisal of my abilities to aid my return to the collegiate world. A published author and former teacher, she has spent her life giving to others without want of reward. There are so few of her kind in this world and I am beyond blessed to have her in my life and in my corner. For re-affirming my belief that there are good, honest, and true people in this ever increasingly selfish and self-possessed world. Marsha Goldberg is my hero.
Her nickname is Cheese Sammich. Her real name is Anni and she is my huge-hearted sister-in-law. In-law affections can always be iffy, but this is not about our getting along. It is about her whole-hearted commitment to the well-being of Lisa. Not even blood-related (it's hard to explain), they share a collective consciousness that borders on the uncanny. Generosity oozes from her, genuine compassion, and a love for Lisa that transcends family. Selfless. Empathetic. Brilliant. Talented. Somehow she has made it her mission to try and rescue us from our troubles simply because that is her heart. She is a hero to me because she has been able to buttress Lisa in her times of need in a way that shows her that family, even without blood ties, matters. She is my family, she is my sister, she is my hero.
But my life, my entire existence would be for naught without one person. Without Lisa, I would have remained a drifting, lost, and hopeless soul. I was so afraid of love and commitment. I never thought anyone would be able to see through all the walls, obfuscation, and resistance to opening my heart to others. I tried to dissuade her many many times, nearly breaking her heart, selfishly out of fear that she would break mine like so many others had. But she persevered, knowing that we were two souls unable to shake destiny. She saw those things that my Dad saw so long ago. She saw my potential to love, to grow, to be a better man. She has never lost faith that I might be better than I could imagine myself being. She has never given up on our future together as I continue to battle illness and she battles hers. Two hearts, linked together by pain, sympathy, and undeniable love. I know know that she will never leave, never give up on me or on us, will never resent or blame. She has taught me ultimate trust and there has never been a greater gift given me in my life. This woman, this amazing woman, loves me without pause. This amazing woman is my love, my wife, my hero.
To be sure, there are many others who have touched me and supported me: my Mom (to be sure; no one has been more in my corner or put up with more), my sister, my Aunt Frannie, to name a few. So many good people have come and gone in my life, but my heroes are the ones who have literally changed my life for the better and continue to do so.
So take a moment and reassess your definition of a hero. They may not be on posters, but they are plastered all over the walls of your heart.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
An Addendum to "I Hate God"
Well it would appear that I've freaked out quite a few people with my last entry railing against God and espousing surrender.
Let me clarify.
I cannot, in fact, be mad at something I don't believe exists.
I can believe I am a vicitm of vicious karma.
I am not suicidal or anything near that.
I simply needed to scream at the universe and vent in such a way that I have not been able to do before.
Yes, things are bad, depressing, tense, and frustrating. Everyone, no matter how optimistic or positive breaks at some point. I guess I reached mine. But that breakdown has allowed me to completely deflate so that I can be refilled with a hope that I can somehow fix this situation so that I might possibly make things a little better for my wife. She is my reason for everything and if I give up, then I have given up on her, too. I will never, ever, never give up on her. This is the one person who has never given up on me. There has been plenty of opportunity for her to do so. I am not alone in physical suffering, but she soldiers on in a way that I struggle to emulate. She comforts me, assures me, holds me, and understands me. She has ripped my heart out of my chest and locked it in her own so that I can never be without her lest I simply die. This woman is my life and I would betray everything she has done and been for me if I were to give up.
Allow me, too, to thank everyone who has lent a supportive word, comfort, empathy, sympathy, advice, money, time, and love. Those who have stepped forward and made our plight their own have shown us that not only are there good, kind people in this world, but that we have some very strong relationships and friendships that have proven themselves these past few days. I could only hope that I will be able to repay or reciprocate in kind.
Meanwhile I look forward to my upcomming return to school. Ironically, I am taking a class in Existentialism so the debate as to whether God is dead will remain on the front burner for me for a wee bit longer.
What is not dead nor will ever be up for debate is my love for my wife, my dear, beautiful, wonderful wife. Without her, I would have no rhyme, no reason, no purpose. She is my rock and I remain, as ever, dedicated solely to her.
Let me clarify.
I cannot, in fact, be mad at something I don't believe exists.
I can believe I am a vicitm of vicious karma.
I am not suicidal or anything near that.
I simply needed to scream at the universe and vent in such a way that I have not been able to do before.
Yes, things are bad, depressing, tense, and frustrating. Everyone, no matter how optimistic or positive breaks at some point. I guess I reached mine. But that breakdown has allowed me to completely deflate so that I can be refilled with a hope that I can somehow fix this situation so that I might possibly make things a little better for my wife. She is my reason for everything and if I give up, then I have given up on her, too. I will never, ever, never give up on her. This is the one person who has never given up on me. There has been plenty of opportunity for her to do so. I am not alone in physical suffering, but she soldiers on in a way that I struggle to emulate. She comforts me, assures me, holds me, and understands me. She has ripped my heart out of my chest and locked it in her own so that I can never be without her lest I simply die. This woman is my life and I would betray everything she has done and been for me if I were to give up.
Allow me, too, to thank everyone who has lent a supportive word, comfort, empathy, sympathy, advice, money, time, and love. Those who have stepped forward and made our plight their own have shown us that not only are there good, kind people in this world, but that we have some very strong relationships and friendships that have proven themselves these past few days. I could only hope that I will be able to repay or reciprocate in kind.
Meanwhile I look forward to my upcomming return to school. Ironically, I am taking a class in Existentialism so the debate as to whether God is dead will remain on the front burner for me for a wee bit longer.
What is not dead nor will ever be up for debate is my love for my wife, my dear, beautiful, wonderful wife. Without her, I would have no rhyme, no reason, no purpose. She is my rock and I remain, as ever, dedicated solely to her.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
I hate God and God hates me
This is a personal rant. I write without hyperbole or exaggeration. I simply need to let out all that is in my broken and forsaken heart.
If there is a God, and I have said this before, but I mean it now more than ever, He hates me. He as not forsaken me, has not abandoned me, but hates me, with a callousness and coldness reserved for those evil souls who deserve no redemption.
My circumstance is dire, my will on the razor sharp edge of breaking.
I am not a bad person. I hold no true malice, I reserve great hope that something good will someday befall me. Perhaps meeting the love of my lide was that one good thing. I don't dismiss that at all. Rather, if it is, indeed, all the good that will wver happen to me in my life, then my heart grows ever more weary knowing that I will never be able to bring her the happiness that hope holds in my heart, but reality will ever prevent from occuring.
We are good people. We are honest, we love each other unconditionally. We support and comfort one another. We work hard, valuing integrity, determination, commitment, and loyalty. We give what we can to provide a happy and loving home to our pets, animals we see as people trapped in four-legged bodies. We give support and advice to those around us who need and seek it. We do not cheat, lie, steal, obfuscate or deceive. We are honest, hard working adults.
But we are sick. My strong, determined, perfect-in-my-eyes wife suffers from Lupus. Every time she moves, her joints scream, her muscles groan. She sleeps very little, unable to find a comfortable postion that will allow her a modicum of comfort. She still goes to work every day and finds time to devote love, affection, and care to her loved ones. Having had years of disresepct and intolerable treatment from those she worked for and with, she has finally found a place that treats her as they should, and pays her more than she feels she is worth.
And yet, we are on the gut-wrenching precipce of bankruptcy.
After floundering in school, I found my niche in the business world, fighting my way to the top, becoming a respected manager, trainer, and mentor. I worked hard, commited myself to the name over the door, and did my best to ensure that all around me were equal to the task.
My health took that away from me.
I lost my last two jobs to absences duw to illness. My luck has brought me not one, but two, yes two, incurable disorders that disrupt every single day I exist on this earth. Atopic Dermatitis keeps me clawing at my skin, scratching in a maniacal manner, wishing I could rip every inch of my skin from my body so that I might find a moment of release. Four years of steroids to abate this torment has left me with eyesight problems and weakened kidney and liver function. Yes, I have the luxury of enduring a life-long battle with kidney stones now, just because I wanted to stop itching.
On top of that, I have a genetic condition called Common Variable Immuno Deficiency. I spent years of blood loss, transfusions, weekly IV iron treatments, hospitalizations due to migraines brought on by catastrophically low blood counts. Myopathy of the muscle gives me constant back aches. I endured the most painful of procedures, a bone marrow biopsy, to determine my disorder. And now, I face IV treatments lasting the better part of a day every three weeks for the rest of my life. Oh, and I had the pleasure of undergoing a surgical procedure to have an IV power port implanted in my chest because my veins are completely blown from years of needle pokes.
Those IV treatments? $1130 a pop.
Which leads me to the crutch of my despair. After years of searching for an answer, countless procedures, surgeries, tests, doctor visits and hospitalizations, we face an insurmountable debt of over $21,000. Just medical bills. After insurance.
And considering my conditions, they will just keep piling up and piling up.
This doesn't even factor in the credit card debt, accrued only as purchases made in absolute emergency. Unlike most who face financial difficulty or ruin, we don't use our credit cards to buy clothes, trinkets, gadgets, trends, or whims. We use them to pay for repairs to cars, or vet bills.
We have pets. Three of them are getting to be quite old. Their end is near and we don't have a penny to spend on them. Our credit cards are maxed out, and by the end of the month, after rent, utilities, gas, food, pre-arranged payments to maybe 5% of our medical debts, student loans, and credit cards, we have nothing left. We have borrowed from our savings until it dry. We live paycheck to paycheck. We have nothing left in case of an emergency.
Our cats need care, our cars are literally falling apart. Lisa's car has been in a multiple of accidents, the front end an accordion of mangled metal. My car is nearing the 200,000 mile mark. It, too has been in a fender bender, leaving behind a crooked gait. We cannot afford to even tune them up hoping that they will last another year. I have no heat in my car going on two years now, and winter is fast approaching. Our credit does not allow us to buy a new car. We have had to buy our cars with cash, from private owners, hoping they'll be good enough to keep puttering along. We will never again have the joy of smelling the interior of a brand new car.
My condition makes it hard, if not impossible to find a job that will pay anything near what I made as a manager. My condition forces me to ask "can you excuse me from work every three weeks so I can recover from an incurrable disease?" My lst tow jobs were not so forgiving, so I find it difficult imagining a company that would welcome such a prospect.
So I look toward disability. Months and months lie between me and an answer. It has taken me weeks to sort through all of my medical history to provide an accurate timeline for my case. There is a binder on my desk that is 6" thick with medical records.
Meanwhile, one of the many hospitals I have frequented is demanding a $1500 payment within days to avoid a lawsuit and $400 a month minmum thereafter to keep us out of legal trouble.
We don't have $400 a month to give them, let alone $1500.
We will never be able to eliminate our debt to even a manageable level. If perchance we should succeed in declaring bankruptcy and eliminate all of our medical and credit card debt, we will still find ourselves in this same predicament in a few years' time. My disorders are incurable and require lifelong treatment. If we are at a point of financial ruin after five years of medical care, then where will we be in ten? Twenty years from now? How do we build a nest egg when every cent we earn goes to the medical community?
We do not get to go on a vacation. I have a new nephew I don't know if I'll ever see in the near future. All of our friends and fmily have taken on the burden to come to see us wherever we have been, but we have never been able to reciprocate, nor will we.
We will always be ill. We will always be broke. We will always live in fear of losing everything. We cannot rely on others to be safety nets. We have nothing in our futures to look forward to.
We have lost hope.
Between the two of us, I have always been the voice of optimism But now, I am speaking the voice of cold harsh reality.
We may be able to bail oursleves out for a short time, but God, in His infinite and cruel wisdom has left us with a situation that will continue to repeat itself until the end of our days. Ask me again why I hate God, if such villain should exist?
He has brought us nothing but misery, anguish, pain, suffering, and stress. He provides no solace for the future and has not shown an ounce of magnanimity towards two desperate souls who only wish to stay afloat. We don't want riches, we don't want luxe. We want one day, just one day, when we both awake to a sunny day, free from pain or discomfort, financially in the black, with a small pennance pinched away for our golden years (which will never be golden, you might agree).
We are not greedy, we are not selfish. We are simply asking for a break. A small break. A sign that if there is indeed a God, he sees our lot, and bestows a modicum of pity our way.
Meanwhile, I am lost in my complete hopelessness. I don't want platitudes or temporary stays of execution. This is my one chance on this planet. I have found the one person who lifts my heart and makes me smile, and I cannot provide a life of happiness or comfort for her. I cannot give us a life worth living. I cannot bear another minute of this existence. I cannot bear to see my dear wife perched along side me on the edge of sanity. I'm done. I give up. God wins.
If there is a God, and I have said this before, but I mean it now more than ever, He hates me. He as not forsaken me, has not abandoned me, but hates me, with a callousness and coldness reserved for those evil souls who deserve no redemption.
My circumstance is dire, my will on the razor sharp edge of breaking.
I am not a bad person. I hold no true malice, I reserve great hope that something good will someday befall me. Perhaps meeting the love of my lide was that one good thing. I don't dismiss that at all. Rather, if it is, indeed, all the good that will wver happen to me in my life, then my heart grows ever more weary knowing that I will never be able to bring her the happiness that hope holds in my heart, but reality will ever prevent from occuring.
We are good people. We are honest, we love each other unconditionally. We support and comfort one another. We work hard, valuing integrity, determination, commitment, and loyalty. We give what we can to provide a happy and loving home to our pets, animals we see as people trapped in four-legged bodies. We give support and advice to those around us who need and seek it. We do not cheat, lie, steal, obfuscate or deceive. We are honest, hard working adults.
But we are sick. My strong, determined, perfect-in-my-eyes wife suffers from Lupus. Every time she moves, her joints scream, her muscles groan. She sleeps very little, unable to find a comfortable postion that will allow her a modicum of comfort. She still goes to work every day and finds time to devote love, affection, and care to her loved ones. Having had years of disresepct and intolerable treatment from those she worked for and with, she has finally found a place that treats her as they should, and pays her more than she feels she is worth.
And yet, we are on the gut-wrenching precipce of bankruptcy.
After floundering in school, I found my niche in the business world, fighting my way to the top, becoming a respected manager, trainer, and mentor. I worked hard, commited myself to the name over the door, and did my best to ensure that all around me were equal to the task.
My health took that away from me.
I lost my last two jobs to absences duw to illness. My luck has brought me not one, but two, yes two, incurable disorders that disrupt every single day I exist on this earth. Atopic Dermatitis keeps me clawing at my skin, scratching in a maniacal manner, wishing I could rip every inch of my skin from my body so that I might find a moment of release. Four years of steroids to abate this torment has left me with eyesight problems and weakened kidney and liver function. Yes, I have the luxury of enduring a life-long battle with kidney stones now, just because I wanted to stop itching.
On top of that, I have a genetic condition called Common Variable Immuno Deficiency. I spent years of blood loss, transfusions, weekly IV iron treatments, hospitalizations due to migraines brought on by catastrophically low blood counts. Myopathy of the muscle gives me constant back aches. I endured the most painful of procedures, a bone marrow biopsy, to determine my disorder. And now, I face IV treatments lasting the better part of a day every three weeks for the rest of my life. Oh, and I had the pleasure of undergoing a surgical procedure to have an IV power port implanted in my chest because my veins are completely blown from years of needle pokes.
Those IV treatments? $1130 a pop.
Which leads me to the crutch of my despair. After years of searching for an answer, countless procedures, surgeries, tests, doctor visits and hospitalizations, we face an insurmountable debt of over $21,000. Just medical bills. After insurance.
And considering my conditions, they will just keep piling up and piling up.
This doesn't even factor in the credit card debt, accrued only as purchases made in absolute emergency. Unlike most who face financial difficulty or ruin, we don't use our credit cards to buy clothes, trinkets, gadgets, trends, or whims. We use them to pay for repairs to cars, or vet bills.
We have pets. Three of them are getting to be quite old. Their end is near and we don't have a penny to spend on them. Our credit cards are maxed out, and by the end of the month, after rent, utilities, gas, food, pre-arranged payments to maybe 5% of our medical debts, student loans, and credit cards, we have nothing left. We have borrowed from our savings until it dry. We live paycheck to paycheck. We have nothing left in case of an emergency.
Our cats need care, our cars are literally falling apart. Lisa's car has been in a multiple of accidents, the front end an accordion of mangled metal. My car is nearing the 200,000 mile mark. It, too has been in a fender bender, leaving behind a crooked gait. We cannot afford to even tune them up hoping that they will last another year. I have no heat in my car going on two years now, and winter is fast approaching. Our credit does not allow us to buy a new car. We have had to buy our cars with cash, from private owners, hoping they'll be good enough to keep puttering along. We will never again have the joy of smelling the interior of a brand new car.
My condition makes it hard, if not impossible to find a job that will pay anything near what I made as a manager. My condition forces me to ask "can you excuse me from work every three weeks so I can recover from an incurrable disease?" My lst tow jobs were not so forgiving, so I find it difficult imagining a company that would welcome such a prospect.
So I look toward disability. Months and months lie between me and an answer. It has taken me weeks to sort through all of my medical history to provide an accurate timeline for my case. There is a binder on my desk that is 6" thick with medical records.
Meanwhile, one of the many hospitals I have frequented is demanding a $1500 payment within days to avoid a lawsuit and $400 a month minmum thereafter to keep us out of legal trouble.
We don't have $400 a month to give them, let alone $1500.
We will never be able to eliminate our debt to even a manageable level. If perchance we should succeed in declaring bankruptcy and eliminate all of our medical and credit card debt, we will still find ourselves in this same predicament in a few years' time. My disorders are incurable and require lifelong treatment. If we are at a point of financial ruin after five years of medical care, then where will we be in ten? Twenty years from now? How do we build a nest egg when every cent we earn goes to the medical community?
We do not get to go on a vacation. I have a new nephew I don't know if I'll ever see in the near future. All of our friends and fmily have taken on the burden to come to see us wherever we have been, but we have never been able to reciprocate, nor will we.
We will always be ill. We will always be broke. We will always live in fear of losing everything. We cannot rely on others to be safety nets. We have nothing in our futures to look forward to.
We have lost hope.
Between the two of us, I have always been the voice of optimism But now, I am speaking the voice of cold harsh reality.
We may be able to bail oursleves out for a short time, but God, in His infinite and cruel wisdom has left us with a situation that will continue to repeat itself until the end of our days. Ask me again why I hate God, if such villain should exist?
He has brought us nothing but misery, anguish, pain, suffering, and stress. He provides no solace for the future and has not shown an ounce of magnanimity towards two desperate souls who only wish to stay afloat. We don't want riches, we don't want luxe. We want one day, just one day, when we both awake to a sunny day, free from pain or discomfort, financially in the black, with a small pennance pinched away for our golden years (which will never be golden, you might agree).
We are not greedy, we are not selfish. We are simply asking for a break. A small break. A sign that if there is indeed a God, he sees our lot, and bestows a modicum of pity our way.
Meanwhile, I am lost in my complete hopelessness. I don't want platitudes or temporary stays of execution. This is my one chance on this planet. I have found the one person who lifts my heart and makes me smile, and I cannot provide a life of happiness or comfort for her. I cannot give us a life worth living. I cannot bear another minute of this existence. I cannot bear to see my dear wife perched along side me on the edge of sanity. I'm done. I give up. God wins.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
A witness to history
This is a moment in history and I am so proud to be a witness to it.
Regardless of your poltical philosophy, you must recognize the impact of this moment, the signifigance of this accomplishment. It is the first true signifier of our emergence from the darkness that was our collective history of intollerance and hatred.
I do not pretend to think that this is a universal acceptance of progression. There will always be those who will fill their hearts with empty and pointless hate. But we are a nation built on the premise of the Shining City on a Hill, a promise of something better than where we came from, somewhere more perfect than what we can imagine. This moment in history is our first step up the staircase of progress toward that lofty goal of true democracy, inclusion, and hope.
Hyperbole? Nothing in this century can compare to this great step forward. We are a generation that is closer toward color-blindness having not witnessed first hand the tragedies of Jim Crow. We have grown up in integrated schools, integrated neighborhoods, integrated workplaces. We are the generation that can take this color-blindness to a higher plane simply by casting a vote.
Do not deny that every one in this country has a place in it's history. While many of our nation's accomplishments have been made at the hands of a few, many, many more have been at the hands of the nameless, the faceless, the common man with a voice guaranteed to him by our Founding Fathers. Do not squander that which is so sacred in the story of our nation. Do not squander your chance to tell your children that you were responsible for changing the tide of history and restoring true righteous grandeur to our country. Relish the chance to have your voice be heard saying "I have made a difference, I have made things better, I have helped right a wrong."
I am proud tonight to be an American, simply because I have learned that my fellow countrymen believe, as I do, that we are better than our collective history and can redraw the path we go down. It has been so long since I have been able to embrace my country. It has let me down, lied to me, stolen from me, betrayed me. But now there is hope, that our nation will once again be led by an honest, altruisitc man filled with integrity, duty, courage, and conviction. What makes me proud is that so many in this nation have seen as I do and have made their voices heard.
We will not erase the errors of our past, but we can control the tenor of our future. Choose to be a part of that which is greater than you. Make the future one you wish your children to inherit. But more importantly, simply recognize that America is being re-born as a nation filled with promise. Do not let that flame of hope be extinguished by the repetition of history.
Regardless of your poltical philosophy, you must recognize the impact of this moment, the signifigance of this accomplishment. It is the first true signifier of our emergence from the darkness that was our collective history of intollerance and hatred.
I do not pretend to think that this is a universal acceptance of progression. There will always be those who will fill their hearts with empty and pointless hate. But we are a nation built on the premise of the Shining City on a Hill, a promise of something better than where we came from, somewhere more perfect than what we can imagine. This moment in history is our first step up the staircase of progress toward that lofty goal of true democracy, inclusion, and hope.
Hyperbole? Nothing in this century can compare to this great step forward. We are a generation that is closer toward color-blindness having not witnessed first hand the tragedies of Jim Crow. We have grown up in integrated schools, integrated neighborhoods, integrated workplaces. We are the generation that can take this color-blindness to a higher plane simply by casting a vote.
Do not deny that every one in this country has a place in it's history. While many of our nation's accomplishments have been made at the hands of a few, many, many more have been at the hands of the nameless, the faceless, the common man with a voice guaranteed to him by our Founding Fathers. Do not squander that which is so sacred in the story of our nation. Do not squander your chance to tell your children that you were responsible for changing the tide of history and restoring true righteous grandeur to our country. Relish the chance to have your voice be heard saying "I have made a difference, I have made things better, I have helped right a wrong."
I am proud tonight to be an American, simply because I have learned that my fellow countrymen believe, as I do, that we are better than our collective history and can redraw the path we go down. It has been so long since I have been able to embrace my country. It has let me down, lied to me, stolen from me, betrayed me. But now there is hope, that our nation will once again be led by an honest, altruisitc man filled with integrity, duty, courage, and conviction. What makes me proud is that so many in this nation have seen as I do and have made their voices heard.
We will not erase the errors of our past, but we can control the tenor of our future. Choose to be a part of that which is greater than you. Make the future one you wish your children to inherit. But more importantly, simply recognize that America is being re-born as a nation filled with promise. Do not let that flame of hope be extinguished by the repetition of history.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
I am the anti-Job
So we all know, even us who don't read the Bible, the story of Job. Satan bet God that Job would renounce his faith if he felt that God had abandoned him. After countless tragedies, Job remained faithful.
I, too, feel like Job, but more like the anti-Job. One thing after another continues to plague my happiness and health, questioning my faith. But instead of these trials pushing me to renounce God, my tribulations are due to my lack of belief. Although it may sound oxy-moronic to say that I believe that a deity I don't believe in is pushing me to believe in Him by punishing me over and over again. Just admitting that this is a possibility is tantamount to acceptance of the existence of a higher being.
Of course if I truly believed this, I would have become a born-again long ago. Too much has happened for me to allow it all to continue Yet, I refuse to believe that my suffering is due to a lack of religious belief. And so as I continue to be steadfast in my atheism, more and more gets piled on.
So would my refusal to believe give recognition that I am in a battle with a God, which in turn shows that I have to believe in something to disagree with it? Or am I simply ranting against the frustration of all that continues to befall me?
If there is a God, then he is a cruel one because only a sadist would construct a body that had to pass a kidney stone.
Really, if God loves us, then why create man (in his image, no less) that is so susceptible to illness and injury? If we are made in God's image, then God must be in constant pain and agony, victim of cancer, multiple sclerosis, blindness, deafness, congestive heart failure, leprosy, diabetes, to name a few. (And another question, if man is made in God's image, then is God black, oriental, hispanic, arabic?) This might explain why He's too distracted to step in and end our own human sufferings. Misery enjoys company.
They say that kidney stones are the closest man will ever get to experiencing the pain of childbirth. Another reason for me not to want kids. I would never wish this pain on my wife.
I spent the day doubled over in more pain than I can ever recall having. And after getting fabulous drugs at the ER, I traded my kidney pain for skin pain. Yes, I had a terrible reaction with my skin and every inch of me flared up in red painful rash and I tried my best to completely rip off my skin.
So as my doctor used his skills to ease my suffering, the deity I don't believe in stepped in and gave me another round of pain to try and force me to admit He exists.
Instead, I chalk it up to karma.
I must have been one mean terrible evil son of a bitch in my previous life. It is the only explanation as to why I have been so crapped on by life when I try so very hard to be a good and productive person. I love my wife, and I try every day to do right by her, to give her a good marriage, to show her my undying love and devotion. I love my pets, whom I consider my kids. I respect and adore my family, my friends. I don't do drugs (unless you count prescriptions, countless and unending prescriptions), I don't practice bigotry, racism, sexism. I don't steal, slack-off, cheat. I own-up to my mistakes and shortcomings. I do what I must to be a productive and positive member of society.
So why do I continue to suffer affliction after affliction, economic defeat after economic defeat? I have an incurable immune disorder that will require me to get IV treatments for the rest of my life and may prevent me from ever working a 40 hour work week. I have a painful and incurable skin disorder that causes me to always want to rip off my own skin. I have insomnia, partial deafness in my right ear, the beginnings of cataracts in my left eye due to years on steroids for my other conditions, constant digestive distress due to the immuno deficiency, and now 6 stones sitting in my kidneys just waiting to cause me unearthly pain and suffering.
I must be paying penance for a prior life of scum and villainy.
Because if God does exist, he hates me.
I, too, feel like Job, but more like the anti-Job. One thing after another continues to plague my happiness and health, questioning my faith. But instead of these trials pushing me to renounce God, my tribulations are due to my lack of belief. Although it may sound oxy-moronic to say that I believe that a deity I don't believe in is pushing me to believe in Him by punishing me over and over again. Just admitting that this is a possibility is tantamount to acceptance of the existence of a higher being.
Of course if I truly believed this, I would have become a born-again long ago. Too much has happened for me to allow it all to continue Yet, I refuse to believe that my suffering is due to a lack of religious belief. And so as I continue to be steadfast in my atheism, more and more gets piled on.
So would my refusal to believe give recognition that I am in a battle with a God, which in turn shows that I have to believe in something to disagree with it? Or am I simply ranting against the frustration of all that continues to befall me?
If there is a God, then he is a cruel one because only a sadist would construct a body that had to pass a kidney stone.
Really, if God loves us, then why create man (in his image, no less) that is so susceptible to illness and injury? If we are made in God's image, then God must be in constant pain and agony, victim of cancer, multiple sclerosis, blindness, deafness, congestive heart failure, leprosy, diabetes, to name a few. (And another question, if man is made in God's image, then is God black, oriental, hispanic, arabic?) This might explain why He's too distracted to step in and end our own human sufferings. Misery enjoys company.
They say that kidney stones are the closest man will ever get to experiencing the pain of childbirth. Another reason for me not to want kids. I would never wish this pain on my wife.
I spent the day doubled over in more pain than I can ever recall having. And after getting fabulous drugs at the ER, I traded my kidney pain for skin pain. Yes, I had a terrible reaction with my skin and every inch of me flared up in red painful rash and I tried my best to completely rip off my skin.
So as my doctor used his skills to ease my suffering, the deity I don't believe in stepped in and gave me another round of pain to try and force me to admit He exists.
Instead, I chalk it up to karma.
I must have been one mean terrible evil son of a bitch in my previous life. It is the only explanation as to why I have been so crapped on by life when I try so very hard to be a good and productive person. I love my wife, and I try every day to do right by her, to give her a good marriage, to show her my undying love and devotion. I love my pets, whom I consider my kids. I respect and adore my family, my friends. I don't do drugs (unless you count prescriptions, countless and unending prescriptions), I don't practice bigotry, racism, sexism. I don't steal, slack-off, cheat. I own-up to my mistakes and shortcomings. I do what I must to be a productive and positive member of society.
So why do I continue to suffer affliction after affliction, economic defeat after economic defeat? I have an incurable immune disorder that will require me to get IV treatments for the rest of my life and may prevent me from ever working a 40 hour work week. I have a painful and incurable skin disorder that causes me to always want to rip off my own skin. I have insomnia, partial deafness in my right ear, the beginnings of cataracts in my left eye due to years on steroids for my other conditions, constant digestive distress due to the immuno deficiency, and now 6 stones sitting in my kidneys just waiting to cause me unearthly pain and suffering.
I must be paying penance for a prior life of scum and villainy.
Because if God does exist, he hates me.
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