We all know I'm a whore for free stuff so I figured I'd give this a shot. It is pretty self explanatory.
There's some wicked cool stuff over at The Survivalists Blog. Go check it out.
M.D. Creekmore at The Survivalist Blog – a survival blog dedicated to helping others prepare for and survive disaster – with articles on bug out bag contents, survival knife choices and a wealth of other survival information is giving away a 1,000 round case of 9mm – 124 Grain FMJ (a $200 value – donated by LuckyGunner)! To enter, you just have to post about it on your blog. This is my entry. Visit The Survivalist Blog for the details.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Friday, June 18, 2010
Mourning.
I know death. I have seen it. I have been witness to more passings than I care to count. I have done my part to thwart it yet still I know that it is inevitable. We start dying from the day we’re born. For some it comes quickly and without pain and for others it is a long drawn out process.
My aunt is dying. The colon cancer that was once thought to be in remission has metastasized to her liver, lungs, bones, spine and God only knows where else. The oncologist told her that it is spreading faster than the chemotherapy can treat it. It has shown up in so many places that they would have to irradiate her entire body if they wanted to hit every tumor. And so she has decided to stop treatment.
I know it wasn’t an easy decision to come to, her husband begged her to keep trying, but she has known for some time that it would come to this. In two weeks time since stopping the treatment she has begun to die. It isn’t so much that I harbor any special relationship with my aunt. I love her, but we have never been particularly close. I have handled death many times before, and I am sad- I can’t bear to look at photos of her and her grandchildren without crying, but I know that I will process this. I mourn for my mother’s sake. It isn’t as though she shares some mystical bond with her sister, but they commiserate together, they love one another. Hell, my aunt worries how my mother will manage being the only one in town to care for my grandfather. My mother is losing her sister and though she has known for months that this time would come her heart is still breaking and so I cry for her. I cry for my grandfather who will bury his daughter soon. I cry for my cousins who will bury their mother. I cry for my uncle who will bury his bride. I cry for her grandchildren who are too young to truly know their grandmother and who will never get to know her as adults.
In the course of one afternoon it was announced that my aunt would go under hospice care, have a morphine PCA and a visit from the parish priest. My mother thought that the morphine was a bad sign, but everyone ends up on a PCA of some sort. The bad sign was really the fact that the priest would come for the last rites, or the anointing of the sick as it is now called. My aunt spoke at length with the priest and the priest asked a favor of her. He asked her that when she crosses over and when she meets Jesus if she would ask Him to pray for him. Now I don’t know if this is just a genuine, heartfelt request or also perhaps a way of giving her permission. I know that my aunt has made peace with her fate, but I can’t help but think that this was the priest’s way of letting her know that it’s okay to go when the time comes.
My mother visited my aunt the other day, before she was transported to the Hospice House, my mother lay in bed with my aunt and talked and cried and talked some more and my aunt told her that she asked the priest if it would be okay for a Beatles song to be playing at the end of the funeral as the casket is taken out of the church, because she didn’t want her friends to be sad. And so sometime soon after she passes, her funeral will close with this and I will try to smile and remember all of the wonderful things about her.
I love you Aunt Jackie. May you find rest.
My aunt is dying. The colon cancer that was once thought to be in remission has metastasized to her liver, lungs, bones, spine and God only knows where else. The oncologist told her that it is spreading faster than the chemotherapy can treat it. It has shown up in so many places that they would have to irradiate her entire body if they wanted to hit every tumor. And so she has decided to stop treatment.
I know it wasn’t an easy decision to come to, her husband begged her to keep trying, but she has known for some time that it would come to this. In two weeks time since stopping the treatment she has begun to die. It isn’t so much that I harbor any special relationship with my aunt. I love her, but we have never been particularly close. I have handled death many times before, and I am sad- I can’t bear to look at photos of her and her grandchildren without crying, but I know that I will process this. I mourn for my mother’s sake. It isn’t as though she shares some mystical bond with her sister, but they commiserate together, they love one another. Hell, my aunt worries how my mother will manage being the only one in town to care for my grandfather. My mother is losing her sister and though she has known for months that this time would come her heart is still breaking and so I cry for her. I cry for my grandfather who will bury his daughter soon. I cry for my cousins who will bury their mother. I cry for my uncle who will bury his bride. I cry for her grandchildren who are too young to truly know their grandmother and who will never get to know her as adults.
In the course of one afternoon it was announced that my aunt would go under hospice care, have a morphine PCA and a visit from the parish priest. My mother thought that the morphine was a bad sign, but everyone ends up on a PCA of some sort. The bad sign was really the fact that the priest would come for the last rites, or the anointing of the sick as it is now called. My aunt spoke at length with the priest and the priest asked a favor of her. He asked her that when she crosses over and when she meets Jesus if she would ask Him to pray for him. Now I don’t know if this is just a genuine, heartfelt request or also perhaps a way of giving her permission. I know that my aunt has made peace with her fate, but I can’t help but think that this was the priest’s way of letting her know that it’s okay to go when the time comes.
My mother visited my aunt the other day, before she was transported to the Hospice House, my mother lay in bed with my aunt and talked and cried and talked some more and my aunt told her that she asked the priest if it would be okay for a Beatles song to be playing at the end of the funeral as the casket is taken out of the church, because she didn’t want her friends to be sad. And so sometime soon after she passes, her funeral will close with this and I will try to smile and remember all of the wonderful things about her.
I love you Aunt Jackie. May you find rest.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Douchebaggery
H/t to AD for this one.
I would hate to think of what would have happened to either of the two young men in this video had they responded to the assault from the Congressman from North Carolina in the same manner that I would respond to someone grabbing my wrist and refusing to let go.
What a fucking douchenozzle.
I would hate to think of what would have happened to either of the two young men in this video had they responded to the assault from the Congressman from North Carolina in the same manner that I would respond to someone grabbing my wrist and refusing to let go.
What a fucking douchenozzle.
Monday, June 7, 2010
You and Me Could Write a Bad Romance
Je veux ton amour et je veux ton revenge
Je veux ton amour
I don't want to be friends**
~Lady Gaga
Whenever we have a crisis of some sort, one particular friend and I have been known to encourage one another with the simple phrase “Go big or go home.” This advice could be directed toward anything from the mundane to the massive. With a little bit of prodding from her last night, I decided to take her advice and unleash my true feelings on someone whom I care about deeply. I’m normally the type of person who keeps his feelings bottled up and I tend to maintain a hard protective shell so as to not let anyone see the insecure git that I am on the inside. There are a select few people who I allow to get close to me which is one of the reasons that I have been single for as long as I have. Last night I decided to just let it all out, and tell this man how I feel about him, and the response was just as I suspected it would be. “we’re not right for each other” “it would ruin our friendship” “neither of us is in a position to be in a relationship” Of course, my rational self can see this, however my rational self is often overshadowed by my inner romantic as it was last night and to some degree still is today.
While I realize that the attraction is not mutual and that the feelings are not reciprocated, I’ve come to realize that I’m okay with that. Sure I still may have the fantasy inside my head that things could work out with this man, but I know that right now he isn’t interested in pursuing a romantic adventure with me despite what a fantastic adventure it would be. And I’m okay with that. In a different time, in a different frame of mind this sort of discussion would have sent me spiraling into an angst riddled funk. But it didn’t. I still have feelings for him, strong feelings in fact, but the confirmation that my suspicions were correct that he doesn’t reciprocate the feelings hasn’t changed how I feel about him and it hasn’t changed our friendship. And I’m okay with that.
**Yeah, I quoted Lady Gaga. Deal with it.
Je veux ton amour
I don't want to be friends**
~Lady Gaga
Whenever we have a crisis of some sort, one particular friend and I have been known to encourage one another with the simple phrase “Go big or go home.” This advice could be directed toward anything from the mundane to the massive. With a little bit of prodding from her last night, I decided to take her advice and unleash my true feelings on someone whom I care about deeply. I’m normally the type of person who keeps his feelings bottled up and I tend to maintain a hard protective shell so as to not let anyone see the insecure git that I am on the inside. There are a select few people who I allow to get close to me which is one of the reasons that I have been single for as long as I have. Last night I decided to just let it all out, and tell this man how I feel about him, and the response was just as I suspected it would be. “we’re not right for each other” “it would ruin our friendship” “neither of us is in a position to be in a relationship” Of course, my rational self can see this, however my rational self is often overshadowed by my inner romantic as it was last night and to some degree still is today.
While I realize that the attraction is not mutual and that the feelings are not reciprocated, I’ve come to realize that I’m okay with that. Sure I still may have the fantasy inside my head that things could work out with this man, but I know that right now he isn’t interested in pursuing a romantic adventure with me despite what a fantastic adventure it would be. And I’m okay with that. In a different time, in a different frame of mind this sort of discussion would have sent me spiraling into an angst riddled funk. But it didn’t. I still have feelings for him, strong feelings in fact, but the confirmation that my suspicions were correct that he doesn’t reciprocate the feelings hasn’t changed how I feel about him and it hasn’t changed our friendship. And I’m okay with that.
**Yeah, I quoted Lady Gaga. Deal with it.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
My Gay Family.
“Gay friendships often create an alternative to family, a link more compelling than blood.”
-David Bergman
I have said in the past that I have two families. I have the family that I was born to, with whom I share blood. And I have my second family, my gay family. My gay family is made up mostly of homosexual men but into the mix are thrown a few straight allies. At the core of this family are my closest friends- they share my secrets, they share my experiences, they share with me who they truly are. I love all of my friends, but there are things about me and experiences that I have had that my straight friends cannot relate to.
My straight friends do not know what it is like to live in the closet. To question who you are and why you are the way you are and why everyone else makes it out to be so wrong- even if that wrongness is self-imposed out of fear of being different or disappointing others. My gay friends know this. They know what it is like to hide a part of yourself. I am not defined by my sexuality, but it is integral to who I am and the way that I experience life. To deny it, to live a life in the closet is difficult, it is painful, it is full of fear
“It is the closet that is our sin and our shame.”
-Barbara Grier
I always knew there was something different about me. But it wasn’t until I was twenty when I could first utter the words “I’m gay”, in saying so I was liberated. I knew that what was to come would be difficult but I knew that it had to be done. I started by telling my close friends, at that point all of whom were hetero. I had no gay friends until a new employee came along at work and in him I found the first person in whom I ever felt I could truly confide. Over time he helped me to understand that I am not wrong, that I am not broken. It would be a few years before I would be able to tell my parents and upon telling them I learned that I had nothing to fear. My parents still loved me. My friends did not run away. My world did not fall apart.
Not everyone has this same experience. Some respond with love and acceptance. Some respond with indifference. Some respond with neglect and still some respond with violence. My friends have all been met with varied responses, but regardless of how our coming out experiences differ we all still share in that guilt and crippling fear. I could preach to closeted homosexuals until I am blue in the face that coming out is a relief, which it is, but until society comes to accept us for who we are and not for whom we love, then we will all still face some degree of fear and guilt while in the closet.
“There is no torment in coming out. The torment is being in.”
-Armistead Maupin
-David Bergman
I have said in the past that I have two families. I have the family that I was born to, with whom I share blood. And I have my second family, my gay family. My gay family is made up mostly of homosexual men but into the mix are thrown a few straight allies. At the core of this family are my closest friends- they share my secrets, they share my experiences, they share with me who they truly are. I love all of my friends, but there are things about me and experiences that I have had that my straight friends cannot relate to.
My straight friends do not know what it is like to live in the closet. To question who you are and why you are the way you are and why everyone else makes it out to be so wrong- even if that wrongness is self-imposed out of fear of being different or disappointing others. My gay friends know this. They know what it is like to hide a part of yourself. I am not defined by my sexuality, but it is integral to who I am and the way that I experience life. To deny it, to live a life in the closet is difficult, it is painful, it is full of fear
“It is the closet that is our sin and our shame.”
-Barbara Grier
I always knew there was something different about me. But it wasn’t until I was twenty when I could first utter the words “I’m gay”, in saying so I was liberated. I knew that what was to come would be difficult but I knew that it had to be done. I started by telling my close friends, at that point all of whom were hetero. I had no gay friends until a new employee came along at work and in him I found the first person in whom I ever felt I could truly confide. Over time he helped me to understand that I am not wrong, that I am not broken. It would be a few years before I would be able to tell my parents and upon telling them I learned that I had nothing to fear. My parents still loved me. My friends did not run away. My world did not fall apart.
Not everyone has this same experience. Some respond with love and acceptance. Some respond with indifference. Some respond with neglect and still some respond with violence. My friends have all been met with varied responses, but regardless of how our coming out experiences differ we all still share in that guilt and crippling fear. I could preach to closeted homosexuals until I am blue in the face that coming out is a relief, which it is, but until society comes to accept us for who we are and not for whom we love, then we will all still face some degree of fear and guilt while in the closet.
“There is no torment in coming out. The torment is being in.”
-Armistead Maupin
Friday, June 4, 2010
Blogroll addition.
Anyone who reads my blog knows that I am a whore for links and I subscribe to the "you've got to give some to get some" train of thought and so today I'm going to share with you a link to a new blog. My friend Sean, who I wrote about in the MonkeySphere's post last week has decided to start a blog of his own.
Sean is good people. I consider him to be one of my best friends. He is an EMT working for a pretty big, pretty busy private service in the Boston metro area, compared to most of my fellow EMS bloggers he is still quite the neophyte to EMS, but he's a good guy- he's got a heart of gold and believe it or not, he actually cares. He's still new & sparky enough to not be the too bitter and jaded and cynical and he helps me to keep a fresh perspective on EMS and for that I thank him. I also need to thank him for providing me with some blog fodder today. Earlier he posted his some of his coming out story and that kind of motivated me to post something similar.
So, go give him a read, and while you're there, please, for the love of all that is good and pure, suggest a new name for his blog.
Sean is good people. I consider him to be one of my best friends. He is an EMT working for a pretty big, pretty busy private service in the Boston metro area, compared to most of my fellow EMS bloggers he is still quite the neophyte to EMS, but he's a good guy- he's got a heart of gold and believe it or not, he actually cares. He's still new & sparky enough to not be the too bitter and jaded and cynical and he helps me to keep a fresh perspective on EMS and for that I thank him. I also need to thank him for providing me with some blog fodder today. Earlier he posted his some of his coming out story and that kind of motivated me to post something similar.
So, go give him a read, and while you're there, please, for the love of all that is good and pure, suggest a new name for his blog.
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