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April 21, 2006

Me duelen en las nalgas...

And then you find yourself out for lunch with five women and you realize that there are certain situations for which the human brain is poorly adapted. I admit I had been feeling a little down this morning, I was feel pensive and, well, feeling out of sorts. No particular reason and I tabulate it up to “mood swings”. Never-the-less, a good remedy for the blues is lunch at the Angry Dog and a The Burger with fries and a bullet of Ranch Dressing for dipping. So, yes, five women. One of which I find incredibly attractive, three of which(maybe four) are Hispanic and speak eSpanish, one of which speaks Spanish predominantly and two of which I didn’t know.

Being that it is a pretty day in North Texas, we walked to the restaurant. Gas prices being what they are, it seemed like a good idea and who’s to say that a little exercise is a bad thing? At one point four of the six of us were actively engaged with celluar phones an d this lead me to think, “What the fuck did people do before cel phones?”. Oh yes, talk to those around them and pay attention while driving. Word.

Here’s hoping for a good weekend.

April 19, 2006

“Not today, sir. Probably not tomorrow.”

I don’t know how many of you heard about, or saw the story on The Superficial about Kevin Smith and how he was being an asshole by telling a story involving Mewes and Nicole Richie. I didn’t think much of it when I saw the article way back in March, but D later told me that Kevin had started a long series of posts tell the WHOLE story from his side. I was reluctant to dive into it at first, but I’ve always been a Smith fan and couldn’t stay away for long. Soon I found myself checking back just about every day to see if he'd put up the next part of the story.

It’s really long, nine parts, and each post is a couple of pages, but if you’re a fan of Smith and/or Mewes (Jay & Silent Bob), or you just want to read a good, inspirational story of someone overcoming drug abuse, then it would behoove you to check it out.

Kevin’s original response to the story breaking on The Superficial is here. There's a little more build-up on the post from the 27th.

Me and My Shadow, Pt. 1 - This begins the saga.

April 14, 2006

Vroooooom!

I think we should all pause for a brief moment and give out a solid “w00t w00t” for half days at work. In approximately 13 minutes, give or take, Cici and I shall be “getting the hell out of Dodge” and I will be taking her back down to the wilds and wooly lands of Central Texas. Evidently she didn’t head the danger of the first excursion, I’m not sure what the ramifications of hanging out with rural country folk is, but I’m almost certain that it can be contagious.

Before leaving we’ll have to correct a wrong perpetrated upon a vehicle and recharge its sadly depleted battery. I must also pack and we might also necessarily need “one for the road”, but that seems irresponsible when “one for the road” precludes a road trip. Mayhaps we should just get a burger, with jalapeños and chesses. And, now I’m just rambling.

Happy Easter weekend, my lovely filthy readers…if any of you are indeed left.

April 13, 2006

Saga, fin

I need to finish this up. It’s starting to hold up some other things I’d like to lay out here. Saturday was the main event day of Camp S.O.A.R. Oh, and by the way, S.O.A.R. stands for Some Organ Assembly Required. I just wanted to let you know that so I could quite typing it out with the periods and all. I’d told CiCi that I’d make this one short and not go into great detail, she seemed surprised since Saturday was the bulk of experience, both in physical exertion and bonding with the kids. I’ve been wrestling with the decision to wrap it up in a truncated fashion or to let it all spill out and bore all of you with the details. Unfortunately, so much time has passed that I’m starting to forget, so I’m going to forge ahead and just see how the thing takes shape.

The day would start quickly and, really, never let up until about midnight. Breakfast was a hearty affair with biscuits and gravy, scrambled eggs and an offering of cereals, OJ, and fresh fruit. Unfortunately we arrived a bit late and had to sate ourselves without the fruits. I desired coffee, but it seemed that there was none to be found until my boy Heath procured some from the depth’s of the kitchen. Everything is better after a cup of hot black java.

The theme for the day’s activities was “Wacky Olympics” and all of the cabins were divided up into four teams. My team ended up with D-$, from my own cabin, Samantha (who would end up leaving early due to de-hydration), Alan (who was about as spastic as you can get), Dulce, Stephanie, and Jordan (aka Scooby). The counselors assigned to the team were me, Drayden, Denise, and Jamie. We were designated as Team #1 and our first event was archery, so as we made our way to the firing range we pressured Alan into coming up with our team name. Momentarily daunted by this assigned task, he quickly rallied to come up with The Pirates. There was brief discussion about adding either Ninja or Monkey as a prefix to Pirates, but these were all shot down in favor of a purer representation.

Archery went well, all the kids participated, even Daniel (D-Money) who would constantly moan and groan about his back. D$ even managed the top score, not bad for a bad back. Drayden was our main motivator and seemed to take on the onerous task of riding herd over Alan. I’m not sure what transplant Alan had received, but the boy obviously had additional, behavioral issues…underneath he was a great kid, but he was a challenge to handle. Drayden, being about seven foot, seemed up to it. Even though the counselors’ scores didn’t count in the competition, we still got to shoot. I managed some descent shots and we motivated Denise by telling her to pretend that the target was her ex-boyfriend and they she just caught him cheating on her with another woman. Samantha threw in the added motivation that the bitch is white. Denise, who is black, then got gangsta with her bow and arrow, cocking it sideways. I couldn’t help but think that’s how the homies down in the hood wield their bow and arrows.

After the first event we were all assembled to a couple of events. The first was called “Will it Break?” and the idea was to craft an apparatus from various materials that would prevent an egg from shattering when dropped about 30 feet. I’d like to say this was an interesting exercise, but I think they over provided the groups with materials, because in the end, all of the eggs survived. Sure, it was a moral booster for the kids, and I’m sure that’s what counts most, but it seems like it should have been more of a challenge. The second event was made up of several little events and this was labeled as “Wacky Olympics”. The “Olympics” were made up of wacky events, six to be precise, and thus did the Olympics become wacky. It involved things like a water balloon toss, which Alan and I would stay in until almost the end, and Cici would take a brutal drenching, literally head-to-toe…and I didn’t think there was that much water in the balloon. There was a 3-legged race, and a relay that involved things like carrying a ping pong ball on a spoon, running with a volley ball between your legs, skipping and hopping (I have pictures of Cici hopping). There was a “javelin” throw, but instead of spears we used pool noodles. You get the idea. Lunch was thrown in here somewhere, I forget the chronological order, but you should know that it involved “tacos”.

Our first activity after all that rigmarole was “Arts & Crafts”. We made a bird feeder. We pasted bits of paper on a Styrofoam saucer and then ran some twine through holes. We were also supposed to make a hanging dangly thing with beads, but most of us ran out of time. My hanging dangly thing with beads kit is still in its bag on my kitchen counter. The main attraction of this event was that we got to take a break and rest for about 40 minutes.

After that we got to the big event, the one I’d been most curious about and the one most ballyhooed by the Camp SOAR organizers at the counselor meeting. The “ropes” course. Imagine a large wooden construct, like a jungle gym, only 30 feet in the air. There were a couple of rock climbing walls, a vertical “hard” one, and an inclined “easy” one. There was a zip line for easy and quick descent. There were also poles set out about fifty feet away from the main structure. In between the poles there were various means of crossing the gaps, between poles 1 and 2 there was a sort of plank bridge. In between pole 2 and 3 there was a pole laid horizontally and between pole 3 and the tower there was a cable. Now the cable had ropes dangling about four or five feet apart, so that you could steady yourself as you crossed. Most of the counselors and kids chose to either do the inclined rock wall or to sit it out. Drayden and I decided to do the pole crossings.

Thankfully Drayden went first, so that when I climbed up the pole using the little metal hand holds, I could feel like I’d already seen how it was done. So there I was, on horizontal pole, thirty feet in the air. The pole was cylindrical in nature and gave you about a foot of space to walk. Both Drayden and I had asked if anyone ever crawled and the guide rope operator said that, yeah, some did, but most walked across…even the three and four year olds. So dignity mandated that we both walk across and we both did. The horizontal pole was easy peasy and I was feeling pretty sure of myself as I reached the cable portion between the pole 3 and the tower, what would be the next to last leg of my “ropes course” adventure. I boldly placed a foot onto the small cable bridge, felt my foot slide and then promptly retreated back to pole 3 and its comforting hand holds. I quickly tried to come up with a reasonable explanation as to why the guide rope operator had to let me down early, a reason that would allow me to save face. Alas none came. “Oh lord, what have I gotten myself into”, passed through my mind as I edged out onto the cable, grasping furiously to the dangling guide rope. The next few minutes I would repeat the process, edge myself slowly, gripping the rope furiously until I was close enough to grasp the next dangling rope. Did I mention that the wind was blowing pretty hard? Oh yes it was and it has a perverse sense of humor. Wind is sentient and it knew when I was just about to get that rope in my grasp because it would blow it away at the precise moment, just to watch me cry. To add to the fun, seven foot, 300+ pound Drayden went down the zip line as I was about 2/3’s of the way across. This means that everything shook. Violently.

As I collapsed on to the boards of the upper floor of the tower I suddenly realized that my hands hurt. A lot. The desperate gripping had made them very soar, but despite my trembling body and pain I felt like I had really accomplished something. My last stunt of the afternoon would include the zip line and this held no fear for me until I actually sat down on the edge of the tower and looked 30 feet down. They attach your harness to line and then you slip of the edge and zip down that line, where they then retrieve you with the aid of a platform ladder thing on wheels.

Our last activity before dinner was “Cooking”. We made pretzels and one of the professional camp personnel made us smoothies. Not much to say about this other than it was a very welcomed break from the previous physical rigors.

That was really the bulk of the experience, there would be a scavenger hunt after dinner and that was essentially an exercise in having us run from point to point taking pictures of various sorts and arrangement. There would be a party in the Recreation Barn (It’s a barn, for recreation!) and then a “camp fire” where we got to make schmores. The burnout and exhaustion were starting to hit us counselors pretty hard by this point and I know that I was on auto pilot for most of it. I know that as soon as we got back to cabin, my head hit that pillow and I was out.

Sunday was for wrapping things up and after a quick breakfast we had the presentation of awards for the winners of the previous days “Wacky Olympics” and we had a share time. Surprisingly, my team The Pirates won the competition, though by the time we accepted our “medals” and awards (blank CD’s festively decorated and a CD Case with CAMP SOAR glued on in beads) we had more counselors than kids. Two of our kids got sent home early, Sam for de-hydration (there was speculation that she was being a bit of a drama queen) and Alan for getting a little overly rambunctious at the Barn party the night before. He must have Recreated inappropriately in the Recreation Barn (It’s a barn, for recreation!) Jordan (aka Scooby) was present, but sacked out on the couch, so only Daniel (D-Money), Dulce (who had, the previous day) threatened physical violence if the scavenger hunt didn’t end quickly), and Stephanie (who spoke little English) got to accept their awards.

The share time was interesting in that I finally got the full impact of what these kids go through as far as living with their condition, their hopes and fears and day-to-day realities. It’s amazing, because they were for the most part a really great group of kids and I was sincerely impressed by them. Even Alan, who had been the “problem kid”, and D-Money, who we had to prod and push along into everything we did. They all had such great hearts…and livers and kidneys.
The bus ride back, as I mentioned a lot earlier, was indicative of what we were told would happen way back when we went to that counselor’s meeting a few weeks before Camp. As opposed to the segregation of campers and counselors on the ride to camp, the ride back had us more diversely arranged and there was a lot more talk and chit-chat amongst the kids and adults. I hadn’t really believed that I’d be able to bond with complete strangers, especially teenagers, over a weekend, despite being told this. But it was true, the little blighters really get into your system and even now I kind of miss them and my fellow counselors. It’s easy to say that this was one of the most wonderful, fascinating and fulfilling events I’ve ever taken part of, even now. It really changed how I feel about a lot of things in my own life and while I’m hesitant to say I’ll do it again next year, all things being the same, I imagine I will. I know Cici was afraid that she’d drug me into the whole thing, but whatever the reasons I decided to do it…I’m so very glad that I did, especially since I got to experience it with her.

April 10, 2006

Saga, cont.

The bus rolled away from the hospital and began to ponderously meander through Dallas towards the highway. It was at this point that I mentioned to Cici that we were really committed now, there was no turning back. The boxed lunches had been tastey, they had come from Jason’s deli. Cici and I sat next to one another and I couldn’t help but wonder if that somewhere we were loosing points on our camp counselor score sheet. Were we supposed to be mingling with the kids at this point, getting to know them? I tried to think how such an operation might play out, but try as I might I couldn’t invasion the proper scenario. In hindsight the bus trip down would juxtapose the trip back and would be a tangible reminder of certain prophecies. For our part, we sat quietly and watched the evening settle in. We practiced a little espanol for my sake and chit-chatted. As darkness took over we speculated on the exact geographical location of Cleburn, but mostly we either read or watched the in-bus movie, “My Best Friend’s Wedding”.

Arriving at the camp was met by applause. I felt apprehensive. It was really on now. There was nothing for it, but to throw myself into the situation and so I tried to help out and look efficient. I think we ended up carrying the leftover boxed lunches and soda’s off the bus. I then took it upon myself to do a once over of the bus and its overhead bins. The bus driver had asked me nicely, pointing out that she was too short to do it and she asked to make sure that I took care of the videos. So I did, I made sure they were safely stowed in the bin next to the VCR. Later, I would find out this was a mistake.

We found our bags and found out what cabin we would be in. It was at this point that Cici and I had to accept the cruel reality that we’d have to go our separate ways. We would, for all intrinsic purposes, be alone in our adventure now. I now got an idea which of the kids would be in my cabin, they all seemed strange, like alien creatures, but I was mildly relieved that they neither foamed at the mouth, nor had pointy fangs. I was also relieved to see that Tim, Cici’s ethics professor, was my co-counselor. Not that I knew him anymore than the others, but we both knew Cici, so that felt like something at least. That and I knew he played Ultimate-Frisbee, so I had a good feeling for what kind of weird he would be.

We made our way to the cabin, in the dark. No one brought a flash light. Doug led us by radar, like a bat, or at least by process of elimination. If the first three cabins weren’t ours, the fourth was bound to be. Doug was a veteran of Camp S.O.A.R. and it was hard not to tell that he was very popular with the kids. He was definetly that adult you remember from when you were a kid, the one who was always goofy and making themselves the butt of jokes. The one you thought was very cool. I found him mildly annoying, but he was truly a sincere and nice guy. And the kids loved him.

This is how I came to make the acquaintance of Jimmy, Daniel (D-Money), Heath and Justin. Tim and I got lucky in that these were a great group of kids and that there were only four of them. Each cabin was supposed to have three counselors, but our third didn’t show up, making it just the two of us to ride herd over our cabin. Fortunately three of the four had been to Camp before, so they knew what was going on. Jimmy was constantly moving and seemed very mature, especially when I found out he was only 15 or 16, he was from Abilene. He’d be first one I that I started to feel comfortable around. Justin reminded me a lot of my old friend Lance, always talking, talking, talking and talking, about everything and anything, quickly. He was from Wall, a small town east of Abilene and played football, he was very proud of his “under armor”…evidently underclothes for the athletically inclined, I’m not sure what their precise benefit was. Heath was our tough guy, everything he did, every posture and movement seemed intricately calculated to facilitate a hard-core persona. I didn’t catch where he was from, but he mentioned working oil fields, so I’m sure he was mimicking what he saw on a daily basis, but he ended up being a really sweet kid. D-Money was more than a character and he played up his blackness, talking a good game, but like the rest of them he was a great kid and good natured. He’d be the only one of us that actually made his bed, and let me tell you, the boy knew how to make a bed, it was pretty impressive.

After getting settled in we took the boys over to the med hut for their medications and then to the Recreation Barn (it’s a barn, for recreation!) for silly games that were designed to help the whole Camp group get to know each other. As uncomfortable as they were, they did work and by the end of that very awkward time together I actually had a good feel for most of the kid’s names. The funny thing here is that I wanted to run away and hide so badly, but it’s surprising what you can find yourself doing when there is no retreat.

The Camp organizers had planned a sort of “remembrance time” for the end of the evening. They said it was the first time they were attempting something like this and the general idea was to let the kids talk about fellow campers who for one reason or another were unable to attend. They weren’t sure how it would go over, but that they had wanted to do it most specifically to remember Floyd, a kid who had attended many Camp’s in the past and been very popular, but had sadly passed away the previous year. The event started off slowly, after the memorial to Floyd there was a long silence before anyone built up the courage to speak. But once it started, yikes. Now, these kids already face a tough life just by the nature of their conditions, they all had receive organ transplants, but I was shocked by how many had additional sad stories. Several talked about close friends who had passed away by various means. For someone like myself, who has experienced little tragedy in my life, I found it pretty shocking.

To wrap up the evening and sort of lighten the spirits, after what ended up being a pretty heavy event, we had ice cream. They even had sprinkles and I would challenge anyone to be sad after some mother fucking sprinkles! So off to the cabin we went, to the beds that had concrete fashioned in the shape of mattresses. I’m sure at 16 these manifestations of evil would have not presented a challenge, at 31 they seemed scientifically designed to prevent sleep. I’m pretty sure we all mimicking “sleep” by around 1:30 in the A.M., but what with the muffled sounds of Justin’s eating and the symphony of snoring…

So we wake up at 8:00 the next morning…

April 05, 2006

Saga

Sitting here now on a beautiful, brisk Wednesday morning, lightly sipping a cup o’ joe it’s hard to gather all the recollections of the last weekend. So I’ll try to go chronologically as best I can and see how things shake out.

Friday. Friday is when it all started coming to a head. The fear that had griped me off and on while I contemplated the unknown reality of what I had gotten myself into had faded. Now I had the cold eyes and steeled nerves of a man who knows there is no turning back, and indeed I felt like it was out of my hands as we left my apartment that afternoon. We had managed to escape work a little early, at 4:00, in order to facilitate the timing requirements of our project. After a few reassuring words and hugs we boarded the vehicle of our conveyance and navigated our way towards that rendezvous point.

It was good, in retrospect, that I had to make few decisions during the drive, some would say I was little “slap-happy”. Fortunately Cici drove and this allowed me time to actively find ways to not think about what was about to happen. We distracted ourselves by singing loudly, but prettily, to several 80’s tunes that serendipitously oozed forth from the radio. But then we were there, and there was nothing for it, the lion’s den beckoned. Its gaping maw cleverly disguised as innocent looking auto-sliding doors.

Then we were taking the luggage out of the back of the truck. Then we were taking luggage into the lobby of the building. A bus sat idling on the street, a harbinger of things that would surely come to pass. Cici left me there to park the truck. Dear God, there were a lot of strange faces intermixed with a few, the precious few, who sparked a hint of familiarity, those whom I had met at the meeting two weeks ago. There were kids, and a table, people with name tags and piles of baggage. There was a lot of hustle and bustle, I felt conflicted. I was there, I was a camp counselor and I felt like I should be doing something immediately. Alas no one seemed to pay me any attention, so I stood there and tried to remain calm.

Strangers, I still cling to that lesson that mother taught me so long ago. Don’t talk to strangers. So I substituted speech with nervous glances, trying to scope out all of these would-be campers and counselors without actually looking like I was doing so. When, god forbid, eye contact was made I managed a tense smile and did my best to appear pleasant. Eventually I managed to look pleasant enough that one of the coordinators spotted me and gave me my name badge, it said Jeff. Now I felt like I was getting somewhere, but not wanting to let go of the moment I told her that Cici would be along soon and she could give me her badge. I felt comfortable taking on that responsibility.

When Cici did appear I felt like I had grown a little, that I was a little more in control of the situation. I gave her the badge, her t-shirt, and then I disappeared on her to go help the other camp coordinator acquire some needed objects. After being led through the labyrinthine complex of Children’s Hospital, it was time to load up the bus with baggage, food stuffs and kids. I got to help pass out sandwiches and initially this was terrifying. That type of experience where you see yourself doing something and you can’t quite comprehend why. None of the kids wanted my ham sandwiches and I was starting to take it personally. Why would they reject me this way? Was it the long hair? Had I gained too much weight? Relief of my dubious insecurities was abated once I got to the back of the bus where I was able to throw out the bulk of my boxed lunches. Evidently the back of busses is the natural habitation of ham lovers, at least based on my limited observations.

That’s enough for now…more maybe later.

April 04, 2006

You Don't Have To Immolate A Baboon On My Account

Most of last week was spent in various sorts of mental and/or physical anguish. My grandmother went through surgery for breast cancer, I had a severe bout of allergies from some microscopic airborne pestilence and I had the distinct pleasure of fretting over having volunteered for Camp S.O.A.R.

On the backside of it all everything turned out fine and dandy. My grandmother’s surgery went swimmingly and I just learned that her pathology test came back negative, so she is as good as having one boob lopped off can allow. I’ll see her over Easter weekend and that, I predict, will be nice. Just to up the suspense during all of this, my Grandfather decided to juggle beehives and what with his beehive juggling skills being somewhat lacking, he found himself with a multitude of stings to various portions of his person. So as I received the good news of my Grandmother’s status I also was informed that Grandfather is feeling much better and is no longer, “puffed up like a toad”, much to his relief I’m sure.

I’m sure in the annals of allergy victims I shall rank very low, but I assure you that the displeasure I felt was very real and very unpleasant. Fortunately the nurse at work gave me a cocktail of generic Tylenol and Sudafed, and this seemed to be the correct combination to make me feel human again.

Yes, I volunteered. Admittedly, at first it was so I could still see CiCi during the weekend. She HAD to do it in order to fulfill a college class requirement and I don’t think that I was, or am, ready to let her go for a full weekend out of my field of vision. My secondary reasoning was a legitimate urge to volunteer. Now I couldn’t tell you exactly why I had this urge, but it was there and had been nagging from the back of my head for quite some time. So I felt that this opportunity was presenting itself with big flashy neon signs and if I didn’t take advantage of it I would forever feel as if I had made some incorrect decision. That’s how I found myself about 40 miles south of Cleburn being a camp counselor for teenage kiddos who have received liver transplants. There’s too much to say about it right now, suffice it to say it was a wonderful (but exhausting) experience and I plan to expand on my time there in more detail in the future.


Scary Go Round