Random reality rant

If there is one thing that matters in this world, it’s the eternal love that fuels life’s progression. We were given life to be a ransom for many; that is to say our lives benefit other lives! I believe there is a power greater than our mind or soul can perceive. We cannot know anything as fact on this planet unless we can observe and prove it to be valid. That is the human conundrum; we cannot accept a truth until evidence is shown. I believe there are ways to enhance and expand your mind by tearing down those methods of belief. We must surrender our existence to the unknown fates and play the game on the globe, regardless of our perception of truth. We are not advanced enough to remove our paradigm or shift it for any length of time, so we must accept and abide by those road-block entities in our thinking process.
Right and wrong can even become categories in our minds if you allow absolute free will to reign. The key is imparting positivity to others while embracing your own path. You are the only person who can conceive of “life’s path,” because you only have “your” life. Never let others dissuade or discourage you with their problems or their negative view. Rather, we as human beings should help and lift up other humans; realizing our shared, fatal humanity.
Every single person alive, knows something that you don’t. I’ll go one step further and propose a cure to societal qualms and frivolity; each person alive can redirect and focus energy through conversation. Therefore, I dream of a world where there are no secrets. A culture that always promotes and assists each other. No matter what you do or say, the subconscious is relaying a message to the world from within your deepest soul. My only advice is to be mindful of its tone.
Each living soul pusues happiness in its own way. Laughter is associated with happiness. Actually, laughter is the result of happiness! So, to bring laughter to another soul is to show them happiness, however brief. For those opposed to telling the truth in hard times or when it is unwanted; I point to a powerful statement by Oscar Wilde:
If you want to tell people the truth,
make them laugh,
otherwise they’ll kill you.

The universe we live in with all of its stars and planets, is but a drop of water compared to the eternal abyss lying beyond our limited understanding. Events throughout history have been twisted and retold for generations throughout mankind. This skewed and unclear perception of mankind’s past forces any logical thinker to focus on the present. Our past only paints a partial picture, so why do we let it predict out future?
This profound fact: Humans are limited; continues to plague and distort the laws, cultures, societies and even personalities in this world. Simply put, we are bound by shackles of structure and tradition, which were a result of human influence. These ideas have psychologically programmed and manipulated the way of life for centuries! The only thing I have found to be truly infallible, is the current existence of this planet. My hope for life and life after death, lies in the simple fact that there is a more powerful force beyond our comprehension. Even if that force is simply the sun, we can only put our faith in its inevitable cycle of life. To be as powerful as the most potent power in our reach, one cannot be present in physical form. Kiss the Sun, it is our only life-force.

where is the love?

Have you ever known someone who is constantly smiling? Its not a bad thing, its just noticeable. Sometimes it bothers people but they’re just jealous. For me these people are an inspiration! Even with the worst luck, they smile and take the next thing life offers them with a cheerful attitude.

I knew someone exactly like this smiling example. Her name is Wendy and she was a Registered Nurse in a busy Emergency Room in California, around the same time I was a Tech.  This lady left a room full of people confused, because she sat down in a broken chair, spilled coffee all over white lab coat only to laugh at herself and skip off to get another cup of coffee.

Nobody ever saw Wendy in a foul mood or discouraged at all.

Today, was different. The moon was full, but invisible in the bright desert sun. The hospital attracted the most bizarre people when the moon was full. I can’t explain that so accept it. I have seen many hospitals nationwide, and all agree that the full moon tends to indicate an unusual day is coming. This day seemed to start out as any other full moon, frenzy could have started.

In the early morning the drunks were waking up pissed off, hung-over and hungry.  The “frequent fliers” came in before six or seven like clock-work, usually looking for a quick pain shot, or a perscription bottle of pills. Many of these people even knew the ratio of their drug concoctions. “2 mg of Dilaudid and 2 mg of Benadryl, please!” would be the request from one person in our ER at least twice a week. That’s what we walked into at the beginning of our shift.

Since the shift was long we all tried to make it to the cafeteria before the mad rush hit, so we could eat breakfast. My breakfast got interrupted that day because some kid got his calf muscle chewed on by a pitbull and I had to hold him down while the doctor shoved his flesh back in and sewed him up. Then I had to rush to the tiny little corner room to do a long leg splint for a dude that fractured his femur, and was awaiting surgery. All in all the day was taking a strange path.

A massive wind gust had tossed 18-wheelers, mini-vans and cars off of the freeway like pebbles. Later I found out it was a total of fourteen vehicles piled up because of the high winds.

One lady was stuck in the cabin of her husbands truck for three hours with his dead body next to her. The fire department finally dug her out of the sand and began rushing people to our ER.

Wendy was the incoming triage nurse.

People on stretchers and gurneys constantly poured in, bleeding, crying, dirty and terrified. Another guy had been nearly decapitated in the accident, and I got to see inside his head! It was an exciting day if you could combine the terror and grief with genuine compassion.

But the vibe kept changing. Two or three underage people came in separately, with alcohol poisoning. Although, that was normal; it was 3 in the afternoon! Did all three teens drink alone at the same time in different schools? That day made no sense with all of the random cases and odd patients arriving.

Wendy whisked past me a few times that day cracking a crude, but hilarious joke almost every time. But as usual she smiled at everybody and rose above the negativity that began to strangle the whole department. Other nurses and doctors began to react to the pressure and take it out on patients or nurses. Some doctors vanished and left no pager number. So the remaining ones became more frustrated and made the entire staff on edge.

I hardly said a word to any of my co workers besides Wendy and a few others that were never negative. I didn’t want to irritate any nurse or doctor just to cause some scene five minutes later because of what I said. I kept my thoughts to myself but helped anybody I could find.

While I was making fun of the drunk children the emergency phone rang like a siren but nobody seemed to notice. Wendy answered it, three feet from me. I went over to her and tried to listen to the call but she hung up quickly somewhat confused.

“11 month old full arrest.” was all she said.

“What?!” asked Matt as he walked by the phone and overheard her.

Wendy just nodded and quietly grabbed my arm and asked me to help her get a room ready for a baby. (a full arrest means that both the lungs and heart have stopped) I did not even answer her before I went into the closest room.

Babies are awkward. Not to mention the nagging parents who are way too overprotective and usually just end up getting in the way and slowing down the process. Then add the morbid gloom of death, and you can understand a fraction of this situation.

I calmly told the patient and visitors in room 8 that I needed to move them to a different area. They agreed and hastily followed me because they had to.  I was rolling the gurney out of the room as I talked. This person ended up waiting in the hallway with a front row seat to the drama of ER.

Wendy and I prepared the room in silence. I went to get the pediatric crash cart, while the Respiratory Therapist (RT) brought in ventilators and breathing apparatuses. I went to find another Tech that could help in the room, and Wendy found a doctor. We were all waiting in room 8 casually talking when the commotion hit the ambulance bay doors.

Five medics, and two EMT’s swarmed into the ER and were directed to us. What happened next was over within minutes. The RT put a tube into the boy’s lungs to secure an airway while I lightly performed one handed chest compressions. The other tech hooked the monitor up to view the vital signs. Wendy asked the mother to wait right outside the room, and came back in to start an IV in the baby.

She could not find a vein to stick the needle into, so she sent the other Tech to find an IO(Intraosseous) kit. An IO goes directly into the bone. Instead of going through the bloodstream, the medication enters the body through the bone marrow. It is painful. But babies veins are tiny and the drugs were the only way we could try to save him.

She got the IO into his shin, and I traded places with the RT. Now, I was squeezing bag’s full of air into his little lungs and RT was pumping on his chest. The doctor tried a few different drugs, and a few electric shocks but eventually declared the time of death. He threw his gloves in the trash before walking out of the room to face the mother. He lightly touched her shoulder and spoke quickly in spanish before he disappeared. Wendy caught the lady before she collapsed.

She began to scream and wail in spanish for all to hear. It was kind of disturbing. Her voice silenced the entire hospital it felt like. The RT disconnected all of his equipment and I started cleaning up the area. Wendy led the lady out of the room for a moment to try calming her down. The other tech went to the main entrance to get a translator.

I got the painful task of preparing the body for the morgue. Its weird being able to hold a corpse in one hand.

I took all the adhesive off and unhooked the tubes, leaving very little behind on the gurney besides the tiny cold body of a child. Being able to hear the mother’s murderous screams echo down the hall made my blood shiver. The mother ran into me as I was leaving the room. Wendy was right behind her and then followed the translator.

“Bummer,” thats all I could bring myself to say in my own head. I said nothing to the mother because I only spoke english. But I did giver her my best, “I’m sorry” face. She didn’t notice me. I didn’t care, I don’t do well with showing emotion.

So I went about my day helping the needy and tending to the sick and hurting people that were still alive.

But my friend Kara found me a few minutes before shift change and asked if I knew what happened with the baby. Kara was a phlebotomist and was a wealth of information. I told her the story.

Apparently, the child had a seizure while at daycare and the mom rushed in right behind the ambulance; hoping to see her son one more time. The seizure caused him to vomit and then choke. It was horrible but you cannot let things like that bother you in this field.

We knew the day was close to ending when the night shift crew started arriving. As they did we gathered our charts, and information to relay to the oncoming people. I happened to be near the main entrance getting some boxes of gloves when I saw Wendy with a look of terror on her face.

I had never seen that. I got nervous. I went to find out what was bothering her and I saw the mother of the child sitting in a chair talking with the translator. I had to do a double take, because in the stroller next to her was the little boy I had just put in a body bag!

“What the hell is going on?!” I said to Wendy loudly!

“The baby was a twin,” she explained. “…and the mom tried to kill this one!” My jaw dropped and I started to walk away but Wendy kept talking.

“She’s suicidal too,” she paused. “We are going to have to admit her.”

“Wow.” I mumbled. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything, just go home, shift is almost over. I will make sure she is taken care of tonight.” said Wendy as confidently as possible.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Yes go home, and thank you for your help today. I couldn’t have done it without you.” she made me feel proud of myself. Even though I did nothing special, her amazing, attitude lifted my spirits. Even without an actual smile,she was still bubbling with compassion.

On my way home, the stench of death stayed with me. The shrill cries of the mom echoed in my head. I felt so horribly depressed and began replaying the events of the day.

That was the first time I did live chest compressions on an infant.

That was the first time I saw an IO slammed into a bone.

That was the first time I put a baby in a body bag.

That was the first time I saw pain in Wendy’s face.

That was the first time I realized the reality of death.

The reality of death is this:

Death is not biased, but it is unexpectedly inevitable.

Most of all, death has an overwhelming effect on anybody near it. This infant death was more powerful than any other I had seen. Maybe its because we think he should have lived.

Why did the baby die? Why couldn’t we save him? Facts may be able to explain these questions, but facts do nothing to calm the soul. Death still remains.

I know only one way to overcome the shroud of death and comfort those around it. Love. Genuine, unbiased, unexpected, unnecessary, eternal, honest love is the only way to approach such a tragic situation. Nothing else works.

I find that it is easy to love, and I don’t hide it. But the problem with loving the sick, troubled and dying people is the toll it takes on your mind, body and soul! Imagine zipping up a bag holding a tiny lifeless body, and immediately afterwards teach a teenager how to use crutches.

The medical field, especially in the ER, becomes a balancing act. You cannot allow yourself to be brought down by the turmoil, but you cannot abandoned loving care and compassion either! I was blindsided by this concept but could not find a solution!

There is no solution, only shortcuts and tricks. Wendy is an anomaly. Maintaining a compassionate, positive attitude without becoming depressed or traumatized is a gift.

The worst part is how the ‘normal’ healthcare workers handle the balance. Over time most of them become jaded or heartless. This kind of ‘coping mechanism’ steals joy. They get angry very easy, especially with patients. I’ve seen nurses laughing and joking about patients while they were in the room.

Worse still, I knew a doctor who would not spend more than five minutes in a room with anyone! No matter how bad the case or how critical the emergency, he never seemed to care! I saw him walk out in the middle of the patient’s sentence! Rude doesn’t even scratch the surface, when describing his bedside manner. Better yet he had no bedside manner, and seemed to hate everyone!

This is a dangerous path because it requires disconnecting from all emotion. However, emotion cannot be given any control, and must be carefully observed and analyzed. The emergency room is the ultimate battle of mind and emotion. Both must be used!

If I had to guess, the majority of healthcare professionals now, have become more like factory workers. They treat the patients like a piece of metal that needs to be forcibly fixed, rather than a human in pain that needs help! They get labeled by a room number and a chart instead of a name and a face.

Even though I became a bit jaded and frustrated, I have never denied a person in need if I could help. Whether or not I did actually help them; I may never know. But I always asked their name, and what they needed help with at the moment. My friend Wendy taught me the power of smile too. Even though my mind, soul and emotion screamed at me to be upset, my face always showed positivity.

I guess watching death and life come and go will affect anyone. Regardless of how it affects someone, the only part that matters is how they handle it. Wendy showed me a perfect example of how to do that.

Always show love.

Showing sincere love, without motive, to another human, eliminates negativity.

 

grief

A life ended that day.
She did too much,
Liked to party and such
Of what? I cannot say.

Her friends and family live,
Yet as much as they still love,
Her soul embarked above.
There’s nothing left to give!

Now all we have is pain.
Death lingers in the clouds,
It’s thunder rocks the crowds;
And grief falls harder than rain.

Today is tomorrow’s yesterday

I really don’t understand many things, so I ramble. I felt like writing some encouraging shit, since I can write and you can read. Take that as a blessing, I rarely feel friendly enough to write about it.
Why do we stress, worry, or fret? It is usually due to circumstances in our life. It’s basic, but important. Those circumstances build our reality. Now try and follow my words closely.
Each circumstance, can cause an event, at one single recognizable moment in your life. Therefore, each event that effects you in any way will never happen again! It has already happened, so it cannot do future damage. It has done its damage. It has left it’s mark. Move it to the back of your mind!
I meditate. When I can sit still. I usually meditate upon something that has happened in my life with great energy. I try to build the setting in my mind. I remember each human involved, specifically to put myself in their shoes. I won’t keep yammering about this part, but it will be helpful if you take a step back and re-live the event.
After you have poured over every detail from start to finish; decide how you would handle a similar situation, differently. Then there is truly no way to change the outcome, because its in the past. Forget about it, and all of its results. The world still turns, producing new circumstances and events continuously.
What happened today, does not control your tomorrow.
What happened yesterday is two steps back. Always try making forward steps, not backward steps. Dwelling, or stressing about anything hinders you from success.
So lets all learn from our experiences and try not to let the past dictate today, because within 24 hours it will be yesterday.

Virgin blogger

I’ve never done this before. I’m scared. Is it gonna hurt? Please be gentle with me!

I have never paid attention to any blog until now. I read an article/essay/paper or whatever they call a topical writing, on DMT by some dude. It was interesting and insightful yet disconnected from its readers. I think I can relate a bit better with my words, regardless of the topic, because I like my readers!

I write so you may read. You read in order to learn and amuse yourself. I enjoy reading more than anything else, because if properly executed; reading has the power to adjust my paradigm. I read all words as truthful entertainment.

What does it matter whether one person is right and the other wrong!?

Enjoy their opinions and slander them in your own mind. Criticism is needed as a reader, where slandering and undermining an author’s message is counterproductive.

The reader cannot learn unless he has an opinion on the subject. He also, cannot form an opinion unless he gains knowledge. One of my goals in writing is to share my knowledge from my eyes. I guess my request is to ask you to believe my words as long as you can follow them.

If a reader labels or critiques without a personal viewpoint, how can he ever view somebody else’s point? What is the point of reading if not to expand our minds perception. It sounds confusing, and it is. But, I am going to try sharing my ideas on this blog thingy. Try imagining a reality through my imagination.

I need my readers to teach me how to teach. This is my first time, tell me what to do. Show me the ropes of this verbal intercourse and I will rock your world! I know one thing is certain, everybody dies. So join my journey of escape through the power of thought.

September 27, 2012-Freemasons Lodge

I went to visit two friends after a group interview at a retail store. I had been tirelessly searching for a job so I was excited at the end of the interview. So, I wanted to share that with my friends!

There is a freemason lodge next to my friends house with steps in the back. We regularly sat on them, smoking, talking and laughing. The owner of the building has shared a smoke with us many times at this exact spot, so we always felt it was a comfortable place to sit down and relax. I have never been anxious or nervous about sitting there and we were never bothered. Well that night the gods decided to change the routine.

A neighbor guy was walking by and came to share a cigarette. I had met him a few days earlier on the other steps of the same building. He came over and joined our little group. We were three. Some young kid, maybe fifteen years old, came around the corner and caught me by surprise. As soon as he showed up a police cruiser entered the parking lot shining its light on us.

“So this is where it’s at!?” said the driver who was a bald, vested, armed and uniformed officer. He was getting out of the car and walking up to us the same ignorant question. I was curious as to why he was even talking to us. I said “Excuse me?”

“I said, So this is where its all happening, huh!?” the bald one said in a tone that would boil even satan’s blood. I asked “whats happening?” since I was still confused. The whole time I am biting my toungue as best I could, to keep from saying or doing something inappropriate like saluting these two pompous-assholes. “All the dirty shit…” replied the bald idiot. I was dumbfounded for a few moments while they asked us immediately about parole or probation. Did he really just accuse us of doing “dirty shit” on the back steps of a masonic lodge? What does that even mean!? I was even more confused now. I started asking questions, “Were we doing something wrong? Why are you suspicious of us? Do you have any reason to be interrogating us? Why am I being detained?” I was confused and my anger was swelling. We were all being grossly mistreated and detained because some bored, ballsy, bald cop and his sidekick decided “this is where the diry shit is happening.” No probable cause, or suspicious activity gave them permission to encroach upon our peace!

The young kid was already in the back of the car while the neighbor guy who was just walking by, was in cuffs. The chubby, guido-looking moustache-wearing sidekick, came to try his will against mine. I emptied my pockets of a car key, chapstick, and a pen and tried giving it to the fool, but he told me to face the wall and put my hands behind my back. I was furious and my words came out like a geyser! I pointed out everything he did illegally and and kept asking him why, or for what purpose, or how he could possibly make decisions without going to college.

He threw my stuff on the ground and placed me up against the car. He had me spread my legs and began to pat me down, after I explicitly refused consent to a search and/or seizure. His only phrase the entire time was “because your’e not cooperating.” “Why am I required to cooperate with you?” “We were doing nothing wrong and you have no reason to ask for our cooperation, let alone demand it!” My words fell on dumb ears. He may have been raised by a different language, but how can I judge a book by its color. As he turned my pockets inside out, and untucked my shirt I kept trying to get him to understand my distress. I was not being sacrcastic or rude in any way, simply maintaining my integrity. I tried to get a viable answer twenty different ways, to no avail. I even turned to whisper in his ear when he crowded my breathing room with his face. I think that alerted his senses to the idea that I was genuinely trying to communicate with him. But since he is a biased power-hungry control freak he took my sincerity as an insult. Granted, nothing I ever say to an out-of-line police officer is meant to uplift them.

I was in the deepest part of this guys brain! He was frustrated because all he could do was put me in the back seat with the cuffs still locked on my wrists. I offered to take my shoes off to complete his attempt at undressing me. He told me to take my socks off too as a joke for himself, but since I was sitting on my hands I asked him if he could help me. He slammed the door in my face as I chuckled at his stupidity right in front of his smug face.

Now, I introduced myself to the young kid who was sitting in the back already. Asked him if this was appropriate. He said no. I asked why we were stopped, he didn’t know. Same as me, yet here we sat. The neighbor guy, who was actually from Brazil, was crammed in the back with us, moving my lanky ass to the middle. He and I started joking as soon as he sat down, and I made sure they had no real reason to even approach us.

Since the driver was the bald one; his partner was the moustache guy. Moustache, sat in the passenger seat and began using the computer to look each of us up in the system. The guy from Brazil was on probation, I had just been released from probation, and the young kid was on probation as well. I had to say my letters slow and use nursery rhymes for moustache man to finally figure out how to type letters into his machine. Brazil was laughing out loud by now. This guy was a one man circus with a badge and a gun. He believed, like every cop in America, that he must be obeyed. He had no reasoning behind it, he just demanded obedience and cooperation.

So my dance with these clowns was only proving their inferiority. I could not help my instincts to belittle a bully. You may be able to command physical results, but my words will stay in somebody’s head for eternity if I want them to. This guy had successfully captivated my deepest anger. I was not going to let him leave my presence until my thoughts about his actions, were deeply imbedded into his moral compass.

I was the last one out of the car only after being offered a warning or a citation. When baldy asked which one I wanted, I gave him my best “what-are-you-fuckin-stupid” look and said “umm the warning officer-sir, please.” He asked, “Are you sure?” I cannot even remember what my reply was to that question. But he shut the door and moustache started chuckling in the front seat.

He asked me what we were doing again for the fiftieth time and I started to break it down to his level, very slowly. He did not like that either, but that was my goal. I was beyond caring what they were thinking. I was in full-fledged attack mode. My words remained innocent and friendly while my rage bitch-slapped him all over the car. I could hear him getting offended and becoming speechless. I talked about the new spy-plane that flies over our city, and asked him how it affected his job. I talked about the on-board technology in his car that he was having trouble operating. I even offered my assistance a few times to help him spell a few words like, thursday and caucasian.

He finally decided to cite me for littering since I admitted to smoking a cigarette. He clicks on a little voice-recorder to notify me of his victory. I immediately asked if he was recording our conversations. He said “I record everything.” “Man, that must be nice, not having to listen to people talk. You just record ‘em. I need one of those. Do you think they have an app for that on the new iPhone?” He wasn’t listening so I gladly repeated it accenting my hate with each syllable. “Oh, I don’t know about any of that,” said the moustache. As cheerfully as I could, I retorted, “You don’t know anything do ya Master Seargent Alanis?!” I had stomped on his toes with that ranking title, cuz I had no idea his true rank, nor did he even know I caught his name.

To keep his feeble mind in tact before crushing his soul, I changed the subject back to me. “So are you writing me a citation for littering?”

“Yes.”

“Do I need to appear in court?”

“Yes.”

“Do I need to bring my lawyer?”

“Uh…no its not a big deal, so that won’t be necessary.”

“If its not a big deal why did you cuff me and detain me?”

-silence-

“Ya, I don’t normally have to deal with you people, so I’m not sure what the process is for a citation. Sorry, if I was a hassle for you.” As soon as I apologized for all my sins against his moustache, he opened my door and had me sign the ticket.

As he handed me the pen, I twisted the proverbial dagger in his side. “Nice move with the voice-recorder dude! You got a good littering confession there!” He gave me a look of betrayal, and pain, I just signed the paper while smiling at his thoughts. “When do I have to appear in court?”

“November 27″

“Oh that’s Thanksgiving Day this year” I thought out loud so he could continue wishing he had never talked to me. “Looks like I won’t be able to see my grandpa before he dies.”

I kept force-feeding their ridiculousness back to them as I rounded up my belongings and thanked them for their time and service to our city. They both stared in awe at my smiling face, spewing such cutting remarks.

I will never appreciate a police officer in this country. They have evolved as a whole community, into a power drunk society. A badge and a uniform does not require respect. That my dear readers is only earned!

Until the day a police officer attempts to earn my respect, even if it takes him a few tries. My animosity toward cops festers and spreads with every idle word recorded by them.