Fragile and Insignificant?

At some point or another we all feel fragile.
Something or someone touches our heart as they pass by in this life and it strikes us just so.
And we've all felt insignificant a time or two.
Especially in my line of work where they make you think all you have to be is breathing.
Well, between that and the inmates never change, they're always the same and every time we lose one, we get a bus full to replace them.

We are all fragile beings.
And in our professional setting, we may feel insignificant, but personally, we're not.

Example: A man starts dating a girl, who, because she has problems showing emotion, starts doing something illegal. From there she gets arrested and put on probation. He breaks up with her, for whatever reason, and she goes back to the bad stuff to cope. She gets arrested again and goes to prison. Her kids grow up with their wife-beating father, not knowing their mother, and turn out to get both the wife-beating, and the illegal activity, because that's what they know from their parents. Eventually, they will both, ultimately end up in prison, and I will have to supervise them.

Now it stands to reason that these kids would have never gone to prison had the man never dated this woman.

Lets take it a step farther, since the kids grew up in an abusive home, one of them flips out and beats the hell out of me on the yard.
NOW it stands to reason I wouldn't have gotten a (probably well deserved for some of the things I've done) beat down, had the man and woman never met.

The consequences of ones actions can be monumental, and stretch far beyond the here and now.


On July 4th, a friend that I went to high school with died in an auto accident.
Someone had taken the keys and he, somehow, got them back.
I didn't even know.
On one hand, I haven't gone to a puking rally in a REALLY long time, so of course, I wasn't invited to this one.
I guess that's part of growing up and maturing faster than other people, you don't get invited out much.
So not being invited, I didn't make him go, I didn't put the cup to his lips and make him drink, I didn't give his keys back to him, and I didn't watch as he drove away inebriated that night.
But when I heard about it (the day of the funeral)(that's how much I'm out of the loop with the high school guys) and went to the funeral, as I stood there with my dark sunglasses on, looking more like a meat head among a crowd full of them, I heard them laugh and tell stories, but I wept.

I didn't get him drunk, didn't make him drive, but maybe I did.
Maybe, if I would have been more neanderthal in my younger years, I would have been invited, could have been much more sober, and drove him home if he wanted to go that bad.

In a roundabout way, I could have saved him.

Then again, he could have saved himself.
He could have skipped the party, or passed out there, or someone else could have stopped him.


No matter what, it's amazing how fragile life is, but how insignificant it's not, and how one thing different might change it all.

So be careful of your choices.
The life you save, could be your own.


We're gonna have Brandon S. and Ozzy Osbourne play us out of here.
Give both of these a listen.

Especially Brandon S., I'm really diggin this song right now.

V.V.

It's Been A While

It's been a while, so I figured, with all my new free time [read: single] I'd write a bit.
Thursday started off well enough.
Left early to pick up TB, as implied by our coworker GS, and drove to work.
Arrive early, new for me, and chat.
Learn the Head Poobas already know I'm hiding brains.
Beaver Dam!
Assume duties for the day.
Day shift burns out.
Cool.

Then the tide comes in and, apparently, a sewer main has busted, because this water is not fit to swim in.
First thing out of the gate, the main radio goes down.

Most of the camp can hear us, but we can't hear them, and they can't hear each other.
This happens at a great time!
Transfers on site and IPs to be done.

The beginning of the day is a very busy time.
Staff in, staff out, paperwork, work crews, transfers. (If it's transfer day the paperwork doubles, if not triples.)
And when the feces rains down (metaphorically speaking) we get flooded with Captains and/or Lieutenants.
Sometimes a Warden, Investigator.
Could be anyone.

A few weeks ago we had Bob Hope!

If it's not enough to have whatever the problem is, that adds the King Butt Chewers looking over your shoulder.

Sometimes, however, it's not a problem.
Capt. Stretch is a harmless sort, but on a good day, Capt. Spit might tell you to, "Shut the f*ck up!"
Just for fun.

Why anyone lets the stress of this job get to them is beyond me.
The stress, or action, as I like to call it, is my MO at this job.
That's why I went to the Hive, why I went to Shipping and Receiving, and why I'll probably live out my life at one or the other, or the yard.
High traffic, high action, (high attention) big fun.
And when the action dies down, and all is calm and, dare I say, ("Dare, dare!") quiet, you can sit back and relax a well deserved rest.

Because the sweet is never as sweet without the sour.
And believe me, I know sour.

Don't let 'em getcha.

V.V.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

In the event that you haven't seen this movie, go out and rent it.
Buy it.
Buy two and give one to a friend.
It's a really good movie on it's own, but what really makes it is the fact that it highlights how we should all live.

Benjamin is born old.
Cataracts, arthritis, most of the things that the elderly face everyday.
But as time goes by, Benjamin grows younger.

Wouldn't it be nice if we all lived like that?
What most people fear now is growing old.

We're born young and spend all our best years working towards retirement that, once achieved, most of us are to worn down by the grind to enjoy.

This man, however, starts out old and almost crippled, and works all his older years growing younger.
By the time he can retire, he's only 2o-3o years old.
Everything I wanted at 2o, got it.
Nice house, nice car, wife, children, junk and stuff, everything.

In the end though, it's still the same.
Born unable to take care of ourselves, in diapers, confused, and always in need...
And that's how we usually die.
It's just the middle that changes.
4o in your 4o's no matter what.
But think, your mid life crisis you'd be able to enjoy that sports car you end up buying.


The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Give it a look.

Don't let 'em getcha.

V.V.

If You're in a Happy Relationship, Thank an Ex

I was just thinking about all the things I do that get on my (future) wife's nerves.
How I've grown up from my first girlfriend and how little by little, I am becoming the man I want to be.

But it didn't happen overnight.

Actually, this began with me reading over all my previous posts and seeing how I've grown just here.

Then, as often happens, one thought led to another and I thought of people who have influenced my life.
An ex that, when we were together, told me something is wrong with boots and shorts.
One that taught me what it meant to be responsible.
One that taught me what "through better or worse" really meant.

And I thought about Bella.

We've both had rough pasts and talked about meeting each other before.
What would be different?
Would it be better or worse?

In the end I think if it hadn't been for everyone we met before, we wouldn't have the person we have now.

It's been said, and everyone has heard, there;s someone for everyone.

Some people believe in "The One."
That fabled one perfect person made just for them.
And some may think, "From the billions of people, how will I ever find that one?"
There's some truth to the old saying, though it isn't exactly like it seems.

Through all the mistakes of our previous relationships, we find what we like, and don't like, about the opposite sex.
At the same time learning to better ourselves, and be better, for the next.


Sometime, throughout the day, or week, or anytime really, take a minute and think about an ex, and what you learned from them.
Something that helped you get from them to now.

For me, maybe it was one that taught me what it meant to give without expecting anything in return, maybe it was the one that taught me laughing will ease stress from the tightest places, but if I had to pick only one, it would be the one that taught me to love like a child.

Mind always open, heart always new and fresh, like it's never been broken, and like it's never seen pain.
Ready for the new, mindful of the old, and strong.
Love like you've never loved before.

Everyday.


V.V.

Talking in Code or This Isn't Going to Work Anymore

I just want to touch on something briefly.

Well, a few things.



I got back with my running partner Chuck a few days ago, and I wanted to know if he'd found out any information about something I didn't want to talk about right then.

BUT, if I didn't say something about it, since it wasn't really important, I'd forget all about it.

So I pose the question, in a room full of people...

"Have you heard anything about the thing with the deal?" (Note: There is no deal, thing and deal substitute a person place or thing.)

And he replies, "No. He I haven't talked to him since then."



To the average person, this isn't enough information to know anything at all about anything, but when you're close to the people you work with, you pick up on things.



I've heard that women, when living together for a while, eventually begin their monthly cycle together.

I guess it's kinda like that.

After working in close proximity to a person for a while, you pick up on what they're doing.

At certain periods of the day, in The Hive, I can say, "I'm gonna go do the thing with the stuff."

Everyone knows what I'm gonna do,

Pass or kick trays, pass diet bags, smoke, potty break, wing walk, check the self-harm guys.

It could be almost anything, but they know what it is.



It extends past the Hive though.

We (and maybe everyone) can say something to that affect and be understood by others.

To an extent I don't understand.





I've been back since Wednesday.

I've spent 2 days at my assigned post.

If I count tomorrow, I'll be back 6 days, and in someone elses spot 4.

1/3 of my time spent away from my new job, at my old job.



I wouldn't mind this, but the higher-ups, in their infinite wisdom have told me to learn this new job before next week, because I'm gonna be the lead man really soon.

Wait...

Learn your job quick, in the day I leave you there, because even though it can't be learned in 6 months, we need you to have it down to an art and able to train others by next week.



But we're not gonna let you work there, you'll just have to learn it my osmosis.

You're on the camp, you should know it by now.



I've spent as much time on my new post as I did in the year and a half I spent on utility, roving the camp everyday.



Something is definitely wrong here.



But all I can do is sit around and complain.

What could I do more than bend over and take it up the tailpipe?



I could get formal, and throw some paper around, and I may...

But all it's really going to do is...


I have to be honest.
I started writing this, then the Internet went down on me (grin) and I don't know what I'm talking about anymore.

I wrote it all, but it didn't autosave it all.

So, whatever.

I'm basically alone on the desk tomorrow.
It's gonna be something.


Don't let 'em getcha.

V.V.

The First Day Back or No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

The day started out great.
Went to the doctor.
Got released back to full duty.
Spent some time with Bella.
Took a nice long shower alone.
That wasn't so great, but it's the first time I haven't needed help washing my armpits.
Went to work.
A little late but, I was there.
Anyway, when I get there, they tell me I'm going to the hospital.
Inmate #23752378 (random number) had a diabetic problem and needed help out.

So myself, the ass clown I wrote about in "Assistance is Futile," and another officer are watching over this guy while a nurse takes some blood and he says "I've gotta pee."
No big deal until...
The nurse gives him a plastic pee pot and he won't go.
It takes this nurse about less than 5 minutes to get tired of this and threaten (and use!) a catheter.
I thought there would be a slight downtime to get supplies ready.
Little did I know that they come pre-packaged now.
Pull this tab empty contents, clean and insert.
I'm already close because he's been less than helpful thus far.
Now I'm calling over the fellas to grab a hand (because I know he's not gonna want this) and maybe a shoulder.
Upon insertion, his hands move, he tries to sit up, and tries to pull his legs up to get away from "the tube."
Awesome.

Really the only eventful thing that happened with Inmate # 52987325.


Only a little while later, however, there's a little commotion outside the room.
A nurse calls for security.
I poke my head out the door.
She points down the hall.
I look, and wait.
No security.
She calls on the radio.
I look, and wait.
No security.

I can't wait anymore.
I gave security a chance.
I shouldn't go, I'm not covered by anyone if something happens.
But something is already happening.
Someone may be getting hurt.
You never know in a hospital.
My brain has already heard 10-5 (staff needs immediate assistance) twice.
Back on the ranch, if you're in a spot that needs someone, you have to stay.
But we're not on my ranch, and there's two other guys to watch Inmate VanWinkle (read: sleeping)

I grab the nearest phone booth, change into my blue tights, I can't find my cape though.
What to do, what to do...

The suit really doesn't pop without the cape but gosh, I think I left it back at the BatCave.
Oh, wait.
It's tangled up in the back of the pants.

OK.
On my way.
Officer 2 sees me moving and sends Officer 3 (the fake dog turd guy) to assist.
(I'd like to take this time to point out that O2 doesn't trust O3 enough to sit with a sleeping inmate, so he HAS to be sent with me.)
When I arrive on the scene, it's just a drunk pill popper, and he doesn't want help from the nurses trying to save his overdosing self.
So instead of cracking a skull (Which I really wanted to do.) all I got to do was talk this guy down, calm him, and explain the joys of life to him.
At some point in time a burly (read: useless) security guard shows up to watch me handle things.

Finally I gave Secure E. Guard the reins to the drunk and went back to my own little world.

It was only a 5.5/6 hour day, but for my first day back in 2 months, it was rather exciting.

After work, we (Bella and I) went to a friends house, came home, and went to sleep.

That's it.

Don't let 'em getcha.
V.V.

As Dumb as a Brick Stick or As Queer as a Football Bat

I was dreaming a little dream last night.

For some reason my mind has accepted things that don't make sense and just when I'm dreaming something great, my mind says, "This is too good to be true." and I wake up.

This was not the case last night.

I don't know what I dreamt this.

Turning of the season maybe.

Or maybe it was watching Little Shop of Horrors (1986 remake) last night.

Though I don't know what that would have to do with it.

Anyway I dreamt about football.

And football fanatics.

What woke me up from this travesty of a dream, was NOT the thought, "This is too good to be true."

Instead it was the thought of these idiot fanatics that talk about their "ball club" like there's a suit and tie dress code at some club house where they can go and sip caviar and eat martinis with their testicles hanging out for comparison.

"I belong to the local ball club."

What really gets me though is the way these people talk about it with each other, and have done so to the point that the local kids pick up on it and do radio interviews talking about their testicle taverns.

"We got a pretty good ball club. I think we could go all the way. Couple guys with real good hands and I really like the towel boy."

At dirty as this statement seems, it's all been said at some point or another.

What really gets to me though, is that fact that kids can't tie their own shoes yet and they're talking about how they've got a good ball club but just couldn't bring home the win tonight.

Texas is real bad for that.

Watch Varsity Blues, which is fiction, but also Friday Night Lights which is based on true events.

Both reputed to be in the top football movies of all time.

Both are high school level.

Both set in Texas.

Calm down Texas.

It's only a game.

How many kids have you brain washed into thinking football = life, then sent on to be plumbers or butt wipers, or some other non football related horse shit.

"Play football all your childhood, but you'll never be good enough to play professionally, then go clean up puke for a living the rest of your life."

I'm not concerned with the guys that play for fun.

Play just to play.

But these fanatics that only live to play a game that 9 times out of 10 won't get them anywhere.

Calm down.

That's why it's called a football GAME.

Yes, it's something to get excited about.

Yes, it's something to keep kids off drugs. (sometimes)

Yes, it's the only thing to do in a small town on Friday night.

But it's only a game.

Watch, I'll get hate mail for this too.

Jackass.

Don't let 'em getcha.

V.V.