Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Night after Snow

        This poem actually has three different themes to it. Sorry it is so vague, it seems like that is the only way I can organize my thoughts.




Inspiration retires with the black and white
In the cold and frostless dark.
Of the wind in the screens and afflictive dreams
A tale is torn apart.

Stars will appear, indifferent but near,
With their rogues spinning freely down.
Shadows rewind with the passage of time
As the moon curves its path through the sky.

The seeping freeze claws an entrance within,
Pricking privacy’s comfort apart.
A sigh steals the silence and takes it to heaven
The chair frees its company and cools.

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Let it begin! Let it begin!

The Air Force will be stationing my family and me in Mountain Home, Idaho, our first choice! We’ll be living right by the mountains and the Snake River, in a small town of a few thousand people, and we are SO EXCITED! I think this video sums it up for me:


Saturday, December 5, 2009

After My Morning: Colorado Coalition for the Homeless



Metal turned to ice during the night, creaking open with a loud crack as I pulled on my truck’s door handle. An eighth of an inch of frozen dew coated every window, its translucency vague as light particles wiggled through the multiple layers of uneven ice. At -3 degrees Farenheit and a windchill of -12, this was a morning on which I shouldn’t have been running late; after several turns, the truck awoke with a slow, groggy rumble and exhaust sputtered from the pipe.

The ice resisted my removal efforts, and subsequent pitchers of water seemed to freeze again and again on a windshield now as much ice as glass. Finally, fast-acting windshield wipers helped the water from the pitcher slide off before crystallizing, and I was ready to go. With both windows rolled down for visibility to my right and my left, 4-wheel drive kicked in as I drove down our white lane toward the freeway entrance.

The drive to Catholic Charities was as cold, or maybe even colder, than it sounds. My hood and driving gloves were all that saved me from turning into a living ice sculpture, but the hurry was justified when my cohort and I arrived downtown with only a minute or two to spare.

Over 16,000 people experience homelessness on the narrow streets, bridges, and trails of Denver, Colorado. For some of them, alcohol and drugs are both the rescue and the curse; for others, rejection, mental illness, and past histories prevent them from being able to function past the cobblestones and the shelters. It is with this population I have been working over the past month, through the Colorado Coalition for the Homeless.

Colorado Coalition for the Homeless is the first-step organization that helps homelessness find a cure. Case managers essentially become the lifeblood for men and women who are ready to be housed again, who need medical or psychological treatment, or who are unable to perform simple tasks of life by themselves. One of those case managers, a marriage and family therapist with over 20 years of experience, describes her group of homeless as being “for the first time, probably in their entire lives…..being looked at in their eyes by someone else recognizing that they, too, are human beings.” Years pile into the eyes of many of these formerly homeless individuals, testifying of thousands of days of abuse, neglect, and physical or emotional violence that eventually turned into self-abuse, self-neglect, and emotional self-destruction.

Seventeen thousand dollars a year will house a homeless person and provide him or her with a case manager. Otherwise, a city will spend over $100,000 per year housing a homeless person through ERs, jails, and other areas. The famous Million-dollar Murray of Las Vegas was the inspiration needed to begin real programs to help the homelessness at the root of the condition: housing. Though perhaps to our shame, homelessness is only addressed at a systems level after years of exorbitant costs flooding our current system.

At the coalition, small victories are the ones celebrated by a cohesive team of charitable workers. When the situation of a client improves enough for the person to live independently, they are graduated from the program. If the person never graduates from the program, that is okay too. Though alcoholism is still rampant, few of these formerly chronically homeless individuals still use drugs, and most are working harder than you or I would understand to improve their life situations.

The past four weeks were a good experience for me. At first, I did not really understand how a person could work long-term with a population that seemingly did not want or use the help being offered to them; when I inquired of the workers, they all expressed sentiment. One said “I have waited my entire life to find this type of job; now, I will never go back.” Another stated “I have to be creative with each person. Normally, we use tools to complete our work; in this business, we are the tools. The small victories are what we look for, everything from a person holding a job and paying his rent on time to another not inflicting violence on those around her.” Though frustration, hardship, and sometimes illness are simply a part of their vocations, the case managers are all upbeat and seem completely nonjudgmental of those around them.

This morning, I prayed that I would never forget these homeless people with whom I have worked over the past month. I hope I will never walk along the sidewalk and pass a homeless man sleeping on the ground without making sure he is still alive. I hope I will always feel the need that these people have of being respected, of being understood, and of being viewed as children of God. Too often, we determine the worth of those around us by the choices they have made; instead, perhaps we should focus on determining our own worth, and realizing that in our imperfect circumstances God has deigned to caress our lives with the care and love of eternity. Can we not remember the worth of souls, of bodies and spirits united together?
Mosiah 4:17-21, The Book of Mormon

17. Perhaps thou shalt say: The man has brought upon himself his misery; therefore I will stay my hand, and will not give unto him of my food, nor impart unto him of my substance that he may not suffer, for his punishments are just—
18 But I say unto you, O man, whosoever doeth this the same hath great cause to repent; and except he repenteth of that which he hath done he perisheth forever, and hath no interest in the kingdom of God.
19 For behold, are we not all beggars? Do we not all depend upon the same Being, even God, for all the substance which we have, for both food and raiment, and for gold, and for silver, and for all the riches which we have of every kind?
20 And behold, even at this time, ye have been calling on his name, and begging for a remission of your sins. And has he suffered that ye have begged in vain? Nay; he has poured out his Spirit upon you, and has caused that your hearts should be filled with joy, and has caused that your mouths should be stopped that ye could not find utterance, so exceedingly great was your joy.
21 And now, if God, who has created you, on whom you are dependent for your lives and for all that ye have and are, doth grant unto you whatsoever ye ask that is right, in faith, believing that ye shall receive, O then, how ye ought to impart of the substance that ye have one to another.

Monday, November 30, 2009

Soon to Post

Okay, so it's been a long year. And I'm done this Friday, clinicals and all; the only thing that remains is processing for the USAF, NCLEX, and Utah application for licensure. It was pretty sad to be in class for the last day with my Group C from Regis. Soon, I'm going to start posting again on this blog.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Nowadays

So, it’s almost two A.M. and I am awake (I just woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep a few minutes ago). I’ve decided to write a little something on here about what’s been going on lately, since I seem to abandoned every sense of my writing self in the last several months.
Senior practicum has been filled with placing, maintaining, and discontinuing every type of tube imaginable in a patient; my experience thus far has been very positive, and I have a good time with my preceptor and the other nurses on the floor. Matter of fact, this is by far the most fun I’ve had in nursing during this entire year! That’s probably because my preceptor (Danny) is so hilarious without ever seeming upset or judgmental about anything.
Otherwise, I hopefully get the truck back tomorrow from the shop it went to after the head-on collision. I’m excited to have it back, not so excited to be driving it around town though; I feel like a paranoid driver now, not comfortable with other drivers on the road. It’s weird, because the accident itself wasn’t traumatizing; the effect is traumatizing, where now I try to never have to change lanes or I’ll double back in order to avoid thinking too quickly on the road, or how I seem to hate turning left anymore or can’t stop thinking about other people turning left in front of me. It doesn’t make me a better driver, that’s for sure; it just makes me paranoid. I wonder how to get rid of that feeling….

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

New Pictures

I posted a few new pictures at the bottom of the blog....

Monday, July 20, 2009

Missin' You


Morning glow of the un-risen sun
Sounds in the whir of white plastic blades
Empty beside me, nothing to say.
Bleak of the walls stares down to my face.
Too long without you, the time doesn’t pass
Thoughts of the games and the days that we have.
Love you as always, miss your little smiles
Want to hear my little man’s talk and see the funny way he walks.
I hope you know I love you all the same
In every little, quirky old way.

Brushing

The sound of brushing, faintly heard
Surrounding silence invites the peace.
Some walls straight, some walls blind, leave a trail of whitened wood
Times for reflections here are stirred.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Car's Fixed!

Our car is fixed! I think that it was just being a little slow deciding to finally take the plunge toward proper functioning. I changed the spark plugs, cleaned the throttle body, cleaned the fuel system, changed the brakes, and replaced the spark plugs again (they’d given me the wrong type). And now it finally works properly! So that is good news.
I am plugging along in this mundane year of nursing school. Every day brings with it a renewed sense of complete classroom boredom, but in roughly 20 weeks I will be finished with my classes and receiving my BSN degree. I can hardly wait!
Stephanie, Braeden and I haven’t been on very many adventures lately, unless you include seeing an enormous rat snake over by the Platte River. Stephanie and Braed are flying to Utah this week; I’m staying here because of school and I’m working part-time mowing lawns and helping take care of rental properties. Yesterday I mowed a couple of lawns, and my hands feel like they’ve been shaken half to death from the several hours I spent pushing a lawnmower over grass that needed some serious chopping.
Anyway, that’s my boring blog entry. I figured I should at least put something in here, since it’s been so long!

Monday, June 8, 2009

A Few Reflections

Last night, I was working in the ED of The Children’s Hospital. We had a number of trauma patients, all of them of Hispanic ethnicity and many of them in pretty serious condition. I stood by their bedsides, using stacks of gauze and liters of saline solutions as I irrigated and cleaned the crusted and caked blood that covered the children, victims of irresponsible driving, dangerous animals, or simple accident. I don’t know how to say this…..there is just something special about being able to help families and individuals in trouble.

I am at peace with my chosen career. School is sometimes filled with busywork, nurses can be the biggest backbiters, and hours can be long and hard, but somehow I feel a certain sense of satisfaction about the fact that as a nurse I will always have the opportunity to learn a little more patience, a little more calmness, and a little more empathy.

Yesterday was the fifth clinical day in a row, making a grand total of 80 hours of clinical rotations and classroom time throughout last week. It’s made me pretty tired, and I suppose that in my fatigue I feel a lot older than I am. There is a song playing quietly in the background of my computer, sung by Trace Adkins called “Then They Do.” It makes me think of how quickly the time goes.

Enjoy the moments, everyone. It’s all about enjoying the journey. This week, if you see a pretty view when you’re driving somewhere, why not stop and enjoy it for a few moments? Take a look at the beautiful creations around you, give a smile to somebody who may not be smiling himself. We’ll always miss the things we took for granted, but we’ll never take for granted the moments we do not miss. I love you all! I miss you, Mom and Dad. Rachel, Emily, Daniel, Blake, you are the best siblings a man could ever have. Stephanie, you’re the reason I love life so much; Braeden, you are the reason I treasure life so much!

Saturday, May 23, 2009

Time Warp, Ankle Anger, and Boulder Dreams

This week I got a little ahead of myself….on Wednesday, I thought it was Thursday. Thursday then seemed to be Friday, and Friday was Saturday. I was about to finish preparing my lesson for church the next day when Stephanie informed me that it was only FRIDAY, not Saturday, and I was utterly confused. I’d gone three whole days without knowing what day it was! But that was okay, since I ended up feeling like the recipient of some sort of Time Bonus, getting an entire extra day in the week to do whatever it is that I do.

That’s what happens when all of my friends are in clinical and I’m just chillin’ at home, still unable to walk on my cursed right foot without pretty bad pain. My patience is gone, but I’m still trying to provide my ankle with a bit of a rest so that the swelling subsides from my severe ankle sprain. Last night I woke up all in a sweat, worried out of my mind that my ankle wasn’t going to heal properly and my USAF plans, Regis course completions, and general activities would be drastically affected. I obviously did some serious damage to the ankle vasculature (probably due to the fact that I was so far away when I sprained it, resulting in a long time period between the incident and being able to rest, ice, compress, and elevate my ankle. Made for a heck of a lot more swelling), so I’ve still got pitting edema and a very swollen ankle even 10 days later. Luckily, no fractures, and the doctor thinks everything is at least partially intact. My question is this, though….tendons attach muscles to bone, right? And ligaments attach bones to bones, which means that by testing my ability to evert, invert, dorsiflex and plantar-flex my foot the doctor was actually only testing my tendons, not my ligaments. So now what happens? I suppose I wait another week and see if this swelling gets better and allows me to walk more easily. If not, I’m demanding an MRI and I’m getting a new doctor.

Okay, so after an hour of laying awake, I finally convinced my brain to allow for a bit of REM sleep. I ended up having a dream that in a ridiculous attempt to celebrate the signing of the Declaration of Independence, I hauled a ginormous boulder up a mountain in our little Rav4 (this was definitely a dream, since the car practically rolls backward just trying to ascend small hills). Well, for some reason I left the car out of gear….next thing I knew, I was watching our most important possession careen down a cobblestone road (yes, it was cobblestone) and off the edge of a precipice. After the boulder smashed everything of the car’s interior, the engine suddenly erupted in a fiery explosion of gasoline, oil, and compressed pressure, and all I could think was “My cell phone!”

Moral of the story: don’t celebrate July 4th by hauling boulders up a mountain in your car. Rolling ‘em down the mountainside is over-rated. And cell phones are the devil.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Laaazy-butt

So, this week has been terribly exciting for me. My friend (his name is Right Foot) managed to try to get himself killed on some ridiculous sidewalk, leaving me on crutches for a while and some amazingly colorful bruises painted around my ankle and toes. Right Foot looks like he belongs to a blotchy-purple Shrek now, or maybe Barney, because he’s been quite swollen for a few days now.

Let’s see, now, what else has happened this week…..I found out this morning that I seem to have lost any ability of making finite movements with my left foot. You see, today was the first time I’ve been able to drive our stickshift (his name is Maxim Omar, a Toyota Rav4), and since Right Foot is still quite sore from his fight with the cement I decided to try braking with my left foot. That idea ended as soon as I realized that our car doesn’t have anti-lock brakes (you wouldn’t believe how suddenly I can stop the car if I use my left foot. There’s nothing in between a stop and a go, no “slowing down.”).

Well, Stephanie went to enjoy helping Braeden get his shots….hopefully she won’t realize that I wrote this while she was gone, since I promised to be studying dutifully throughout the afternoon. In reality, I just didn’t want Braeden to associate the pain of his injections with his father. Let’s face it: Moms have innumerable opportunities to make up to their children for putting them through so much misery. I didn’t bring him to get his shots because I wanted to preserve a budding relationship, it had nothing to do with being a lazy-butt.

Speaking of being a lazy-butt, I had a patient once who was as deaf as a post. His wife was deaf, too, and I would go through heck trying to communicate with those two. Anyway, every time I entered his room he would see my name-tag and in a drawling, extremely loud voice he told me “Ben? My son-in-law’s name is Ben. He’s a laaaazy-butt!” If you can imagine how many times I entered his room throughout the day (at least 20 times a day), then you’ll be able to figure out how many times I got to hear about his lazy-butt son-in-law. Also, he would tell me that his driveway was made of 8-inches of thick concrete. Yeah, I’m not sure he got out much….

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Monster Squirrels

So, we now have a little cucumber and tomato plant (well, actually that would be two plants….I’m not sure they sell the hybrid version) growing in our old laundry bucket out back. I still need to poke holes in the bottom to prevent root rot, but I’m having trouble convincing myself that it is acceptable to destroy the water-holding capacity of such a nice, faithful bucket; it has served me and my car on many an occasion. Ahh, the sadness to see it go! It’s like neutering your dog….you know he’ll still be your dog, but some things may never be the same!

I read on an extremely good website (ehow.com) that tomatoes need 6-8 hours of sunlight per day to maintain optimal growth, and I think that I must be a distant relative of the tomato plant. I mean, I actually think that I need closer to 10 hours of sunlight per day to maintain optimal-ness, but unfortunately I spend most of my time squeezed into a desk, trying to prevent the uncomfortable feeling of having the circulation in my legs cut off right above the knee for hours at a time. If I die of a blood clot, it was because whoever designed the seats at Regis University must have grown up attending a school that drove him insane with its terrible seating. This designer is now sitting in a LaZ-Boy somewhere, heaving great guffaws about how miserable he has made the lives of thousands of over-studied, over-charged, and over-SAT students at Regis. I hope his LaZ-Boy makes him morbidly obese and that he dies of complications related to GERD (I have GERD).

Anyway, I’m watching the sunrise and this monster squirrel is climbing the fencepost outside of our house. Colorado does not grow normal squirrels; these are mutant killer squirrels. I am constantly being startled by their violent jabbering on campus, and I swear the other day one JUMPED at me from his tree! They’re like those rabbits in Monte Python, you know the ones that are huge and end up eating the knights and killing them by biting their jugular veins? These squirrels are going to do the same thing. Where are all of the predatory animals when you need them? HELLO, WE HAVE A SQUIRREL PROBLEM!

So, in lieu of something constructive, I leave you to ponder the meaning of life, especially since we know that at any moment the squirrels could unite, attack, and leave us gasping for air as our jugular veins bleed. In the end, we’ll be lying on our backs in an acorn-chip-strewn field, staring up as the evil squirrels gather ‘round and gaze their monstrous faces into our eyes.

P.S. Don’t come to Colorado. Run for your lives.

Thursday, May 7, 2009

Skylights

Not too long ago, I was driving into the mountain roads north-west of Denver. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining and the temperature was—well, perfect. And, of course, I was in the perfect mood….especially after jamming down to the Eli Young band singing “Always the Love Songs” in my little Rav4.
A lot of days have been like that one over the past couple of months; I find myself sitting at home or riding my road bike, all the while experiencing some sort of emotional high while I gulp in the sensations of watching Braeden throw a blanket over his face to “hide” and then throwing it down to his tummy with an enormous, mouth-open-wide grin on his face, or observing a heron’s body slowly raise itself straight up and down to slow its flight before breaking the smooth surface of Clear Creek.
Today was interesting, probably because a man working on our roof accidentally fell through our bathroom ceiling. Yes, that’s what I said. I was taking a nap with Braeden when Stephanie came in the room and told me that she had just watched a man’s leg smash straight through our bathroom ceiling, releasing a veritable deluge of moldy-looking insulation, pain chips, and sheetrock all over the bathroom and into the hallway. They eventually cleaned up most of the mess, and I drilled a big piece of pressboard to the ceiling to seal our new skylight against any overly-interesting roof critters.
I’m working on my application to join the United States Air Force. I am so excited! I figure this type of opportunity only comes when you’re young, so I’m going for it with all I’ve got. I’ve been running and biking every day for the last week or so, preparing for the medical exam for which I’ve got to lose three or four pounds to meet the qualifications. I’ve got huge blisters on both feet from a bad arch in my shoes, but they’ll go away eventually.
Any other interesting things going on around here...nope

Monday, May 4, 2009

Break's Up

Glenwood, Utah sits in a tiny valley surrounded by low mountains that rise quickly to cut into the blue sky with their brown ridges. Beyond those hills is a massive giant known as Cove Mountain, and last Tuesday it loomed particularly large while I trudged along a dirt trail leading to the Glenwood Fish Hatchery. Cove Mountain seemed to taunt my instincts as I walked, and I contemplated the possibility of someday climbing to its peak. As I continued, I decided that the opportunity probably wouldn’t come again for several years. I had an apple, an orange, and a liter of water in my black German medic shoulder bag, which seemed to be sufficient as long as I made it to the snow line where I could melt some snow for water.
The first thing to fail was the shirt on my back. It is a black, long-sleeved sports shirt that wicks away the sweat and is made for temperatures of below 60 degrees Farenheit. Today was much warmer than that, probably closer to 80 degrees, so I stowed my shirt and decided to hurry so that I didn’t get too sunburned as I went up the mountain.
Four hours later, I stared at the enormous expanse of southern-Utah valleys, encased on the opposite side by cliffs painted red and yellow by thousands of nature’s years. I hadn’t reached the summit, but if I didn’t turn back soon then I was sure that my good friend Dehydration would eventually catch up to me. I jogged back to the house and this hike turned out to be the best and only hike I have done so far this year….
On another note, my last day of “break” was spent in a rather “creatively planned” clinical (meaning the hospital couldn’t give us enough hours) that involved babysitting developmentally disabled children for 9 hours. It was a growing experience, but I did manage to get half of my head literally drenched in saliva from one of the participants….I can’t block the memory of the shirt-staining drool oozing down the left side of my head and onto my ear.
Back to school, now!

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

My Dysfunctional Life Pattern

So, every morning I get up really early. I go into the bathroom to take a shower, and out of pure habit and a decreased mental state I usually turn on the water and immediately pull the “converter” to make the water shoot out of the showerhead. The problem is that I usually still have my head bent over the bathtub, so I get completely doused with freezing water and end up sputtering and gasping for air as I try to escape the icy deluge. It’s quite the accidental wake-up technique, and I know that normal people would learn to pull back before switching the water track but I seem to be immune to such normal behaviors. It happens to me about three times a week, and I don’t see myself getting any more intelligenter in the future.
I decided two days ago that life was not worth living in a constant state of mental anguish caused by my nursing instructors. I took an exam yesterday, and for the first time this entire year I turned in my finished copy without first discussing with her the various “mistakes” on the test (sometimes I think she rode the short bus as a child). Kudos to myself for trying to not always be anal, right?
Anyway, life is going well since I decided that some classes just aren’t worth the stress. I’ve been spending more time with Steph and Braeden, who are quite the characters. Braeden and I went exploring the other day around the house, hunting for buried treasure. He held my little LED road bike flashlight, I carried the “gun,” map, and a protective paintball mask while we searched the downstairs. Stephanie kept getting on our cases because she was trying to cook in the pitch-black (Braeden and I wouldn’t let her turn on the lights; that wouldn’t have felt very realistic), but we were more than happy to help her see with the use of our flashlight. For some reason, though, Braeden liked to have the flashlight on “disco mode,” and the spinning illumination finally drove Steph batty and she essentially told us that if we didn’t stop then she just might have to sell us to the garbage-man. Lucky for us, though, we had just found our buried treasure; it was remarkably similar to the green fishing net I have in the closet. What a weird coincidence, huh?
That’s my dysfunctional life pattern, and I’m stickin’ to it.

Friday, February 20, 2009

Ten reasons why I love my wife:

Ten reasons why I love my wife:
1. She can find anything around the house (I lose everything)
2. She threatens me on an hourly basis
3. She recounts every dream she has in the morning
4. She is obsessed with Diet Dr. Pepper but refrains from buying it very much
5. She gossips to 3-month old Braeden, usually beginning with “Braeden, there’s something you need to know about your dad….”
6. She listens to middle-school teenage girl music (as far as I can tell, that phase doesn’t end for most girls until they turn 26, after which they still listen to it because it is nostalgic for them)
7. She doesn’t text on dates. She just calls people
8. She reads my blog and makes comments
9. She loves holidays and is constantly trying to get me to join her festivities
10. She has racy chats with me on instant messenger (did I just tell people that??)

In short, she’s wonderful. I love coming home to her every day; the longer we’re married, the more I love being with her. Unless she is trying to give me purple nurples; I keep telling her that she’s going to cause me to get breast cancer, and that will be very embarrassing.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

My Alternate Lifestyle

I recently decided that the plural form of “fox” must be “foxen.” That sounds right, so don’t try to dissuade me. I have seen many foxen over the last few days, usually on my frigid, romantic sunrise walks by myself each morning. Stephanie has abandoned me for a week, hopefully not because she feels that our chemistry has turned to toxic waste. Lol. Just kidding, she went to visit her other family in Utah. I’m supposed to be getting a lot of schoolwork done while she’s gone, but in reality I am just eating a lot of ice cream and bananas. They’re good, by the way.
I am, once again, changing my life plan. Nursing is too dominated by women. I have instead decided to become an international spy. This way I can get rich, retire early, and still be incredibly cool while applying my nursing techniques to the people around me who seem to frequently take bullets, but not the same types of silver bullets that nurses use. I have hereby decided to be a spy. I wonder if they offer that major at Regis University….guess I’ll have to check it out. I’ll just work on being cool and calm in the meantime.
Anyway, don’t worry about me when my identity suddenly changes and nobody can find me. Just know that I’m daringly walking to death’s door each day in my new career. Matter of fact, just act like nothing’s happened; it’s what I do.
The End.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Backdrop's Blind

It’s there, it’s somewhere inside this head of mine. I just can’t tear it out without ripping out the roots. I’ve always got so much to say, but I’m never able to just dump my soul’s contents on the table like that; it always has to be basted in some sort of situational sauce that keeps me comfortable. That’s one reason why I like to write these stupid poems. They get it off my chest, they’re crammed with my own personal expression and meaning that only I can know. It’s like a parable that’s never really meant to be understood except by the producer.

Background’s tinkle, backdrop’s blind
Overcast sighs and tears in your eyes
Gist of a chronicle too young to be told
Furrows too thin, but lines are yet old.
Perhaps time appreciates a modest disruption
Ardor’s incentive to finish its junction.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Please Don't Be a Hater

For the record, the previous post was completely a joke and I really am planning something special for Stephanie, and I have very much enjoyed Valentine's Day since I've been married. I do admit that I'm a Scrooge in some areas, but anyone who knows me also knows that I can be very romantic and considerate at least one day per year (Valentine's Day). Yes. Please don't be a hater. Stephanie, I love you!

Valentines and Veracity

Ok, so my brother recently began a blog filled with his inconsistent memories (he claims them to be authentic because he was so anal-retentive that he kept a journal EVERY DAY since he was like four or something). Well, to be fair I decided that I should write a couple of events myself, though my memory isn't quite as intact as it once was (I think Ecuadorian ameobas ate my brain cells for lunch while I was taking illegal siestas on the mission). However, I am not going to write one today just because I have a test in the morning and I need to study. Plus my wife is talking to me from the bathroom and I can't focus.
So, tomorrow is National Single Awareness Day. I remember a time when I would scramble for a date on this holiday. Okay, tomorrow isn't, but my wife has designated as our “Valentine's Day” because she is abandoning me for a week to visit her folks. I keep telling her that she should ask her sisters to be her valentines; I mean, she's going to be with them after all. Anyway, I have planned something extremely special for us to do and have an amazing gift for Stephanie, because Valentine's Day is a very important holiday and I consider it to be an important predictor of our eternal relationship's success.
All joking aside (was I joking??), if there is anybody out there with a particular suggestion in the next twelve hours of what we should do for Valentine's Day, please comment on this blog. Actually, I don't really think anybody reads my blog, because nobody ever comments, but that's probably due to the fact that my discussions are either way too soap-boxy (which I think scares people away) or they are just poems that are completely incoherent to the average person (actually, more like to every person except for me. I think they are wonderful, but then again the other day I was holding a conversation with an extremely long arm-hair of mine that I had named Alexander; Stephanie eventually ripped him apart).
Ok, this blog is done but I just wanted to insist that I love Valentine's Day. Nothing quite beats spending money on pink paper and giving caffeine-laced chocolate to your wife. Gotta admit though, I just about have the dry heaves when I walk through the purple-plastered candy aisle in Wal-Mart. Kudos to St. Valentine, the saint of love (but haven't Catholics historically believed that the highest form of reverence is through celibacy? What did this Valentine person know about love?).

Saturday, February 7, 2009

Panorama Incomplete

Cold-pricked ridge, jagged shards of bluff
Back across the boulder rough.
Immeasurable lights draft development's design
Distance muffles civilization's whine.
Nature's oblivion crushes the grip of inclination
Invisible tremors quaver my affection.
Camera's tremors cloud combination's clarity
Hazed ring of fire encircles my feet.
Person intact, panorama incomplete.

Sunday, January 18, 2009

You Can Always Make It to the Top

Recently I've started biking with a group of true, hard-core road cyclists who are taking me to my limits every Thursday and Saturday. Yesterday it was a 40-mile bike ride, culminating with an 8-mile mountain climb to the top of a peak overlooking the entire Denver area and a good part of the Rockies.
We had made the climb on Thursday as well, and since I was sore from that trip I wasn't sure if I would be able to make it. I mentioned it to my buddy Sam, and he said something that could probably be applied to a lot of situations: “You can always make it to the top.” Well, I did it, and I'll do it again this week, because it's all about heart. We've got the strength, we've got the guts to make it to the top; we've just got to believe it. When our last little bit of energy is spent, we turn around and realize that we've got tons of energy stored up for that very moment, that all we have to do is let ourselves dig it up. The only way to find your limits is to push yourself so far that you realize that you set your own. That's why we get up every day and study. That's why we keep doing whatever necessary to live our lives and become better people. That's why Jesus Christ showed us he had no limits, because he wants us to realize that our limits are in our minds, that we have no idea how great we could become .

Friday, January 16, 2009

Annoyed

So, today I spent a long time on the phone with a woman who works for the Department of Human Services in Colorado. Let's spell the situation out for you: I am taking 20 credit hours per semester in nursing school, and cannot work. Stephanie is at home, currently looking for a part-time job in which she could continue to care for Braeden, two months old. We have no income. Health insurance costs about $350 per month for our family for plans with a $2,000 deductible, which means that we are currently underinsured or not insured at all.
I disagree with our current health care system. I think it is a robbery. I wish everybody had quality health care, and that there was no such thing as health insurance to cover the costs of healthcare, that it was just another business. Instead, it is a business that robs insurance companies blind, who in turn rob their clients blind, who finally have to turn to government for aid in programs that are robbing everyone in the United States and putting our country in insurmountable debt.
Well, starting in January of next year we'll be paying for our own healthcare, one way or another, once I graduate from school. For the next twelve months, we are applying for Braeden to be covered with Medicaid so that he can continue to receive healthcare. We will also spend the rest of our lives paying at least 6% toward FICA and “Social Security” to fund the welfare and Medicaid programs.
The phone conversation was very indicative of how our government works: apparently, federal loans intended to pay for tuition costs qualify as “income.” Now, I'm positive that if I could somehow speak with the right person (someone who speaks English and has been in the country for more than 2 years), I would be able to help him see that those loans are different than income. If a person went and applied for food stamps, and the worker asked if they had any credit cards and received an affirmative answer, then the worker is most likely not going to say “Well, then! Just use those for food! Why are you applying for food stamps if you have credit cards?”. That is basically what I'm getting from the social worker, because I have the option of receiving all the loans that my little heart could possibly wish for, regardless of the fact that if I actually did so then I would be paying 50% of my paycheck for ten years after graduation.
You see, this is the entire of having government pushed into every part of our system; while there are benefits, like receiving healthcare for a child (well, not that we qualified, but you get my meaning) when unemployed, we have to be okay with the fact that whatever moron on shift that day is running our lives. Let's face it; if the government hadn't guaranteed student loans to everyone, it would be virtually impossible for colleges to be charging so much tuition because none of the students could afford it, which means that I wouldn't be in the situation of not being able to live without some sort of loan, which apparently disqualify me from receiving the same aid I have been paying for over the course of the past ten years (yes, everyone pays FICA and SS; nobody is exempt except for our upcoming treasurer, according to his track record).
Yes, I'm in a somewhat terrible mood about this. Fine. We'll play the game. We'll suffer the loss in origination fees, but we'll pay back our loans that were originally meant for tuition in two months. But next year, I'm going to learn so much about the loopholes of paying taxes that the government is going to be grappling thin air in an attempt to bury us. Thanks, social worker, for helping me see the light; now, go fetch.

Saturday, January 10, 2009



Hello, world! Braeden has recently taken to flipping himself over at will, from his stomach to his back. Good job Braeden!

Friday, January 9, 2009

Ah, Fort Arvada it is!

Ok, so it's been a really long time since I've written on here, mostly because of the hectic moving atmosphere and adjusting to a new place in my life. Right now, I'm listening to a wonderful song by Faith Hill (yes I'm a nerd), and appreciating how much art is involved in song-writing. Speaking of song-writing, we somehow acquired a copy of David Archuleta's new CD, and I was dismally disappointed. The songs aren't him. They're obviously written by someone else, most of them have virtually no meaning whatsoever, and I think it is a disgusting waste of his incredible talent. What good is it to have the best voice in the world if you're not expressing yourself when you sing? I mean, seriously, a meaningful song performed by a nine-year-old is better than an empty deluge of pre-teen fantasies.
Ok, off my little rant. Things are great here in Fort Arvada, right next to Fort Denver (I've decided to prefix every Colorado location with the word “fort”). I made a bet with Steph yesterday that I'd beat her to the next city on my road bike, but was robbed the victory by a ludicrously busy hill the size of Mount Timpanogas that forced me to the dirt roadside. I was riding over 40 miles per hour going down the other side, which should tell you at least something about how bit this hill was. Nevertheless, it put me behind schedule and I made the 12 mile bike ride in more time than it took my wife to drive through traffic. Rats.
I took a walk the day before, nearly taking a swing at a man who startled me so bad I thought I was going to faint from the change in blood pressure. You see, I was trolling along with Braeden in the ATV (meaning his $140 stroller) and this guy comes jogging up beside me, under a bridge, wearing dark clothing and a black hood over his head. This is Denver, guys, and the graffiti combined with my normally jumpy self contributed to the scare that pushed its way out of my chest in the form of an Indian yelp. I actually think I may have startled the jogger as much as vice versa.
Last item: once upon a time, there was a place in Tennessee named Lafayette. Unfortunately, the residents there were fifth-generation folks whose ancestors never spoke French in the first place, so the name had somehow become twisted to be “La-FAY-et,” as in “That woman, La Fay is her name, et it!” If one ever attempted to pronounce the city's name correctly, any nearby loyal, law-abiding citizens would immediately jump on the correct-the-stranger wagon, and thus the city is not known by its original pronunciation.
End of the story is that Arvada is pronounced with the “a” as in “add.” Thus, arvAda is our new home, bright and beautiful. I washed and waxed our car three days ago and it snowed today. Thanks, weather-man, I'm going to egg your house tomorrow. Merry New Year, everyone!