25 August 2011
68 Days Till Halloween
If I hadn't gone the countdown to Halloween/horror retrospective route for this new period of People Are Afraid To Merge in LA, I was planning on a generalized discussion of DVD favorites, both past and present. Every so often I go on kicks of watching previously popular and subsequently off-the-air television shows with a special emphasis on the prime time soaps of the late seventies and eighties, and recent weeks have been no exception as I've been requesting entire collections of several of my favorites to have on as background noise while I worked to re-copy notes for my new position as Office Manager at Family Dentistry and took steps to organize and prepare myself for the newly arrived fall semester. I made it through the first two seasons of Knots Landing, a tv show that I found during its original syndication the summer following my freshman year in high school, fell in love with sometime during its re-airing of the third season, and then proceeded to watch in its entirety, setting my VCR to record the daily episodes that continued for the duration of my sophomore year at Caddo Parish Magnet High School.
I'd never known the joy of the nighttime soaps when they originally aired, but my love for the medium helped cement my friendship with Bijal Patel and the two of us fell in love with the nineties counterparts that seemed to center around the denizens of 1601 Melrose Place and pretty much everything that starred Heather Locklear and/or Tori Spelling. Unfortunately, it seems that the releasing of other seasons of Knots Landing beyond Sid Fairgate's fateful drive through the cliffside canyons of the Los Angeles suburb and his sister, Abby's, sudden discover that her ex-husband has kidnapped her two children are uncertain. Although I enjoy having the lives and loves of the Carrington clan on as background noise, it's just not as great as listening to the somewhat more realistic goings-on with those crazy LA-ers such as the pill-popping do-gooder Karen, the ever-victimized Valene, constantly relapsing Gary, and the Shakespearean-inspired Greg Sumner. I'm hoping to start re-amassing a worthy collection at some point, but I find that when I watch such programming, said programming and its format seems to run my taste in everything else; therefore, I'm only too pleased to let the Dynasty, Dallas, Falcon Crest, and Knots Landing boxed sets gather a little dust while I settle in for a long, comfortable ride with my one great joy, the world of horror fandom.
Tonight, I've decided to begin with a favorite that only fell into my sights and interests in late 2004 when Bravo originally aired its 100 Scariest Movie Moments and I saw a documentary on the master of Italian horror, Mario Bava. Prior to 2004, I'd never heard of the man nor any of his films, but I have yet to feel let down by any of his offerings.
I'm popping Blood and Black Lace into my laptop's DVD-R drive now and I'm hoping that its swanky opening theme moves me to keep going on the attainment of the goals I've set for achievement tonight...
I'd never known the joy of the nighttime soaps when they originally aired, but my love for the medium helped cement my friendship with Bijal Patel and the two of us fell in love with the nineties counterparts that seemed to center around the denizens of 1601 Melrose Place and pretty much everything that starred Heather Locklear and/or Tori Spelling. Unfortunately, it seems that the releasing of other seasons of Knots Landing beyond Sid Fairgate's fateful drive through the cliffside canyons of the Los Angeles suburb and his sister, Abby's, sudden discover that her ex-husband has kidnapped her two children are uncertain. Although I enjoy having the lives and loves of the Carrington clan on as background noise, it's just not as great as listening to the somewhat more realistic goings-on with those crazy LA-ers such as the pill-popping do-gooder Karen, the ever-victimized Valene, constantly relapsing Gary, and the Shakespearean-inspired Greg Sumner. I'm hoping to start re-amassing a worthy collection at some point, but I find that when I watch such programming, said programming and its format seems to run my taste in everything else; therefore, I'm only too pleased to let the Dynasty, Dallas, Falcon Crest, and Knots Landing boxed sets gather a little dust while I settle in for a long, comfortable ride with my one great joy, the world of horror fandom.
Tonight, I've decided to begin with a favorite that only fell into my sights and interests in late 2004 when Bravo originally aired its 100 Scariest Movie Moments and I saw a documentary on the master of Italian horror, Mario Bava. Prior to 2004, I'd never heard of the man nor any of his films, but I have yet to feel let down by any of his offerings.
I'm popping Blood and Black Lace into my laptop's DVD-R drive now and I'm hoping that its swanky opening theme moves me to keep going on the attainment of the goals I've set for achievement tonight...
24 August 2011
69 Days and Nights Dedicated to the Greatest Holiday on the Calendar and the Most Captivating Time of the Year...
I'm hoping that the latest topic that is now taking over my blog is one that will really hold my interest and keep me posting. After all, anything and everything that has something to do with the month of October and the thrillingly perfect day with which it ends is right up my alley and johnny-on-the-spot for the new direction I want to take this one last creative outlet that I have and never take full and proper advantage of - I always vow to have some new trend, but I never have the follow-through in the same gusto with which I start; however, I really think that this can be something positively worthy of the treasure trove of imagination that fills my mind in my spare time.
If you know me personally, you know that I love movies and music and literature and art, and I gulp down pretty much every branch of those mediums, but my most favored genre of those from which I might choose is horror. H.P. Lovecraft once wrote that "the oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown." The master of the mythos of Cthulhu was right. I don't know why I was initially drawn to this subsection of creativity, but I suppose it has something to do with some combination of the men and women who had their hands on the origins of my being, and I'm lucky to have a plethora of anecdotes that'll fit right in with the myriad ideas I have for the next sixty-eight days of my blogging life. Combine those interludes with my knowledge of the history of the horror story, my genuine adoration for horror cinema, and my ever-evolving and unquenchable thirst for seeing and doing and learning as much as I can about this one great category, and I can already see that the possibilities for the future of my blog between this time tonight and its future twin time on All Hallow's Eve are pretty much endless.
I was toying with the pursuit of a few other subjects and forays once the 101 Days and Nights of non-redeeming paths to redemption was complete, but I kept coming back to this one. When I first read the syllabus and reading list for this semester's English course, the last English I will take as an undergraduate, I felt as if some sort of strange destiny was smiling down on me and nodding an affirmation that I am, in fact, headed in the right direction. This research and reading-based course is focusing on the history of the horror story and the many tendrils of subsidiary subjects it influenced and gave birth to... this is going to be a great semester, and I want to enjoy every possible breath-taking moment to the best of my ability.
Like most of my former preliminary posts before beginning new treks in my blogging life, this one is short, incoherent, more than slightly disjointed and kind of wrecklessly streamed-of-subconscious, so I already know that I'm right where I'm supposed to be right now. I imagine that tomorrow's will begin to bring about the cohesion and stride I'm hoping I'll find right when the first tropical storms set their sights on the Gulf of Mexico and the seasonal cold fronts bring down their initiating glimpses into fall. I hope that those readers I have out there who remain slightly interested in seeing just where the hell I'm headed (if I actually get my irresponsible brain working toward some wordy work for others to read) will continue to stop by and check things out. And I hope that the coming days and nights and weekends bring you a few chuckles and nods and maybe one or two really engrossing ten-or-fifteen-minute-spans of genuinely enthralled interest. Keep following me. My promise is to make this next stretch of highway along the highway on which people are afraid to merge as much fun as possible.
Enjoy.
If you know me personally, you know that I love movies and music and literature and art, and I gulp down pretty much every branch of those mediums, but my most favored genre of those from which I might choose is horror. H.P. Lovecraft once wrote that "the oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown." The master of the mythos of Cthulhu was right. I don't know why I was initially drawn to this subsection of creativity, but I suppose it has something to do with some combination of the men and women who had their hands on the origins of my being, and I'm lucky to have a plethora of anecdotes that'll fit right in with the myriad ideas I have for the next sixty-eight days of my blogging life. Combine those interludes with my knowledge of the history of the horror story, my genuine adoration for horror cinema, and my ever-evolving and unquenchable thirst for seeing and doing and learning as much as I can about this one great category, and I can already see that the possibilities for the future of my blog between this time tonight and its future twin time on All Hallow's Eve are pretty much endless.
I was toying with the pursuit of a few other subjects and forays once the 101 Days and Nights of non-redeeming paths to redemption was complete, but I kept coming back to this one. When I first read the syllabus and reading list for this semester's English course, the last English I will take as an undergraduate, I felt as if some sort of strange destiny was smiling down on me and nodding an affirmation that I am, in fact, headed in the right direction. This research and reading-based course is focusing on the history of the horror story and the many tendrils of subsidiary subjects it influenced and gave birth to... this is going to be a great semester, and I want to enjoy every possible breath-taking moment to the best of my ability.
Like most of my former preliminary posts before beginning new treks in my blogging life, this one is short, incoherent, more than slightly disjointed and kind of wrecklessly streamed-of-subconscious, so I already know that I'm right where I'm supposed to be right now. I imagine that tomorrow's will begin to bring about the cohesion and stride I'm hoping I'll find right when the first tropical storms set their sights on the Gulf of Mexico and the seasonal cold fronts bring down their initiating glimpses into fall. I hope that those readers I have out there who remain slightly interested in seeing just where the hell I'm headed (if I actually get my irresponsible brain working toward some wordy work for others to read) will continue to stop by and check things out. And I hope that the coming days and nights and weekends bring you a few chuckles and nods and maybe one or two really engrossing ten-or-fifteen-minute-spans of genuinely enthralled interest. Keep following me. My promise is to make this next stretch of highway along the highway on which people are afraid to merge as much fun as possible.
Enjoy.
21 August 2011
98 of 101
I start senior semester 1 of 2 tomorrow. Maybe having classes to tend to will keep me a little more likely to post regularly.
13 August 2011
The Meteorologist Predicted Rain on Day 90 of 101 - Once Again, the Meteorologist(s) Got It Wrong: It's As If These Huge Splotches of Green Are Avoiding the Shreveport Area Intentionally
Today is the 112th anniversary of the birth of genius in the form of Alfred Hitchcock. To honor the man I consider one of the greatest minds and creators in cinema, I created a playlist featuring several of my favorites in his film collection. Already, I've gone from Shadow of a Doubt and Suspicion to Rebecca. Of course, the big titles for which he is best known are still to come.
10 August 2011
Rhonda's Book Pick Rounds Out Book Club 2011...
 |
| "Matterhorn is a marvel--a living, breathing book with Lieutenant Waino Mellas and the men of Bravo Company at its raw and battered heart. Karl Marlantes doesn't introduce you to Vietnam in his brilliant war epic--he unceremoniously drops you into the jungle, disoriented and dripping with leeches, with only the newbie lieutenant as your guide. Mellas is a bundle of anxiety and ambition, a college kid who never imagined being part of a "war that none of his friends thought was worth fighting," who realized too late that "because of his desire to look good coming home from a war, he might never come home at all." A highly decorated Vietnam veteran himself, Marlantes brings the horrors and heroism of war to life with the finesse of a seasoned writer, exposing not just the things they carry, but the fears they bury, the friends they lose, and the men they follow. Matterhorn is as much about the development of Mellas from boy to man, from the kind of man you fight beside to the man you fight for, as it is about the war itself. Through his untrained eyes, readers gain a new perspective on the ravages of war, the politics and bureaucracy of the military, and the peculiar beauty of brotherhood." --Daphne Durham |
09 August 2011
"It's All Happening" On Day 86 of 101
I can always tell when I'm in a really good place. Emotionally. Physically. Spiritually. Psychologically. I can tell because I find it just a little harder than usual to wind down, to find a stopping point for the day, a place in my work when I finally say, "Okay, it's time to go wash my face and brush my teeth and get ready for bed. You don't have to go right to sleep, but you at least need to get somewhere between the sheets or you'll not get any sleep tonight."
I'm in a great place. In fact, I can't remember the last time I felt like I was really going long and strong and at the fullest speed possible, the last time I felt a certain sense of ease and fulfillment during every waking hour. I attribute it all to this fantastic new job that I've gotten, this place where I know I'll never stop moving, never stop learning, and always have incentive to succeed. For the first time in my entire professional life, I really feel as if I'm a member of a team whose sum is only equal to the strength of each and every valuable member of its parts.
At the close of operations today, despite the fact that I felt intermittently flustered and overwhelmed, I once again realized that my reactions have been far less substantial than in the past. I don't necessarily mean outwardly, and I definitely ought to use a better word than "reaction" to describe the inner sense of stress and imbalance that I've felt in the past when expectation outsourced exertion and I allowed myself to feel a combination of guilt, uncertainty, and inner failure. Now, I just see things for what they are. I'm learning that I can't do it all at once, and that's okay. I'm seeing that it can't all be done today, but that doesn't mean that I haven't accomplished a great amount. And I finally know that one of my greatest assets is the fact that I am a flawed man, capable of mistakes only to utilize them as tools toward a greater measure of future success. I'm calmer than normal, more aware and self-actualized than I may ever have been in the past. It's as if I'm constantly cognizant of everything I am and need to be at any given time, and most of the time, I'm just myself, just a regular guy who just so happens to be quite capable of greatness on a daily basis.
In the morning, I'll once again be rising at what is becoming my standard time: 0400 hours; however, instead of spending the morning downing coffee and playing games on Facebook while I wait for it to fully kick in, I'll be joining the doctors at my practice for some early morning cardio at the gym they hit every morning of the week. At first, I was uncertain as to whether or not I ought to accept the invitation. After all, I really feel that I learned a very valuable lesson in mixing any sort of professionalism with a personal life, but this feels different. More... well, professional. It's been quite a while (not since meeting Rhonda and Stephen and Stacy [and becoming close to each of them in that very order] and embarking on what I'm sure will be a lifelong friendship with each of them) since I was invited to be a part of something that wasn't based on what I could give but rather what I can bring.
Finally, after 86 days of on-again/off-again physical stimulus in an effort to really begin that final phase of this pursuit of redemption, I'll really have the opportunity to spend the final fifteen twenty-fours in this period working to meet that all-powerful body goal I've set for myself.
Frankly, I can't think of any better way to rise and shine than with a cup of coffee and a few laps up and down an indoor pool. This should be fun, and my guess is that it will be a phenomenal start to the middle day in the week.
It's all really coming together. Patience. Persistance. Pride. And Perseverence. They're the P's that have always worked in the past. No reason they might possibly fail me now. I would be the only obstacle.
I'm in a great place. In fact, I can't remember the last time I felt like I was really going long and strong and at the fullest speed possible, the last time I felt a certain sense of ease and fulfillment during every waking hour. I attribute it all to this fantastic new job that I've gotten, this place where I know I'll never stop moving, never stop learning, and always have incentive to succeed. For the first time in my entire professional life, I really feel as if I'm a member of a team whose sum is only equal to the strength of each and every valuable member of its parts.
At the close of operations today, despite the fact that I felt intermittently flustered and overwhelmed, I once again realized that my reactions have been far less substantial than in the past. I don't necessarily mean outwardly, and I definitely ought to use a better word than "reaction" to describe the inner sense of stress and imbalance that I've felt in the past when expectation outsourced exertion and I allowed myself to feel a combination of guilt, uncertainty, and inner failure. Now, I just see things for what they are. I'm learning that I can't do it all at once, and that's okay. I'm seeing that it can't all be done today, but that doesn't mean that I haven't accomplished a great amount. And I finally know that one of my greatest assets is the fact that I am a flawed man, capable of mistakes only to utilize them as tools toward a greater measure of future success. I'm calmer than normal, more aware and self-actualized than I may ever have been in the past. It's as if I'm constantly cognizant of everything I am and need to be at any given time, and most of the time, I'm just myself, just a regular guy who just so happens to be quite capable of greatness on a daily basis.
In the morning, I'll once again be rising at what is becoming my standard time: 0400 hours; however, instead of spending the morning downing coffee and playing games on Facebook while I wait for it to fully kick in, I'll be joining the doctors at my practice for some early morning cardio at the gym they hit every morning of the week. At first, I was uncertain as to whether or not I ought to accept the invitation. After all, I really feel that I learned a very valuable lesson in mixing any sort of professionalism with a personal life, but this feels different. More... well, professional. It's been quite a while (not since meeting Rhonda and Stephen and Stacy [and becoming close to each of them in that very order] and embarking on what I'm sure will be a lifelong friendship with each of them) since I was invited to be a part of something that wasn't based on what I could give but rather what I can bring.
Finally, after 86 days of on-again/off-again physical stimulus in an effort to really begin that final phase of this pursuit of redemption, I'll really have the opportunity to spend the final fifteen twenty-fours in this period working to meet that all-powerful body goal I've set for myself.
Frankly, I can't think of any better way to rise and shine than with a cup of coffee and a few laps up and down an indoor pool. This should be fun, and my guess is that it will be a phenomenal start to the middle day in the week.
It's all really coming together. Patience. Persistance. Pride. And Perseverence. They're the P's that have always worked in the past. No reason they might possibly fail me now. I would be the only obstacle.
07 August 2011
Day 84 of 101
The problem I have isn't setting goals, but actually finding the time to attain them. One of the things I always write that I'm going to do daily is "blog." But then again, I also write that I want to find the time to exercise, write something creative, get in a little leisure reading, work in my journal, and those are only the routine headings. None of that encompasses any of the other things that I have to do to achieve a full twenty-four hours: waking up, getting ready for work, working, then cooling down and relaxing when I'm home, which is when all the secondary stuff can start to be crossed off. That's how it works in theory at least.
Book club was last night, and I enjoyed it. I was pleased that I wasn't the only one who'd not had the time to finish the book. We're planning to discuss it more fully and openly at the September meeting, which is Vicky's pick, Cane River. October is me, War and Remembrance. Because it's one of my summer reads that I've started and stopped and probably won't finish for another ten years if I don't sign up to do it for a book club. November will be Stephanie's book, Room, and Rhonda and Heather have yet to pick their next books.
We need some new blood in Book club. I have a few to whom I'm considering extending membership invitations.
It's 11:30 or thereabouts and I'm not nearly as tired as I ought to be and I have to be up and gulping some coffee in less than five hours to make it to the office by sometime around six. I should probably sign out.
Book club was last night, and I enjoyed it. I was pleased that I wasn't the only one who'd not had the time to finish the book. We're planning to discuss it more fully and openly at the September meeting, which is Vicky's pick, Cane River. October is me, War and Remembrance. Because it's one of my summer reads that I've started and stopped and probably won't finish for another ten years if I don't sign up to do it for a book club. November will be Stephanie's book, Room, and Rhonda and Heather have yet to pick their next books.
We need some new blood in Book club. I have a few to whom I'm considering extending membership invitations.
It's 11:30 or thereabouts and I'm not nearly as tired as I ought to be and I have to be up and gulping some coffee in less than five hours to make it to the office by sometime around six. I should probably sign out.
04 August 2011
Day Four of the Hellish Heat on Day 81 of 101
"....there's no earthly way of knowing
...which direction we are going
...there's no knowing where we're rowing
...or which way the river's flowing (Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory)"
...but one thing's for certain:
it's really freakin' hot. I can't even concentrate tonight. About to hit the sack super early to get up super early and work on more after-work work then. Short day tomorrow. I get to end things right at noon.
...which direction we are going
...there's no knowing where we're rowing
...or which way the river's flowing (Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory)"
...but one thing's for certain:
it's really freakin' hot. I can't even concentrate tonight. About to hit the sack super early to get up super early and work on more after-work work then. Short day tomorrow. I get to end things right at noon.
03 August 2011
Day Three of the Hellish Heat on Day 80 of 101
Tonight's post is just to have one out there because I'm trying to remain as diligent as possible (of course, if you've followed me for a while, you know that this diligence and integrity kinda comes in spells when it comes to holding course with Disappearing Here).
I have to be up no later that 0430 to beat my fellow staff members to the office before 0630. While learning the rules and regulations of the operation, I'm trying to adhere to the normal office schedule, taking full advantage of the vast knowledge and expertise of each and every one of my teammates: they each have something special that they can bring to the table, and I need to glean as much as possible while I have the ability to do it.
Once I'm comfortable and ready to roll, I'll transition to my normal hours of Monday through Thursday, 0800 to 1700, and Fridays from 0800 to noon. I found my first real moment of stress today, but I sat back, took a deep breath and decided that -unlike my mindset in every previous position I've had- everything here does not absolutely have to be completed at once. I was comfortable just finishing what I could and allowing myself to leave what I could for tomorrow. More importantly, tomorrow, I plan to begin delegating some responsibility. I'm not totally comfortable doing that just no because I am still in the process of learning, but I have so much more information for which I need to gain further insight that I feel I am doing myself an injustice by sticking to any one procedure that I've already learned.
I need not pitter patter hither and yon at the mergence of State and Main. I need to get ready for sleep so that I can get up and look at everything with fresh eyes.
Deuces, peeps.
I have to be up no later that 0430 to beat my fellow staff members to the office before 0630. While learning the rules and regulations of the operation, I'm trying to adhere to the normal office schedule, taking full advantage of the vast knowledge and expertise of each and every one of my teammates: they each have something special that they can bring to the table, and I need to glean as much as possible while I have the ability to do it.
Once I'm comfortable and ready to roll, I'll transition to my normal hours of Monday through Thursday, 0800 to 1700, and Fridays from 0800 to noon. I found my first real moment of stress today, but I sat back, took a deep breath and decided that -unlike my mindset in every previous position I've had- everything here does not absolutely have to be completed at once. I was comfortable just finishing what I could and allowing myself to leave what I could for tomorrow. More importantly, tomorrow, I plan to begin delegating some responsibility. I'm not totally comfortable doing that just no because I am still in the process of learning, but I have so much more information for which I need to gain further insight that I feel I am doing myself an injustice by sticking to any one procedure that I've already learned.
I need not pitter patter hither and yon at the mergence of State and Main. I need to get ready for sleep so that I can get up and look at everything with fresh eyes.
Deuces, peeps.
02 August 2011
...by the way...
 |
| In spite of the two or three (...let's be honest, six or seven) other books that I've started and have every intention of completing before classes resume on 22 August, this is Heather's selection for this month's meeting of the Shreveport/Bossier Book Club. She's serving Mexican chow at her place, so I have to read the copy if I'm going to be able to say anything worthwhile (especially considering that Book Club hasn't met in several months due to the unforeseen revisions and editing that took place). Rhonda's totally absorbed in it, and I've only read the first twenty or thirty pages. I'll have to get pretty busy and really start cramming some heavy duty reading in between now and Saturday night, but I have no doubt I can finish it in time. Anybody else read it? Anyone have any comments or thoughts? Please hold any spoilers down because I at least want to be shocked and intrigued as I hear it's something of a page-turner. |
Answers to the Questions of Those Interested Parties I Promised I'd Post
Several people have sent emails and Facebook messages asking me where I've gone and what I'm now doing, especially since so many people were in the dark as to my thoughts towards transitioning from the B-wood. In the simplest terms, all I can tell everyone is that I went back to the hospital night shift with the highest hopes for the best possible outcome. My PRN status was up toward the end of 2009, and I had felt a pull to get back to a full time position there for quite some time. At some points, I even believed that I never should have left in the first place... in some ways, I even believed that I was never going to do anything any better than that. You can become so accustomed to certain trains of thought that you allow things to occupy your mind and prevent upward and momentous thinking, overshadowing possibilities with thinking that is only minimally linear.
I really believed that my career was taking off in the best possible direction, and I hoped to plug all my energies into being the best MHT that the B-wood had ever seen, hoping to surpass the exemplary standard that I begin to set for myself and everyone else beginning in the summer of 2006. The new five-year plan included me completing my BS while working the night shift, graduating in May of 2012 (which I will still be doing -AND- which has me completing my degree in the perfectly historically allotted four years), getting a position with the Intake department and enrolling in a Master's program in Psych. Despite the fact that the questions still lingered ("Is this really what I want to do with the rest of my life?" et al.), I felt that I was taking a step in the right direction.
No matter what, I could always find the time to write and write and write and find a means to justify the maximus perfectus goal of finding an end as a published and publishing writer. Despite my inconsistent posts here, even when I promise outwardly that I'm to be forthcoming with more, I've been really adhering to tons of other self-imposed ideas for this transitory period of redemption in my life, and the one thing that I'm most proud of myself for sticking with has been finding some period, no matter how long, to write creatively each and every day. Most of my blogs are incoherent and stream-of-conscious crap. My journal entries are likely even worse, but I rarely go back to re-read them. But my stories.... I'm really starting to think that some of this stuff is actually better than pretty good, and hopefully - no matter anything else - I'll soon be in a position to edit, re-write, type, and post a few examples for any and all of my friendly followers here. There I go again: an entire paragraph of digressive thoughts on paper.
I've been pouring through The Writers' Market and The Novel and Short Story Writers' Market books from the most recent years to start getting some ideas for where I might look to begin publishing. I've also begun to really look at things on a little more local scale... don't you think it's about time that Shreveport got with the times and allowed a Maupin-esque serialization to treat readers of any of its multiple dull and dreary regular publications? I don't think that anything would be better to really increase circulation and cause a little controversy than SB or The Times or The Forum to allow a young and energetic and observant citizen of the SBC world to circumnavigate direct appeal to a literary agent by publishing an engrossing thrill ride filled with sin and sex and secrets against the backdrops with which everyone reading is familiar.... more digression, but a little more of a hint of where I'm headed with some of the stuff I'm working toward.
Anyway....
Immediately upon resuming my calibration at the B-wood, I begin to get a dose of the sights and sounds and smells of alarm. It was as if there were a million little things that were slightly different, just to the other side of askew, and they were all adding up to tell me that I was/am (technically, I'm still PRN, and I'd gladly accept a call/request that I pick up a non-weeknight shift or one over one of my upcoming long weekends) in the wrong place at the wrong time. For those who follow my blog regularly, I'm certain that many of you remember some weeks ago when I published a series of posts about the issues that I was having and the conflicts that seemed to be unnecessarily arising... and the disdain I felt at missing the opportunities toward which I supplicated. Something was rotten in the state of Caddo, and it had nothing to do with that pervading smell of foul sewage that permeates the early morning air in the Broadmoor area these days.
I'd applied for a spot that I'd seen posted through a career website some time ago, so long ago that I'd really forgotten that I'd sent in my resume and a rocking cover letter. In fact, my pursuit of the spot was almost passive, definitely not filled with any sense of urgency at the time, but my interest was genuinely piqued when I saw the ad because I thought of alterations to my five-year plan that could possibly work in my favor to an even more sublime degree. My other notion of simply completing my BS (because, these days, a BS really is just BS, something to get you from point A to point B to prove to the world at large that yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus, and I can show you a piece of paper that not only proves that, but also proves that I'm capable of working for your firm/company/facility/institution for greater than ten to twelve dollars per hour; in other words, the BS [or BA as it were] is merely a stepping stone toward the really productive and elusive and increasingly rare find: the Master's degree) before enrolling in an online (probably just stick with my alma mater, NSU [why not? they've got the great Isabelle ghost story legacy... and our mascot's the freakin' DEMONS! what could be better than that for an up-and-coming-writer of the post post-modern horror tale???] for the duration) accredited Master's program to attain an MBA or to somehow specialize in health care administration. The one thing that I know I've been told I'm good at, great at, something in which I excel is administration and organization, working just a bit inside the scope of the fair haired, blue sky-ed world where customer service meets critical thinking and blends with a level of management where a benevolent despot can really shine. Why not put my money where my mouth is (make my money where my mouth is?) and go for the gold in an area that I probably shoulda just stuck with in the first place? I'll still have a four-year degree in the specialty field of addictionology, and I know that I can always find a job in psych if need be, but if I really want to eventually form or find a company with which to grow and formulate a true career... well... Yahoo! Hot Jobs and all the other career websites tell me that this is the way to do it.
What's funny is that I applied for an upper level spot at the B-wood, and I was passed over for the position. Despite the fact that I was told I was the better candidate, that I was more experienced, that I have a sparkling resume (that, to be honest, really doesn't contain everything that I've accomplished in the past six years alone because I run out of room when I try to include it all), that I'm an asset to the team, that I deserve the spot... I was passed over. Even the one for whom I was passed over believed that I was the one who really ought to have gotten the position (I disagree on multiple points, but that's because the other happens to be a friend of mine for whom I have great respect and admiration and who I know, in a way, needed the spot much more than I did at the time). I was passed over. Ya know, that's the first time in my life that I was ever told that I couldn't do something now that I think about it. Don't get me wrong, that's not the reason that I wanted to leave my full time position there, and I had my other fingers in the fire long before this event. No, it wasn't the reason, but it was a definite catalyst... a little kindling for that fire, I guess.
Then one thing led to another, and...well... most of you guys know the rest.
That's when the call came in...while I was still recovering from the (miserably failed) lower lumbar disc-fuc*tomy and wondering how the hell I was going to safely return to a world of code greens and heavy patient care when I wasn't even beginning to feel like my whole self again. The call requested my presence for an interview. I obliged despite my pain and the limitations on my physical parameters (which have obviously improved, but are still NOWHERE near the spot at which I was prepared to accept), and I instantly fell in love with the practice and the people and the idea. It was as if the cosmos had suddenly aligned and knew what I was thinking and wanting and needing but hadn't really found the right way to put into the right words to seek out and find for myself. Kismet. Fate. Destiny. A complete and perfect cohesion of intergalactic star-crossing serendipity. Very nice.
What followed was a call for a working interview, which is the new deal where you go in and you kind of observe and you kind of work and you get to ask questions and everybody meets you and judges you silently and sizes you up while you silently, slyly do exactly the same. It's a two hour deal, and I thankfully did it right when I was about to go back to my full fledged, pre-surgical work schedule. The funny thing was, I had already lost any passion and verve and drive that I once felt toward the hospital. Don't ask me why, but I knew the day of that very first interview, a meeting which couldn't have been longer than fifteen minutes, that I was about to begin a new chapter in my life. I knew that I was coming to a crossroads and that my Higher Power (whom I choose to call "My Higher Power") was putting something in my lap with a big red bow and saying: "Okay, you want happy.... I'll give you happy... unwrap this, Miles... it's not often that I get to give you an actual, tangible, obvious gift like this because most everything else I give you, you take for granted in one way or another.... so, here you go... I've even wrapped it up and made it look like something you can fish out from underneath the tree on Christmas morning {does anybody ever think it's ironic that it's the big man's birthday and we get presents instead of the other way around? i dunno... just occurred to me}... so, I'm not gonna twist your arm and tell you what to do, but you've worked hard and you've earned this, and I'm gonna leave the ball in your court and let you make up your mind... but if you want it, it's yours... open the box, the keys are inside..."
Following the working interview, I sent a quick thank-you card, knowing that this duo who were (likely, at the time) to be my future superiors, were preparing to embark on a vacation that would keep them out of pocket for a while. It wasn't a bribe, but a little genuine gratuity for their time (incidentally, there's an incredibly ironic and incredibly meaningful aside that accompanies this story and relates specifically to the end of my working interview, but until I gain permission from the other party to which the story pertains, I likely ought not to post it for public consumption... in time, though, I promise to get it out to everyone; it's one of those that will give you goose bumps and maybe splash a little mist in your eye because it's one of those things that just seems to happen sometimes to people like me, and when it does, you feel God; there's no other way to describe it for those of you who've never had it happen - for those of you that have, I'm sure you can read between the lines) and appreciation for their consideration; however, I went right back to the B-wood nights with the understanding that something was about to happen, but I wasn't going to hold my breath or wait or bounce in bladder-full anticipation. I was just gonna play it as it laid and take the steps as they presented themselves before me.
Last Wednesday, I had a missed call from the good doctor, and he asked me if I needed to give a notice. I promised him that I'd let him know first thing the next morning, and I spent the next sixteen or so hours debating on just what I was going to do. Although I'd been feeling it since before my surgery, the feeling of general disgust and utter contempt for my immediate supervisor at the B-wood was suddenly more solidly cemented than ever. I realized so many things last Wednesday night, and I grew tremendously through it all.
I realized that I am one of the hardest working people that I know. I realized that I am an asset no matter where I am and what I'm doing. I'm not only a good friend, but I'm a great companion in any and every way. I realized that I'm really freakin' smart, incredibly smart... probably one of the smartest people I know (lucky for me, I'm a member of the Special People Club). I realized that I have more potential than I have or will ever realize under the roof of the hospital. I realized that I was unfairly overlooked for the position for which I applied. I realized that I had spoken out against the opposite of justice and professionalism prior to my surgery and I may as well have been slapped in the face with the lack of response on the matter(s). I realized that I have a big, bright, shining future ahead of me, and that I need not burn any bridges, but I also need not suffer unnecessarily because plenty of others have already done that for me. In other words: when the pain of remaining the same becomes greater than your fear of change, you surely will let it go (my all-time favorite AA/NA/recovery in general quote).
I am now the office manager of an expanding and thriving dental practice where I'm not just a warm body filling a scheduling gap, but an actual face and member of a team. With the title comes a plethora of responsibility with which I would never have been benevolently challenged had I remained full time where I was. I decided to change my status to PRN and to allow my name to go in the hopper for suddenly opened shifts as they arose, but I know that I am - for the first time in my life - in a place from where I can actually take it or leave it.
You see, these people, this couple who interviewed me and made such an awesome impression on me (as -they assure me- I did the same on them), saw that I was the best candidate. They saw that I am and that I will continue to be an asset. They saw my energy, my talent, my intelligence, my capacity to learn and to grow and to build and to be the member (and the leader) of a team of other stand-out individuals. Despite only knowing me personally for a total of no more than two hours and fifteen minutes and otherwise only from a piece of paper that shows some things I've done, not who I am, they saw everything that I am and always forget to recognize when I look in the mirror (probably because so many of the others that I once admired and respected and hoped to emulate individually and deceptively showed me that I needed to question and second-guess and be uncertain of my drive, my passion, my zest, and my ability to whithold, to withstand, and to win each and every battle I might possibly face).
It may seem silly to write that I feel that I've learned all these ideas simply from being selected for a job, but this job is finally something that I can look at as a career and really mean it. I finally know my worth, and -for the first time- I can really see that it has no finite dollar sign attached to it.
The way I see things is that, from here, the only way is up. Not that I can't fall any lower, it's just that now there really isn't any point.
I've written way longer than I planned. I need to get busy on the remainders of my to-do list, get my face washed and my teeth brushed, and get into bed. It's half past midnight, and six o'clock will come early tomorrow.
Thanks for letting me ramble.
I really believed that my career was taking off in the best possible direction, and I hoped to plug all my energies into being the best MHT that the B-wood had ever seen, hoping to surpass the exemplary standard that I begin to set for myself and everyone else beginning in the summer of 2006. The new five-year plan included me completing my BS while working the night shift, graduating in May of 2012 (which I will still be doing -AND- which has me completing my degree in the perfectly historically allotted four years), getting a position with the Intake department and enrolling in a Master's program in Psych. Despite the fact that the questions still lingered ("Is this really what I want to do with the rest of my life?" et al.), I felt that I was taking a step in the right direction.
No matter what, I could always find the time to write and write and write and find a means to justify the maximus perfectus goal of finding an end as a published and publishing writer. Despite my inconsistent posts here, even when I promise outwardly that I'm to be forthcoming with more, I've been really adhering to tons of other self-imposed ideas for this transitory period of redemption in my life, and the one thing that I'm most proud of myself for sticking with has been finding some period, no matter how long, to write creatively each and every day. Most of my blogs are incoherent and stream-of-conscious crap. My journal entries are likely even worse, but I rarely go back to re-read them. But my stories.... I'm really starting to think that some of this stuff is actually better than pretty good, and hopefully - no matter anything else - I'll soon be in a position to edit, re-write, type, and post a few examples for any and all of my friendly followers here. There I go again: an entire paragraph of digressive thoughts on paper.
I've been pouring through The Writers' Market and The Novel and Short Story Writers' Market books from the most recent years to start getting some ideas for where I might look to begin publishing. I've also begun to really look at things on a little more local scale... don't you think it's about time that Shreveport got with the times and allowed a Maupin-esque serialization to treat readers of any of its multiple dull and dreary regular publications? I don't think that anything would be better to really increase circulation and cause a little controversy than SB or The Times or The Forum to allow a young and energetic and observant citizen of the SBC world to circumnavigate direct appeal to a literary agent by publishing an engrossing thrill ride filled with sin and sex and secrets against the backdrops with which everyone reading is familiar.... more digression, but a little more of a hint of where I'm headed with some of the stuff I'm working toward.
Anyway....
Immediately upon resuming my calibration at the B-wood, I begin to get a dose of the sights and sounds and smells of alarm. It was as if there were a million little things that were slightly different, just to the other side of askew, and they were all adding up to tell me that I was/am (technically, I'm still PRN, and I'd gladly accept a call/request that I pick up a non-weeknight shift or one over one of my upcoming long weekends) in the wrong place at the wrong time. For those who follow my blog regularly, I'm certain that many of you remember some weeks ago when I published a series of posts about the issues that I was having and the conflicts that seemed to be unnecessarily arising... and the disdain I felt at missing the opportunities toward which I supplicated. Something was rotten in the state of Caddo, and it had nothing to do with that pervading smell of foul sewage that permeates the early morning air in the Broadmoor area these days.
I'd applied for a spot that I'd seen posted through a career website some time ago, so long ago that I'd really forgotten that I'd sent in my resume and a rocking cover letter. In fact, my pursuit of the spot was almost passive, definitely not filled with any sense of urgency at the time, but my interest was genuinely piqued when I saw the ad because I thought of alterations to my five-year plan that could possibly work in my favor to an even more sublime degree. My other notion of simply completing my BS (because, these days, a BS really is just BS, something to get you from point A to point B to prove to the world at large that yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus, and I can show you a piece of paper that not only proves that, but also proves that I'm capable of working for your firm/company/facility/institution for greater than ten to twelve dollars per hour; in other words, the BS [or BA as
What's funny is that I applied for an upper level spot at the B-wood, and I was passed over for the position. Despite the fact that I was told I was the better candidate, that I was more experienced, that I have a sparkling resume (that, to be honest, really doesn't contain everything that I've accomplished in the past six years alone because I run out of room when I try to include it all), that I'm an asset to the team, that I deserve the spot... I was passed over. Even the one for whom I was passed over believed that I was the one who really ought to have gotten the position (I disagree on multiple points, but that's because the other happens to be a friend of mine for whom I have great respect and admiration and who I know, in a way, needed the spot much more than I did at the time). I was passed over. Ya know, that's the first time in my life that I was ever told that I couldn't do something now that I think about it. Don't get me wrong, that's not the reason that I wanted to leave my full time position there, and I had my other fingers in the fire long before this event. No, it wasn't the reason, but it was a definite catalyst... a little kindling for that fire, I guess.
Then one thing led to another, and...well... most of you guys know the rest.
That's when the call came in...while I was still recovering from the (miserably failed) lower lumbar disc-fuc*tomy and wondering how the hell I was going to safely return to a world of code greens and heavy patient care when I wasn't even beginning to feel like my whole self again. The call requested my presence for an interview. I obliged despite my pain and the limitations on my physical parameters (which have obviously improved, but are still NOWHERE near the spot at which I was prepared to accept), and I instantly fell in love with the practice and the people and the idea. It was as if the cosmos had suddenly aligned and knew what I was thinking and wanting and needing but hadn't really found the right way to put into the right words to seek out and find for myself. Kismet. Fate. Destiny. A complete and perfect cohesion of intergalactic star-crossing serendipity. Very nice.
What followed was a call for a working interview, which is the new deal where you go in and you kind of observe and you kind of work and you get to ask questions and everybody meets you and judges you silently and sizes you up while you silently, slyly do exactly the same. It's a two hour deal, and I thankfully did it right when I was about to go back to my full fledged, pre-surgical work schedule. The funny thing was, I had already lost any passion and verve and drive that I once felt toward the hospital. Don't ask me why, but I knew the day of that very first interview, a meeting which couldn't have been longer than fifteen minutes, that I was about to begin a new chapter in my life. I knew that I was coming to a crossroads and that my Higher Power (whom I choose to call "My Higher Power") was putting something in my lap with a big red bow and saying: "Okay, you want happy.... I'll give you happy... unwrap this, Miles... it's not often that I get to give you an actual, tangible, obvious gift like this because most everything else I give you, you take for granted in one way or another.... so, here you go... I've even wrapped it up and made it look like something you can fish out from underneath the tree on Christmas morning {does anybody ever think it's ironic that it's the big man's birthday and we get presents instead of the other way around? i dunno... just occurred to me}... so, I'm not gonna twist your arm and tell you what to do, but you've worked hard and you've earned this, and I'm gonna leave the ball in your court and let you make up your mind... but if you want it, it's yours... open the box, the keys are inside..."
Following the working interview, I sent a quick thank-you card, knowing that this duo who were (likely, at the time) to be my future superiors, were preparing to embark on a vacation that would keep them out of pocket for a while. It wasn't a bribe, but a little genuine gratuity for their time (incidentally, there's an incredibly ironic and incredibly meaningful aside that accompanies this story and relates specifically to the end of my working interview, but until I gain permission from the other party to which the story pertains, I likely ought not to post it for public consumption... in time, though, I promise to get it out to everyone; it's one of those that will give you goose bumps and maybe splash a little mist in your eye because it's one of those things that just seems to happen sometimes to people like me, and when it does, you feel God; there's no other way to describe it for those of you who've never had it happen - for those of you that have, I'm sure you can read between the lines) and appreciation for their consideration; however, I went right back to the B-wood nights with the understanding that something was about to happen, but I wasn't going to hold my breath or wait or bounce in bladder-full anticipation. I was just gonna play it as it laid and take the steps as they presented themselves before me.
Last Wednesday, I had a missed call from the good doctor, and he asked me if I needed to give a notice. I promised him that I'd let him know first thing the next morning, and I spent the next sixteen or so hours debating on just what I was going to do. Although I'd been feeling it since before my surgery, the feeling of general disgust and utter contempt for my immediate supervisor at the B-wood was suddenly more solidly cemented than ever. I realized so many things last Wednesday night, and I grew tremendously through it all.
I realized that I am one of the hardest working people that I know. I realized that I am an asset no matter where I am and what I'm doing. I'm not only a good friend, but I'm a great companion in any and every way. I realized that I'm really freakin' smart, incredibly smart... probably one of the smartest people I know (lucky for me, I'm a member of the Special People Club). I realized that I have more potential than I have or will ever realize under the roof of the hospital. I realized that I was unfairly overlooked for the position for which I applied. I realized that I had spoken out against the opposite of justice and professionalism prior to my surgery and I may as well have been slapped in the face with the lack of response on the matter(s). I realized that I have a big, bright, shining future ahead of me, and that I need not burn any bridges, but I also need not suffer unnecessarily because plenty of others have already done that for me. In other words: when the pain of remaining the same becomes greater than your fear of change, you surely will let it go (my all-time favorite AA/NA/recovery in general quote).
I am now the office manager of an expanding and thriving dental practice where I'm not just a warm body filling a scheduling gap, but an actual face and member of a team. With the title comes a plethora of responsibility with which I would never have been benevolently challenged had I remained full time where I was. I decided to change my status to PRN and to allow my name to go in the hopper for suddenly opened shifts as they arose, but I know that I am - for the first time in my life - in a place from where I can actually take it or leave it.
You see, these people, this couple who interviewed me and made such an awesome impression on me (as -they assure me- I did the same on them), saw that I was the best candidate. They saw that I am and that I will continue to be an asset. They saw my energy, my talent, my intelligence, my capacity to learn and to grow and to build and to be the member (and the leader) of a team of other stand-out individuals. Despite only knowing me personally for a total of no more than two hours and fifteen minutes and otherwise only from a piece of paper that shows some things I've done, not who I am, they saw everything that I am and always forget to recognize when I look in the mirror (probably because so many of the others that I once admired and respected and hoped to emulate individually and deceptively showed me that I needed to question and second-guess and be uncertain of my drive, my passion, my zest, and my ability to whithold, to withstand, and to win each and every battle I might possibly face).
It may seem silly to write that I feel that I've learned all these ideas simply from being selected for a job, but this job is finally something that I can look at as a career and really mean it. I finally know my worth, and -for the first time- I can really see that it has no finite dollar sign attached to it.
The way I see things is that, from here, the only way is up. Not that I can't fall any lower, it's just that now there really isn't any point.
I've written way longer than I planned. I need to get busy on the remainders of my to-do list, get my face washed and my teeth brushed, and get into bed. It's half past midnight, and six o'clock will come early tomorrow.
Thanks for letting me ramble.
Day 2 of the Hellish Heat of August on Day 79 of 101
I'm not totally certain that I have my day count correct. Is today really day 79, or is today actually day 77 or 78? Or is it actually day 80 or 82? Not certain. I lost motivation to keep everything johnny-on-the-spot and accurate at some point this summer, and I'm okay with that. One of the features of personal redemption is realizing that you can't be 100% perfect 100% of the time, and that's totally fine. Recognizing my assets and remaining cognizant of my liabilities is one of those things that I learned I must do long, long ago - it's only recently that I've really begun to practice that principle in all of my affairs...not consistently, but as often as I can when I realize that I'm really only stressing myself out and there's no great reason to do so.
Thus far, the summer has been a tremendous growing experience, and I find August arriving and the heat settling into its most oppressive state at a wonderfully transitive period that I really never saw coming. I've lost so many battles along the way to today that I think I forgot how to be happy...and how to accept life's biggest gifts without question or uncertainty. I guess that's what comes with self-awareness: just learning to enjoy the moment. The spotlight and the accolades are hard for me to accept and/or bask in because I'm incredibly hard on myself at any given time. For now, though, I'm just letting things be where they are, and I'm loving every minute of every day (despite the exterior conditions which have become anything other than pleasant). When you're rocking and rolling, it can be a little difficult to let the trees block your view of the forest. That's a good thing.
Thus far, the summer has been a tremendous growing experience, and I find August arriving and the heat settling into its most oppressive state at a wonderfully transitive period that I really never saw coming. I've lost so many battles along the way to today that I think I forgot how to be happy...and how to accept life's biggest gifts without question or uncertainty. I guess that's what comes with self-awareness: just learning to enjoy the moment. The spotlight and the accolades are hard for me to accept and/or bask in because I'm incredibly hard on myself at any given time. For now, though, I'm just letting things be where they are, and I'm loving every minute of every day (despite the exterior conditions which have become anything other than pleasant). When you're rocking and rolling, it can be a little difficult to let the trees block your view of the forest. That's a good thing.
01 August 2011
The Hellish Heat of August 1st on Day 78 of 101
I've sucked at keeping this blog, and I'm admitting that. I just hope that August fares better than July as far as me making posts and updating a little more passionately than I have for the past month.
The problem is that by the time I sign in to formulate anything worthwhile, I lose my zest and sparks, and I never seem to be able to compile anything that I really care to post; however, one of my goals for the month is to be a little more religious about this (and a few other things: meditation, journaling, exercise, and focus - all the things that I keep promising myself to get a handle on in my path toward personal redemption).
I have tons to be happy about, lots for which to be grateful.
More to come (Stacy).
The problem is that by the time I sign in to formulate anything worthwhile, I lose my zest and sparks, and I never seem to be able to compile anything that I really care to post; however, one of my goals for the month is to be a little more religious about this (and a few other things: meditation, journaling, exercise, and focus - all the things that I keep promising myself to get a handle on in my path toward personal redemption).
I have tons to be happy about, lots for which to be grateful.
More to come (Stacy).
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