So last night I was feeling good. I made a blog post (which hasn't happened since well before the crucifixion and resurrection of Christ) and went to bed relatively early. I say relatively, because over the previous couple of nights I'd actually been awake at and after sunrise. So, I fell asleep relatively early, was snoozing away... .
And that's when it happened.
The nose bleed.
I get periodic nose bleeds. I've never plotted them out on a calendar, or compared them to phases of the moon or anything, but there are "times" when I get them. Changes in weather, like a warming or cooling. Spring and fall are notorious for such events and the visits of my nasally hemorrhagic "friend." If I get a cold, in never fails, as soon as the sneezing and sniffles start getting under control, that tell-tale feeling of a runny nose will, sooner or later, run red.
Periods of stress sock me a stiff one in the proboscis too.
So, this was probably a case of the climatic arrival of spring and pulling a couple of all nighters to watch bad cable TV and my attempt to rule the electronic baseball empire on EA Sports' MVP Baseball game.
So, at 3:30 in the morning, I'm awakened from a sound sleep by the feeling of warm, thick liquid dripping inside my right nostril heading directly for my freshly changed bedsheets.
So I sprang out of bed, got the bleeding stopped, checked the sheets for bloody nasal discharge and crawled back into bed.
And then I couldn't sleep.
I couldn't sleep by 4 a.m., or 4:30 a.m. or 5 a.m.
By 6 o'clock, I decided I might as well get out of bed, because if I did manage to fall asleep, the alarm clock would not wake me it. The irony is not lost on me that my brain can ignore a blaring alarm clock when it is in the midst of slumber after days or weeks of sleep deprivation, but the first sign of a runny, or bleeding nose, while dead asleep can send my hand flying toward my face as my feet scramble for the floor and toward the bathroom, dragging my still sleeping body behind it.
The blood vessels, and the mind, work in truly warped ways in the middle of the night.
Now it is time to see if I can keep the restless mind at bay the little capillaries in my nose from popping a cork for the night. We'll see how it goes. There must be a better way to deal with this stuff. And, in the spirit of the previous post, getting laid probably wouldn't hurt the insomnia or the nose bleeds either. That's not to say it would help either, but it's worth a shot.
Spring
Insomnia
Nose bleeds
Monday, April 24, 2006
Time out of the bottle
I think I've figured out why my life is so disjointed right now. I was checking out this podcast from back "home" and realized how many community events I've been missing in the ol' stompin' grounds.
My routine is off.
The calendar is wrong.
For the last several years of my life, the passage of time has been measured by an array of community event related to the California desert.
There was the International Date Festival, Bob Hope Chrysler Classic golf tournament, the Pacific Life Open tennis tournament, the Kraft/Nabisco/Dinah Shore (or whatever they call that LPGA golf tournament now), Dinah Shore Weekend, the White Party, etc. For most of my recent life, that has been the calendar that marked the time from New Year's Day into spring.
Yea, I'm sure there are community events here too in Salem and Western Oregon. I hear tell of a tulip festival up the road, but that's really not my cup of floral tea. Besides I haven't seen the cycles come and go or attended events year after year, so they aren't MY events yet. And I'm not working in a place where my life and work are as closely tied to these events.
So I've become a guy out of time.
So, I need to establish a new calendar.
Well, that and getting laid probably wouldn't hurt matters either.
Time
Community events
Homesick
My routine is off.
The calendar is wrong.
For the last several years of my life, the passage of time has been measured by an array of community event related to the California desert.
There was the International Date Festival, Bob Hope Chrysler Classic golf tournament, the Pacific Life Open tennis tournament, the Kraft/Nabisco/Dinah Shore (or whatever they call that LPGA golf tournament now), Dinah Shore Weekend, the White Party, etc. For most of my recent life, that has been the calendar that marked the time from New Year's Day into spring.
Yea, I'm sure there are community events here too in Salem and Western Oregon. I hear tell of a tulip festival up the road, but that's really not my cup of floral tea. Besides I haven't seen the cycles come and go or attended events year after year, so they aren't MY events yet. And I'm not working in a place where my life and work are as closely tied to these events.
So I've become a guy out of time.
So, I need to establish a new calendar.
Well, that and getting laid probably wouldn't hurt matters either.
Time
Community events
Homesick
Monday, April 10, 2006
Turning neglect into hiatus
As 3T said in the comments to the last post to this site, I am seriously neglecting this blog. And maybe that's because all is not well.
I got some bad news the other day. I've been anticipating a visit from someone special next weekend, but now it looks like that visit is in jeopardy. The truth is, I don't know right now if that visit is going to happen or not. Prior to all this I've been in a bit of a weird place anyway, fighting and losing one of my periodic bouts with insomnia and now this latest news has set everything to spinning.
So, yea, I'm neglecting the blog. In fact I've been thinking about taking a bit of a leave from blogging for a while, so I think I'm just going to do that until I can get some personal matters sorted out. I don't necessarily plan to stop blogging or whatever. This just is not anywhere near the top of my priority list right now. So, maybe it's best if I set it aside for a while.
Blogging
Hiatus
I got some bad news the other day. I've been anticipating a visit from someone special next weekend, but now it looks like that visit is in jeopardy. The truth is, I don't know right now if that visit is going to happen or not. Prior to all this I've been in a bit of a weird place anyway, fighting and losing one of my periodic bouts with insomnia and now this latest news has set everything to spinning.
So, yea, I'm neglecting the blog. In fact I've been thinking about taking a bit of a leave from blogging for a while, so I think I'm just going to do that until I can get some personal matters sorted out. I don't necessarily plan to stop blogging or whatever. This just is not anywhere near the top of my priority list right now. So, maybe it's best if I set it aside for a while.
Blogging
Hiatus
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Can I sleep while you drive?
I should be sleeping right now.
It's been a busy weekend and I'm exhausted. I should be in bed. I haven't had a decent night's sleep in so long, I'm losing track. The reason I haven't been sleeping is, well, I'm not sure, other than I've had a lot of stuff on my mind. And the reason I'm not sleeping now is that I still have a lot of stuff on my mind, and a load of clothes in the drier.
I don't know where to begin, so I'll begin with how the day has ended. A short while ago I sat on the couch, watching the end of "Grey's Anatomy" with tears streaming down my face. I'm tempted to say I'm not sure why I was crying, but that's a lie. There were a couple of story lines on the show dealing with parenthood and they got to me. In one a mother, dying of cancer, struggles with what to tell or not tell her daughter about her illness and about life. Those little things that parents so want to tell their children. Those nuggets of wisdom that sound so profound in the head but seem to sound so flat when spoken out loud.
That story line got to me because, well, my daughter turned 15 today and I have spent her lifetime trying to figure out what to say to her about so many things, to impart love and wisdom, and fall so flat when we are side by side or face to face.
The other story line is about a man who is the father of Dr. Grey, the title character on the show. The man so wants to reach out to his daughter, but doesn't know how. He left the family when she was young and doesn't know how to rekindle a long dormant relationship.
Fortunately, my daughter and I don't have a dormant relationship. It is certainly much less than I want it to be and is perhaps more than she wants as a teenage girl wanting to fit in and be cool with her friends.
I spend part of Saturday evening with my daughter and her family at a birthday party for her. I relish any time with her, like a dog begging for scraps. I find myself watching her, staring at her, trying to absorb the essence of who and what she is as a young woman. When I left there was a sense of emptiness. It's a feeling I've come to know well over the years, but never get used to. The visits are shorter now in duration but more frequent than they used to be. So that emptiness, the goodbye vacuum, is a much more frequent part of my life. And yet, not frequent enough. And I feel guilty for feeling sad after visits with her. I should be happy that I'm part of her life, right? That her family includes me in activities. That when I say I love her she responds in kind, the words not even stumbling in her throat or tripping over her teeth. Those are all good things, right?
It's been a weekend of nostalgia, remembrance and regret, lots of driving and little snatches of time with family and old friends.
Today, I woke up early, after getting home late after my daughter's birthday party, losing an hour's sleep to the time change, and drove nearly 4 hours to attend another gathering for a friend who is about ready to ship off to a war zone. Along the way, I called to wish another friend a happy birthday and learned from the ticker on CNN that a storm was bearing down on my lady friend Brat's hometown, again.
No matter where I was this weekend, I felt out of place. Like I was watching it all as if it was a performance on stage, somehow separate from it all and numb. Not because I felt nothing but because I felt too much and the nerve endings and synapses could no longer process the sensations.
And then, after talking to Brat online after her latest adventure and sitting quietly on the couch, listening to the drier tumble I watch a fictionalized account of other people's lives and the emotion overflowed, spilling out the corners of my eyes, streaming over my cheeks and pouring onto my shirt, like the waterfalls I passed today while driving through the Columbia River Gorge. Some picture postcard that would make.
It was a good day. A good weekend. It was too much and not enough. So many epiphanies on the road, listening to classic rock and seeing one of the most beautiful corners of the world. Seeing and talking to so many people I love and care about and worry about and miss in such a short span of time.
I shouldn't go so long without talking to family, friends and people who are important to me. I shouldn't go so many days without decent sleep. I shouldn't go so many days without writing here. I shouldn't drive 500 miles in a day. I shouldn't listen to so much old music on a trip home.
I really should be sleeping right now.
Parenthood
Insomnia
Family
Friends
Road trip
It's been a busy weekend and I'm exhausted. I should be in bed. I haven't had a decent night's sleep in so long, I'm losing track. The reason I haven't been sleeping is, well, I'm not sure, other than I've had a lot of stuff on my mind. And the reason I'm not sleeping now is that I still have a lot of stuff on my mind, and a load of clothes in the drier.
I don't know where to begin, so I'll begin with how the day has ended. A short while ago I sat on the couch, watching the end of "Grey's Anatomy" with tears streaming down my face. I'm tempted to say I'm not sure why I was crying, but that's a lie. There were a couple of story lines on the show dealing with parenthood and they got to me. In one a mother, dying of cancer, struggles with what to tell or not tell her daughter about her illness and about life. Those little things that parents so want to tell their children. Those nuggets of wisdom that sound so profound in the head but seem to sound so flat when spoken out loud.
That story line got to me because, well, my daughter turned 15 today and I have spent her lifetime trying to figure out what to say to her about so many things, to impart love and wisdom, and fall so flat when we are side by side or face to face.
The other story line is about a man who is the father of Dr. Grey, the title character on the show. The man so wants to reach out to his daughter, but doesn't know how. He left the family when she was young and doesn't know how to rekindle a long dormant relationship.
Fortunately, my daughter and I don't have a dormant relationship. It is certainly much less than I want it to be and is perhaps more than she wants as a teenage girl wanting to fit in and be cool with her friends.
I spend part of Saturday evening with my daughter and her family at a birthday party for her. I relish any time with her, like a dog begging for scraps. I find myself watching her, staring at her, trying to absorb the essence of who and what she is as a young woman. When I left there was a sense of emptiness. It's a feeling I've come to know well over the years, but never get used to. The visits are shorter now in duration but more frequent than they used to be. So that emptiness, the goodbye vacuum, is a much more frequent part of my life. And yet, not frequent enough. And I feel guilty for feeling sad after visits with her. I should be happy that I'm part of her life, right? That her family includes me in activities. That when I say I love her she responds in kind, the words not even stumbling in her throat or tripping over her teeth. Those are all good things, right?
It's been a weekend of nostalgia, remembrance and regret, lots of driving and little snatches of time with family and old friends.
Today, I woke up early, after getting home late after my daughter's birthday party, losing an hour's sleep to the time change, and drove nearly 4 hours to attend another gathering for a friend who is about ready to ship off to a war zone. Along the way, I called to wish another friend a happy birthday and learned from the ticker on CNN that a storm was bearing down on my lady friend Brat's hometown, again.
No matter where I was this weekend, I felt out of place. Like I was watching it all as if it was a performance on stage, somehow separate from it all and numb. Not because I felt nothing but because I felt too much and the nerve endings and synapses could no longer process the sensations.
And then, after talking to Brat online after her latest adventure and sitting quietly on the couch, listening to the drier tumble I watch a fictionalized account of other people's lives and the emotion overflowed, spilling out the corners of my eyes, streaming over my cheeks and pouring onto my shirt, like the waterfalls I passed today while driving through the Columbia River Gorge. Some picture postcard that would make.
It was a good day. A good weekend. It was too much and not enough. So many epiphanies on the road, listening to classic rock and seeing one of the most beautiful corners of the world. Seeing and talking to so many people I love and care about and worry about and miss in such a short span of time.
I shouldn't go so long without talking to family, friends and people who are important to me. I shouldn't go so many days without decent sleep. I shouldn't go so many days without writing here. I shouldn't drive 500 miles in a day. I shouldn't listen to so much old music on a trip home.
I really should be sleeping right now.
Parenthood
Insomnia
Family
Friends
Road trip
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