I Hope I Shall Arrive Soon....(take 2)

This has been quite a week, and I’m really not sure how I feel about it. I detailed the beginning of the week in my post, “I Hope I Shall Arrive Soon…”“I Hope I Shall Arrive Soon…” Last night I found yet another side-effect of the drug they’ve got me on, and it is even more disquieting than the insomnia. (Which as I write this is entering it’s fourth night and showing no sign of letting up.)

I was feeling frisky, and Mags was feeling receptive, if you get my drift. We started making out, one thing led to another, and then….errr…

Let’s just say the rocket was on the pad, and fully prepared for launch, when ignition failed. It’s said the two most depressing moments for a man are the first time you realize you can’t do it a second time, and the second time you realize you can’t do it for the first time. Last night I reached the halfway point in the later goal.

The shock was enough to yank me out of the happy mood I was in. It was the first time I’ve felt genuinely giddy in several years. All brought about by the realization that for the first time in more than a decade, I could play a chess match entirely in my head.

Still, that realization made me think about joy. Mags and I were talking about joy on the drive home, and I shared the realization that it has been many, many years since I have felt genuinely joyful; that giddy, happy, bay-at-the-moon, run around in circles for no apparent reason feeling of pure, unadulterated pleasure. Some of the blame for this is on my evolving conscience, and some appears to be tied to the chemical imbalance I’ve been experiencing for much longer that I care to admit. Oh, I’ve experienced satisfaction and even happiness, but it’s been a long time since I truly felt joy.

As an example of the first, I point to an incident that happened a couple of weeks ago. (Names have been omitted to protect the innocent.) Mags and I dropped in on a female friend unexpectedly and actually roused her from sleep. She came downstairs to answer the door without putting on a robe and wearing what is apparently her normal sleepwear. In other words, she was completely, totally, stark naked. I got quite an eyeful before I spun around. (If you’re reading this, and you know who you are, thank you again.)

If you had asked me fifteen years ago what my reaction to seeing an attractive woman naked, my answer would have ranged from happiness to lust to gratitude. What would never have occurred to me was what I felt that evening, embarrassment.

I was a much more opportunistic creature back then, and although I had what I recognized as a sense of honor, it was much less rigid than what it has become. In many ways, it resembled the statement of the character Jane from “Serenity”, “I’ll kill a man in a fair fight. Or if I think he’s gonna start a fair fight. Or if there’s money involved. Or a woman….. But this is just wrong!”
Anymore, my sense of honor recognizes few, if any, exceptions to what it deems allowable behavior. Today, the equivalent statement would be, “I’ll kill a man in a fair fight.” End of statement. If I hadn’t known the woman involved, and if Mags hadn’t been there, and if she had known I was there, I might have felt different, but I suspect not. (Of course, as Mags pointed out, either of the first two conditions would probably have lead to my arrest as a peeping tom.)

The discussion of joy with Mags finally got down to what the experience of joy meant to each of us. The overwhelming impression of what the word was to each of us made me realize that my joy has a much more chaotic element to it. A large part of joy to me is the feeling of surprise. That feeling from when you were a child rushing down on Christmas morning and seeing all the presents under the tree. Knowing what you had chosen to give and hoping that the recipients would enjoy your gift, but also the wonder at the potential of the wrapped packages that were for you. I received some wonderful gifts over the years, (thanks Mom & Dad), but somehow no matter how terrific the present, it could never match that feeling of expectation when the actual contents of the package were still unknown.

That got me thinking that maybe I need to find a new way to experience joy. By depending on the element of surprise, I am placing my capacity for joy firmly in the hands of others. Perhaps I am looking in the wrong place, and seeking an outward trigger for something that should be coming from within. Somehow, my experiences never quite measure up to the potential I see in them.

Still, in many ways I am addicted to the potential inherent in a chaotic situation. With everything in flux, and surprises looming at every turn, the good experiences, coming as they do unexpectedly, have a much sweeter savor to them. Of course, the bad things don’t seem so bad, because they’re almost expected.

Perhaps it would be more fair to say that I am addicted to chaos. This is a strange place to be for someone who enjoys order and stability as much as I do, but looking at the statement, it has a ring of truth to it.

Love Vigilanties

Oh I've just come
From the valley of the sun
From a war that must be won
In the name of truth
With our soldiers so brave
Your freedom we will save
With our rifles and grenades
And some help from God

I want to see my family
My wife and child are waiting for me
I've got to go home
I've feel so alone, you see

You just can't believe
All the joy I did recieve
When I finally got my leave
And I was going home
Oh I flew through the sky
My convictions could not lie
For my country I would die
And I will see it soon

I want to see my family
My wife and child are waiting for me
I've got to go home
I've feel so alone, you see

When I came through the door
My wife she lay upon the floor
There were tears her eyes
I did not know why
Then I looked into her hand
And I saw the telegram
Saying I was a brave, brave man
But that I was dead

I want to see my family
My wife and child are waiting for me
I've got to go home
I've feel so alone, you see

I Hope I Shall Arrive Soon....

What a strange week it’s been, and it’s only half over.

This past weekend, Mags and I attended the baronial birthday celebration, Ice Castles. Mags won the second highest service award that the barony offers. I was busy doing my thing as herald, reading out the scrolls in court, when I suddenly came across one that had a name I recognized. I want it noted for the record that I only did a momentary double take before reading out her scroll.

The rest of the day was busy, running around trying to do my job. The only sour note to the weekend was Mags crapping out before the after-event revel. I would have liked to have gone to that, but apparently it was not to be. Schaudenfreud will have to have it’s debut some other time.

Sunday was a day of rest, and (despite the requisite fight Sunday morning) all in all a good, relaxing day. I did absolutely nothing productive, and enjoyed every minute of it.

Monday was the first day of monumental news. I went for my first physical in years. I walked out with a diagnosis of being either hypothyroid or clinically depressed. I don’t think I had finished talking before the doctor wrote me a prescription for celexa. In a way, I’m glad that I now have the hope that the way I’m feeling won’t last forever, and in a way I’m scared that something is screwed up with my brain.

The most embarrassing part of the entire experience, however, came during the actual physical examination. We got to the “turn your head and cough” section, and Dr. A (who, to make matters worse, is young and attractive,) had to move me out of the way. Despite furiously thinking about baseball, I reacted. I’m sure my face turned purple, I could feel myself blushing so hard.

When I got home from work Monday night, Nibs IM’ed me at 10:30. I was up trying to make sense of what I had just found out. We ended up chatting for almost three and a half hours, sharing songs and fears back and forth. The crowning glory was a discussion of the nature of God at 1 AM. I found that I really miss those.

Tuesday was again quiet, with me going to bed early to make up for the lack of sleep the night before.

Today, I received the news that my sister-in-law is expecting their first child in mid-August. On the one hand, I’m overjoyed for them, and looking forward to having a new niece/nephew to dote on. On the other hand, I’m feeling envious that Ned gets to be a Dad.

As I write this, I’m feeling run-down and blue. I look at all those around me, and know I should be happy for them at what they are experiencing, but I can’t really seem to spit the bitter taste out of my mouth. Whatever the lab tests from Monday come back with, I hope that there is something that can allow me to feel happy again.

I seem to be on yet another long, strange trip of discovery. I hope I shall arrive soon.

You keep on using that word, I do not think it means what you think it means

One of these days I’m gonna learn not to read too much into casual comments. Be it the girl I had a crush on who called me “lover,” or the overhearing of part of a conversation that made me think someone I had a crush on was attracted to me. The worst were the times when I ended up in a situation with I woman I regarded as just a friend, yet still found attractive, that she saw as totally innocent, but seemed to me to be sexually charged. I though that maybe that was something I had left in the past when I got married, but apparently I was wrong.

This morning as Mags and I were driving into work, she suddenly blurted out with, “So, do vegans swallow?” Seeing as how the conversation up to that point had nothing to do with either food or sex, I jumped to the conclusion that she was flirting with me. (I heartily approve of being flirted with, BTW.) I’m rather pleased with myself for being able to shoot back with, “I’m not sure. I could do some research and get back to you.”

I couldn’t get the remark out of my mind all day. I really enjoy the rare occasions when Mags feels like initiating. By the end of the day, I had convinced myself that Mags was feeling like fooling around tonight. When she picked me up, I was all ready to pick up where we had left off. The conversation on the ride home revolved around the difficulties of the day. Finally, I had to ask; “Do vegans swallow? We weren’t talking about sex or food, where did that come from?”

It turns out it was something that had come up when she was talking with one of her girlfriends during the superbowl party last Sunday, and she just couldn’t get the line out of her head. Once again, I read too much into a casual comment. When will I learn?

Strange Days Indeed

I work as a dispatcher for a local Heating and Air conditioning company. As such, I am usually the one to answer the phone when it rings. I usually deal with people who are upset because they are too cold (or too hot) and want us to have been out yesterday to fix the problem. Sometimes, the problems are so over the top that I find it hard not to laugh when they tell me what's wrong. There was the guy who called because his furnace was smoking. I instructed him to turn the furnace off, as it was not safe to operate, and we would have someone out as quickly as possible. (This was during the first cold snap of the year, and as a result, we had something along the lines of sixty customers waiting for service.) Three hours later I got a tech free and called him, to learn that the fire department had just left. He had ignored my instructions and continued to run the furnace.

Then there was the time where the conversation went like this:
Me: "Hello, [Company Name], J-- speaking, how may I help you?"
Caller: "Help! My air conditioner is on fire!"
Me: "Have you called 911?"
Caller: "Well, no.."
Me: (Unable to stop myself), "Then why are you talking to me?"

Today a call came in that topped them all. I was off shift, waiting for Mags to pick me up, when my evening relief took a call. I wasn't really paying attention, until I heard her ask, "A shotgun?"

When she got off the phone, I asked her what had happened. Apparently, the customer had shot his heat pump, and was concerned that it was no longer working and seemed to be leaking some sort of oil. Then she asked me innocently, "Do you think we can fix it tonight?" To which I responded, "No, I don't think we can fix it, ever."

Many thingsremain to be answered, not the least of which is what on earth caused the customer to think shooting his heat pump was a good idea. I'll have to check tomorrow and report back.