Amidst the Wreckage

Immediately after an extremely traumatizing and traumatic event, there is a discernible change in one’s thought process.  What was once important takes a back-seat to those that are important, but are often taken for granted.  More immediately still, are the thoughts that flooded my thinking.  While I was concerned with those things that I took for granted, I often give the appearance of being a cold and distant person.  It gave Christopher a cause for pause and made me have to think about being slightly more aware of how I was reacting in reference to the people around me.

One of my many flaws is the way I emote around others.  In a very old-fashioned brand of thinking, I am of the idea that public portrayal of emotion– or even non-public portrayal, let it be to friends, family, whomever– should be avoided at all costs.  This is because letting people know what you are feeling can be an insight into one’s weaknesses, making one vulnerable to the scheming of others.  Now, I would hate to be a pessimist and represent the belief that people are generally bad.  When it comes to question of whether or not people are good or bad, I have two strongly held convictions, one for which I quote Morgan Freeman.

“There are no perfect men in the world, only perfect intentions”

The second is concerning desire and want:  “One should always be aware of the negative his negative feelings.”

When dealing with people, particularly people whom are not well-known to me as well as those that are well-known to me, I never have these general ideas far from my thoughts.  I do this in an attempt to both be pragmatic and be flexible in my understanding of others and what they may want, as well as aware that everyone is in search of something for themselves, and not always through honorable means.  Without being on the defensive, I have always reflected a certain cautiousness coupled with an  undimmed and exceedingly sociable, charming, and likable character.  Those that know me might agree that when it comes to getting to know me, I can often be an alluring and intriguing conversationalist that piques the interest of those around me.  In my opinion, this can be mainly attributed to my vast set of curiosity-driven interests, an extremely good memory, and general fun-loving attitude.

However, in-turn those that have gotten to know me, also know that my self-directed opinions can be somewhat dark, macabre, and uncertain.  Not only that, but I often lack any kind of authentic emotions and can appear to be very vacant and devoid of real emotions concerning others around me.   When it came to the accident, this was no different and I seemed to have escaped inwards.  Christopher had told me that he wanted to run to me, hug me and hold each-other.  He had been severely traumatized by the rollover.

I am not sure to what I can attribute my lack of fear when it came to the whole incident, I can without any hesitation say that I was somewhat unaffected.  Even disturbingly unaffected as someone has relayed to me.

The vehicle had done an aerial in the air, after having struck the beginning of the guard-rail while traveling sideways.  I remember feeling the sensation of not being in contact with the road, weightlessness, and fear of the impending impact, after which the truck had rolled another two or three times before settling up-side-down.  my real fear had occurred when, calling out for both Rob and Pookie and hearing nothing but the still, quiet, cold.  Even hearing the sleet on the underside of the vehicle had an ominous kind of ring to it. I noticed how discomforting the loss of the hum of the engine was in its absence and the fact that I heard no one calling back at me for those first few instances was what I really feared.  There is nothing that can describe the dread and terror I felt welling up inside of me– the same terror that I felt when finding my Nathan those four years ago.  Since that moment I had never thought there was ever a time when such helplessness and dread would find themselves back into my life.  Even today, I cannot bring myself to thinking back to both this moment and that of finding Nathan without suppressing tears.  This time I was only scared of what I might discover not what I was going to discover.

In turn, the sudden elation I felt when I heard movement and the voices of both Christopher and Rob, echoing in return of my shouts was no bit short of the most amazing thing I could imagine experiencing.  Therefore when Christopher sought a bit of reassurance in me that we were alright, and a display of affection regarding that sentiment, it was not easy for me to show how satisfied I was.

We could have been seriously hurt or even killed but we weren’t

It was as simple as that for me and the fear of it all had very little lasting effect.  I’ve even joked about it.  It seems to me that I may lead a charmed life, albeit a jaded one.  Often, in wondering if there is a God, I feel that he is full of jokes and the cruelest ones are at my expense, but there is an irony in thinking God’s jokes as cruel because they would often display an equally kind side to his sense of humor.

Diane, who had seen the whole accident was a woman sent as a favor by the fates themselves.  I cannot explain her presence, with all that it offered and all she did for us, but she was the representative for a league of angels sent to earth.  As the aftermath of the accident unfolded, she waited patiently, wanted to make sure that we were OK.  Patiently waiting, she allowed us time to process what we could of the whole situation.  One by one we were checked out by nurses.  During that time i remember hearing that there were multiple accidents not a couple miles in either directions that had just occurred.  Not noticing the cold, we salvaged what we could from the mangled wreckage of the truck as Diane insisted we fit it into her car.

Looking back, I sadly remember having to leave certain items behind.  Many of which I have particular and fond memories involving this stuff.  While it was mostly clothes and jackets, I had kept them for myself after Nathan’s passing, a great many of the clothes that I have were his.  It was there on the side of the highway only miles past the Dalles,  amidst twisted metal, snow and ice that I left them.  From that place we were taken by way of Diane’s kindness and were brought to Portland. With weather far temperate than that from which we came.  The dreary, misty, foggy weather seemed to be somewhat warmer and temperate that I could ever remember.

Once in Portland, Diane insisted that we all stay at her house.  In light of the accident, she broke out a bottle of whiskey and we all served up shots to our good health and our survival of the journey through the treacherous conditions. Shots of whiskey!  Glad to be alive I shared in the merriment and good intentions for which the shots were brought out.  But I am partially of the belief that any kind of traumatic event should not be followed by drink or drugs.  Either way, the quickly down alcohol went well with hot tea afterward and put me right to sleep.  It was not until the following morning that the reality of what had occurred that night would set in, or the pain of it all.

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Just another Brush with Death

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Heya Readers,

(and I know you are at there– thanks for reading by the way.  Leave comments below if you have something to say).

On the previous post I gave you a few images that looks really strickingly similar to the moon.  Heres the story behind them.

10100802338189787In all honesty, I’ve already received encouraging feedback.  However, I am not certain that will always be the case, depending on what I say.  Again in my attempt to be honest with myself and everyone I might have to dance a little bit.

So, last year both Christopher and I had experienced a bad Christmas.  This was single-highhandedly the most depressing Christmases you can imagine.  I remember spending a lot of my time in out apartment.  No real decorations or exchanging of gifts had occurred because we had changed living situations in Salt Lake City three times already things were not quite stable.  Both of us had gone through two jobs— and they were meager jobs.  Consequentially, we were really coming to the end of our rope with what sort of mishaps or bad-luck we could endure.  Now, since my hours were cut back at the job I had, meant that I could no longer afford our really cheap rent.

I believe it was on the day of Christmas that I spent much of my time repairing an imac that was given to us.  After it could not be fixed by her friend the Computer Guru of the Trigger House.  (more on the Trigger House later with media).  The story goes over this imac that if it could be fixed, it could be had for FREE!  Well, considering we only had my netbook, I wanted the damn thing.  Having the item in my possession, I found out that the previous attempts by another to repair the Mac had all but made it really difficult for me to repair the thing.  I muscled my way though it anyway, identifying that the fans do not cool those earlier models very efficiently.  After pumping the fan speeds to a relatively high, and noisy level, the thing ran like a dream!

I guess you could just call it the natural order of things, by my acquaintance who had gifted us the computer (because I fixed it) demanded its immediate return.  My response was a little less than eloquent.  I believe I re-told her how I got it and if she wanted to pay for the repairs she could have it back–which was refused— so I basically told her to fuck off.

Now why everyone thinks the police are their friends, I’ll never know, but she threatened to go that route.  With that in mind I was NOT going to allow myself to be relieved of this imac or what it could provide me, so I saved the documentation proving I fixed it and quickly sold it off to the highest bidder, so that I couldn’t be relieved of any benefit of my efforts without compensation.  Despite the fact I made it clearly known that we were no longer friends, this girl continued to talk to Christopher and act as a wedge between him and I.  (She was not the first to do this, nor the last)  Everyone it seemed either wanted to be with Christopher himself, get Christopher away from me, or hook Christopher up with a friend.  You can imagine how after a while I might get really pissed off.  In response to these many attempts I demanded solidarity in our relationship and wanted him to never show any kind of discord between us in public.  Either way, this girl, whom we shall call Amanda (I think that every girl should be Amanda), knowing what a poor situation we were in, made attempts to get Christopher to leave me to live with her, another guy and a little twink with whom Christopher was supposedly supposed to get together.  This kid was really young, was rumored to be just recently cleaned up from methamphetamines, arms torn up as if they went through a cotton gin and was from Pocatello, Idaho.—!?!  Of course after discovering this I was like WTF?!

Lacking the money to pay the rent and the money to leave, Christopher and I had to think of a plan:  Good old Craigslist. I am going to allow myself to go off on another tangent.  If ever there was a resource for those in need it was the internet.  More specifically, that resource is Craigslist.  At one point or another we were in need and posted for something as little as someone getting us food and low and behold we were given $400 dollars right off the bat, no questions asked, no favors needed, and no introductions needed. This kind of human kindness is really a hallmark of some of the kindness that Christopher and I discovered all over America.

You never know how much good there is out there in people until you are dead broke and in need of assistance.  In all candor, it really is heartwarming and inspiring.  Well such kindness was crucial to finding our way to Seattle.

We in order to leave quickly we arranged for a ride out to Seattle.  It was in Seattle that we were to start all over, again— with a friend of mine.  So we arrange for a ride on Craigslist and are fortunate enough after a couple days to have found one going to Portland, Oregon.

On our way:  It was a couple days after the New Year that a guy named Rob, in similar age as Christopher and I, who had come to our apartment to pick us up.  A couple comments on escape.  It had only been when Christopher and I had left the Trigger House that we had left in an honorable and halfway respectable manner.  The two or three previous escapes had included, eviction, a drunken pedophile with guns, and escaping a wholesome home where we had taken care of two of my favorite kids.  This was another one of the times where it seemed as if we had to quickly steal away like thieves in the night.  As we had quietly packed up the night before, as soon as Rob came we quickly loaded up his Ford Explorer and made our way to Portland.  From Portland Christopher and I would decide how to make our way to Seattle.

As fortune might have it, we were not able to decide much.  About two hours outside of the vehicle hit some ice and was quickly recovered.  That would have been alright if not about three seconds later we hit more ice, over which snow, had fallen and the vehicle which was going at about 40-50 mph, without loosing any speed, went completely sideways and impacted with the start of a guard-rail, flipping three times and rolling before coming to a halt on the rocky outcropping about twenty to thirty yards from the road.

A kindly woman named Diane, who was behind us and driving a Chrysler-300 (and who has a damn sexy daughter) witnessed the whole accident.  She quickly stopped, called authorities and tried to see if we were alright.  I would not have known it, but we were all out cold for about five minutes.  Fearing we were dead she kept calling out to us and eventually I woke up to find the explorer upside-down, with me dangling from the seat belt like a puppet.  Fearing for both Christopher and Robert I asked if everyone was alright myself (I couldn’t hear Diane).  I heard no immediate response.

With dread growing inside me, I called out again–only more frantically.  I was not in the position to turn and see Christopher, I could see Rob, who appeared to be asleep.  Without another answer I yelled.  Then movement from both Robert and then they both said they were unhurt.  I was OK, but a little bit stuck–and a little bit pumped with adrenaline.  I started struggling frantically to get out of the car and had to calm myself before I wound up actually injuring myself.

Without too much difficulty Rob forced one of the front doors open.  Luckily Christopher had not been impaled by the skis in the back.  He made his way to the front and out of the kicked door. Struggling to free myself with a little more patients I was able to crawl out of the Explorer.  Looking at the sight outside, was one of the most disheartening sights I’ve ever seen: keepsakes, clothes, and our dwindling possessions strung out all over the road…

(to be continued)

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(I haven’t survived some of this without a little help)