Sadness, Anger. Regrets.

Tomorrow, June 29th would have been my sister Jenn's 28th birthday.

Not a day goes by that I don't miss her or think of her in some way. Sometimes I'm sad, sometimes I'm angry and sometimes filled with regret.

I'm sad because she's gone and because I'll never see her again and sad because there was a ton of potential in her that will never be realized. She was on her way when she started classes at the CIA - that was a real turning point for her. She was taking responsibility for herself, working hard and enjoying learning. When she had to quit because of her back - - looking back I can see that was the start of a series of troubles and mistakes and poor choices and just rotten fucking luck that somehow, in total, inexorably, killed her. She took a night shift job at IBM and tried to do a full load of regular college classes and could not keep up. She moved out into an aparment she could not afford, moved back and got involved in relationships she didn't really need, but needed to have. Then she moved to Oklahoma for a fresh start and to get a job as an assistant pastry instructor at a community college. She didn't get the job.

I'm angry. I'm angry at her even still. I'm angry for the lies she told and the truths she withheld. I'm angry at myself for not being a better brother. I held back from her and pushed her away when she probably needed me the most. I substituted distance and anger for compassion and love. Friends tell me that if they were in my shoes they would not have had me play it any other way. In retrospect, I'm not sure how right I was and am reminded of some advice I got from a psychologist years ago. He told me just to love her and accept her lies. He told me no matter what she said or did to just be strong and accept it and love her. No anger - no screaming. Just compassion. The irony of it is that last summer I was reading a lot of Buddhist literature and had started to meditate. I guess I was just reading it rather than living it. I was that pissed off at her.

I regret not having reached out to her. I regret not having called her after she moved out to Oklahoma. I regret that the first time she overdosed two weeks before she died that I did not call her to speak to her. I regret that when I finally came to my senses and called her after she had gotten kicked out of the rehab clinic she had checked herself into because insurance would not cover her that all I got was her cell phone voice mail. I was too late.

She died the next day from an overdose of Oxycontin.

The medical examiner in Oklahoma City also found Amatadine in her system - which is one of the large cocktail of drugs she was supposed to be taking as part of an outpatient addiction treatment program. Generally, its given to people with Parkinson's to stop their tremors, but some side effects include confusion and euphoria and in rare cases can make people suicidal. I've read where some doctors refer to it as the poor man's methadone.

So how did she get it (the Oxycontin)? Probably from another patient at the rehab clinic. Her girlfriend found a prescription in her car that was made out to a guy from the clinic she'd been hanging out with and driving around. Maybe she took it from him to stop him. Maybe he gave her some. Maybe she stole it. Who knows. Maybe she thought it was a lower dose than it was.

The night she died she spoke to her best friend and he tells us she was in good spirits, everything considered and seemed to feel better when they hung up. Her girlfriend says she was having a hard time of it though and had gone to bed early that night. She checked on her and decided to head out and get some stuff to make cookies for her so she could have some in the morning. Just a little token - just some comfort food. As she left she said Jenn had been coughing a bit. When she came back forty minutes later she was dead. She worked on her and the paramedics came but from what we can tell they took too long to get Jenn to the ER and that only a little bit of narcotan was given. We're not sure why. Of course, they couldn't and didn't bring her back.

Now I have pictures and clothes and some books of hers. I have some CD's back that had disappeared over the years. I really don't want any of them. I'd much rather she still be wearing her favorite hat or flannel robe or what have you. I'd really rather not have anything of hers if she could still own it.

Tomorrow I will be at her grave and see her headstone for the first time. It's polished black with a rough hewn matte top. I'm sure I'll cry even more then.


I'm glad the last word's she ever said to me were "I love you guys."

We love you too, Jenn. Until we meet again.





One last thing...

When you have really bad chronic back pain and need pain medication and are prone to addiction - it's a high-wire act. Constant pain or constant stupor. And they give it out like candy. The movies make light of it too. I can't tell you how many I've seen where vicodin or oxy or some other opiate is offered freely and in a comedic way, like it's something that can't hurt you and is FUN! That really eats at me. It's not a casual thing. It's worse than heroin and just because it comes in a little pill from a pharmaceutical company instead of a needle does not make it better. Get the help you need or help your friend or family member get the help they need. They need your love and support.

Moves. Monitoring. Blasting.

Well, we have our kitchen designed and our counter top and cabinets ordered. The contractor is coming on Monday morning at 8AM and we'll be on our way to a renovated house. The insurance adjuster also gets back on Monday. Here's to hoping our submitted expenses meet with no resistance.

Changes are afoot at work. My boss quit. Not sure what that means for me except that I might get a better position. The guy moving up to take his place realizes my untapped potential and seems to be for getting my ENFP ARI self cranking and happy. To that guy I say "Good luck with that!"

The company is also finally moving to its new iVillage digs on 7th and 38th - the movers are coming tomorrow to take our crap out of here and put if over there. All I have is a few books and folders. Not a lot at all. I'm not a big cube decorator. Not into it. Just not my thing. Even if I wanted to, I don't no how I could here in the worlds smallest cube, which is filled with three monitors, two PCs, a Mac and 2 notebooks. I'm lucky if I have room to touch myself. Word has it that the new space will give me, like, more space, man. Fine by me. I'll also finally be getting my hands on some Mercury monitoring and testing tools. If nothing else, it will be good to learn for the resume. People know Mercury is enterprise level, expensive shit. The logic goes if someone let me use it / administrate it, I must know my shit. Shit shit shit.

In other news...Battlefield 2 showed up in the mail yesterday and I got to play it for about an hour. Man o man. It's friggen great. Of course, the college kids who got it at 6AM had been playing it for over 15 hours and were already experts by the time I got it installed, but what can you do. It looks and plays great so far. There is definitely an added layer of complexity to it that was not there before - what with the Commander mode, which takes you out of the game and puts you in command, duh, of your troops, lets you direct artillery. Do satellite sweeps to spot the enemy and so forth. So now when I think about drawing, I am going to want to be blasting away, or checking out $4K gaming rigs.

When we were in Halifiax a while back we visited the graves of the Titanic disaster victims. This headstone of this unknown child is separate from all the others. I took it with a Canon Powershot A-20 and retouched it in Photoshop CS by converting it to B&W and then colorizing and tinting it. The original shot is in the upper left.
Photo By VanishingJames

"Well At Least You're Focused..."

Ah, there's nothing like the biting sarcasm of a close friend and confident...

Early last week I took some personality tests - first the Strong Interest Inventory Report and then the Myers-Briggs deal. The former measures your interests, confidence and personal approach to things and comes up with occupational themes to focus on while the latter informs you about your personality, how it operates and how to play to your strengths and shore up your weaknesses. All in all good tests and worth it.

I think the results I got back from the Strong Interest Inventory are pretty spot on, but even so its no crystal ball and presents a wide range of career possibilities for the occupational theme it came up with for me - ARI (artistic, realistic, inquiring). Tech showed up, but a little low. Go figure - I thought it would be in the toilet next to accounting and statistics.

So, I reviewed the test results, sent it over to Clarisa and I approached her about it the next day. I told her, "I figure I can do something in Graphic Design, Photography, Stained Glass, Pottery, Architectural Drafting, Editing, Medical Illustration, Package Design or Plumbing Engineering." And then I proceeded to detail what I thought were the pro's cons of each and how I might go about learning more about each field.

She of course replied, "Well At Least You're Focused..."

At first I didn't pick up on the sarcasm -- the reason being that I thought that actually was a narrow band of choices. After all, I had an official looking report that listed them out of millions of possibilities. I stood there looking at her and after a few seconds the sarcasm soaked in.

"You're being sarcastic...?"

"Duh."

"Holy fuck." I thought. Evidently - more focusing needed (& needs) to be done!

The next day I take the Myers-Briggs tests and get the results back quickly. Evidently I am a an ENFP:

ENFPs are typically enthusiastic innovators, always seeing new possibilities and new ways of doing things. They have a lot of imagination and initiative for starting projects. ENFPsÂ’ energy comes from what is new and different, and they are spontaneous and enjoy action. They can become so interested in their current projects that they drop other things that are less exciting. Because they see so many possibilities, ENFPs sometimes have difficulty picking those with the greatest potential. They dislike routine and find it hard to apply themselves to the sometimes necessary details involved in finishing projects, easily becoming bored. They are concerned about people and understand othersÂ’ needs and aspirations. ENFPs readily communicate their enthusiasm, and this can be infectious. They often inspire others as well. ENFPs are likely to be most satisfied in a work environment that is welcoming to people, innovative, and full of exciting new possibilities. Others can count on them to find new ways of helping people solve problems and overcome barriers.

And, if Typlogic is to be believed, I share my ENFPness with the likes of:

• Mark Twain
• Will Rogers
• Both Mickey and Andy Rooney
• Paul Harvey
• Elizabeth Montgomery
• Dom Delouise
• Robin Williams
• Sandra Bullock
• I. King Jordan
• Regis Philbin
• Andy Kaufman
  

What that means I'm not sure. Dig it though - friggen King Jordan, Mark Twain and both Rooneys. Who knew?

So what's and ENFP ARI type guy supposed to do? I could proceed with the NYU Applied Database Tech Certificate and probably get it. It's something I know I can do, but not what I would love to do and I think that the creative side of me deserves a shot. I've squelched it for sooo long. I'm thinking that somwhere in the realm of the visual arts - photography, graphic design, fine arts I'll find my niche.

Right now I'm content to explore and just starting doing stuff - taking pictures, drawing, mucking about with Photoshop and the like. We'll see what comes of it.

A Friday on the Lake

Tonight is a quiet stay at home Friday. Left work a tad early, went for a run and did some push ups and sit ups. My running is getting better - I ran about a quarter mile longer than I did last time and in about the same time. For the rest of the evening I think I'll just chill out and experiment with Photoshop, play a little Desert Combat and call it good.

Last Friday was quiet and relaxing but didn't start out that way - because it's always a pain in the ass to get out of NYC on a summer Friday and get anywhere. Me, I had to get to Lake Hopatcong in NJ to meet up with some Fordham buddies and go out on the lake. So, I flew out of work around 2PM, caught a train to White Plains, hopped in my car and...It won't start.

Dead battery. See what happens when you don't drive anymore!?

Luckily, I spot a cop in the parking lot near the White Plains Convention Center. It's really just a big gym, but lets pretend it's a convention center. Stick with me folks. Ok, so I spot this cop car and its at the red light waiting to pull out of the lot. The car is not close, but its not far. The light turns green and the cop stops to pull out when, miracle of miracles, a car coming in flags it down. So I turn into WhiteManRunning in the 90 degree humid air and make my way toward the cop, hoping the light doesn't turn or that the cop just decides to screw the no right on red rule.

I make it to the cop car. It's a female Westchester County Cop. I ask. She differs. I ask again and tell her what I'm trying to do and who I am trying to see and that every second counts when it comes to making it across the Tappan Zee on a Friday afternoon. She relents and tells me not to hurt myself and lets me use her battery to jump my car. I cast many blessings and good feelings her way and I'm off. I tell myself that maybe she helped because I was cute. It's a longshot, but what the hey.

I get home, rip off my clothes, walk the dog fast (pee dammit pee!!!) and hop back in my car and go off to battle the traffic on the Tappan Zee. I figured at 3:40 it can't be too bad. The normal 25 minute trip to Joe's place takes 40 minutes. Not horrible. Then Joe is dicking around and we wind up pissing away about 25 minutes. It's an enjoyable 25 minutes but every second counts because now traffic on route 80 west is mounting. Eventually, we blast off and make our way to Lake Hopatcong. Joe is a bit of a closet metal /hard rock freak and he's got System Of A Down's Mezmerize playing and we're just rocking out to it and talking about boozing and sex. (I wind up buying the album the next day on iTunes. Clarisa calls it my "Kill your parents" music. That makes me laugh. :-))

Eventually we make it and Paul and Jerry are there waiting for us. Seconds later we are on the boat and the world changes suddenly. Four lifelong friends are back together - just briefly we know - and it seemed like all our troubles got left in the wake of Paul's boat. We zoomed around. I got to drive a bit and we wound up dropping anchor and just jumping in the lake and floating around.

Nice rays, cool beer, floating around in a lake with life long pals -- priceless stuff. I'd show you all pictures of it but me, being the forgetful dumbass that I can be, remembered to bring my digital camera but forgot to load a CF card. So, all I have is mental snapshots. Let's hope they last! Even better - we need to get out on that boat again soon.

Golden Monkey. Drink it. Spank it. Drink it.

Last summer in mid July a few cool things happened:

1. My brother in law came out to see us
2. We saw a Yankee game in which El Duque made a successful return to Yankee Stadium
3. We discovered Golden Monkey (by Victory)

We were up in Rhinebeck doing a little site seeing and shopping with Clarisa. Bored, hot and tired and hungry and most of all, thirsty, we stopped into Schemmy's to sit down and refresh ourselves.

The waitress tells us they have a new beer in and asks us if we would like to try it. She gives a sample and we love it. It's a Belgian style beer with "abundant fruity flavors" and supposedly packs a kick. We order a pint for each of us. About 10 minutes later and 3/4 of the way through our beers I look over at Matt and feel compelled to make a declaration...

"I don't know how this is possible, but I'm buzzed going on drunk." I said.
"Me too!" Matt said.

We were amazed.

So we finished them and ordered another round and in effect wound up downing a six pack worth of regular beer in less than an hour. Why? Because our magical golden monkey of the fruity flavors and glowing goodness packs 9.5% alcohol by volume.

Oh yes. Golden Monkey is an effective beer.

After that day, I never saw Golden Monkey again. None of the stores down here carry it, or at least they did not the last time I looked. Not that I shop for beer at all really, but when the mood struck now and again I never could find it.

Until now.

A little beverage center that we just happened to stop in on the way to see some friends of ours had it. Not being one to pass up an opportunity, I bought a case of it. As luck would have it, my brother in law is coming out in early July for vacation and to help with the house and once again we will be able to lift a few. AFTER the repairs. Lord knows how fucked up things might get otherwise...

The added bonus of this beer is that you get to say, think and write things like...

I'm happy to share my Monkey. I'll show you where my Monkey is and then let you go get some Monkey 'cos I'm a Monkey lova. I bet you like my Golden Monkey when its cold. Someone help me find my Monkey! I bet you want my Monkey! [inspired by Joe Cartoon's "Look at my Monkey" -- go watch it!]

James catches a break

Good news! We had the insurance adjuster out here yesterday and it looks like all the damage is going to be covered. We already have the floor, so now we just need to head out to Home Depot and plan out a kitchen and bathroom and arrange to have them installed along with new wallboard.

In the meantime, the cats are fascinated with the new "corridor" between the master bath and the kitchen. They just think it's the shit and keep parading in and out of there like its the grand opening of the Chunnel.

Of course its not as horrible now as it was. We tore out all that filth and cleaned it up. It looks like crap, but its clean and neat and not going to stay forever and THANKFULLY we are not going to go broke repairing it all. Yay! So, to sum up, we are not letting our animals parade through the filth.

Anymore. ;-)

On a side note - I took Sasha running with me for the first time in ages and I have to say she was just great. In the past, she was a loon. All things living and dead needed to be checked out and she was just too much to actually run with. This time though -- she did her business at the beginning and then was content to just pad along side me down the rail trail right near our place. We've found our niche! I can't wait to take her tomorrow again.

See the little black eye looking thing to the left of center, just under the rusted metal? It's a little hole. A little tiny hole the size of a nail. A nail some SOB put into the pipe who knows how long ago. A nail that has caused a hole that caused the leak that caused all of this aggravation and accidental Buddhist mind training. Shit happens. Indeed.
Photo By VanishingJames

This is just a small sampling of the absolute Yuck that the leak in our wall caused. Fairly disgusting, right?
Photo By VanishingJames

Summer in the City

It was hot today in the city, and with the return of the heat is the return of the NYC's finest, and lets face facts in some cases, not so fine, cleavage.

Nonetheless the cleavage season is back and going to lunch is an adventure for single and married man alike.

As an added bonus, sometimes, like today -- the sky gets dark real fast and there is a flash storm.

And then mes froid chats, it's simply boobies galore. It's a wet T-Shirt contest with no cover.

Ahh. The guilty pleasures of the commute..

Leak Update and some other stuff..

I haven't posted for a while because I have been dealing with this unraveling disaster at my house. To recap - our washing machine door busted open a few weeks ago, spilling water onto and under our laminate floor. We could not get the water up so we thought we would replace the boards. Lo and behold though, there is water everywhere, too much to be just from the washing machine. Long story short - we had a leak from 3 inch "stack vent" pipe caused by someone, maybe the original builders, putting a nail into the pipe. Water pretty much runs down this pipe all the time and was slowly leaking out into the wood around the pipe and into the wallboard and all underneath our kitchen cabinets for who knows how long. Over time, that's a lot of water damage and that's what we have. If it was not for the washing machine spilling open though, the problem could have gone on a lot longer. We really had no idea the extent of the damage being caused. It was all hidden.

So far, we've torn out all the wallboard in our kitchen from counter-top height on down. It was soaked and moldy and just yucky. It had to come out so we armed ourselves with n-95 respirators, rubber gloves, detergent, bleach and any power tool we figured could help and had at it, taking pictures the whole way through. Even though its disgusting, I saved the wallboard we tore out. Its in garbage bags in our back deck. Our insurance adjuster is coming Tuesday to assess the situation and I need to make a call to a contractor to have our own estimate done. Because this was a pipe inside the wall - a common pipe too, I figure the condo insurance is going to get involved as well.

As far as how we are dealing with all of this -- we've moved through all the phases to acceptance. We cried, we screamed, we bitched and we've certainly worried. Of course, our friends and family have been there to support us. Now we just need to get the insurance issues figured out and we will be well on our way to having a livable home again.

On the job front, I'm wondering if it isn't time to pursue an advanced degree or a certificate and then a degree. In what, I'm not exactly sure, so I am going to take some assessment exams, like the Briggs-Meyers deal in order to find out what I might be interested in / good at. From a purely professional level, it makes sense to do something like NYU's Graduate Certificate in Information Technology (Applied Database Technologies concentration) and try to parlay that into an M.S. in Management and Systems. I figure if I am such a big picture guy, its better for me to move into management than to try and spend years becoming an expert DBA. At the same time though , I'd like to think that my DB skills will all improve through coursework, experience and my own studies.

Of course, this will be both a personal and financial challenge - but one that I've got to do. Maybe its the IT certificate and grad program. Maybe not. Something's coming though. Bet on it.