Two Hundred and Eight, Progress

I know I'm a geek. My time goes into studying for school and Warcraft! On that note, I did want to say what a difference I see in myself ingame from when I used to play to the past few months. As part of a guild working together to beat all the challenges the game throws at us, I have really come to appreciate the bonds you form with your fellow players. Tonight I stayed up 2 hours past my bedtime because were were slowly making progress. We had reached a point our guild members had never reached before by downing the next to last boss in the current end-game content AND began working on our strategy for the final boss. Included below are before and after pictures of General Vezax! I realize you can't really see anything but dangit, I got the pictures on here! I'll see if I can't get on to expand later on.

Before

After

Two Hundred and Seven, Defeat...for Now!

So I admit, I do not have the patience or time right now to tinker on my cpu to figure out why the motherboard's built-in wireless card is on the fritz. So I went out and purchased a new Wireless USB device. I have now returned to the Interwebs not beaten down, but not holding my head high with knowledge of what's going on.

Two Hundred and Six, Scariness

So my computer sometimes decides to not see the wireless card. It's a little scary. The two computers that I have made have both been very special and worrisome. This is interesting only because all my friends' homemade machines work fairly well. Why both of mine would be messed up as they get, I have no idea. The worst part is that I'll just pray and keep using the machine as it throws up signs of machine dementia. No one really has any idea where to go or what to do. All of my friends--even the tech savvy ones--eventually throw in the towel on my machines. Makes me wonder if I should even mess with creating my own computers. It's sad because I get some joy out of creating my personal Frankensteins and that joy is being pulled away from me. As in baseball, the third strike you're out so I'll understand what it means if on my next machine (still some years in the future) I run into the same problem. Only time will tell.

Until then, I'll be bumming the Internet from the Roomie and school as I can. On the plus side, no reason to worry about Warcraft progress!

Two Hundred and Five, The Alaskan is in a Movie

Go watch Up. City of Ember wasn't too bad either. I swear the girl in City of Ember looks a lot like the Alaskan, even if she disagrees! Speaking of, it's her birthday tomorrow, so even if I forget to call her and wish her a happy birthday, I get credit for this entry!...Because I say it is so!...Ok, so maybe not...but at least I put forth this little effort compared to my measly contact with others throughout the year.

Two Hundred and Four, The Pit

I have interesting family dynamics which I might get into more detail down the road but suffice it to say, tomorrow I will enter The Pit and I don't know if I'll ever see the light again.  But as a member of this family, it's my place to try to change people's outlooks and reasonings.  We'll see how the progresses over the next couple years.

Two Hundred and Three, Three Friends

"The three boys, one dark, on e light, and one--for lack of a better word--fiery, do not notice the night.  Perhaps some part of them does, but they are young, and drunk, and busy knowing deep in their hearts that they will never grow old or die.  They also know that they are friends, and they share a certain love that will never leave them.  The boys know many other things, but none of them seem as important as this.  Perhaps they are right."

page 395, Chapter Fifty-nine from The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss

Two Hundred and Two, Girls and their Fathers

Reading a facebook post put up by a girl that says she misses her Daddy breaks my heart when I remember her Dad died almost a year ago.

Two Hundred and One, Time's Endless Progression

My world is static to me.  I wake up, go to school, come home, hang out with the same peeps, sleep.  Rinse.  Repeat.  Ever since high school, my life has consisted of this same pattern.  There were some derangements such as weddings or the birth of some new kids or the passing away of some folks but my immediate life has had no change.  At home people still argue a lot and do things the way they want instead of compromising.  At my friend's place, we still get together and play games.  In my college town, I still go out to dinner with people to have a good evening.  I still play computer games like crazy.  I still make mini road trips to see other friends in nearby towns.  

The doc I worked with on my away rotation went through medical school not expecting children since his wife had had extensive radiation for an early cancer and was deemed infertile.  To his surprise, a few years into his established family practice, he had a couple little girls.  He told me how before the girls, time for him was at a standstill.  Now with the little ones, he sees old mannerisms disappearing while new ones begin all the time.  To him time is running rampant and he cannot get it under control again.  He loves his daughters very much but still admits he misses things they used to do when they were younger.  

I don't cuddle up with my dad anymore.  I also don't fall asleep on my grandmother's lap while we watch an evening movie.  I also don't cutely offer to help with cleanup after dinner and instead make sure I do the heavier cleanup so no one else must.  I do still run over to my friends' home but stay much later than I used to.

Tomorrow I go to take another test in a multitude of tests I have taken and that I have yet to take.  After it is over, I will celebrate by either running around outside a bit, paying bills, or playing Warcraft.  Then Saturday I'll drive home for a night.  All of it has happened before and will happen again.

But one day it won't!

Two Hundred, Another List of Memories

• First season of Cylons with a friend
  
• Hearing the tuba again
  
• Spontaneous late-night table discussions with new people and old people
  
• Couch-crashing
  
• Baseball games
  
• Guacamole and taco salad
  
• Brownies
  
• Baking a cake
• Jesus loves this guy!
• A cave
  
• A museum and a shut-down factory
  
• Local eats
  
• Southern drawls
  
• A splinter in a little girl's hand
  
• Extremely thankful patients
  
• Gangrene
  
• Exploration of an old but new town
  
• One skittish dog
  
• One wonderful vegetarian restaurant
  
• Being reminded that time doesn't stop
• Writing that reminds me of my friend
  

One Hundred and Ninety-nine, 1812 Overture

I had a really bad weekend a long time ago.  September 7th - September 9th, 2001: I first got caught for going 30 over the speed limit in a residential zone--a mandatory court date--and then I proceeded to twist my ankle on a putt putt green.  Of course, in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't that big a deal with the following Tuesday to come but at that point in my life, it sucked.  My ankle healed well enough.  I learned that I really did NOT have the upper body strength to walk all the way across campus on crutches without stopping for a break every hundred feet.  But as the week wore on, I began building up some strength and I managed to go two hundred feet without stopping by the time I finished with them the following week.  The anxiety from the speeding ticket, however, did not cease.  The court date was set for Oct 22nd or 23rd--somewhere around there.  Court was in my hometown, school was over an hour away, I had no car.  Oh, and I never told my dad who pays my car insurance.  Yeah, I was freaking out.  I turned then to those who I go to when I'm in trouble--the Beatnik, Lord Chaos, and the Engineer.  They helped me crack a plan where Beatnik and Lord Chaos' older brother came down Sunday night, took Monday off to drive me to my hometown and court, and then return me to my schooltown later that day.  

The elder brother--Politico for short--and I really grew close that day.  He helped coach me on dress as well as making sure to show the proper respect to the judge.  On the way up north he had classical music playing to help relax me.  It didn't really work.  I was a nervous wreck all the way up.  Getting to the courthouse, we went in and sat down--us in our suits, everone else in their everyday clothing.  I might have been self-conscious about it except again, I was a nervous wreck.  Then he called me up...incorrectly saying my name.  My brain went into auto-pilot as I stood up and walked to the front; I corrected the judge on the pronunciation.  Part of me cringed as did Politico back in the benches (I learned that later).  He spoke the offenses then reduced them on the basis of it being my first one.  I believe I said guilty when he was done talking and he then told me I had the choice of points on my license or driving school to rescind them.  The rest is a blur in the courthouse except for the stop at the payment desk where I shelled out court costs of around $76 from my carefully collected rainy day fund.  Then Politico and I began our trip back to schooltown.

The Beatnik is the English major, but storytelling runs in their entire family.  For some reason, Politico began the story during the start of a Tchaikovsky piece.  Both the story and the music began softly enough up to the point of the cop pulling me over.  There a major musical announcement came forth.  Again the music quieted down and proceeded along with the story in much the same fashion that I simultaneously ignored the situation with moments of utter terror for the next month.  Then the planning stages of the court date were upon me.  Slowly all the pieces began fitting into place as odd as they might have seemed and the situation promised to move forward as smoothly as we could manage.  The drive up to the courthouse was a tense, advice-filled time and proceeded up to the entry into the courtroom.  Then the great battle (ok, this part was slightly off between the story and the music) during which the decisions for my mistakes were made.  Then, as we left, great relief!  Wave after Wave, Bombardment after Bombardment, everything was finishing up and the pounding noise massaged my relaxed self having survived the ordeal.  That song is now forever associated with that event and with the Politico in my mind.  In the grand scheme of things, not a big deal, but to me at the time, it was my world crashing down.

I realized then that if I ever got a chance to do something similar for someone else, I wouldn't hesitate.  The world gave me the company of people I needed at the time and I wouldn't hold myself back for my friends if such a time came for them.

Thank you my friends.

One Hundred and Ninety-eight, Son of God

Jesus loves me!

One Hundred and Ninety-seven, One Thousand Words

One Hundred and Ninety-six, Hiss

I stare out a window, old enough to warp the light coming in so the tree in the distance looks spooky in the gloaming.  The house across the way has some vines growing up the sides and I've never seen a light or person there.  Maybe it's abandoned.  People tonight are dyeing eggs and celebrating birthdays and eating good food.  I sit here in the dark listening to the gas from the heater behind me hissing out.  

One Hundred and Ninety-five, Whoa

I haven't read a blog or webcomic in three or four months...

The thought just floored me. It's not that it's freedom; it's not good or bad; it just is. I do realize I've missed reading some close friends' blogs which I would enjoy. But things are as they are right now and I won't fight it currently. Maybe upon residency and possibly moving to Land's End, USA, I might drag myself more to there to catch a glimpse of what my peeps are encountering and doing.

One Hundred and Ninety-four, Cardiac Arrest

I have been remiss from this forum for quite a while mainly because I did forget about it in the jumble known as life.  This entry doesn't herald my sudden return to all things blog but it is to point out a small event that occurred earlier today.

A patient in the hospital for whatever reason stopped breathing and pumping his own blood.  Doctors rushed in along with nurses, I stood outside the room with my three colleagues.  I hear different orders being shouted through the air, "Get the crash cart!" "You start compressions!" "I'll get the kit" "Push another atropine!" "Stop! Does he have a pulse?" "Rotate on compressions" "We have a pulse!" "Ok, he's stable" "I lost the pulse!" "Quick, start compressions again!" and on and on.

At one point, one of the residents turns to me, points, and beckons.  As I near him, he tells me to leave my white coat outside the room.  I hurriedly rush in sans white coat and grab the gloves he gives me.  

"You're going to relieve the guy giving compressions."

My mind's jaw drops.  My physical body continues as directed to the side of the room where the folks giving compressions are standing and doing their job.  As I stand behind the fellow whose shoulders are heaving as he pushes heavily onto the old gentleman's sternum, someone tells him to pause to check pulses.  They find one!  Everyone relaxes (again) as the people in the room prepare to move the bed to the ICU.  As the connections are dropped, they notice his pulse is gone again.  Matt, my resident, turns to me and points me in.  I step up, place my hands as taught and practiced on rubber dummies, and start counting while doing my job.  I count ~50 compressions when the lady next to me says, "I can feel your compressions, stop so I can see if he's beating on his own."  I halt.  She still has a pulse.  I step back after glancing at Matt as the bed is wheeled off.  As I exit slowly behind the bed and its horde of people, my two colleagues come up to me and congratulate me on saving a life.  I stutter like I always do when I get a compliment.  Jokes continue into the night about using the story to score chicks at the bar.  I'm just happy he lived.  And constantly reminding myself in my mind about how oddly the feel of the elderly gentleman's chest felt just like the mannequins we practice on.  The only odd part was the face staring up at me slowly turning first purple, then pink with compressions, and with a mouth slightly parted in the agony of the situation...