Last night My wife, Mick the drummer and I went to check out a place in Arlington called Tommy's bar and grill. We pulled into a dive bar parking lot fully expecting the type of atmosphere that such environs are accustom to. I was also expecting some to be organizing the event as it has been advertised via CL for the last two months "8-11". We showed up at about 9:00 walk into what is a tiny and crowded poorly lit (even for a bar) room with lots of smoke and a guy on a stage with a Karaoke machine up and a mic in his hand blasting out " I just called to say I love you..." We happened to walk in just in time to hear the ear splitting Key change! so then we amble through the crowd to the bar and watch as the bar tender seems busy yet avoiding eye contact from every on near by. About a minutes worth of three people queued up ready to order drinks had passed when she was finally with in ear shot of my rumbling "Howdy!" to which she responded with a rolling of eyes and an immediate and brisk trot towards the back supply office. So I says to the folks I'm there with, I says " Hey Follow my lead" and I turn heel and just walked out the door. That's right, I went all Jack Burton on that shithttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IQTp5BL5MMU
But then when I got outside I noticed that while Mick the Drummer was next to me laughing and saying things like " Yeah lets get the **** out" my wife was inside. Apparently she didn't hear me. And she is still patiently waiting for the bar tender chick with fried out what-the-hell-when-did-she-pull-up-in-her-time-machine-from-1991 hair. So I found myself there standing in the door way of a bar, it could be any bar in any town in America; and there she was standing prim and proper and poised ready to make contact to communicate with the wilds and I knew that I loved her with such veracity that I couldn't scream to the top of my lungs "WHAT THE **** WOMAN I SAID FOLLOW MY LEAD". it was at this interesting watershed moment that bubba trucker hat guy stood up and asked if i wanted to play something. I kind of laughed and then walked out again, this time my wife followed my lead. Then we get in the car and she reveals "Well I heard you say follow my lead but I didn't know what that meant."
I share this story to illustrate my frustration with these smaller places trying to set up open mic or even weekly jam nights. ( thats a hot trend coming your way Scott) I wish there had been something proclaiming the open mic, I think bubba trucker hat should have been a bit more hospitable the frist time he noticed three knew humans walked into his bar... I think that bar tenders should at least be slightly human if they want to have people around them enjoy themselves. Then again I guess it could be the age old difference between pubs and bars at work there.
I was about to opine that it would be nice if some one out there could rate the local venues in an easy to under stand fasion. maybe we could attempt some sort of wikki project where we can inform our friends here at musicDFW about the idiosyncratic nature of each of the places we come into contact with? Pray do tell me thine thoughts!
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Monday, November 15, 2010
That's all ya got?
I'm scared now. Energy has been dispersed and thoughts are trying to kick in. The physiological responses to this type of stress do not seem to have completely changed yet. I just fought off a rush of adrenaline and panic. Some where in my head I thought of running to the bed and hiding from the light in the room. as I sit here writing this I feel as if I am un worthy of the opportunities before me. as if by some stretch of my own imagination i am trying to convince myself to let the confidence fade and return to the easy comfortable way of doing nothing.
But I don't want or need this right now. I've got a cliché to edify, a life to reclaim, and a risk to take. So just creep up on me a bit there old school thought patterns and awkwardly triggered aging neural pathways. IF that's all ya got then I should be popping a bottle of Champaign.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
I Have been writing this one song for three years. It isn't rocket science and I am not attempting a rock opera. So it's not some sort of arrogant artist bullshit. It's just that sometimes when I sit down to write, ideas just flow. My soul is laid bare and I just float along the path. Some times its poems some times its angry rants some times its awkward blog posts and sometimes it's a song. I have to say that songs are by far my favorite thing to write. I have an additional method for communication. I would damn near equate the human vocal pattern to a form of body language. Stresses and volume differences and slight timing changes all in concert. and alive, each time I perform the wrong it will be different. I will make an error in this or that or the other and will swing by without too much ass kicking but essentially the song will be different each time. not a facsimile of the original. There is so much freedom to manipulate a song to change a strum or a chord variant or any number of other things that you are free to use to your message.
And for me it's pure. I've never sat down to write a type of song, or to mimic a type of music. I just hit the damn strings and the creative juices start to lubricate the mind enough to allow me to try things to feel things to make merry music mayhap? So sometimes I don't know what the song is about, and because I can't break the mental block on it I can't complete its creation.
So the song is called starting over, for obvious reasons. I try to express that even though I may not know the message I am still trying to convey something.... and sometimes I just have to sit and wait and be non confrontational. I can't believe i have been writing this for three years and have just come to understand its purpose for me in life. I think that music like all other products of creativity an outcome of necessity. Something in me needed to grasp this message of hands off tough love type shit. This one's for you Jim.
Monday, November 08, 2010
True stream of conservativeness.
I recently started looking for people to play music with. I decided that i would post in the musicians section of Craigs list:
I'm a newish guy to the band mates thing... Shit how does one do this: Hey there I am a totally confident somewhat talented guy who can sorta play guitar but has some decent original songs in a needs work condition..... Yeah thats about right. Names Jason I'm 28 I have played acoustic guitar for over a decade but that isn't to imply that I could meet your demand to hammer out a major pentatonic scale ( warning I just made up that string of words) it would suggest however that I am comfortable with expanding my skills and meeting the needs of jamming and playing in the starter level of a band. I don't own a home studio I dont have what ever the **** pro gear implies but I do have calloused fingers a soulful approach to song writing and a pretty bad ass little Talkamine g330 that hasn't treated me wrong yet. I want to jam man just get together and play some music hit me back if you're over 21 years old an in a similar condition.
I've had tons of responses which is new and different for DFW, kind of feels like there might be a bit of an art scene revival. Odd considering Texans recently voted to create such a super majority for the GOP. Why would it be that I would consider an increase in Republican presence and power as a decrease in human creativity and expression? Lets dive into that one shall we? I think that my growing up in the bible belt might have something to do with it. Or there is perhaps the penalty for an accurate description of political preference.
CONCERVATIVE the concept hits me some place between cerebral and soulful. I think of Pentecostal women, of southern Baptist churches boycotting Disney movies, I recall the time my sister burned her cd collection at the behest of a youth minister. Minister o the youth at a nondenominational church. These concepts of conservatism are directly related to morals, value systems and hypocrisy. I rationally know that this has no bearing on the representation of the fiscal views of either of the two major political parties. But there is something about the unfolding of the agenda of the right wing that strikes me as being slightly inhuman, frigid maybe? I don't know. I think the problem is a lack of education. Maybe I just don't know enough about the systems in play to understand what I am feeling about them. I like the idea of reigning in power, of creating real time transparency where available. Audit the Fed and all that jazz. But I fear the outcome of holding too closely to the free market society. To be honest I don't think that either models of operation are correct, I think there has to be an in between out there. Furthermore I believe that Barack Obama is a representation of the concept but that his efforts were so far out of line with the expectations that the old boys club expected that he had no choice but to aim for the moon with his administration knowing full well that there was only going to be a bit of mediocrity. I wonder. Truly wonder what things would be like if this man were a white man. I think he would be equally hated by both sides giving too much to one to make them work with the other can cause resentment in the small minded politicos of today. And the unfortunate truth is that some things do transcend race.
And then enter the Tea Party: I find that most of these folks have a few things in common. A desire to reduce the size of government and a desire to see a third party movement succeed. The Tea Party as it was in 2008 was something to see, a phenomenal example of the internet's power to unite peoples and raise funds and influence change. My interpretation of the current myriad of persons sporting a "Tea Party" logo is that there are a lot of people that seem to believe that xenophobic, homophobic opinions are accepted and are in fact examples of the mind set of Tea Party members. I believe the downfall to have been the very concept that the tea party guys want to enforce and uphold. you might say that they out conservative themselves. Money Bombs. Remember that vulgar name? Just a few years after 9/11 and in the midst of a recession it became popular to request and organize frequent internet based fund raising. "Let's break records" and other such encouraging slogans floated through my inbox with such frequency as to create a nice sold retinal scar. When the control was small or even pure, and by that I mean that it was not really lead by a single person but was truly a representation of citizens fears and concerns the money involved was a respected force. IF we follow the money we see that is no longer the case: http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/cifamerica/2010/oct/25/tea-party-koch-brothers
I believe the Tea Party movement is completely subverted by GOP interests and agendas. And that by so doing the G.O.P. has successfully destroyed a possible third party uprising. Leaving all these people that vote libertarian and "tea Party" un satisfied. Their change didn't come, it was raped and stolen.
I started writing this post about 2 hours ago, it started as a story about a weird guy i met in order to try and find a way to play music again, but instead I went into a political slant. I write everything prior to actually reading the full article that i posted here and prior to actually watching the video I have linked here. seems like a case of God smack to me.
Friday, November 05, 2010
Meds or not to meds that isn't the question
I got to jump in on this line of thought while its here in the frontal area.
I remember once talking to my Father about anti Depressants and I remember him saying " Why would I want to forget the things that have hurt me? I don't need some pill to make me forget what happened I am not that weak." My response in my mind was " So I am weak now?" This is a turning point for me. A moment in the hear and the now where I could see some associated thought patterns emerge. I sit here thinking that it was a closed minded approach to the problem at hand, it was a willingness to avoid correction of a problem. It was a willful request for pain in other words. Why forget the pain? why keep it?
One could argue that the precess of reflecting upon the lessons of pain is a virtuous and long lived human experience. Without pain how do we evolve and all that other existential mental masturbation i could go into. I thought of it as petulant and useless and non-progressive. but the truth is that I had the same sort of resistance to attending counseling of any kind. In my mind that was the next step, the next little chip on the scale of sane versus insane. I have had some rather stormy interpersonal relationships as a result of my ability to cut through what I believe to be bullshit, but that pisses people off... yeah i can see that kind of like you dont want your only picture in the Senior year book to be that of you getting knocked the fuck out by the big kid on campus. If I can see into your bullshit and tell you that I can; make you understand that I can, then I am no longer the person you want to hang with. I have to wonder if there is a fundamental violation that I am committing in some way. I think not, I think that it is the right of everyone to speak their piece, I would prefer that it is done in a respectful manner but hey I gots a temper too Chief.
One could argue that the precess of reflecting upon the lessons of pain is a virtuous and long lived human experience. Without pain how do we evolve and all that other existential mental masturbation i could go into. I thought of it as petulant and useless and non-progressive. but the truth is that I had the same sort of resistance to attending counseling of any kind. In my mind that was the next step, the next little chip on the scale of sane versus insane. I have had some rather stormy interpersonal relationships as a result of my ability to cut through what I believe to be bullshit, but that pisses people off... yeah i can see that kind of like you dont want your only picture in the Senior year book to be that of you getting knocked the fuck out by the big kid on campus. If I can see into your bullshit and tell you that I can; make you understand that I can, then I am no longer the person you want to hang with. I have to wonder if there is a fundamental violation that I am committing in some way. I think not, I think that it is the right of everyone to speak their piece, I would prefer that it is done in a respectful manner but hey I gots a temper too Chief.
So I avoided counseling, I procrastinated and allowed for reasons and excuses to not become a "Mental Health patient". You guys are gonna hate this.... but there is a profoundly negative stigma for person diagnosed with Anxiety disorders within the medical field at large. When i was working in at Methodist Dallas Medical Center I was fortunate enough to expand my skill set to dealing with post op gastric bypass patients. Now that i think about it I am not sure fortunate is completely accurate in this situation. There are certain patterns that nurses can expect to see and work with in any specialty. Ortho nurses know certain things about traction and casts and the ins and outs of surgical wound dressing. Oncology nurses have thiers etc. Well one of the things that i noticed with all of these patients that were coming in to receive bypass surgery held the diagnosis of "GAD" Generalized Anxiety Disorder. I recall having a conversation with another nurse whom probably had a similar Body mass index that I do. If you guys know me IRL then the picture has been painted of a fat hairy guy that looks a lot like but isn't Jim Dyer. At any rate this other nurse and I were discussing some rather strange behavior that we noticed between one of the patients and his visitor. The patient in question was 20 is h male with bright purple hair had actually come up from Austin to have the procedure performed. His visitor was a woman in her 60's easily and thats where it got wierd.... we couldn't determine how to classify that relationship Surely it wasnt related to sex right? Butthen there was that one thing that she was just doing.... odd. Please understand that nurses know people, we are frequently meeting and caring for people of al kinds of composition. So fucking wierd people catch out eye. So as I start to let my sence of humor get involved with the facts my coworker cuts me flat off and says "you know I just don't care you know all these people have mental issues." Incidentally i was asked what phase of the bypass program I belonged to by at least 4 of my patients.... awesome.
reengage
It has again been a super long time since i have updated my blog here. There are some hesitation I have regarding the amount of true detail that i give out to friends family and lurkers alike. I remember stumbling upon this blog again and thinking that I wanted to disperse the poetry that i had written.
See, the thing is, when i write most of my poetry it is a very fast experience, just flies out of me hits the paper like a Rorschach blot and I forget about it. Then i come back to it forever later and think Damn who wrote that? Then I see my by line and it's like what really? All this is to say that some times I am surprised by what i have forgotten that I have written, that I forget to read my non poetry posts.
There have been some vast changes over the last two years and it is an odd feeling to see my post below about the desire to set an appointment with some sort of mental health practitioner. I never actually got the balls to do that on my own. Not in the proper and expected manner I suppose. Instead at a particularly mediocre point in my life I decided that my best plan of action for having a good time and repairing a laptop was to try to steal a hard drive worth about 50 mucks but priced at 89 from Fry's electronics. 'twas fail extreme. I think i disappointed the pretty boy blonde that was looking for a tussle at the door. I just kinda stood there even though I became aware too late that there were about 7 dudes ready to tango with Jason. I had more than enough cash on hand to pay for the HDD...... wait lets do this right :
Ok so little back story for this event. I have been ingesting Effexor according to my Dr.'s orders for about two years at this point, I have not gone to counseling at all. This is a rather interesting sub topic that I will expand upon in another post, but for now just know that I thought i was doing everything that I was supposed to. I got introspective, I acknowledged some mental Health issues and i was medicated..... I felt like nothing was happening and asked to switch to different meds. In order to facilitate that my doctor and I decided that it was necessary to wean the meds back, which we did. I had no idea what life was going to be off of these meds that i had been on fairly regularly for years. Try to remember the most frustrated unconfident moment you have ever had. Probably a moment as a teenager where in your sexuality or other form of self description was in scrutiny of a bully that you both liked as a friend and wanted dead...... Confused? Good thats the point. My head was not on right it was as if some one just gave me rage. "Hey guy have this" and then boom all hulked out and shit. so not an excellent excuse for deciding to steal a hdd but apparently it was enough background information for me to be accepted into a Mental Health Diversion program.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
RE the towers
Do you remeber where you where?
Those things you heard?
that first time you felt pain wash away disbelief?
Was there a point in which you felt a breeze of dirty ash cover your neck?
Did you smell chared flesh?
did it matter that you were not of New York?
were your eyes wide shut?
did you hear the music change a bit?
was there a sence of it must be made right?
Do you remeber getting your tires changed on your car because you had 'important' sh*t to do?Do you remember hearing some subtle hint of pain in a voice not used to expressing such an emotion?
when did you feel wronged?
which member of your extended family was lucky to get away?
which one didn't?
Of all the images that pushed into me that day, the most powerful involved waking, laying flat on a couch in a posh apartment in a Dallas suburb, surrounded by people trying to discern what it means and being forced from sleep to dream 2.0 into the here and now.
and then trying to walk.
Those things you heard?
that first time you felt pain wash away disbelief?
Was there a point in which you felt a breeze of dirty ash cover your neck?
Did you smell chared flesh?
did it matter that you were not of New York?
were your eyes wide shut?
did you hear the music change a bit?
was there a sence of it must be made right?
Do you remeber getting your tires changed on your car because you had 'important' sh*t to do?Do you remember hearing some subtle hint of pain in a voice not used to expressing such an emotion?
when did you feel wronged?
which member of your extended family was lucky to get away?
which one didn't?
Of all the images that pushed into me that day, the most powerful involved waking, laying flat on a couch in a posh apartment in a Dallas suburb, surrounded by people trying to discern what it means and being forced from sleep to dream 2.0 into the here and now.
and then trying to walk.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
flood gates
Drop the buoy. the water is going to crest, the sand bags will become saturated. this might all hold and it might keep you dry. Cold fingers on plastic cubes. clickity clickity get those words out man get those thoughts out. Push that sift it make something happen here, get loose get free of it all
wkae up stop being advertised to labeled placed misplaced. just go.
wkae up stop being advertised to labeled placed misplaced. just go.
too
Long since i've done this
Too in frequent to be significant?
Does this mater
I can't tell any more I do not think the questions are synced with the time. with the now either.
Why am I asking about how and when
does it mater.
Yes, I think it should. Its been a while since this hit since this hit hit hit hit hit hit hit
tiny fist of self banging the dome shape of your forehead and just making the eyes bounce like the back seat of a cholo's car.
hit hit hit hit hit hit hit hit hit hit look at it
look at you
Too in frequent to be significant?
Does this mater
I can't tell any more I do not think the questions are synced with the time. with the now either.
Why am I asking about how and when
does it mater.
Yes, I think it should. Its been a while since this hit since this hit hit hit hit hit hit hit
tiny fist of self banging the dome shape of your forehead and just making the eyes bounce like the back seat of a cholo's car.
hit hit hit hit hit hit hit hit hit hit look at it
look at you
this drain
Slow, clogged like a hair ball in a cats throat
needed don't loose it all to quickly
it takes years
it takes time
people need to slow down
bit torrent is not instant
you don't have a torrent reactor connected to your emotes
you're to damn young to be this old
you're too damn skilled to be unemployed
your too damned to do anything else
Change the fall of the leaf.
Blow at the underside like a toddler keeping it afloat
just breath.
needed don't loose it all to quickly
it takes years
it takes time
people need to slow down
bit torrent is not instant
you don't have a torrent reactor connected to your emotes
you're to damn young to be this old
you're too damn skilled to be unemployed
your too damned to do anything else
Change the fall of the leaf.
Blow at the underside like a toddler keeping it afloat
just breath.
Ergo Chronicles third event.
I worked for a rehab hospital in Arlington. hospital being the operative word here. This was a huge leap for me but I felt that it would be better than nursing homes, I might actually work with individuals under the age of 50. I liked/hated working here. There was team work. there was mentor ship and there were asshole doctors and dependable dumb asses.
Let me explain the concept of a dependable dumb ass. These people undoubtedly exist in all realms of employment and social organization as we know it. These are the people that Never miss a day of work, that are never sick, that never say no to a project, never admit to being ignorant of a subject, never admit their shortcomings. They are also the people that always receive accolades for time and attendance, always speak with managers regarding progress others have made, always seek positions of respect, always want to be idolized, always assume that they are strong leaders, always deny that something should be done differently, always fail to look into themselves in order to identify personal motivations. These people are plentiful despised and coveted. Middle management LOVES a dependable dumb ass. The Double D is capable of taking on unrelenting amounts of duties that the Double M delegates and therefore when on particular project or assignment fails the Double M can place the failure with the Double D and use their perogitive as management to preserve the Double D's employment.
One day while working at this hospital there was a code blue. I think that even the lay person knows enough to understand that a code blue is a life or death situation requiring immediate emergency medical intervention. The Double D on duty pointed to me and assigned me the duty of recorder. I did not know what the hell that meant. I did not know what paper work to use. I was not certified to do the job. This Double D must have assumed that I was also a dumb ass and let me attempt to do this on my own. I asked for help and one of the non interventionist nurses (I'll describe this tribe in a moment) completed the function of Recorder on her own and then left me to fill in the paper work. This meant that during the event the safety guidelines were followed, but the paperwork made little sense.
the Non-Interventionists Nurse is one that sees his/her duty to cause no harm and to function as an individual separate from any one and anything else in the hospital. they are usually good nurses by necessity. They have and want to only rely on themselves and thus they develop a skill set that allows them to be as self sufficient as possible. They disagree with management decisions but only complain about it. There is no desire to join a comity that can change the grievance. There is no extra effort to educate new recruits. The short comings of others are problems of and for others. There is no guiding hand from these people. There is no trust from these people. they wish only to get their crap done and get out of the building. They usually give off an attitude that says " I am way to good to be here" These people Will often times have multiple jobs or unsurprisingly a side business, Mary Kay for some Avon for others Insert trendy commission based program here for still others.
In a separate event I was working with a patient with a low sodium level. a situation that is easily resolved with IV fluids ( I learned that info later) If low sodium is not corrected the person can become confused at first and deathly ill down the line. This was my first hospital to work at. My charge nurse, the legendary Double D from before, instructed me to call and receive orders for s specific pt. it went a bit like this.
DD: "Jason I have the labs for Mr. Doe can you call Dr. ASSHOLE and explain to him that the NA is 100.
Me: Yeah I guess so...
(I make the call and receive a return cal from doctor Asshole.
Dr. Asshole: What are the vitals?
Me: (reads of vitals)
Dr. asshole: Ok 50cc's saline *click*
I relay this info to DD, she explains that doesn't make sense then she further explains that she told me the wrong lab values and that I had actually reported for Mr. Smith and Not Mr. Doe. She then says:
DD: Call him back and explain that you made a mistake.
Me: I really rather you talk to him.
DD: ok make the page.
(Dr. asshole returns the page two hours later as he assumes that the page was a repeat and that he had dealt with the issue already)
(DD is at lunch and of the floor)
Me: Dr. the lab results I read for you were on the wrong patient I was giv...
Dr. Asshole: Jesus Fucking Christ you mean to tell me you started IV fluids on the wrong fucking patient? Are you trying to kill my fucking patients what the fuck is wrong with you? Get me some one that knows what the fuck they are doing.
Me; (deep breath walks to another room and cries as quietly as possible while also being red-faced with rage to be placed in such a position.)
I still had issues with time and attendance related to my fear of beginning a shift. I spoke with management regarding the events at the code. and True to the cyclical form Of Covering ones ass the manager made light of the situation and no reprimands were given. I spoke with the Director of nursing at this time and we discussed my frequent absences. This was when I first suspected that I was suffering from something that I could not control. I broke into tears and told this woman that I was uncertain as to how or why, but that I thought I had an anxiety disorder. I apologized for causing headaches and resigned.
Let me explain the concept of a dependable dumb ass. These people undoubtedly exist in all realms of employment and social organization as we know it. These are the people that Never miss a day of work, that are never sick, that never say no to a project, never admit to being ignorant of a subject, never admit their shortcomings. They are also the people that always receive accolades for time and attendance, always speak with managers regarding progress others have made, always seek positions of respect, always want to be idolized, always assume that they are strong leaders, always deny that something should be done differently, always fail to look into themselves in order to identify personal motivations. These people are plentiful despised and coveted. Middle management LOVES a dependable dumb ass. The Double D is capable of taking on unrelenting amounts of duties that the Double M delegates and therefore when on particular project or assignment fails the Double M can place the failure with the Double D and use their perogitive as management to preserve the Double D's employment.
One day while working at this hospital there was a code blue. I think that even the lay person knows enough to understand that a code blue is a life or death situation requiring immediate emergency medical intervention. The Double D on duty pointed to me and assigned me the duty of recorder. I did not know what the hell that meant. I did not know what paper work to use. I was not certified to do the job. This Double D must have assumed that I was also a dumb ass and let me attempt to do this on my own. I asked for help and one of the non interventionist nurses (I'll describe this tribe in a moment) completed the function of Recorder on her own and then left me to fill in the paper work. This meant that during the event the safety guidelines were followed, but the paperwork made little sense.
the Non-Interventionists Nurse is one that sees his/her duty to cause no harm and to function as an individual separate from any one and anything else in the hospital. they are usually good nurses by necessity. They have and want to only rely on themselves and thus they develop a skill set that allows them to be as self sufficient as possible. They disagree with management decisions but only complain about it. There is no desire to join a comity that can change the grievance. There is no extra effort to educate new recruits. The short comings of others are problems of and for others. There is no guiding hand from these people. There is no trust from these people. they wish only to get their crap done and get out of the building. They usually give off an attitude that says " I am way to good to be here" These people Will often times have multiple jobs or unsurprisingly a side business, Mary Kay for some Avon for others Insert trendy commission based program here for still others.
In a separate event I was working with a patient with a low sodium level. a situation that is easily resolved with IV fluids ( I learned that info later) If low sodium is not corrected the person can become confused at first and deathly ill down the line. This was my first hospital to work at. My charge nurse, the legendary Double D from before, instructed me to call and receive orders for s specific pt. it went a bit like this.
DD: "Jason I have the labs for Mr. Doe can you call Dr. ASSHOLE and explain to him that the NA is 100.
Me: Yeah I guess so...
(I make the call and receive a return cal from doctor Asshole.
Dr. Asshole: What are the vitals?
Me: (reads of vitals)
Dr. asshole: Ok 50cc's saline *click*
I relay this info to DD, she explains that doesn't make sense then she further explains that she told me the wrong lab values and that I had actually reported for Mr. Smith and Not Mr. Doe. She then says:
DD: Call him back and explain that you made a mistake.
Me: I really rather you talk to him.
DD: ok make the page.
(Dr. asshole returns the page two hours later as he assumes that the page was a repeat and that he had dealt with the issue already)
(DD is at lunch and of the floor)
Me: Dr. the lab results I read for you were on the wrong patient I was giv...
Dr. Asshole: Jesus Fucking Christ you mean to tell me you started IV fluids on the wrong fucking patient? Are you trying to kill my fucking patients what the fuck is wrong with you? Get me some one that knows what the fuck they are doing.
Me; (deep breath walks to another room and cries as quietly as possible while also being red-faced with rage to be placed in such a position.)
I still had issues with time and attendance related to my fear of beginning a shift. I spoke with management regarding the events at the code. and True to the cyclical form Of Covering ones ass the manager made light of the situation and no reprimands were given. I spoke with the Director of nursing at this time and we discussed my frequent absences. This was when I first suspected that I was suffering from something that I could not control. I broke into tears and told this woman that I was uncertain as to how or why, but that I thought I had an anxiety disorder. I apologized for causing headaches and resigned.
Ergo chronicles second event.
My second job as a nurse was via a temporary agency. I was young and I managed to bargain for an underpaid price. I was 19 the recruiter was 24. The facilities that I went to were nursing homes. Nothing like a hospital or a confinement center. I thought tat this would be much easier to deal with. I was only half correct about that. I worked at a place in Arlington that was a nursing home that had contracted labor from my agency. This place was writing hot checks to its own employees and was allowing on wing of the place to be used as a living quarters for the friends and family of the NH's managers/owners. The meals were sub par and the pt.'s were not adequately supplied with medical stores.
One man there had no legs and was wheel chair bound. He had a bedsore that was his entire backside. I was able to change this dressing, I spent a solid two hours making sure that I could do everything i could for this man each time I changed the dressing. The wound was so deep that I could see the coccyx AKA the tail bone. I always went to this place. I never called in. There was a need for people that gave two shits.
There were other places that i was sent to via this same recruiter. I didn't make it to all those shifts. New places are a blessing and a challenge. You never know when you are going to get a place with solid staff and easy work flow. You almost always expect to work harder than usual and thats ok. But you never know when you are going to land a shift at a place like the one I described here. New places offer new faces and a clean slate. People won't look at you an visible think "hot damn he showed up" and thus the mind can try to function cleanly with out paranoia. My recruiter called me an asshole once when i explained that I could not go in to work. I ended the employer employee relationship at that time. In my youth and lack of insight I used this event as the main description and labeling of my end there.
One man there had no legs and was wheel chair bound. He had a bedsore that was his entire backside. I was able to change this dressing, I spent a solid two hours making sure that I could do everything i could for this man each time I changed the dressing. The wound was so deep that I could see the coccyx AKA the tail bone. I always went to this place. I never called in. There was a need for people that gave two shits.
There were other places that i was sent to via this same recruiter. I didn't make it to all those shifts. New places are a blessing and a challenge. You never know when you are going to get a place with solid staff and easy work flow. You almost always expect to work harder than usual and thats ok. But you never know when you are going to land a shift at a place like the one I described here. New places offer new faces and a clean slate. People won't look at you an visible think "hot damn he showed up" and thus the mind can try to function cleanly with out paranoia. My recruiter called me an asshole once when i explained that I could not go in to work. I ended the employer employee relationship at that time. In my youth and lack of insight I used this event as the main description and labeling of my end there.
Ergophobia a feeling
What does it feel liketo understand that one is operating under the influence of irrational fear? My personal experiance is the alsmot predicatble. I do not always experiance anxiety/fear. Understand that I think that calling something like this an 'anxiety' issue is a bit of an understatement.
Anxiety
Fear
We have a winner
Terror
This is the one I feel. FEEL. The sensation is an escalating one. It starts with a simple "I'm too tired to go to work*yawn*. Progresses to "damn am I gonna vomit, do I have a fever? Where is the thermometer?". This progresses to an iff then situaton, if I happen to think that i can get away with a sick call. as in if I have not puled it off in a while I'll cal in. explain I am ill and stay home. This sis starting to get complex. I literally have to voices in my mind when this is going down. the alternate path is: wake up its time for work "man I need this money." "you aren't sick you know it, your just wussing out, your stomach is fine you don't have a fever that's why you don't grab a thermometer." "Stop! Put the damn phone down its gonna be fine just walk through the door and start your day you'll be fine." ( If I manage to push through and make it to work) " Bout damn time no just go in here and get through the first half hour." (If I pick up the phone) "God damn it Jason. *Amanda's voice: damn it Jason* Said in that tone of voice that conveys the ultimate disappointment. It's a tone of voice that I do not think any wife would ever have to create. Its a tone of voice that has it's own personal emotional response. I hear her say that and my hear skips a beat my breath gets short and my eyes find my feet, or what ever obstacle lies between. I feel a faint flush of adrenaline as the desire to get away sets in.
Some times I do not pick up the phone. Some times I get in the car and I drive. Sometimes I drive to the hospital and stay in the car and consider the terror tat keeps the engine running. I think "what could go wrong, its fine you do well once you get in there" and I also think "get the fuck out of here. You can't do this. this it too much. Jason Leave!"
If I go in I am shaky for about 20 minutes which is fine. The morning is the quietest time. People are still asleep trying to push through the fog of traffic (see war) and bring themselves from there reverie and into the here and now. I am not so out of place to any one else that might observe a guy that looks/feels slightly out of place. After this odd period of time i meet my patients and I forget that i ever felt that way. I push into and through the obstacles of functioning properly as a nurse and get the job done. I receive complements I connect spiritually and importantly as an advocate for the ill. I crack jokes I receive respect from Doctors. I trend information and function with the critical thinking developed after 8 years of nursing.
Other times I drive around the parking lot for about an hour maybe longer I realize that I can't do it or that I won't be able to force my body to respond to the logical side of my mind and I call in and create what ever story I think will fly. understand that i have gone through about a dozen different scenarios concerning half a dozen different excuses and have sorted through which of them would be the best in response to who it is I need to speak to. The response is fight or flight in the creation of these excuses I am able to appease both. I fight to make the stories fit to facilitate the flight. I often find a way to not go into work and the relief is nothing compared to the disgust. It's like being mugged. My money for that day has just been stolen by the trader that operated my body.
I have done this for years. I have lost jobs I have been denied employment, i have damn near reached bankruptcy. I need to set an appointment this week.
Anxiety
| 1. | distress or uneasiness of mind caused by fear of danger or misfortune: He felt anxiety about the possible loss of his job. |
| 2. | earnest but tense desire; eagerness: He had a keen anxiety to succeed in his work. |
| 3. | Psychiatry. a state of apprehension and psychic tension occurring in some forms of mental disorder. |
| 1. | a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined; the feeling or condition of being afraid. |
| 2. | a specific instance of or propensity for such a feeling: an abnormal fear of heights. |
| 3. | concern or anxiety; solicitude: a fear for someone's safety. |
| 4. | reverential awe, esp. toward God. |
| 5. | that which causes a feeling of being afraid; that of which a person is afraid: Cancer is a common fear. |
Terror
| 1. | intense, sharp, overmastering fear: to be frantic with terror. |
| 2. | an instance or cause of intense fear or anxiety; quality of causing terror: to be a terror to evildoers. |
Some times I do not pick up the phone. Some times I get in the car and I drive. Sometimes I drive to the hospital and stay in the car and consider the terror tat keeps the engine running. I think "what could go wrong, its fine you do well once you get in there" and I also think "get the fuck out of here. You can't do this. this it too much. Jason Leave!"
If I go in I am shaky for about 20 minutes which is fine. The morning is the quietest time. People are still asleep trying to push through the fog of traffic (see war) and bring themselves from there reverie and into the here and now. I am not so out of place to any one else that might observe a guy that looks/feels slightly out of place. After this odd period of time i meet my patients and I forget that i ever felt that way. I push into and through the obstacles of functioning properly as a nurse and get the job done. I receive complements I connect spiritually and importantly as an advocate for the ill. I crack jokes I receive respect from Doctors. I trend information and function with the critical thinking developed after 8 years of nursing.
Other times I drive around the parking lot for about an hour maybe longer I realize that I can't do it or that I won't be able to force my body to respond to the logical side of my mind and I call in and create what ever story I think will fly. understand that i have gone through about a dozen different scenarios concerning half a dozen different excuses and have sorted through which of them would be the best in response to who it is I need to speak to. The response is fight or flight in the creation of these excuses I am able to appease both. I fight to make the stories fit to facilitate the flight. I often find a way to not go into work and the relief is nothing compared to the disgust. It's like being mugged. My money for that day has just been stolen by the trader that operated my body.
I have done this for years. I have lost jobs I have been denied employment, i have damn near reached bankruptcy. I need to set an appointment this week.
Ergophobia
I have cut out April as a source of distraction. A family guy like me doesn't need to deal with pot head ramblings. no matter what good intentions might exist.
PLR 7 was sweet. Nice lan new leadership had a ton of fun.
This past weekend Zach rocked. We stayed up late and i was due to get up with Kira in the morning. the en devour left me with 2hrs of sleep. Zach decided to stay up with her. Made her breakfast and entertained her till Amanda woke up. then he Mowed the lawn as per his agreement with Cheryl regarding the staying out all night that he and I partook in. He did it all with a smile.
Amanda and I have been working better as a team. I do chores now... it is amazing. It's like a sort of WD-40 for the marriage. It isn't that I just didn't do anything its just that I didn't do anything til I was ready to do it. Nowadays though I think about how she is going to respond first.
I remember that when Amanda and I decided that we were equally yoked, and ready to take on this thing called life together, that I had it all figured out. I had my goal and my mission statement and these wonderful things that I wanted to complete. For those that do not know...
My mission statement: Provide a love and strength for my family second only to God.
What an amazingly tall order. I was 20 or so at the time. It seemed doable, actually it was more than actionable it was mandatory, a must a measure of self respect and value.
I sit here now wondering what the hell I was thinking, or rather why the hell I thought that was something that would be easy. These few years later have brought immense amounts of exp. I do not think that such a goal is unattainable, I don't think it is naive or unrealistic either. That being said, I have failed that goal many times. I am unemployed more often than I am employed. I have a nursing license and am usually able to find work at will.
And thats the damn kicker right there will. Lets look at this in the entirety of JAED. I have suspected and now believe that I have an awesome anxiety disorder. Not awesome as in rock band or "damn that was good food". But awesome in the terms of biblical strength. Awesome in terms of the destructive power of gun powder fueled projectiles. Ergophobia is one such force.
Ergophobia: An abnormal and persistent fear of work. Sufferers of ergophobia experience undue anxiety about the workplace environment even though they realize their fear is irrational. Their fear may actually be a combination of fears, such fear of failing at assigned tasks, fear of speaking before groups at work, or fear of socializing with co-workers.
I am a pretty social guy, I can relate to people of all walks of life and have no qualms regarding race, creed, religion, sex, age.
I'd like to take a moment here to focus on the fact that people with anxiety disorders KNOW that the fear is irrational. A good analogy would be to imagine that you are in the operating room undergoing a routine surgery only to find that the drugs used to put you out did not stop pain but did stop you from moving. You would sit there an understand that if you could just move a limb, a digit, change your breathing, shed a tear, that everything would be ok. Some one would notice.
This is how I have felt many times. Over the last 8 years I have found various reasons and methods for leaving jobs just to get away from the feeling of nausea and vomiting associated with waking up and knowing I am going into the work place. I can trace this. Vividly. I know that i have a knack for allowing this type of understanding to lay dormant. One can assume that such a thing is dormant, but for me I think that the emotions transmuted into rage. One can assume that during the surgical process wherein on can feel pain but not move that one would feel the red heat of rage inter the scene just behind fear and before helplessness.
In school, and by this i mean the odd hybrid of education that I underwent to become both a high school grad and graduated vocational nurse in time for the summer of 2000, I spent two academic years dealing with the anxiety of puberty, relationships with the opposite sex, and crazy ass parents on top off and in addition to the craziness of a 17/18 year old boy trying to make old/sick people believe that I was capable of healing listening and preventing further injury to them while they were in the hospital.
Add to that the fact that while I was convincing myself and my patients and my instructors that I was able to become and function as a nurse, I had other nurses and Doctors to deal with as well. Doctors. Let that sink in if nothing else. From the moment a child is born the profession of Doctor is amongst the top desires of parents for thier children. Doctors reputedly make for a fine catch on the day time tv. Doctors are athority, they are ranked just above cops and just below the President in the mind of a child. So there I was... Dealing with all the normal bullshit that (some) kids deal with and trying like hell not to get on the radar. I did not want to kill any one. I did not want to be the catalyst of causation for some sort of catastrophic event.
None of this was ever worked out. I never spoke to people about what it was to go to school at that age. Most people would hear that there was once a group of 13 kids that were allowed to attend nursing school while in high school and would think, "damn that's lucky... Wish they had that when I as a kid..." Those types of comments or even observations do not allow for the open hearted complaints and undersides of the experience. some things have been hammered out by now. the relationships with the opposite sex. Never speak to my parental units again, and yeah Doctors are fallible.
My first job out of school was through the hospital network that provided my education. They allowed me to work in a confinement center at the resilient (see tender) age of 18. I was an LVN not in a hospital. I liked that concept I figured less I could make go wrong. I was wrong. The management at the medical unit I worked at decided that I was capable of handling a facility that contained over 500 inmates on my own over night on the weekends. So it was a bit of a kick in their ass when I had to respond to a complaint of chest pain and had not clue what I was supposed to do or how to do it. But more importantly it rocked my little world too. That wasn't supposed to happen I was the medicine man the guy that passed out tablets and capsules. Not the guy that saved potential heart attack victims. I was sure that I had done something wrong. that I didn't know enough to do the full work that the position required and that I was at fault. These many years later i see that I did not really have the fault there, that I was used and the management staff had absolutely no grasp on what was needed to safely run the facility. So first job lasted around 8 months.
I never missed a day at this job, I was always able to go into work here. I left because I realized I could not perform the duties needed to keep people safe. I met a man named Tyron Copeland he as a pod officer that introduced me to a line of fantasy literature from the Forgotten Realms universe. Drizt and I have been fast friends since. I managed to miss the date of Tyron's wedding and he has never spoken to me since.
I am at a cross roads here as to the tone of the piece I am writing. I can go through and discuss the current paralyzing feelings that I have regarding my fear of work. or I can continue to break down the traumatic experiences that I can recall at each place of employment. I think I will stop this entry and begin posting a series of insight as to the feeling of irrational fear, and then seperatly of each traumatic experience chronologically.
PLR 7 was sweet. Nice lan new leadership had a ton of fun.
This past weekend Zach rocked. We stayed up late and i was due to get up with Kira in the morning. the en devour left me with 2hrs of sleep. Zach decided to stay up with her. Made her breakfast and entertained her till Amanda woke up. then he Mowed the lawn as per his agreement with Cheryl regarding the staying out all night that he and I partook in. He did it all with a smile.
Amanda and I have been working better as a team. I do chores now... it is amazing. It's like a sort of WD-40 for the marriage. It isn't that I just didn't do anything its just that I didn't do anything til I was ready to do it. Nowadays though I think about how she is going to respond first.
I remember that when Amanda and I decided that we were equally yoked, and ready to take on this thing called life together, that I had it all figured out. I had my goal and my mission statement and these wonderful things that I wanted to complete. For those that do not know...
My mission statement: Provide a love and strength for my family second only to God.
What an amazingly tall order. I was 20 or so at the time. It seemed doable, actually it was more than actionable it was mandatory, a must a measure of self respect and value.
I sit here now wondering what the hell I was thinking, or rather why the hell I thought that was something that would be easy. These few years later have brought immense amounts of exp. I do not think that such a goal is unattainable, I don't think it is naive or unrealistic either. That being said, I have failed that goal many times. I am unemployed more often than I am employed. I have a nursing license and am usually able to find work at will.
And thats the damn kicker right there will. Lets look at this in the entirety of JAED. I have suspected and now believe that I have an awesome anxiety disorder. Not awesome as in rock band or "damn that was good food". But awesome in the terms of biblical strength. Awesome in terms of the destructive power of gun powder fueled projectiles. Ergophobia is one such force.
Ergophobia: An abnormal and persistent fear of work. Sufferers of ergophobia experience undue anxiety about the workplace environment even though they realize their fear is irrational. Their fear may actually be a combination of fears, such fear of failing at assigned tasks, fear of speaking before groups at work, or fear of socializing with co-workers.
I am a pretty social guy, I can relate to people of all walks of life and have no qualms regarding race, creed, religion, sex, age.
I'd like to take a moment here to focus on the fact that people with anxiety disorders KNOW that the fear is irrational. A good analogy would be to imagine that you are in the operating room undergoing a routine surgery only to find that the drugs used to put you out did not stop pain but did stop you from moving. You would sit there an understand that if you could just move a limb, a digit, change your breathing, shed a tear, that everything would be ok. Some one would notice.
This is how I have felt many times. Over the last 8 years I have found various reasons and methods for leaving jobs just to get away from the feeling of nausea and vomiting associated with waking up and knowing I am going into the work place. I can trace this. Vividly. I know that i have a knack for allowing this type of understanding to lay dormant. One can assume that such a thing is dormant, but for me I think that the emotions transmuted into rage. One can assume that during the surgical process wherein on can feel pain but not move that one would feel the red heat of rage inter the scene just behind fear and before helplessness.
In school, and by this i mean the odd hybrid of education that I underwent to become both a high school grad and graduated vocational nurse in time for the summer of 2000, I spent two academic years dealing with the anxiety of puberty, relationships with the opposite sex, and crazy ass parents on top off and in addition to the craziness of a 17/18 year old boy trying to make old/sick people believe that I was capable of healing listening and preventing further injury to them while they were in the hospital.
Add to that the fact that while I was convincing myself and my patients and my instructors that I was able to become and function as a nurse, I had other nurses and Doctors to deal with as well. Doctors. Let that sink in if nothing else. From the moment a child is born the profession of Doctor is amongst the top desires of parents for thier children. Doctors reputedly make for a fine catch on the day time tv. Doctors are athority, they are ranked just above cops and just below the President in the mind of a child. So there I was... Dealing with all the normal bullshit that (some) kids deal with and trying like hell not to get on the radar. I did not want to kill any one. I did not want to be the catalyst of causation for some sort of catastrophic event.
None of this was ever worked out. I never spoke to people about what it was to go to school at that age. Most people would hear that there was once a group of 13 kids that were allowed to attend nursing school while in high school and would think, "damn that's lucky... Wish they had that when I as a kid..." Those types of comments or even observations do not allow for the open hearted complaints and undersides of the experience. some things have been hammered out by now. the relationships with the opposite sex. Never speak to my parental units again, and yeah Doctors are fallible.
My first job out of school was through the hospital network that provided my education. They allowed me to work in a confinement center at the resilient (see tender) age of 18. I was an LVN not in a hospital. I liked that concept I figured less I could make go wrong. I was wrong. The management at the medical unit I worked at decided that I was capable of handling a facility that contained over 500 inmates on my own over night on the weekends. So it was a bit of a kick in their ass when I had to respond to a complaint of chest pain and had not clue what I was supposed to do or how to do it. But more importantly it rocked my little world too. That wasn't supposed to happen I was the medicine man the guy that passed out tablets and capsules. Not the guy that saved potential heart attack victims. I was sure that I had done something wrong. that I didn't know enough to do the full work that the position required and that I was at fault. These many years later i see that I did not really have the fault there, that I was used and the management staff had absolutely no grasp on what was needed to safely run the facility. So first job lasted around 8 months.
I never missed a day at this job, I was always able to go into work here. I left because I realized I could not perform the duties needed to keep people safe. I met a man named Tyron Copeland he as a pod officer that introduced me to a line of fantasy literature from the Forgotten Realms universe. Drizt and I have been fast friends since. I managed to miss the date of Tyron's wedding and he has never spoken to me since.
I am at a cross roads here as to the tone of the piece I am writing. I can go through and discuss the current paralyzing feelings that I have regarding my fear of work. or I can continue to break down the traumatic experiences that I can recall at each place of employment. I think I will stop this entry and begin posting a series of insight as to the feeling of irrational fear, and then seperatly of each traumatic experience chronologically.
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