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It’s difficult to live in a grey world

…so here’s some color

Art from Indian Landing elementary school

Everything in my life is grey – the weather, the food, the smells, everything.

But, from time-to-time, there are spots of color and I didn’t want to end my year, or yours, in the grey. So here’s a list of them:

  • Alison’s completely conscious and remembering more now. She still forgets a lot, but I remind her.
  • She just started intensive PT/OT and she’s moved her left hand and leg again. It’s not much, but it’s something.
  • I’m sleeping on a cot now, instead of the floor, so that’s a plus.
  • Friends and strangers keep asking how they can help and offering us food, places to stay in the UES, and babysitting. And they mean it.
  • Some children from Indian Landing elementary school sent us some drawings to cheer us up.
  • One of her cousins as well as several of her friends have sent us a ton of food. Including chili. Chili makes everything better.
  • Neighbors have constantly been checking in on us, including in our building and even next door.

And finally, the donations. Feel a bit like George Bailey at the end of It’s a Wonderful Life.

  • Both Alison and I have had relatives, friends, complete strangers, exes, and neighbors – both long-lost and current – donate.
  • The number of LJ and blog readers that have donated is also pretty jaw-dropping. I’ve always felt these relationships mattered and this really bore it out. My friend Joceyln just wrote about us in her blog, from the other side of the world.
  • My fencing instructor – and HIS instructor, as well – and our students past and present, and those of related schools, have donated.
  • My gym – Radical MMA – has had no less than three fundraisers, and too many individual members of my gym have donated, including the owner and his wife.

There are just too many people to thank but we will try, as the days and weeks get better, we will try. I promise.

My long-time readers know that I’ve always had a dim view of humanity.

I stand corrected. The fact that all of you set my wife apart means that I’m wrong.

That means more to me than you could possibly imagine.

And your kindness may legitimately help us save her because a recent study said that those that live a life of gratitude make better decisions.

I believe it because the fact of the matter is that I’ve been crippled by grief, unable to do much beyond function.

But I am so humbly grateful that so many people care about my person that we’re seeing color again. Not a lot, but enough. Enough to keep trying. Enough for a bit of hope.

Thank you, everyone.

Her: I had a good day today, I think.
Me: If you had a good day, then I had a good day.

 

Location: At the end of 2015, the best and worst year of our lives
Mood: grateful
Music: I set you apart. Tell me your secrets

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I’m all by myself

Four words and 50 stories

Weill Cornell Christmas Lobby 2015

There’s little sadder than being the only person in a hospital on Christmas.

———-

Me: (picking up phone, anxious) Alison?
Her: (panicked) Where are you!? Where am I!?

Of all the Adam Sandler/Drew Barrymore films, the one I’ve enjoyed most is 50 First Dates.

In it, Barrymore’s character can’t retain recent memories and only remembers things in her distant past, and Sandler’s character has to repeatedly “meet” her again and again. In the end, he records a video – on VHS cassette no less – to remind her of everything the two of them had gone through together.

So let me tell you about our first Christmas as a family…

I woke up and made a cuppa joe before I was going to make my way to the hospital. But then my phone rings and I look down to see it’s Alison. It’s the first time she’s called me in months since this happened so I anxiously answered.

She didn’t remember anything happened and was terrified. Minutes later, I’m in a taxi, rushing across town. She calls again.

Her: (scared) Where are you?
Me: I’m in a car, I’ll be there in 10 minutes.
Her: Hurry. Please. (pause, quieter) I’m all by myself.

In life, there are words that chill you to your core. “Your wife has cancer” were four such words. “I’m all by myself” were four others.

So I said to her what I’ve always thought are the four sweetest words in the English language: I’m on my way.

The cab stopped at a red before the hospital, so I flew out the door and ran up the stairs to her room, still on the phone.

Me: (panting) I’m on the second floor, I’ll be right there…

When I arrived, she turned to me with the same panicked look in her eyes that she had a month ago, when I told her the four words the doctor said to me. Telling her then was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.

Then I realized I had to do it all over again.

So I steadied myself, gulped down some air, and sat down next to her bed.

Me: Honey…

And I saw the look again. Could go a lifetime, never see that look again, and it’d still be too soon.

Dunno how doctors regularly give bad news. Where do they find the strength to tell someone that that their lives are in grave jeopardy on the regular? Do they drink every night at their desk?

Me: …he said you might not wake up. But you did. Then he said you might be permanently damaged…
Her: (horrified)
Me: …but you’re not. And then another doctor said he had to open you again and said you might not come back, but you did. This cancer has been wanting to kill you but you just won’t let it.

Somewhere along the line, the alarms that were going off because of her rapid heartbeat, stopped ringing. And she started breathing normally again. Her voice became stronger.

Her: I can’t believe this is my life.
Me: (sighing) This woman once said, You don’t have a right to the cards you believe you should have been dealt. You have an obligation to play the hell out of the ones you’re holding. It’s a ___ hand, but you’ve been playing the hell out of them. We’re all so proud of you.

Then I took her phone and explained everything a third time – this time via a recording on her phone. And I titled it: WATCH ME!

Told her that if she woke up again and didn’t know where she was, she could watch that and wait for me. Because I would always be on my way.

Her: (quietly) I want to get going and beat this.
Me: That’s my girl. (nodding) That’s my tough girl…

Screen Shot 2015-12-25

\’

Location: A different room in the same hospital, looking at the same river
Mood: humbled
Music: Don’t stop, no, I’ll never give up

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Companionship

Someone to sit and eat with

The word companion comes from late Latin, with com meaning with and panis meaning bread.

Essentially, a companion is someone with whom you do these daily mundane things, like sitting down and eating.

When my wife first got sick, I slept on the floor next to her hospital bed for a week. Said I did it because I didn’t want her to be alone, which was true. But equally true was that I didn’t want to be alone either.

Nurse: You can’t sleep here.
Me: (lying down) Let’s find out.

I’m sorry for the lack of updates – especially to those that have so generously donated.

On December 10th, Alison was unresponsive so we rushed her to the hospital. There, the doctors had to remove part of her skull to save her life. They said she might not survive the night. I fell to my knees.

But she survived. Then she had another surgery just a week later. That’s three brain surgeries in a month, just days after giving birth.

To say that my wife is crazy tough is like saying that New York City is a small town. She’s made of steel.

Unfortunately, she’s been in the hospital since the 10th and will be for quite a while. I’m there most days; other days, other relatives are with her.

This is not how we imagined our first Christmas and New Year’s as a family.

Still, I go to the hospital and have bread with her when she’s able. When she’s not, I just sit there. And we dream of home.

She would do the same for me, because she’s my companion and I’m her’s.

Me: (arriving, breathless) Hey, beautiful.
Her: Hey.

Location: The same hospital room, still looking at the same river
Mood: still heartbroken
Music: Somedays I’m built of metal, I can’t be broken. But not when I’m with you

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The sun always shines on TV

The love of my life is sick

Screen Shot 2015-12-16 at 2.41.04 PM
When I was a kid, the hottest music video was a song called Take On Me. In it, a comic book character comes to life to be with a woman he loves. It ends with them happily together.

Unfortunately, there’s a follow-up video that few people heard of called The Sun Always Shines on TV, where you learn the rest of the story – he cannot stay and they don’t end up happily ever after.

I once said that all stories end sad; every relationship that matters will always end in tears. That’s the nature of the world. But I think the unexpected tragedies are the hardest. That’s when life knocks you to your knees and you can’t stand up again.

My wife is sick. And on top of the sickness, we have all the bonuses that come with the sickness – the fear, the uncertainty, the loss of control, etc.

Yet I hold out hope that somehow, this isn’t all of our story. That we can find a happy sequel to this news. And in the end, I want what everyone wants when they love someone – for them to stay.

Please stay with us. Please stay with me.

Location: A hospital room, looking at the river
Mood: heartbroken
Music: there’s got to be some way to keep my troubles distant

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Gone Fishing

Thanks

Me in DC

I started this blog all those years ago to just have an outlet for writing and as a place to put all these thoughts I have rattling around my head.

Turning 42 last week means that I have about 12,410 days left here and there are things I want to do and write about before those days run out. Which means less time for this here blog.

There’s just not enough time.

So this is my last regular entry here. There might be others, I’m not sure, right now, though, this is my last one.

But I want to leave you with something silly that you probably never thought about:

You can see you nose, you just choose not to see it.

You see it now, don’t you? And you will for several minutes before it disappears again. And throughout this day, you’ll notice it, forget it once again, notice it, forget it, until you forget it completely.

That is how most things are in our lives.

Things that are so a part of our lives that we don’t see them any more. The people, the experiences. We make them disappear. I walked by a beautiful waterfall every single day for years in college and never noticed it.

I live in the heart of Manhattan but rarely notice it.

Sometimes it’s a good thing. The major impetus for this blog was a bad breakup that has completely disappeared from my mind until I wrote this.

So I leave you with this thought: You see a million things every single day – literally, not figuratively – but you only notice one or two. This is by design.

I realized writing this blog, that it helped me separate signal from noise; to choose what I deemed noteworthy and what was not. Syd helped.

We all get to choose what matters to us, what we allow to affect us.

This blog was about all the things I’ve noticed about my little slice of the world and I wanted you to see them too. Because I thought they were worthy of note. Even thought it was mostly about nuthin.

Anywho, I wanted to say, Thanks for reading – for listening – to alla this nuthin.

There’s a line from You’ve Got Mail that goes, all this nothing has meant more to me than so many somethings.

Likewise.

I’ll still be around on Facebook, Twitter from time-to-time, and Instagram regularly if I can swing it.

Harold’s not with me anymore so it’s just the wife and me.

And we’ve gone fish’n…

 

Location: away, but still here
Mood: nostalgic
Music: heartbroken cause I can’t see further than my own nose at this moment

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Logan’s 42; I’m (not) a New Soul

Hoping I could learn a bit bout what is true and fake

Edison Lightbulbs in NYC

Him: Happy birthday!
Me: Thanks! I can’t believe I’m 8 years from 50.
Him: Nice way to think about it.

I’m 42.

As I say it out loud, and it sounds so strange to me. Don’t feel 42. I’m told that I don’t look (particularly) 42. And yet I am.

There was a time where I was the “new guy” or “the kid.” Those days are long gone.

On April 17, 1973, I was a new soul. Couldn’t do anything on my own, and didn’t know a thing. All I wanted to do was eat and sleep. Which is little changed from now.

But as I slowly started figuring stuff out, stopped being a new soul became an old one.

Have you heard about this odd thing happening where adults are returning to “preschool” to re-live some of their earliest memories?

While I think it’s silly, I get it.

After a certain age, people try to re-live parts of their childhood that remind them what it was like when everything was new.

It’s why I am always reading something, because my childhood was spent studying, so learning something new is the closest thing I have to having that feeling of being a kid again.

It’s part of the reason why I take wrasslin and fencing classes and take things apart all the time – there’s always something new and cool to learn.

Besides, learning new stuff has the added benefit of always having cocktail conversation at the ready:

Me: …the liquor comes from the island of Curaçao; when Spanish sailors went there, they planted sweet Valencia oranges but the soil there transformed them in to these tiny bitter oranges.
Him: Why do you know know that?
Me: I have no idea.

Probably going to take it easy today; go to the gym and roll around like a kid with some friends and then top it off with some rum.

No longer a new soul but I’ll try not to be an old an cynical one for as long as possible.

Location: my apartment
Mood: thoughtful
Music: Finding myself making every possible mistake

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Catching up with friends when I can

Plus some Instagram Pics

Empire State Building in clouds
Had a rare bit of downtime and coorporating weather so I saw my friend Claire for dinner the other night and then went out with my friend Bryson to celebrate his wife’s birthday.

Don’t actually get to catch up with people in RL all that often; partly because we’re all busy and partly because FB and other social networks are kinda like “keeping up, lite.” We get the curated highlights that people want to share and, for the most part, that’s often good enough.

But it’s nice seeing people when I can. Claire is staying here in The City from California because of her fella and Bryson is, as always, the same guy I knew back in college but with two kids now.

It’s nice seeing how your friends’ stories unfold.

Shots of liquor

On a different note entirely, I’ve been trying to get more into Instagram.

My main issue with using is that I don’t generally like how pictures from phones come out. But here are the highlights of what I’ve done recently – follow me!

Spring in NYC and Bryant Park.Spring in NYC and Bryant Park.

#Cloudy day in #NYC and autumn leaf bag bear downtown is unhappy. #Cloudy day in #NYC and autumn leaf bag bear downtown is unhappy.

Nighttime falls in the #UWS in #NYC. The #DINKYs and #YUPPIES grow restless. Nighttime falls in the #UWS in #NYC. The #DINKYs and #YUPPIES grow restless.

It's #spring and sunny in #NYC but still cold enough to freeze you solid. It’s #spring and sunny in #NYC but still cold enough to freeze you solid.

NYC is always a work in progress. NYC is always a work in progress.

Location: HomeDepot getting supplies
Mood: excited
Music: If you’re gonna do it, do it right – right?

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Busted Stuff

I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples, bastards, and broken things.

Rebuilt White Nexus 5

Him: Why wouldn’t you just buy a phone? That seems like a waste of time and money.

When I was in college, my buddy Buckley used to fix my computer for me, which was often because I had no idea what I was doing. After the umpteenth time, he finally slammed the door in my face and said, “Fix it yourself!”

Which ended up being a really good thing because I taught myself how to do just that – before the age of YouTube – and ended up paying for part of law school with money I made building computers and networks.

Similarly, after I realized I didn’t know a thing about cars, bought a really beat up old BMW 325i and essentially fixed most things I could. To this day, a lotta of my old friends remember me driving around without a passenger seat while I was looking for the perfect one.

In any case, couldn’t sleep well last week so I started a project I’d been wanting to do for a while; built a phone from scratch.
Cracked Red Nexus 5

After doing some research, I ended up choosing the Nexus 5 because (a) I’ve owned a few and (b) it got an iFixit rating of 8 out of 10 to repair and the parts were pretty available.

My cousin Lynn was nice enough to give me her busted phone to practice on, which was also a good thing because I absolutely destroyed that.

With those lessons learned, the whole thing went surprisingly fast; only about three total hours and I was done. The most expensive part was the screen, which I managed to snag for $90, new.

Figure I’ll just sell it for what I bought it, which prompted a buddy to ask me why I did it in the first place.

And my answer has always been the same as for why I built my own computer, car, DVR, network, etc.

Me: I didn’t do it for the phone. I did it for the understanding. I don’t like not understanding things.

We should all die knowing something, cause we’re not here for very long.

But there’s another reason, of course. Like the good Mr. Lannister, I have a soft spot for discarded and broken things.

Should mention that I remained friends with Buckley for over 20 years; he and I ended up buying the Manhattan apartment I live in now.

Good friends challenge you to be the best version of yourself.

Location: my UWS apartment
Mood: accomplished
Music: Rolling stone gathers no moss but leave a trail of busted stuff

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Rolling Stones gather no Confirmation Bias

Everyone believes very easily whatever he fears or desires

Buskers at 50th St Subway Station NYC
While I enjoy Kanye West as an artist, as a human being, he seems like a lout.

So when a posting came up on Facebook that said that he did another douchebag thing, I shared it only to find out later it wasn’t true.

The thing is, I assume he’s a douchebag so when I read something that proves it, I immediately believe it.

What irritated me most about that was that I should’ve known better.

One of the few things I remember from my first year in Prof. Maas‘ Psych 101 Class – waaaaaay back in 1990 – was the idea of confirmation bias, which essentially echoes poet Jean De la Fontaine idea that Everyone believes very easily whatever he fears or desires.

So when the Rolling Stone article about the UVA rape case was found to be completely false over the weekend, I thought of Prof. Maas and De la Fontaine again.

Rolling Stone and the authors wanted to believe that colleges are a hotbed of rape and misbehavior and found evidence to prove their position.

Only they didn’t. Instead, they just made it harder for genuine rape cases to be believed.

I see it every single day on Facebook. People that have evidence that aspartame and tilapia will kill you, Obama is a secret Muslim, and that jet fuel cannot melt steel.

It’s a daily thing – and something I perpetuated myself with Kayne West, because I wanted to believe he’s a douchebag and found evidence to support this, even when I didn’t.

Beliefs are dangerous things and they cloud judgement, even from those that should know better.

Still, it’s better to appreciate this with the smaller, insignificant things, than to realize it with bigger, more meaningful things. Just ask Rolling Stone magazine.

 

Location: in midtown later at midday for some afternoon cognac
Mood: hopeful
Music: People around gotta find something to say now

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Robinson Crusoe died wishing he was on the island

Mishaps are like knives, that either serve us or cut us

Home on an island in Bermuda
In my spare time, I’ve been writing a break-up book. Figured it’s the logical extension of the other two dating books I wrote

One thing I truly believe is to try to distance yourself from the pain of the breakup – or any pain, really – and try to appreciate the good things that come out of it.

While I don’t believe in that old saw that “everything happens for a reason,” I do believe what this poet named James Russell Lowell said:

Mishaps are like knives, that either serve us or cut us, as we grasp them by the blade or by the handle.

I started blogging during a really bad period of my life. But during that period, I had some pretty fun nights, met some incredible people – some of whom are among my best friends today – and, of course, met my favorite person.

And during that time, I listened to songs from singers like KT Tunstall, Camera Obscura, and Imoegen Heap; now, whenever I hear anything from them, I’m reminded of that time. And I look back on it fondly.

Did you know that Robinson Crusoe was based on a real guy? He was a fella named Alexander Selkirk that ended up alone on an island for four years and four months. After he was rescued, he became a multimillionaire and celebrity.

But he realized that that time alone ended up being some of the best times in his life. He died wishing that he was back on his islands with his goats and his thoughts.

In fact, when he could live anywhere in the world, he lived in a cave by himself for a bit. And one of his last thoughts was, I am now worth 800 Pounds, but shall never be so happy, as when I was not worth a Farthing.

Now, this isn’t like my usual rambling post so much as it is a letter to a friend to whom I say this:

Most people handle life as they do bad weather: they wait for it to stop.

Don’t be most people, because you’re not most people.

Try to enjoy these difficult times while you can, as odd as that might sound. Because it’s only just for now and it’ll be over before you know it.

In any case, I’m always (not so secretly) on your side.

Location: back to the gym again
Mood: content
Music: that time of year, leave all our hopelessness aside

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