Jane's Addiction

Over dinner one night last week I got to talking about my Heart Surgery and all that entails. The question I get asked most is also the one I have no answer for most of the time. Until now that is. People always want to know one thing, "how did you get through it all", which to me is a funny question. No one ever asks how you persevere past a cold, or what it took to come back from a broken bone? Sure heart failure is more serious but it is just as unpredictable and hard to prevent right? I've come to the conclusion however that my success has as much to do with medicine and a strong support system as it has to do with my horrible attitude.

Jadakiss said it best I think. "Fuck Boys do Fuck boy shit/ I never have and still ain't nothing to fucked with." It's really quite poetic I think. As a man and as part of American culture I've long idolized the Hero character. The Lone Ranger, Tony Stark, Greg House, and Richard Branson. You'll find that for the most part they all mostly faked it until they made it but did so as an art form. They were so adept at asserting their will that each day the character in question would get up and never question for one waking minute whether or not he could face and conquer all that came at him that day. It is an irrational belief for anyone really but it doesn't stop them, that is why they're revered in our society. So to answer the question of how I survived this harrowing adventure all you need to know is that to me it wasn't a task at all. I honestly am unimpressed by it and continue each day to be unimpressed. I suppose if you told me that you had done the same thing and I never did I would consider it a feat. And even though I have gone through it I still do find it incredible others can and do each day. It's just me I'm unexcited about. However that doesn't mean you shouldn't be excited about your own achievements and so to help you achieve them I give you...

The "Rules to live by", not to be confused with my "Rules for being Human".

1) Don't overcomplicate things. The more nuance you give something, the higher the probability that you find a way to mess things up.

2) Be clear of what you want. The last thing you need is other people deciding for you. Assert yourself. Took me a while to learn this one but once you get it down then you'll be in the drivers seat.

3) Women: Make them smile. Get them in a good mood then keep them that way. You are really only ever safe when they are happy. Women.Happy.ALWAYS.

4) Don't follow the pack. If the majority of People are doing it then you don't want to do it. Trust me. When was getting a degree a fad, how about curing cancer, is that a fad? No, so do you and be unique. Do your best to not resemble what you see on TV. (Unless it's E! Because if you have the ability to make yourself or anyone else resemble Kim Kardashian then I'll never stop you.)

5) Test folks. Disagree or contradict people every now and then for no real reason. Their reactions to this will tell you who is with you and who is against you.

Now back to the topic. Let's look at one of the first arguments I ever had with Ex pt.3. I told her one night that I wasn't a "nice" guy because "nice" at that point sounded like "chump". I of course proceeded to piss her off in an attempt to show just how tough and all that I was but the problem I was having was feeling my ability to stand up to a challenge was fully appreciated and what she was having trouble with was understanding why I wasn't comfortable with the label. Years later as I demanded French Toast and juice whilst intubated, I'm sure we all figured out tough wasn't nearly strong enough a word for me.

Simply not giving a fuck is my key to success ladies and gents. It either will or it wont be.

Speaking of BJ (she loves these little shout outs), I saw her on my last trip home. She's graduated it seems. If not then the quote I left on her Cap'n'Gown photo is a bit premature. Oh well. Is it weird I miss her sometimes? Yea I think so too. Not 2009 her though anyway. 2005-06 was a much better vintage and I missed that even while we still spoke. So...yea. I miss lots of things by the way... Sushi, California sun, smog. It's familiarity I crave so don't judge me. Speaking of Gowns I find them incredibly fun o wear. I have no intention of being a judge but I think on my next trip to a show in Portland I'm gonna rock mine so just a heads up Patrick.

Bonus Rule- Take off that silly ass Hat!

Working for the Weekend

Okay so I don't know why I didn't post this when I wrote it and it is now like a month outdated so expect there to be missing links or unfinished thoughts. But no matter, now just for you here it is, digging in the crates....

[The Mgmt.]

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I hope everyone has been having a good 2010. I have been focusing a lot of energy looking for good stuff to write about and just like that these past 5 months have flown bye. For better or for worse I think I can say I’ve enjoyed these 4 months more than any other 4 in my entire life. There may have been a stretch back in 1998 but it’s hard to say. Part of the reason I’m having so much fun is that life is hard. Life fucking sucks and I have had just as much to laugh about as to cry about so instead of doing either I try to just enjoy each moment. When things start to get epically bad, I curl up in bed and don’t move just like anyone else might but when things are good you had better believe I soak up every stinkin’ moment of it. I don’t have any grandiose notions of life and what I can expect from it so the littlest things are starting to mean more to me.

Take this weekend for instance. It was filled with lazy days and sleepless nights. I honestly wish I knew how much fun college could be because right now this schedule is spoiling me rotten. I saw a world-class athlete run track at noon, a softball game with one of my best friends at 1, then watch a great film (Up in the Air) that night with some close friends.

I woke up around noon the next day and though I was woefully dehydrated from sleeping in front of a sun washed window, I still had a whole day to waste. I then played what would become my first games of Bocce ball ever. Awesome game that it was I then had to break to share a BBQ with a buddy who is going to ride his bike to Central America later this year. The night ended with a great playoff game between the Portland Trailblazers and the Phoenix Suns. This is the investment I made 5 years ago. The chance to have weekends like this, are why people go to college. Never again will I be able to invite a model and her friends to my place or any other for that matter just to chill. The good is always balanced by the bad but I have so much negativity reserved for other things that all I will say is this: sometimes you have good ideas, and sometimes you have horrible fucking ideas. Inviting Waffles to the Fucking BBQ was not one of my brighter ideas.

And now time for another random story from my time in the hospital.

I wasn’t always in just one hospital. I actually had 3 surgeries over a 5 month period so all in all, it came out to 4 hospitals in 2 states over 6 months. Not a bad total and for the low-low price of only about $1.5 Million you could take the same trip. I don’t think the miracle of my story has anything to do with my new heart at all. What is miraculous is that I made it that long in the first place. I came home in March to have an AICD implanted which basically gives you a jolt of electricity to try and get your heart back into rhythm. My heart would sometimes beat upwards of 160 times per minute so in order to get that back down to a normal resting rate sometimes shocks were needed. Without the device I was running the risk of my heart getting stuck at such a high rate, passing out, and eventually dying from VFib. So in March of 2009 I came home for spring break and had the surgery done. All went well and I had a pager sized bump in my left pec. I didn’t hurt and it really had no purpose except for in extreme cases. The morning of April 17, 2008 was one such case. That story culminates with me at Memorial hospital in Long Beach and a night in which I often woke up to a nurse standing over me in hysterics. See for me, the heart rhythm had nothing to do with my physical exertion so if I were to be asleep I could still experience these tachycardias. So apparently some nurse was given more than she could handle because apparently while I slept my heart raced wildly out of control. Now obviously this had been happening for quite some time before I’d had the surgery and I had no ill effects. Yet now I was hooked up to a monitor and someone was hearing a lot of alarms most likely because this nurse did what any rational person would do…She woke me up and told me to calm down.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Long Beach and will always consider it home. But in the end those nurses were about as far from competent as I think I’ve seen and TRUST ME, I’ve seen some incompetence in my day. I guess the on call doctor, who was not my doctor, did not want to be bothered. My real doctor was leaving for Europe that night and was unreachable. So these poor ladies were in over their head with a patient who seemed like he might just up and die right before their eyes and were too scared to call the doc. I have hazy memories at best of what happened that night and even then had far less understanding of what was happening than I do now so it’s unlikely I’d be able to make any conclusions of what was going on anyway. I made it through the night and no one had to be called in. I hopped in an “Ama’lance” the next day and made the most nerve-racking drive to Westwood I’ve ever made… yes more nerve-racking than even the one when I got the call.

I don't Smoke that stress

The Girls Marina,

and Melissa and Jenn too

Nanoor you the most

Also the smell of

hospital soap, every day

bosom soft indeed

I want what Samantha Ronson has. She has this perfect mix of, "I could give a fuck less" and, "I secretly do care, but I'm so cool you could NEVER call me out on it". Plus she's foreign but her accent isn't from anywhere. It's pure unadulterated cool juice coming across those thin lips of hers. She, I am positive could pull far more women accidentally than I ever could on my best day. The funny thing about this is that random people love talking to me. All my close friends have an, "I was with JT, and such n' such happened" story. Everyone knows someone who looks just like me, or saw me at a party last week, or whatever. Samantha Ronson however has a mystique I am sure prevents any such thing. She is like a black hole almost, in that she belongs to an elite class of humans, who have an aura about them so disinterested in what we mere mortals are doing, that we feel the need to overcompensate by really caring about what they have going on. The other problem here is that I am fairly stable and fairly predictable. I think a big part of that aura is that no one ever really knows what she is going to do and that's what keeps things intriguing. I spend my whole day trying to enlighten you as to my thoughts and so right away there is a difference between her and I..among ALL the others.

Graduation is right around the corner as is post #100 so with all these momentous occasions on the way soon I'm feeling the heat like a glacier would. (I may sweat but it never changes my composure) Anyway the haiku written above in honor of Haikuesday are devoted to some things I truly miss.

That is what she said

So this is a hypothetical I want you all to play along with. It was posed to me as part of a homework assignment and I find it kind of an interesting take on a tricky situation. You might have heard it before and I’m adjusting it slightly to make it fit the WB&C just a bit better, but the story is still the same.

So in this scenario you are a person living on earth and things there are just as they are now here. You are just like everyone else, no better no worse. You happen to be single and your job allows you to support yourself, so for all intents and purposes you are part of the nameless faceless crowd that make up our metropolitan areas. In this world however there is an international star of some sort. Lets say this person is regarded like a Perez Hilton mixed with Michael Jordan. Everyone loves them, everyone wants to be their best friend. Basically in my mind (because I am a geek) this person figures out how to solve our solid fuel propellant problem and allows NASA to get to Mars with only 2,000 lbs of fuel. (usually it’s 500,000+ lbs)

They are of course rich, as their idea turns them instantly into a one person OPEC, they are charismatic, so they are like Tony Stark in that you see them as the face of their company and they must of course be good looking. It all boils down to Conan O’Brien’s personality and fame mixed with Richard Branson’s money and daredevil lifestyle with the looks of the sexually appropriate person of your choice. In my mind and for the rest of the story this person will look exactly like 1998 Salma Hayek.

Now here is the story. You are walking around one day and you happen to hear that Salma, this wonderful person whom everyone knows and loves is sick with some incurable disease. A group of especially crazed fans begin to scour the country looking for a cure stopping at nothing to find out what it is. As it happens you are the only person on earth whose blood has the antibodies to combat the illness though you don’t know it. And how anyone else knows it is unimportant but what is important is that on your walk home from work as the manager at the local Popeye’s chicken you are taken and knocked unconscious. Somehow this deranged group of super fans, intent on keeping their beloved alive, have taken you and when you wake up you realize you’ve been hooked up to Salma via some system of tubes and wires. The doctors apologize profusely and assure you that the people who did this to you have been arrested and are facing life in prison because their attempt to kill you was stopped short but not before they could connect you to Salma.

After you gather your senses and calm down from obvious anger you are posed with two options by the doctor. Unplug yourself immediately and walk away. Allowing Salma to die or maintain attached to her until such time they can produce a treatment, which could take months. They reiterate that it is completely up to you and there is nothing keeping you from pulling the plug on her but they also stress that without you she will die assuredly. What makes this scenario interesting is that you yourself agree that she is a much more important person than you. Her work has brought new discoveries to mankind. Men love her, women want to be her, she is a truly great individual and you are just a fast food joint manager. Salma is asleep and you haven't been able to speak with her since you woke up but you are told she is doing better already.

So…what do you do?

Prince-I would Die 4 U

Would it make a difference if you knew exactly how long it would take to find a treatment?

I don't know anyone personally who I think would disagree that getting up and unplugging yourself is an a good option but what if it was a trade though, your life for theirs? Maybe you get hooked up with a slice of the good life from this, maybe you get stiffed on the tip? I also made the story a little different in that this is a person who you may look up to and or be attracted to. The original author is named Judith Jarvis Thomson. What she was attempting to do was make an argument for the defense of Abortion. When I first read the Plugged in Violinist my instinct was to say screw it, I'm not chaining myself to someone against my will even if it is only for 9 months. This was mainly because I don't care about Violinists. But by making it someone I'd look up to like Leland Melvin, Kanye, etc there is an added layer of conflict. Also respecting the contribution this person has to society is something that cannot be discounted. I would love to actually see what people think about this. Comments ARE enabled so feel free to tell me how you would handle such a situation. As far as I'm concerned this is a flawed allegory for pregnancy because pregnant women don't have their uteri kidnapped and impregnated. Usually it is the result of some sort of bedroom, bathroom or backseat type activities that involve both her and at least one other male of her own species. It is no miracle how babies happen, so the whole kidnapped and woke up with some unwanted visitor line just isn't cutting it for me. I still don't know exactly what would happen to Salma if it were me she was hooked up to and the picture at the top of this post has only a tangential relation to my actual feelings so make of it what you will.

Full Disclosure

I am so in love. I met Maya more than two years ago at a concert in Portland and have been absolutely head over heels ever since. I was on stage when we met no less dancing my ass off and when our eyes met it was a transformative experience the likes of which I’ve never experienced before. Maya Arulpragasm better known as, M.I.A. is the truest representation of what I think I need in a woman to be happy. She is smart, funny, sexy, and best of all has a mind of her own backed up by a smart mouth. She can be witty without being catty, and talk shit without coming across like a bitch. She is absolutely amazing. Unfortunately for me she is married and just recently had a baby so it seems she has decided to put down roots elsewhere. Meh, at least it wasn’t that asshole Diplo.

So anyway I saw her quote being passed around Twitter and the first time I read it, I don’t think I understood. So I read it again and when I was done I paused. What followed can only be described as a mix between a laugh and an awestruck gasp. Not only did she give credence to something that for so long I felt bad about thinking, but she did it as a member of the industry. It’s tantamount to Kevin Durant telling a reporter he thought Kobe was ok, but not quite as much like Jordan as he thought. Or Zlatan telling Reuters that Drogba was perhaps just a bit more impressed with himself than anyone else. I was just taken back to that night on stage, the song ending, security ushering the throng of stage hoppers back down to the floor, and me stuck staring…standing… and waving. Had she beckoned just then I have no doubt the music would have muted for me and like a zombie would I have been at her side posthaste…not.one.doubt. In the words of another great hero of mine, Pharell, once wrote a song simply saying, “I just love your brain”. Double entendre’s aside there isn’t a better way to describe my love for her. The only other person I know right now with that same mix of charisma and intellect is my very own Bodhisattva back home. Even at 3yrs old I can tell she will be far smarter than her Nino…though that isn’t much of an accomplishment. I am a clear and devout M.I.A Stan that’s no secret.

What may surprise you is that I have no idea what she is saying when she said “[Gaga] sounds more like me than I do.” I resent that statement and I have absolutely no idea why she would say that. Those bloggers who said it sounds like a case of jealousy don’t know a thing about M.I.A. She has had the opportunity to sell out and passed. Her songs blew up when the mainstream heard her song in that damn Pineapple Express commercial or in Slumdog Millionaire. There is no way she thinks Gaga is somehow privy to chances she wasn’t. What she is though, is upset at the fans for eating up the garbage Gaga often puts out. That commercial she put out under the guise of “music video” for Telephone is a perfect example of how they couldn’t be more different.

Hate week is coming back soon. I have new things to hate, and fresh content for you to enjoy so stay tuned and I will be sure to keep you updated. Now it is time for the latest installment of Your random story about my time at UCLA medical.

So I suppose that last story I mentioned was a bit dramatic, but again I will emphasize that the simple fact I am here to recount it makes it all less so. In class the other day we were discussing abortion and it reminded me of a story I heard after I got out of the hospital. After I faded into that effortless sleep I spent a day or so under sedation and at some point my heart went berserk…again. I never gave the story much thought but now after trying to imagine life or death decisions being made without my input I find myself especially emotional. It is also scary to think what it must have been like for those who were there. I never shut up…ever. I never ever stop telling people what I want them to hear and in part that can be reassuring for people. Watching people work on me yet never see me open my mouth to chastise someone for something must have been a strange experience. So I have no memory of what had gone on. May 1, 2009 – May 3, 2009 are days I won’t ever recall, it’s part of my life that someone else has but I don’t, those memories are fuckin’ collectors items as far as I’m concerned. But unlike O.J. I promise not to stick you up to get them back. The story I had in mind involved the whiteboard I mentioned. I guess that at time there was some disconnect between my conscious and my subconscious because I was asking for things like juice and bagels, and something known as the Bruin Breakfast. I think I only ever ordered the Bruin Breakfast once and that was without a breathing tube in. I’m stubborn but not that stubborn. My stomach was literally forcing my hand to write these things. I find that amazing. I find it interesting digging up these stories bit by bit. I didn’t allow myself to feel emotions back then as many people close to me surely can attest. Looking back from this safe distance and feeling scared at a memory is like seeing a Scary movie or something. It’s riveting but truly horrific all at the same time. Next time I’ll talk about my friend Olivia and her eminent retirement.

December 23, 2009

My eye’s burned, my lungs became intractable, and head begged me to lay it down in a state of rest. I saw things I never thought possible, a live horse on stage, a black man dancing as the Nutcracker, and a Pedophile as a main character in a major ballet. Amazing the things you learn at the local ballet. While I never knew this before it isn’t necessary for me to be in the absence of the smell of feces in order to have fun, however it is sufficient. So shouts to the nice old lady who taught me this very point at the Nut Cracker today.
Today marks a sad day for me. Christmas is this week and I will be back in school in January. This is the last free weekend I will have before real life begins again. Christmas, Rose Bowl, New Years, School. Almost that fast I’m back at it again. I have enjoyed my time at home, though it’s been tumultuous and painful in so many more ways than one. It feels good to be headed “home”. I really do wish things could stay this way just a bit longer. Enough about me though.
The Nutcracker as a play is an adaptation of the story written E.T.A. Hoffmann. It was commissioned by the director of the Imperial Theatres Ivan Vsevolozhsky in 1891, set to music by Tchaikovsky in 1891–92, and staged by Marius Petipa. It being my first ballet, It is of course now my favorite, or least favorite depending on how you see it. The pedophile I alluded to earlier is apparently the character known as Councilor Drosselmeyer. The fact that as soon as he appeared on stage and started touching children in ways that left them running for cover is what left me to this allusion. His mardi gras mask didn’t help his cause either. And though his part was small, it was one I could have done without altogether. The show in total was amazing but I doubt I will soon return as I found the errors throughout more entertaining than the shows intended means of entertainment...dancing.

One part about going to the hospital I loathe is seeing other patients. There is an underlying feel of camaraderie that many people espouse, and some try to facilitate. I am no one special and I think part of the reason I don’t try and make friends is because I don’t want to align myself with some group. We all go to the same hospital, we see the same doctors, our bodies have failed us in similar ways, yet do we really have anything in common? For the most part everyone is very nice and very concerned about the well being of others but I'm just never in the mood to share my time in the spotlight with people who have equally severe medical situations. I was in a bit of a funk. I've taken up a new hobby known formally as insomnia lately and so when I arrived at the hospital Monday morning around 630 AM I was in no real mood to do P.R. But of course it is in our lowest moments we are called upon to do our best work.

Shouts to the girl awaiting a dual lung AND Kidney transplant. I wish you the best baby doll!

Shouts to my man for turning 24 and playing doctor on my psyche all the while. Much Obliged.

Shouts to the University of Oregon. Im coming for ya! Bad news is on the way..I PROMISE!

Last but not least shouts to the little girl who caught stage fright at the show and had to be escorted off stage. It's ok you get MVP honors from me.

"You can't fight Fate"-Clyde Shelton

"Now that I cannot abide"-Aldo Raine

"May You Live Forever"-King Leonidas

To those who oppose me, may you bring me an honorable death...I'll settle for nothing less.