All of a sudden, my address changed. Yes, I'm in a new room with an all-new roommate! And now, some of the previous issues may have been resolved at long last. Some? Well, yes.
My new roommate watches television just as loudly as Jeff did. Perhaps louder. Near deafening levels. But at least he's not angry. Not so far (he doesn't seem to be conversant either). In addition, it doesn't seem as though he'll require intermittent medical care throughout the night (as did my ex-roommate). And he's mobile. He walks, uses his legs. So perhaps he'll leave the room now and again.
But in any case, there's a nice view. As a matter of fact, the staff insists this room has the best view of any room within the entire facility. So yes. I am quite pleased in that way.
Unfortunately, I've lost my dedicated support staff. At least, that's what I suspect, now that I'm at the extreme far end of the building. So I guess we shall see how this pans out. I mean, as long as I can sleep, right? That should help matters. Overall. Then I can spend the uncounted hours outdoors.
Oh. Cars drive by. Actual vehicles. Outside. And the landscape is dominated by a parking garage structure, across the way. But also, there are several leafy green trees beneath hints of blue sky (with a northeastern exposure).
Lost/Not Lost
Hmmmm. They seemed to have misplaced my feeding formula. I may need that. Soon. Where could it have gone?
My Medical Advocate is going to find someplace else for me to live (a group home locally, maybe a small cabin in New Hampshire, or possibly an abandoned trailer on the high desert plain). Location is up in the air (not literally), but relocating me is one of her objectives. And she has many of those, and offers much more than that.
Oddly enough, my advocate understands what I am capable of.. somehow knowing the unknowable. But there's been a lot of that going around of late. Leaving myself open and vulnerable to experience is enlivening… well worth the risk.
And yes, I provide value to her. We get along rather swimmingly. Or, perhaps even fantastically. Yeah, somewhere nearer the top rungs of a ladder climbed.. that kind of altitude. Drink in the view.
But there are others, too.. fitting in similarly. Taking on different roles. And these relationships are mutually beneficial. At least, I suspect they are. And I've rarely had this many people actively involved in my life at one time. Then of course, there's each of you in addition to these warm bodies (yes, I suspect many and most of you are also warm, but perhaps not warm enough, as winter settles in wickedly chilled).
No one can know how alive I feel at times. Now I have options, real people with whom I may associate with (or not) at any given time. Different types and kinds. But I'm gravitating more towards feeling types, those who are willing to participate in life emotionally. And I'm liking this a lot. The way this is all unfolding.
Hey! His TV turned off at 8:16pm! Let's see how this plays out.
Ah. They found my feeding formula back at the ranch.
Also Missing Me
I missed both neurological appointments today. Transport never showed up. Shocking. Utterly shocking. Mercy Care and Internal Oversight are to blame.
As an indirect result, I had a productive and occasionally entertaining conversation with the Interim Transportation Support Specialist. I flew fairly high and fast, yet I couldn't shake her loose along the woven path deftly strewn. But she lost me around several blind corners utilizing explicit multitasking techniques, the enemy of all men, great and small.
But I got her back in a big way, yes I did. As I lay in the courtyard upon my fully reclined chair, she asked me, "Do you need to go back inside so you can lay down and rest?"
So, in all seriousness, I explained to her that I'd been laying down and resting all day long, and for several years running.
Her eyes ran the length of my body. An awkward silence ensued. Her terror stricken expression was priceless.
But wait, I let her off the hook just in time with a hearty guffaw, and a gentle half-roll of the eyeballs. She.. exhaled, then laughed out loud. I did, too. Then she rolled around on the ground for several minutes, arms madly flailing, while laughing maniacally.
Okay. No she didn't. That last part never happened.
Okay then. 8:31pm. TV back up and blaring.
Is this an old people thing? Excess unnecessary volume? My Advocate could barely even decipher my voice-to-text wording. My most baritone voice couldn't cut through the televised voices clearly or cleanly.
You won't care, but I'm listening to a band named Zoetrope. A Chicago outfit from the 80's. I was there back then. The best song is "Mercenary" - why not, right?
Oh. I have one electrical outlet with four plug options. But that's not enough. I require additional electricity. My carbon footprint is on the make. It's massive. I'm a terrible human being.
And I chatted with the maintenance dude today, an enthusiastic exchange. He seemed super-hyped, then I was, too.. automatically. And we went back and forth that way, for a time.
Join the soft parade everybody, come one, come all.
Nope. The song "Amnesty" is by far the best one. Forgot about that one. It sounds like early Metallica. And hardcore punk. Combined.
Rewind - Psyched Out
The Nurse Practitioner of Psychiatry (and her masked associate, a Native North American trainee) cornered me in the courtyard earlier. But have no fear (just not right now, perhaps later, though), she seemed reasonably satisfied by her assessment regarding my mental and emotional standing.
"Your color is very good, you appear to be tan."
After having been sunburnt, yes, now I am. But I just nod. No need to fully engage or disclose.
"You say you feel content, it seems as though you truly are," she smiles, perhaps insincerely.
Into Sleeping -
Argh! It's 2:36 a.m. Snack time for my new roommate. Again. Lights brightening. Popcorn crunching. The lights have been on and off all night long. That's what keeps waking me. And you'd likely be awake, too. It's the natural order of things. At the very least, he's not angry. And I still have that nice view.
But every so often, at odd intervals, the lights come up. And then off they go. And then on. Oh… back off! Breath held. Tick, tick, tick…. ANDDDD… back on again. Now off.
He's repeated this pattern off and on throughout the night. Well, I've yet to discern an actual pattern, but he does get out of bed to use the restroom every hour or so. He washes his hands, too! Good for him.
Eh. At least I've put in 97 minutes of sleeping thus far. Hope remains. I've got 233 minutes until the sun rises, but only an even 200 minutes before my vitals are to be taken. So the race is on. Hopefully, I win.
And by the way, I used to be fleet afoot. But now's not the time to brag.
Tick, tick, tick…
3:03 a.m. - Snack time. Again. 17 more minutes with the lights on, full bore, fingers digging loudly into a bag of chips.
How about a thick 'n' fuzzy sleep mask worn inside a Hyperbaric Chamber?
3:29 a.m. - Lights back on for 27 seconds, and now he's chanting to himself, sounds like a self-soothing effort
Don't Gimme Shelter, Gimme…
Now I know why they have everybody here on heavy drugs. So they can tolerate this kind of duress without murdering each other. In real life, each of these people would have already violently and necessarily killed each other off.
3:36 - Lights back on again, then off.. deep heavy breathing, sounds like he's rolling dough on a grated metal surface, too
3:43 - Lights on, and then off again - he's crying, or moaning. Or rubbing two things together while he cries out and moans. And it stopped. The mouth sounds did. Perhaps it's an electric massager. There's nearly a repeating rhythmic pattern egging on the darkness.
Heck, maybe they spiked my formula. Or spoked my brain. Or spiked Spock's Brain. Not Dr. Spock, the Star Trek fella.
Now it sounds as though a distant vacuum cleaner is sucking up dead skin carpet dust thickly accumulated from end to end -
Hope
I'm going to listen to some extremely loud, extremely complex orchestral metal music utilizing my cheap ass headphones. Why not make my brain ache, too… just like the rest of me?
I elect Septic Flesh's "Communion" -
4:04 - Lights on again. No apparent reason. I'm done. Time to scour the internet for…
Today's Plan
Go off into the cold refreshing outside immediately after breakfast is served. Then easily slip into unconsciousness while listening to "Only Theatre of Pain" on endless repeat.
4:24 - Lights on. 13 seconds. Lights off. Gasping. Moans. Struggles versus mattress and blanket. A brief hacking cough. Andddd.. off to the restroom he goes.
4:38 - Lights on. Clean hands. More feasting. Paper bag. Plastic unwrapping. Crinkle, wrinkle, garbage can, spiked.. missed. Rolls across the floor. Comes to a stop. No conclusion.
4:42:05 - Lights off, then back on. Then off.
4:43:16 - Back on.
4:44:47 - Off
4:55 - a CNA walks into the room. Empties trash. I say things to her. She says she doesn't understand, while briefly sticking her fingers into her ear hole.. to indicate something. I tell her I'm going to stay up, wide awake for consecutive days on end, as though I were tweaked out on meth.
"Why not hallucinate.. ? Hell, I'd rather be in jail. Or floating a pontoon barge down the Yangtze River. Bamboo. Bamboizekded. I've got warrants. No, really. Look me up. I'm that kind of guy."
She's less and less impressed by the second. Or, she still doesn't understand what I'm talking about. But neither do I. Which is probably best.
5:33 a.m. - I'm now thinking that a certain somebody is plotting against me. On my way to this new room (13 hours and 17 minutes ago), she purposely averted her eyes, doing her best NOT to engage me. Perhaps this unrelenting torture is purposeful.
I said "hello" in a friendly enough fashion, but her eyes remained glued to the tiled flooring. Perhaps she dropped a contact lense.
Umm
..
UPDATE: I slept from 6:45 - 7:20 .. My roommate finally wore himself out - So I feel decent now
Howard Cha
Room #228
(with a view)
My new roommate watches television just as loudly as Jeff did. Perhaps louder. Near deafening levels. But at least he's not angry. Not so far (he doesn't seem to be conversant either). In addition, it doesn't seem as though he'll require intermittent medical care throughout the night (as did my ex-roommate). And he's mobile. He walks, uses his legs. So perhaps he'll leave the room now and again.
But in any case, there's a nice view. As a matter of fact, the staff insists this room has the best view of any room within the entire facility. So yes. I am quite pleased in that way.
Unfortunately, I've lost my dedicated support staff. At least, that's what I suspect, now that I'm at the extreme far end of the building. So I guess we shall see how this pans out. I mean, as long as I can sleep, right? That should help matters. Overall. Then I can spend the uncounted hours outdoors.
Oh. Cars drive by. Actual vehicles. Outside. And the landscape is dominated by a parking garage structure, across the way. But also, there are several leafy green trees beneath hints of blue sky (with a northeastern exposure).
Lost/Not Lost
Hmmmm. They seemed to have misplaced my feeding formula. I may need that. Soon. Where could it have gone?
My Medical Advocate is going to find someplace else for me to live (a group home locally, maybe a small cabin in New Hampshire, or possibly an abandoned trailer on the high desert plain). Location is up in the air (not literally), but relocating me is one of her objectives. And she has many of those, and offers much more than that.
Oddly enough, my advocate understands what I am capable of.. somehow knowing the unknowable. But there's been a lot of that going around of late. Leaving myself open and vulnerable to experience is enlivening… well worth the risk.
And yes, I provide value to her. We get along rather swimmingly. Or, perhaps even fantastically. Yeah, somewhere nearer the top rungs of a ladder climbed.. that kind of altitude. Drink in the view.
But there are others, too.. fitting in similarly. Taking on different roles. And these relationships are mutually beneficial. At least, I suspect they are. And I've rarely had this many people actively involved in my life at one time. Then of course, there's each of you in addition to these warm bodies (yes, I suspect many and most of you are also warm, but perhaps not warm enough, as winter settles in wickedly chilled).
No one can know how alive I feel at times. Now I have options, real people with whom I may associate with (or not) at any given time. Different types and kinds. But I'm gravitating more towards feeling types, those who are willing to participate in life emotionally. And I'm liking this a lot. The way this is all unfolding.
Hey! His TV turned off at 8:16pm! Let's see how this plays out.
Ah. They found my feeding formula back at the ranch.
Also Missing Me
I missed both neurological appointments today. Transport never showed up. Shocking. Utterly shocking. Mercy Care and Internal Oversight are to blame.
As an indirect result, I had a productive and occasionally entertaining conversation with the Interim Transportation Support Specialist. I flew fairly high and fast, yet I couldn't shake her loose along the woven path deftly strewn. But she lost me around several blind corners utilizing explicit multitasking techniques, the enemy of all men, great and small.
But I got her back in a big way, yes I did. As I lay in the courtyard upon my fully reclined chair, she asked me, "Do you need to go back inside so you can lay down and rest?"
So, in all seriousness, I explained to her that I'd been laying down and resting all day long, and for several years running.
Her eyes ran the length of my body. An awkward silence ensued. Her terror stricken expression was priceless.
But wait, I let her off the hook just in time with a hearty guffaw, and a gentle half-roll of the eyeballs. She.. exhaled, then laughed out loud. I did, too. Then she rolled around on the ground for several minutes, arms madly flailing, while laughing maniacally.
Okay. No she didn't. That last part never happened.
Okay then. 8:31pm. TV back up and blaring.
Is this an old people thing? Excess unnecessary volume? My Advocate could barely even decipher my voice-to-text wording. My most baritone voice couldn't cut through the televised voices clearly or cleanly.
You won't care, but I'm listening to a band named Zoetrope. A Chicago outfit from the 80's. I was there back then. The best song is "Mercenary" - why not, right?
Oh. I have one electrical outlet with four plug options. But that's not enough. I require additional electricity. My carbon footprint is on the make. It's massive. I'm a terrible human being.
And I chatted with the maintenance dude today, an enthusiastic exchange. He seemed super-hyped, then I was, too.. automatically. And we went back and forth that way, for a time.
Join the soft parade everybody, come one, come all.
Nope. The song "Amnesty" is by far the best one. Forgot about that one. It sounds like early Metallica. And hardcore punk. Combined.
Rewind - Psyched Out
The Nurse Practitioner of Psychiatry (and her masked associate, a Native North American trainee) cornered me in the courtyard earlier. But have no fear (just not right now, perhaps later, though), she seemed reasonably satisfied by her assessment regarding my mental and emotional standing.
"Your color is very good, you appear to be tan."
After having been sunburnt, yes, now I am. But I just nod. No need to fully engage or disclose.
"You say you feel content, it seems as though you truly are," she smiles, perhaps insincerely.
Into Sleeping -
Argh! It's 2:36 a.m. Snack time for my new roommate. Again. Lights brightening. Popcorn crunching. The lights have been on and off all night long. That's what keeps waking me. And you'd likely be awake, too. It's the natural order of things. At the very least, he's not angry. And I still have that nice view.
But every so often, at odd intervals, the lights come up. And then off they go. And then on. Oh… back off! Breath held. Tick, tick, tick…. ANDDDD… back on again. Now off.
He's repeated this pattern off and on throughout the night. Well, I've yet to discern an actual pattern, but he does get out of bed to use the restroom every hour or so. He washes his hands, too! Good for him.
Eh. At least I've put in 97 minutes of sleeping thus far. Hope remains. I've got 233 minutes until the sun rises, but only an even 200 minutes before my vitals are to be taken. So the race is on. Hopefully, I win.
And by the way, I used to be fleet afoot. But now's not the time to brag.
Tick, tick, tick…
3:03 a.m. - Snack time. Again. 17 more minutes with the lights on, full bore, fingers digging loudly into a bag of chips.
How about a thick 'n' fuzzy sleep mask worn inside a Hyperbaric Chamber?
3:29 a.m. - Lights back on for 27 seconds, and now he's chanting to himself, sounds like a self-soothing effort
Don't Gimme Shelter, Gimme…
Now I know why they have everybody here on heavy drugs. So they can tolerate this kind of duress without murdering each other. In real life, each of these people would have already violently and necessarily killed each other off.
3:36 - Lights back on again, then off.. deep heavy breathing, sounds like he's rolling dough on a grated metal surface, too
3:43 - Lights on, and then off again - he's crying, or moaning. Or rubbing two things together while he cries out and moans. And it stopped. The mouth sounds did. Perhaps it's an electric massager. There's nearly a repeating rhythmic pattern egging on the darkness.
Heck, maybe they spiked my formula. Or spoked my brain. Or spiked Spock's Brain. Not Dr. Spock, the Star Trek fella.
Now it sounds as though a distant vacuum cleaner is sucking up dead skin carpet dust thickly accumulated from end to end -
Hope
I'm going to listen to some extremely loud, extremely complex orchestral metal music utilizing my cheap ass headphones. Why not make my brain ache, too… just like the rest of me?
I elect Septic Flesh's "Communion" -
4:04 - Lights on again. No apparent reason. I'm done. Time to scour the internet for…
Today's Plan
Go off into the cold refreshing outside immediately after breakfast is served. Then easily slip into unconsciousness while listening to "Only Theatre of Pain" on endless repeat.
4:24 - Lights on. 13 seconds. Lights off. Gasping. Moans. Struggles versus mattress and blanket. A brief hacking cough. Andddd.. off to the restroom he goes.
4:38 - Lights on. Clean hands. More feasting. Paper bag. Plastic unwrapping. Crinkle, wrinkle, garbage can, spiked.. missed. Rolls across the floor. Comes to a stop. No conclusion.
4:42:05 - Lights off, then back on. Then off.
4:43:16 - Back on.
4:44:47 - Off
4:55 - a CNA walks into the room. Empties trash. I say things to her. She says she doesn't understand, while briefly sticking her fingers into her ear hole.. to indicate something. I tell her I'm going to stay up, wide awake for consecutive days on end, as though I were tweaked out on meth.
"Why not hallucinate.. ? Hell, I'd rather be in jail. Or floating a pontoon barge down the Yangtze River. Bamboo. Bamboizekded. I've got warrants. No, really. Look me up. I'm that kind of guy."
She's less and less impressed by the second. Or, she still doesn't understand what I'm talking about. But neither do I. Which is probably best.
5:33 a.m. - I'm now thinking that a certain somebody is plotting against me. On my way to this new room (13 hours and 17 minutes ago), she purposely averted her eyes, doing her best NOT to engage me. Perhaps this unrelenting torture is purposeful.
I said "hello" in a friendly enough fashion, but her eyes remained glued to the tiled flooring. Perhaps she dropped a contact lense.
Umm
..
UPDATE: I slept from 6:45 - 7:20 .. My roommate finally wore himself out - So I feel decent now
Howard Cha
Room #228
(with a view)