Book of Jamez

55 y/o malcontent, something of a writer

Author: Jamez

  • Dream Date

    Last night I slept the entire night right up to the point where the alarm clock started it’s insistent beeping at me. The cat was even kind enough to let me sleep, it was a miracle… someone call the Vatican. I also remembered my dreams, at least one of them – which is not always the case.

    I had a boyfriend (yes, this is how we can tell it’s a dream). A nice boyfriend (this is how we know I was still feverish from the flu). Mystery boyfriend, who unfortunately kept his clothes on during the dream, didn’t appear to be my type at all. Not just because he was nice, though that’s a big indicator, but because his physical characteristics (skinny, clean shaven, smiling) weren’t what I normally look for in a guy.

    In the dream we interacted with my family, read comics books and took a long walk before sitting together in the family room snuggled up together. It was peaceful and pleasing. I was really having a nice time with the guy and everyone seemed to like him – not that that should matter at all, but it does I guess.

    Kind of a pointless story I know. “Jamez had a dream, film at 11”.

    I think it kind of reawakened the idea of having someone in my life again. I had written that off recently and wasn’t sure I was at all interested in pursuing anything that would last more than a night… or two minutes, how ever long he lasted. I don’t want to get married tomorrow, next month or next year – but I wouldn’t mind having someone to lean against in a movie theater, coffee house or in the pool.

    It was just a dream though, I’ll probably die an old spinster.

  • Cotton – 8/95 – 10/11

    My best friend Suzanne received word from her ex-husband Randy last weekend that their dog Cotton was failing in health and might need to be helped along her journey soon. That day came to pass yesterday.

    Cotton was probably my favorite dog of all time.

    A Westie (West Highland White Terrier) with an attitude, hell for all I know all Westie’s have attitude. She was so sure she was the toughest dog on the block, she didn’t back away from danger and barked at any little creatures (children) fiercely.

    I was fortunate enough to dog sit for Suzanne and Randy more than a few times over the years and Cotton was always the best behaved of the dog. At bed time she’d crawl under the blankets and sleep right between your legs, and you weren’t to move, she was comfortable. When you’d pet her she’d be so content, and if you’d dare to stop she’d paw at you until you started again. I’m certain that if it were possible for her to she would have purred like a cat during those times.

    I always gave all of Suzanne’s dogs love and attention, but I’d go out of my way for Cotton, she was the best. She could look at you with the saddest puppy eyes that said “Don’t Club Me” and you’d feel so sorry for her, even though she was spoiled rotten.

    She was Daddy’s girl really, she would go wherever Daddy was and just sit there with him for hours, and if the door was shut she’d whine until she could be with him. In these later years in life her Daddy would carry her on his shoulder with him and you know she was in heaven during those moments.

    In 2008 when my Pa died Suzanne couldn’t come to the funeral but she called Randy and had him bring Cotton down for me and it really meant the world to me to have that little girl there for me to get love. Cotton always made every person she loved feel like they were the most important human in the world. I’m a little teary right now thinking about the little angel.

    She was a good girl and I’ll miss being able to see her when I visit Wisconsin. Last night she joined her sister Destiny and her brother Rocky. Cotton, love and miss you.

  • Dreaded Dentist

    A small cavity had me at the dentist this morning, the decay was located on my lower right wisdom tooth. Going to the dentist for a cleaning is a stressful situation for me so going when I have to have a cavity filled is even worse.

    I arrived 10 minutes early in case they could get me out of there sooner, sadly I was there until 10:25 (25 minutes after my scheduled appointment) waiting and letting fear get the better of me. I imagine every conceivable and inconceivable scenario that can possibly go through my mind – they’ll need to do an emergency root canal, maybe they’ll have to pull out all my teeth after discovering a rare form of mouth cancer, perhaps this batch of Novocaine is faulty and it doesn’t dull pain but enhances it… yes, my mind goes to all those places for the entire 25 minutes.

    The Dentists office has several dentists working there and dentists that I become accustomed to leave right when I’ve gotten used to them – Is it my breath? So this current dentist I’ve only seen once and that was the week before, she seems nice, but like all dentists, is an evil monster who thrives on causing others pain. That smile, it’s only in anticipation of hearing a patient scream. I remind her that I usually get nitrous oxide when I’m at the dentist and she didn’t know that so I had to sit in the chair longer while they prepared the gas. This is not a good sign, they haven’t read my chart and know how fearful this event is for me – it reminds me of the last time I had a cavity and a new dentist was there and he was talking about my root canal – I wasn’t there for a root canal so I freaked out a bit and had one of my anxiety attacks – never saw that guy again fortunately.

    They give me the gas, I breathe in and out in deep full breaths. I picture a nice ocean front beach with blue water, palm trees and serenity – I can’t concentrate on that for long though, before I know it I’m anticipating pain again and then the sweat starts to roll off my body in all places conceivable – it’s possible I sweat more in the dentists chair then I do at the gym – ok, not really, but it all pools into the lower half of my body and it’s icky. My heart is racing pretty quickly even with the gas when she arrives to puncture me with a needle that makes the right side of my head feel heavy and tingly in places. The gas has started to affect my legs and they are numb – I think to myself, stupid gas my legs don’t need to be numb my head does get up here!

    The dentists female assistant suddenly leaves and is replaced by a male assistant and this is another thing that worries me – was what they were about to perform in my mouth to gross for the female assistant to witness? Again… Is it my breath?

    The dentist informs me that they are going to start and stuffs huge balls of cotton in my mouth and reminds me to continue to breath through my nose so I can continue receiving the nitrous oxide, I gladly obliged and am starting to feel fine – then I hear the drill.

    This entire time I’ve had a tight grasp on the arm rests and when the drill kicks in I squeeze a little tighter. The dentist instructs me to raise my hand if they need to stop – like I could suddenly make my hands release their death grip on the chair and lift up in the air in a panic – yeah, that’s very likely to happen. I’ve also not opened my eyes since I sat back in the chair, I know they’ll be grinning evilly and their instruments of pain will be dripping with blood and enamel.

    I’m actually doing ok for a while then they hurt me and I cringe, but I think it’s going to be ok it was just a minor pain – then they hurt me twice more in rapid succession and my body squirms all over the chair. The sweat pouring off my body has tripled and my breathing is more panting then anything else. She stops and they pretend to be concerned for my welfare, but I imagine they’re giggling up a storm and savoring the pain that is evident on my face. They give me another shot of Novocaine and we wait for a few minutes for it to take effect. The dental assistant uses one of their tools to blow air on my face and I start to relax again.

    Shortly thereafter they finish up and the dentist asks me to bite down – after doing so she asks if that “feels normal” I try to tell her that I have no idea if it “feels normal” the entire right side of my head is numb, how should I know…

    As I approach the counter to pay my co-pay the receptionist person asks “How was your visit?”

     

    Horrible

  • If Nothing Changes, Nothing Changes

    In spite of knowing better and having lived in a home where I was fed real meals with meats, vegetables, milk and bread and butter – when I finally lived on my own my main meal almost every day was an entire sausage and pepperoni pizza. A standard 12 inch Tombstone or Roma’s pizza, cooked in the oven for 18 minutes until golden brown on top.  Not that I didn’t eat other things, I did. Like bowls of cereal, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, burgers from a burger joint (and later in life steaks from a restaurant) or if I got to Ma’s for dinner or lunch whatever she would happen to be cooking if I liked it.  Ask anyone who knows me pretty well – I’m a picky eater. I don’t like sauces and dressings generally and am not a big fan of cooked vegetables.

    Despite my careless eating habits and lack of physical exertion, I never really got big or chunky (well there was the first summer at Ma and Pa’s where I put on a belly but it didn’t take) and I could have probably fit into the same pants that I wore when I was 16 at 24.

    Then in 2005 I did two things that changed all that

    1. I quit smoking
    2. I went back to school for a year

    Suddenly I was twenty (20) pounds heavier and my pants and shirts were tight. Worst of all? the start of man boobs, moobies as some like to call them. I haven’t needed a manzier, but I could see they were threatening to become a little more than I was interested in having. Moobies are something I don’t find attractive on men and it would be silly of me to have something that I didn’t like seeing on others you know.

    When I was in school (and sometimes on weekends within the last few years) there were days when I’d start the day with coffee a bowl of cereal and a couple hours later have a pizza for lunch, followed sometimes by a pizza for dinner. I’d follow that up with day long World of Warcraft marathons only moving from the computer to grab water or a snack (candy, ice cream, cereal).

    One Tombstone pepperoni and sausage pizza has the following Nutritional “value”:

    Amount Per Serving                         
    Calories 1635                                    Calories from Fat 736
                                                                  Percent Daily Value*
    Total Fat 81.7g                                  126%
    Saturated Fat 30.4g                          152%
    Cholesterol 156mg                             52%
    Sodium 3944mg                                164%
    Total Carbohydrates 152.9g            51%
    Dietary Fiber 10.6g                            42%
    Protein 71.8g                                       42%
    Vitamin A                                             36%
    Calcium                                                 89%
    *Based on a 2000 Calorie Diet

    Two of those pizzas a day was a lot of bad, especially when you think that I wasn’t doing anything to counter act all the bad that was there.

    So in the working world life changed a little bit. I’d start out the day with coffee and cereal, get to the 7-11 by the office grab two cinnamon twists and two bottles of chocolate milk and maybe a candy bar, then eat burger or pizza or fast food of some kind with the boss before heading home where for dinner I’d have a pizza and a bowl of ice cream – and sometimes finish the night with a bowl of cereal.  Every day pretty much, unless the housemate was cooking dinner then I’d eat whatever that might be (poor guy’s a great cook, but is limited to cook what I’ll actually eat).

    Besides the slowly growing moobies – the waistline kept expanding, the belly seemed to protrude a bit more than I’d like and the cholesterol has been high for probably a decade now. My biological parents were both heavy (Phillip was a football player in high school and Cheryl had my eating habits and aversion to exercise) so deep down in my mind I think I’m destined to be bigger. Suddenly the twenty pounds heavier was 35, 36 and 37…

    If Nothing Changes, Nothing Changes… So what changed. Hell I don’t know…. oh I remember… I was having issues pooping – yes, too much information I know… and the doctor suggested I try to eat more fiber and I actually LIKE my doctor so I started to read about fiber and started to make minor changes in my diet.

    Every morning now the bowl of cereal is raisin bran (lots of fiber). Instead of the donuts and chocolate milk from the 7-11 it’s two bottles of orange juice and sunflower seeds and almonds. Tried to get the housemate to include vegetables that I like in meals he cooks (corn, green beans, peas, broccoli, cauliflower). Sometimes dinner is a bowl of raisin bran and a handful of nuts. And every night I try to eat an apple.  That’s a lot of change for me and my diet let me tell you – and I’m not perfect at it and sometimes I’ll still have a burger or yes, a pizza… hush, I said I wasn’t perfect.

    So slowly my body started to change, but not fast enough so I spent a little cash on a personal trainer and things got a little faster, but not super speed. Apparently dieting and exercise isn’t instant – who knew? The personal trainer and I are doing a lot of things that will never be useful in the real world – push ups, pull ups, lifting weights, curls, this that – but it’s certainly made my arms and chest a little firmer. I’ve also noticed that my nipples are kind of going off to the side now – which I think is really weird – shouldn’t these things point out front? I’ll have to ask someone who knows more than I know about these kinds of things.

    Throw in some cardio classes, keep walking about a mile and a half a day, and up with the fiber and healthier foods and we’ll see what happens to me. It’s not something I had planned on doing and I don’t know how it’ll all work out (the first week back to the gym I hurt my leg and was on crutches for a week – still hurts every now and then too) but it’s probably a step in the right direction.

  • Happy Birthday Ryan

    My little brother Ryan turns 38 today.. I’m three years older than him.

    When I see him at this age it’s always a little bit of a shock. I have an image of him from when we were kids that always comes to the forefront when I picture him – it’s nothing like he looks now. But if you think about it, we spent a lot of time together in our youth and much less time as adults, so it’s probably the way it’s supposed to be. But it’s still strange to see this grown man where I expect the boy to be.

    Where I was always interested in books, imagination and superheros – Ryan loved engines, muscles and girls. I remember him always being the center of attention for girls, having greasy hands from helping Dad (Step-Dad #1) with a car or some other thing I wanted nothing to do with.

    I could always usually beat him in wrestling by getting him in some hold and not letting go until he said uncle. He could always beat me in arm wrestling though. He’d always be faster then me in tag which frustrated me so much one time I grabbed something close by and pitched it at him as hard as I could – surprisingly my aim was right on – he had to go get stitches. Once, knowing he might win a fight I feigned that his attack had blinded me and got about 5 minute of sympathy before admitting I was just joshing everyone.

    So today he’s 38. A grown man with a grown child of his own. Still the guy that flirts with girls and is up to his elbows in engine grease. To me though, he’ll always be the little kid I couldn’t catch in tag, the little brother that more often than not I shared a room with growing up.

    Happy Birthday Ryan!

    My "Little" Brother

  • Wasted Youth

    If memory serves I had a physical education class every year in grade school and high school. I was usually the last one picked for teams, which bothered me mostly because we all knew I’d be picked last but it still took a long time to get through all the other loser kids getting picked at the same time. It didn’t really matter, the truth was I wasn’t any good at it, didn’t matter what it was i sucked. The other kids knew it, I knew it and even the coaches knew it – yet I was still required to have that class – I couldn’t tell you what kind of grade I ever got in it, but I know it wasn’t a good grade (I know as most of my grades in school weren’t good).

    Once in grade school I recall one of the leaders who tried to make use of that by making a play where i would catch the ball – I was never covered by the opposing team it would be a huge waste, no one in their right mind would be throwing a ball to me, but this one kid planned it and I halfheartedly was excited to participate – this play would have won us the game. But as these kinds of things go – I was unable to catch the ball, imagine that and therefore we lost and once again I had managed to not be of any help to my classmates. Not once in the remaining years of school was I part of a plan to win, just didn’t happen.

    In high school gym became less of an annoyance as we sometimes were able to choose which activities we wanted to participate in and honestly because some times it was better to not really participate but be stoned while all the other kids did partake in sports. My friend Ted and I used to walk during “Track and Field” and smoke our cigarettes as we did, it wasn’t really something that interested us.

    Some of the many activities that I was required to participate in included:

    • basketball
    • softball
    • track and field
    • curling
    • wrestling
    • flag or touch football
    • tennis
    • golf
    • gymnastics

    There were times in Phys Ed that I had to climb a rope, do somersaults, or head stands and the rope thing was usually done with every other kid watching and giggling or snickering. I don’t recall many of the kids being able to climb that rope well or even doing push ups well, but that could be me not really caring too. Phys Ed was really not a class I had any fun in at all – recess was sometimes even a challenge to find something I cared about doing – usually my imagination had me doing something or pretending to be a superhero – kickball, tag, or monkey bars really didn’t do it for me.

    I know these things were meant to encourage me to be more active, to see if I had interest in sports or hidden talents so the school could get more money if I was a star or something. But honestly I’ve never had a job interview where standing on my head, or climbing a rope was a pre-requisite. No one in my adult life has seriously wondered if I knew anything about curling that wasn’t talking about hair. Yes, if a zombie apocalypse happens I’ll have to avoid those creatures so they wont eat my brains, but have you seen these things move? I’m sure I can out walk em and if necessary run.

    So here I am, 40, and I still don’t find any enjoyment in any of these activities (well maybe wrestling, but that’s only under certain circumstances you know). I don’t feel the urge to watch, participate or even care about these types of activities. The personal trainer I’m seeing at the gym (yes, I know how ironic that seems) keeps telling me that these things were doing are going to make me really strong – but honestly how often am I going to need to arm wrestle myself out of a situation? Is there really going to be a need for a pull up in my future?

    I’ve come to the conclusion that exercise is a lot like math, one of those things that is mandatory learning but not something you’ll ever use in everyday life. I also think that the studies that say exercise makes you feel better are flawed, or perhaps the people who feel better after exercising have a different genetic makeup than the rest of us. I’ve got 5 more weeks of personal training, and it’s possible that I’ll change my mind, but I don’t think it’s likely.

  • What if everything changed?

    The boss is talking retirement, the roommate (landlord) is talking about moving (once his Mom passes on) – well so what? Love my boss and my roommate, consider them family, but I’m ready to go too.

    It would actually be a pretty cool thing if these two things happened in conjunction and it forced me to change too. It would force me to look at my life as it stands now and see what I’d like to do with the rest of it – however long that may be.

    With the whole world out there and I can choose to do anything I want, that seems pretty exciting doesn’t it? Warmer climate? school? menial labor? sure I don’t care any of those would be fine

     

  • I thought it was the end of the world – I was right

    Like most of America I watched the twin towers fall on TV and the internet – living and working in Washington DC I also had a rare experience of being amidst the chaos that erupted in DC and seeing a thick column of smoke billowing from the site of the attack on the Pentagon. At the time I worked on the 6th floor of Children’s National Medical Center and we had a clear view of the smoke at the Pentagon from our windows.

    There was an overwhelming sense of fear and uncertainty, a feeling that this was the beginning of something that would change, if not end, the world. In my minds eye I could see the US retaliating against whomever it was and it leading to global destruction. I thought for sure the end of the world was right around the corner, and it turns out I was right.

    After the attacks on the US our country was encompassed in fear. We were afraid to laugh, afraid to hope, afraid to dream. It was quite a few months before we were confident enough to fly again and even then fear was encouraged by security at airports that grabbed the elderly and toddlers searching them for terrorist devices. Politicians, churches, and pundits of many fields all fueled speculation of worst case scenarios that would lead to the total destruction of our way of life.

    I know that Freedom isn’t free (I know because I’ve read the military families bumper stickers) but it certainly shouldn’t be driven by fear and that’s what I think we have now – people so afraid of the unknown they want to go back in time to a US that was less free, a US that was full of distrust and discrimination, a US that we’ve outgrown.

    Freedom is not a natural byproduct of fear.

    Since 9/11 there have been few moments when the world came together and believed in a better tommorow – the first time was right after the attacks when the whole world mourned with us and the second was when the whole world cheered when Barack Obama was elected as President of the United States. As a nation we’ve squandered away the better parts of these moments of hope, we’ve allowed war to encompass our plans for the future, we’ve allowed McCarthy like politicians stop progress, we’ve allowed FEAR to guide us.

    Is there still a chance that we can live again on the dream of a better tomorrow? Yes, but that means today we have to stand up and face the fears. No longer can we sit idly by and watch the politicians cater to the rich, no longer can we allow our own infrastructure to collapse while re-building other nations, no longer is it “somebody elses problem”.

    Want the loss of life from September 11 to mean something? Want to believe again in a land of the free and a home of the brave? Face the fear, don’t believe the lies, learn a little about the politicians and talk show hosts you so blindly follow. Be the change – such a cliche but one that needs to be said today, tomorrow and forever more.

    We lost a lot ten years ago maybe it’s time we took it back.

  • I can feel them downstairs…

    I can feel them downstairs.

    I know they are rifling through the papers on the end table, planting listening devices in the phone and drugging the milk. They are there every night and every night its the same, I pretend I can’t feel them and hear them whispering. The whispers are the worst I can almost make out what their saying and it makes my skin crawl when I get so close to interpreting the words but then realize it’s gobbledygook.

    I think the cat knows they’re there too, sometimes she’ll glance sharply over at the stair case, eyes wide sparkling her dangerous green. I wonder if they’ve been here long enough for her to be used to them, perhaps they’ve even pet her when I’m asleep – I know they do other things, but can the cat tolerate them – whatever they are? I hope she’ll be like an early warning system for me, if she jumps off the bed and heads to a hole I may have a chance to defend myself, I might even have a chance to run – if they let me.

    Sometimes I awaken from a deep sleep and know one of them is standing over me. I lay perfectly still  – if they know I know they are there they would be more likely to hurt me or something – its the something that is the most frightening, trying to figure out what they want with me. After a while when I can hear their heartbeat, almost feel their breath on my face I cannot stand it anymore, sometimes I moan or yawn and very slowly roll over on my side  and as much as I want to I don’t breathe a heavy sigh of relief, I just freeze like that. One of two things usually happens, if I’m lucky I just pass out from exhaustion if I’m not I can lie there all night wondering when they’ll leave me alone or if this is the night they take me.

    I somehow know they want to take me, I can feel it in my soul a deep need for them to take me with them wherever it is that they go and I know that would be a bad thing for me, the worst thing I’m fairly certain.

    I can feel one behind me as I write this. I can’t see his reflection in the screen but I can feel him standing in the doorway and I know he can read all of this. That frightens part of me and relieves the other part – perhaps the fear can end it’s the anticipation and not knowing that are the worst for me. Not knowing what they’re looking for, when they will take me and especially how much it will hurt.

    Tonight when I turn off the light and pull the sheet over me I know I’ll hear them again downstairs – a scritch scratch of papers moving here and there, a creak in the floor board and like I heard the other night a foot step or two on the stair.

    I can feel them downstairs…

  • Postcards

    When I first started traveling to places outside my usual locale my best friend Pat asked me several times to send him post cards from those destinations. So occasionally I would get as far as purchasing a post card at that destination but then forgetting to send it out until I returned to DC and sometimes I’d pack it in a bag and bring it to him when I’d go to WI. He said that was missing the whole point of post cards as they need to be sent from the origination point of the vacation.

    Galesville WI - "Home"
    "Home"

    I’ve gotten a lot better at it over the years and added quite a few people to the recipient list for post cards. I think on average I sent out sixteen cards to folks all over the US (and sometimes Canada) per trip.

    San Diego Card
    San Diego Card

    When I first began I’d usually make it home before the card reached my roommate, which I found disappointing. Its taught me to find post cards and mail them out on the same day and then they can arrive before I am done with my vacation.

    Winnipeg

    Sometimes if I will be at a fabulous destination, like Maui or Winnipeg? , and I know I’ll be sending out about 30 cards I’ll even print mailing labels to save my hands writing that many addresses.

    My friends and family tell me they love receiving the cards and I do try to find cards that are a little unique for them to enjoy. It’s really hard to find post cards in some small towns – Galesville, WI for example where I think I got lucky the small pharmacy had a few. Every once in a while I’ll get a post card from one of them and discover they too have been to a far away place and that place might even appeal to me.

    The post cards I’ve added to this post are from ones I’ve sent to my roommate in the last few years – I’ve destroyed the ones from trips to San Antonio for various reasons. This last one is one of my favorites from a recent trip back to Wisconsin.

    Wisconsin Porn Industry Thriving