THE LOVE OF MY LIFE

Thought I should explain the picture of the dog. Meet Gizmo. Some of you may have heard me mention him. He was/is/always will be the coolest damn dog. He was my ex's childhood pet and when I met him he was a grouchy 10 year old bastard. Yep, I hated him at first. He growled at everyone, even people he liked. And he would bite, too. So I was a little apprehensive when we inherited him and Tiki (the largest teacup poodle ever.)

Almost immediately his attitude toward me changed. He followed me everywhere. He slept under my feet when I sat on the couch and if he woke up and I wasn't there, he would search everywhere to find me. A great task since he was blind and deaf. He had an incredible nose. And he was smart. Let me say that I hated poodles. I've always liked dogs with meat on 'em. I always thought of poodles as those dogs with the hideous hairdos that old ladies carried around in their purses. I was wrong. If you ask people in the dog world, they will agree that poodles are some of the smartest ones out there. Tiki might have been an exception, but Gizmo wasn't. That dog was an Einstein. You could not put one over on him.

Does all this all sound like love? Read the title again. It will be 5 years this Dec. 15 since he left my life, but he is always in my heart. I love that damn piss. He was ma bookie. Here comes the Star Wars geek-ma bookie is what Jabba the Hut calls Han Solo in the remake of A New Hope. According to the subtitles, it means "my boy." For some reason, after I heard it I started calling him that. And he responded to it, while he could still hear.

Of the 18 1/2 years he spent on this planet, I hope the latter half was his favorite. I feel truly fortunate to have known him. And been loved by him.

CALIFORNIA BLUES

Yes, you can even get the blues in Heaven. I had 'em bad the other day. When I first spoke with my uncle about coming out here, he said that I would be welcome to stay for a couple months. It's been 5 weeks and I'm freakin' out. Since I didn't start my job for two weeks, I haven't been able to set aside much money to move. I know he's not going to kick me out on the street, but I don't want him to think that I'm just moochin' forever. I'm hoping we can sit down this weekend and discuss both his expectations and my needs. Basically, I need more time. I've been looking for roommates. I'll give all of you who know me a moment to pick your collective jaws up off the floor............... I have found out quickly that I will have to have help if I'm going to live here. It sucks, but it's a fact. Go to Craigslist.com and check out the situation. If you really want to blow your mind, look at the apartment listings. I've seen several for 4 grand! For an apartment! Are you shitting me? It is so bleedin' expensive out here-it sucks! Sure you can have B-E-A-yootiful weather and incredible views! Ya just can't enjoy it 'cause you're working 24-7 trying to make the money needed to live here. God, I love a good Catch-22!

So I've decided to just say "fuck it!" I'm gonna stop stressing and start saving. I'll look for a part-time job to help and see what happens. I've lived a huge chunk of my life alone and I know what it takes to make it. And maybe I can find a different job that pays a little more (even though I got a $1 raise per hour when I came here) and things will get a little easier. In the mean time, I'm going to go outside and enjoy the sun!

THERAPY-NINTENDO STYLE

I read a fascinating article in the August issue of Wired Magazine. I thought I might sum it up for all you avid readers in case you don't have a moment to read it. Although the names have changed, the affect of war is inevitably the same. The fancy name for it now is post-traumatic stress disorder or PTSD. Unfortunately, almost everyone knows a vet who suffers from some level of PTSD. Some people can get over the horrors they have experienced in defense of their country; however, there is a definite need for psychiatric help for many of those coming home. The usual method of treatment is through anti-depressants. If the patient doesn't like that, they can always try counseling, but often times that falls terribly short of doing anything except frustrating and angering the vet even more.

Exposure Therapy, "in which patients are reintroduced to the traumatic triggers again and again" has been used successfully for many years. This therapy was first used on non-military sufferers of PTSD. The problem with this method lies in the difficulty of the patient to reexpose themselves to the trauma in their own minds.

Enter virtual reality and gaming software. VR has been used on people with phobias and thanks to Virtual Vietnam and Full Spectrum Warrior-returning vets can now be exposed to what they saw during wartime. The patient wears an army helmet fitted with VR goggles. The therapist is able to see what the patient is seeing on a nearby computer and another terminal is used as a control panel. Three environments are used-large city, small city, and moving humvee. The first session merely introduces the patient to the VR world. As the sessions progress, more stressors (gunfire, explosions) are added. Everything down to the noises heard is very precise. The patient stands on a platform that vibrates as needed and there is also a smell machine which releases scents like garbage, Iraqi spices, diesel fuel, and body odor.

These extremely realistic games are actually helping some to leave behind their nightmarish experiences and have more productive and calm lives.

I will admit, I was hesitant at first about using video games as treatment. In my perfect pacifist world the treatment would be simple-no war. But I'm also a realist. Wars will exist as long as differences exist-different religions, languages, hair color. There is always a reason (sane or not) to see someone as the enemy. So if this new therapy helps people, who am I to see fault in it. I am truly lucky in that, so far, I don't need psychiatric help.

IT'S GOOD TO BE BACK

So I've finally returned to the land of the internet. And I thought I'd blog a little. I was reading a friend's blog the other day and he had posted lyrics to a really good song. I got to thinking-maybe I should do the same. The first song that came to mind is a song that (however much I hate to say it, and I do) changed my life. Over 3 years ago I had this cd playing in my car endlessly. For several months I heard this song atleast 2 times a day. Then one night I listened to it for the first time. I couldn't stop crying. I have never had a song sum up my life (at that point) so well.

NUMB

I'm tired of being what you want me to be

feeling so faithless

lost under the surface

I don't know what you're expecting of me

put under the pressure

of walking in your shoes

(caught in the undertow

just caught in the undertow)

every step that I take is

another mistake to you

I've

become so numb

I can't feel you there

become so tired

so much more aware

I'm becoming this

all I want to do

is be more like me

and be less like you

Can't you see that you're smothering me

holding too tightly

afraid to lose control

'cause everything that you thought I would be

has fallen apart right in front of you

(caught in the undertow

just caught in the undertow)

every step that I take is

another mistake to you

(caught in the undertow

just caught in the undertow)

and every second I waste

is more than I can take

But I know

I may end up failing too

but I know

you were just like me

with someone disappointed in you

Linkin Park, Meteora

Those of you who knew me then know why this song meant so much. Fortunately, this song no longer applies to me; however, whenever I have doubts about why I am where I am today-I listen to it again.

HELL...& HEAVEN

Let me start off by defining irony:

Living on the edge of Silicon Valley and not having internet access. Hmph!

But first things first...Yes, I made it. And as my title suggests, I drove thru Hell and reached heaven. No, not heaven-Nirvana!

I was warned by many that my triop would reach it's lowest point beginning in Nebraska and end after Wyoming. Those people must have all turned at Salt Lake City. If they had continued west, they would know that hell doesn't start until the Great Salt Lake Desert. There ain't nothin' great about it! Over 60 miles of nothing but flat, hot,...well, nothing! As you leave the desert you enter Nevada and drive over a ridge. Hope blossoms as the road twists thru picturesque mountains. Then immediately it dumps you into a basin (the Great Basin!) where you drive for an eternity around mountain range after mountain range. There's nothing more depressing than seeing a road stretching before you for mile after mile. It made NE and WY seem like a breeze. The only positive thing about Utah is it's a straight drive across the state. The road thru Nevada meanders here and there to the point where it seems you're getting nowhere. The only amusement is watching dust devil #58 sweep by a sign that says chains or snow tires required for the next X miles. Huh? I did get to see my first (and hopefully last) sandstorm. And I now understand why the gov't used this region for nuclear testing-there ain't nothin' to kill out there! I didn't even see any buzzards!

I really began to feel sanity slipping away. Hell, I cried twice and I couldn't even tell you why!

Gradually the road began to wind upwards. Very soon I was following the Truckee River into Reno. I crossed over a ridge and came to Truckee, CA. My uncle owns a B&B there, so I stopped to take advantage of a free night's lodging. Truckee is a beautiful town nested on the mountainside. It consists of a lovely main street with quaint shops and restaurants. The Truckee River runs parallel to the railroad which is a popular means of travel. I could have stayed and worked at the B&B-the Richardson House-part time and did think about it. It is a beautiful Victorian house that sits above the town. Go to the link and you'll understand better how special it is. It consists of 8 rooms. Because they weren't open, Peter(the innkeeper) gave me my choice of the rooms. I decided on Tamsen & George's room mainly because of the footed tub. If you've never had a bath in one, I highly recommend it. It was exactly what I needed. The easiest way to tell you why I decided against staying there is to give you a number: 380. That's the # of inches of snow they had last winter! Not all at once, mind you, but even if you devide that by say 5 months, that's still well over 7 feet a month. Now I like snow, but not that much. For those of you who do enjoy winter activities, this is a great place to come. Northstar and Squaw Valley are only a short distance away and in the summer, Lake Tahoe is just over the ridge. That is where I went the next morning. I took the scenic route, which in my family is a dreaded thing; however, this was a wonderful drive that followed along the shore of the lake.

I am now at Los Gatos-a truly beautiful place that is less than a 1/2 hour from San Jose and maybe 20 minutes from the ocean. The trees are big and the stars are plentiful at night. I have a job at the B&N in Campbell and will be Newsstand lead there starting the 10th. So I've been reading and basking in the sun. I will post more later-hopefully I will have internet access soon.