Crazy How-the-Teeth Face - That Guy!

(the title is a typo I made in a note to myself about this guy)

Getting on the light rail to head downtown, I immediately realize there is a Mariners game. Not only is the train packed, but if I time the trip wrong I will have to deal with it again on the way home, this time with them all drunk. Jerseys stand shoulder to shoulder, except one man who sticks out like a sore thumb. My friend, that guy, is certainly not heading to the game.

He actually had crazier eyes, less of a smile, and wasn't on his side.

He sits there in the side facing seat, roughly sixty-five- to senenty-years old. His green, high-water corduroy pants lie in stark contrast to his purple UW sweatshirt. His face is reminiscent of an older, bearded Mr. Timn. In his lap is a cat carrier. The handle is still very much intact, but he is carrying this by a measure of rope, which is wrapped around his wrist.

I suddenly catch a whiff of a horrific fart. I'm blaming the cat, who is freaking out in its carrier. Eventually the smell fades. We go back to the smell of shoulder-to-shoulder dudes, which is somehow a relief versus the aroma of rotten flatulence.The cat's panic continues.

Our friend begins turning the carrier every way, trying to calm the cat. It's looking every direction as its miniature world turns, falling against the sides and back as the down-orientation repeatedly changes. He then presses the carrier against the window. This brings some much-craved stability to the cat's life, allowing it to calm down a bit.

The man coughs. I once again smell the fart smell. Yes, the same fart smell. Could it be his breath? Is that even possible? As I think this, he kisses the cat carrier. Mumbling unintelligibly to his feline friend, he coughs a few more times confirming that it is indeed his breath.

Life is full of interesting characters. Whether it's someone on the bus, someone at the grocery store, or someone writing this blog, pause for a moment to take it all in. If you think life is boring, you aren't paying attention.

(the title is a typo I made in a note to myself about this guy)

Getting on the light rail to head downtown, I immediately realize there is a Mariners game. Not only is the train packed, but if I time the trip wrong I will have to deal with it again on the way home, this time with them all drunk. Jerseys stand shoulder to shoulder, except one man who sticks out like a sore thumb. My friend, that guy, is certainly not heading to the game.

He actually had crazier eyes, less of a smile, and wasn't on his side.

He sits there in the side facing seat, roughly sixty-five- to senenty-years old. His green, high-water corduroy pants lie in stark contrast to his purple UW sweatshirt. His face is reminiscent of an older, bearded Mr. Timn. In his lap is a cat carrier. The handle is still very much intact, but he is carrying this by a measure of rope, which is wrapped around his wrist.

I suddenly catch a whiff of a horrific fart. I'm blaming the cat, who is freaking out in its carrier. Eventually the smell fades. We go back to the smell of shoulder-to-shoulder dudes, which is somehow a relief versus the aroma of rotten flatulence.The cat's panic continues.

Our friend begins turning the carrier every way, trying to calm the cat. It's looking every direction as its miniature world turns, falling against the sides and back as the down-orientation repeatedly changes. He then presses the carrier against the window. This brings some much-craved stability to the cat's life, allowing it to calm down a bit.

The man coughs. I once again smell the fart smell. Yes, the same fart smell. Could it be his breath? Is that even possible? As I think this, he kisses the cat carrier. Mumbling unintelligibly to his feline friend, he coughs a few more times confirming that it is indeed his breath.

Life is full of interesting characters. Whether it's someone on the bus, someone at the grocery store, or someone writing this blog, pause for a moment to take it all in. If you think life is boring, you aren't paying attention.

Crazy How-the-Teeth Face - That Guy!

Love in the Fall

Today is the first day of fall, or autumn if you will. Whatever you call it, it begins today. As such, here is a poem about it that I wrote in college. Either Fall semester 2003 or Spring semester 2004. Also included, videos of me reading the poem and discussing it. Enjoy!

"Love" in the fall is the best "love" of all.
I sit beneath the trees thinking gladly of us two
sitting in dying grass amidst the piles of fallen leaves.
The breeze reminds me of you, so sweet and soft.
At night, I look at stars. Is anything more beautiful?
But when I see your eyes, I think I know.

And then comes winter, with the cold and the snow,
and April really is the cruelest month of them all.
But soon comes summer, when the weather is too beautiful.
Then it's autumn again in just a month or two,
and we move on like seasons with moments so soft,
as one person cries while the other person simply leaves.

But I think we should dance, like falling golden leaves,
and I would ask, but I'm afraid you'd say no.
I touch your hand, and your hand touches back: soft
pulses of electricity fill my body...I'm left in awe.
It's like the whole world is gone but us two.
But I don't deserve this moment - you're just too beautiful.

And I guess that I can't truly comprehend beauty fully;
it's something deep inside of you that will never leave.
And though I want to, I don't know how to
love. And I want to learn, but I don't know
how to. And when I try, I know I'll fall
flat on my face (it's expected, having happened quite oft).

Sometimes love is hard, not always so easy and soft;
and looks fade, but love brings out inner beauty, full
of character, not like what our society preaches at all.
Love never crumbles like a pile of dried up leaves.
When it comes to love, this is all I know,
and soon I hope to learn another thing or two.

I hope you're learning all about what love is too
so that, as I cry my tears that flow softly,
I'll still have a reminder, something to let me know
without the slightest hint of doubt, that you're stunningly beautiful.
But when what I can see on the outside leaves,
it's still there to remind me you have it all.

Love is patient. Love that leaves is no love at all.
And I know that you're soft and beautiful,
but if I concentrate too much on that, I'll just fall.

Video or the about video.

Today is the first day of fall, or autumn if you will. Whatever you call it, it begins today. As such, here is a poem about it that I wrote in college. Either Fall semester 2003 or Spring semester 2004. Also included, videos of me reading the poem and discussing it. Enjoy!

"Love" in the fall is the best "love" of all.
I sit beneath the trees thinking gladly of us two
sitting in dying grass amidst the piles of fallen leaves.
The breeze reminds me of you, so sweet and soft.
At night, I look at stars. Is anything more beautiful?
But when I see your eyes, I think I know.

And then comes winter, with the cold and the snow,
and April really is the cruelest month of them all.
But soon comes summer, when the weather is too beautiful.
Then it's autumn again in just a month or two,
and we move on like seasons with moments so soft,
as one person cries while the other person simply leaves.

But I think we should dance, like falling golden leaves,
and I would ask, but I'm afraid you'd say no.
I touch your hand, and your hand touches back: soft
pulses of electricity fill my body...I'm left in awe.
It's like the whole world is gone but us two.
But I don't deserve this moment - you're just too beautiful.

And I guess that I can't truly comprehend beauty fully;
it's something deep inside of you that will never leave.
And though I want to, I don't know how to
love. And I want to learn, but I don't know
how to. And when I try, I know I'll fall
flat on my face (it's expected, having happened quite oft).

Sometimes love is hard, not always so easy and soft;
and looks fade, but love brings out inner beauty, full
of character, not like what our society preaches at all.
Love never crumbles like a pile of dried up leaves.
When it comes to love, this is all I know,
and soon I hope to learn another thing or two.

I hope you're learning all about what love is too
so that, as I cry my tears that flow softly,
I'll still have a reminder, something to let me know
without the slightest hint of doubt, that you're stunningly beautiful.
But when what I can see on the outside leaves,
it's still there to remind me you have it all.

Love is patient. Love that leaves is no love at all.
And I know that you're soft and beautiful,
but if I concentrate too much on that, I'll just fall.

Video or the about video.

Love in the Fall

I Hate Vicodin

Vicoden makes me shake and feel like crying. Everything is overwhelming. I'm going to try to sleep without it tonight. I'm going to try to never have to take it again.

Vicodin in itself is overwhelming. With the financial stress that this month has been with my surgery and buying some plane tickets and several other things, I don't need that. I'm glad Jesus is there. More than I can say.

I got a receipt today from the oral surgeon. $129. I have no idea what it's for. I didn't authorize it.

Vicoden makes me shake and feel like crying. Everything is overwhelming. I'm going to try to sleep without it tonight. I'm going to try to never have to take it again.

Vicodin in itself is overwhelming. With the financial stress that this month has been with my surgery and buying some plane tickets and several other things, I don't need that. I'm glad Jesus is there. More than I can say.

I got a receipt today from the oral surgeon. $129. I have no idea what it's for. I didn't authorize it.

I Hate Vicodin

Ibuprophen vs Vicodin

I didn't want to be on Vicodin when I was with the little kids at church. I bought ibuprofen. It worked great, for a while. But I knew when it was time to take Vicodin again. I hate the way it makes me feel. I sat there in the transit tunnel, shaking.

When I walk around or am just in general active, Vicodin makes me less nervous and shaky. But I'm supposed to be less active to encourage faster healing. Catch 22.

I didn't want to be on Vicodin when I was with the little kids at church. I bought ibuprofen. It worked great, for a while. But I knew when it was time to take Vicodin again. I hate the way it makes me feel. I sat there in the transit tunnel, shaking.

When I walk around or am just in general active, Vicodin makes me less nervous and shaky. But I'm supposed to be less active to encourage faster healing. Catch 22.

Ibuprophen vs Vicodin

Icepack

Icepack

Overdoing It

That seems to be the theme of this whole wisdom teeth thing for me. You've seen my videos*. I look fine. But I'm pushing myself too hard, and every night it causes pain and makes sleeping difficult. I need to learn to rest. I need to be a human being, not a human doing. This is true not only as it relates to the healing process, but also with regard to real life.

*If you haven't seen the videos, like me on Facebook and/or check out the previous post.

That seems to be the theme of this whole wisdom teeth thing for me. You've seen my videos*. I look fine. But I'm pushing myself too hard, and every night it causes pain and makes sleeping difficult. I need to learn to rest. I need to be a human being, not a human doing. This is true not only as it relates to the healing process, but also with regard to real life.

*If you haven't seen the videos, like me on Facebook and/or check out the previous post.

Overdoing It

See It Here First!

If you are my fan on Facebook you've seen my first two Oratory after Oral Surgery videos. However, the third and fourth installments aren't yet posted there. While you could find them on Youtube, I'm going to post them here before anywhere else. Enjoy.

Oratory after Oral Surgery, Part III: Dr. Seuss's There's a Wocket in My Pocket


Oratory after Oral Surgery, Part IV: The Princess Bride - Vizinni's Choice

If you are my fan on Facebook you've seen my first two Oratory after Oral Surgery videos. However, the third and fourth installments aren't yet posted there. While you could find them on Youtube, I'm going to post them here before anywhere else. Enjoy.

Oratory after Oral Surgery, Part III: Dr. Seuss's There's a Wocket in My Pocket


Oratory after Oral Surgery, Part IV: The Princess Bride - Vizinni's Choice

See It Here First!

Oh, a Wise Guy, Eh?

About two years ago I had one of my wisdom teeth taken out. You see, I had to have another tooth out due to infection, and the dentist offered to have the full set of teeth out together. However, this is a large procedure, and I only had enough annual insurance benefit remaining to cover one. As such, I had one. This morning at 11AM I finished the process.

At 10AM (actually, closer to 9:45, but 10 was the target time) I took my pre-surgery medication: a tranquilizer* and a second pill so that I did not get sick from taking the tranquilizer on an empty stomach. This hit me a lot harder than I was expecting. The walk to the oral surgeon's office was tough. When someone gets shot with a tranquilizer dart in a movie or TV show, it is spot on.

At the office I met up with my friend Veronika and her son Leo, whose first birthday is today. Happy birthday Leo. You are not allowed to bus home from the oral surgeon because of possible complications of the surgery and anesthesia, so she was giving me a ride.Shortly after Veronika arrived the dentist called me into the back. They strapped me into the chair (literally), gave me oxygen, and stuck a needle into my arm.

The title is a reference after all...

"Do you want me to pump my fist a few times?" I asked.

In a manner indicative of my having just asked a stupid question, the surgeon said, "No. I'm putting something in. You aren't giving blood." This is my main experience with having a needle in my arm for longer than a vaccination, so I didn't know any better. Now I do.

I know it's sideways with an eraser mark
and a terrible pun. Do you?

The next thing I remember is waking up. They were frustrated with how long I had been out. When I looked at my watch, I realized it had been about two hours. It was supposed to take one. They had over-sedated me. I guess that's what happens when you weigh 130 lbs and aren't allowed to eat or drink for several hours. I had to keep constant eye contact, or else be told not to fall asleep.

They told Veronika that I could not be left alone due to the over-sedation. None of my housemates were home, so I went back to her house with her and tried to read today's Seattle Times. I know I was reading an article about President Obama's speech last night, but it took me about 5 minutes to read two paragraphs. I also at this point called the oral surgeon's office because they had prescribed me Percocet.  Had they looked at my chart, they would have known I am allergic to Percocet. They called in a prescription for Vicodin.

I texted both of my roommates to find out when they would be home. Shortly thereafter Ben got home and Veronika gave me a ride home. Ben picked up my prescription and I recorded a quick video, to be uploaded soon. Vicodin works miracles, and you can absolutely tell when it is wearing off.

I'm sorry this is somewhat long and probably rambly. Honestly, I'm drugged up. You might think it's boring. I just hope it isn't painful. If it is, no, you cannot have one of my Vicodin.

*No, not a muscle relaxer. Not even a sedative. They called it a tranquilizer.

About two years ago I had one of my wisdom teeth taken out. You see, I had to have another tooth out due to infection, and the dentist offered to have the full set of teeth out together. However, this is a large procedure, and I only had enough annual insurance benefit remaining to cover one. As such, I had one. This morning at 11AM I finished the process.

At 10AM (actually, closer to 9:45, but 10 was the target time) I took my pre-surgery medication: a tranquilizer* and a second pill so that I did not get sick from taking the tranquilizer on an empty stomach. This hit me a lot harder than I was expecting. The walk to the oral surgeon's office was tough. When someone gets shot with a tranquilizer dart in a movie or TV show, it is spot on.

At the office I met up with my friend Veronika and her son Leo, whose first birthday is today. Happy birthday Leo. You are not allowed to bus home from the oral surgeon because of possible complications of the surgery and anesthesia, so she was giving me a ride.Shortly after Veronika arrived the dentist called me into the back. They strapped me into the chair (literally), gave me oxygen, and stuck a needle into my arm.

The title is a reference after all...

"Do you want me to pump my fist a few times?" I asked.

In a manner indicative of my having just asked a stupid question, the surgeon said, "No. I'm putting something in. You aren't giving blood." This is my main experience with having a needle in my arm for longer than a vaccination, so I didn't know any better. Now I do.

I know it's sideways with an eraser mark
and a terrible pun. Do you?

The next thing I remember is waking up. They were frustrated with how long I had been out. When I looked at my watch, I realized it had been about two hours. It was supposed to take one. They had over-sedated me. I guess that's what happens when you weigh 130 lbs and aren't allowed to eat or drink for several hours. I had to keep constant eye contact, or else be told not to fall asleep.

They told Veronika that I could not be left alone due to the over-sedation. None of my housemates were home, so I went back to her house with her and tried to read today's Seattle Times. I know I was reading an article about President Obama's speech last night, but it took me about 5 minutes to read two paragraphs. I also at this point called the oral surgeon's office because they had prescribed me Percocet.  Had they looked at my chart, they would have known I am allergic to Percocet. They called in a prescription for Vicodin.

I texted both of my roommates to find out when they would be home. Shortly thereafter Ben got home and Veronika gave me a ride home. Ben picked up my prescription and I recorded a quick video, to be uploaded soon. Vicodin works miracles, and you can absolutely tell when it is wearing off.

I'm sorry this is somewhat long and probably rambly. Honestly, I'm drugged up. You might think it's boring. I just hope it isn't painful. If it is, no, you cannot have one of my Vicodin.

*No, not a muscle relaxer. Not even a sedative. They called it a tranquilizer.

Oh, a Wise Guy, Eh?