Final Blog

Fall Semester 2014

            This one was a rough one, probably the toughest semester since entering college a few years ago. Part of this struggle was academics and the other life. If it weren’t for the strong mind that has been getting finely tuned over the years, a solid as steel and hot as molten lava girlfriend, I may have a more difficult time. I sure as hell won’t say “given up”, it’s not me, no trace in my DNA. I have cursed, done many a sigh, ran an extra mile to blow off some steam but I will not quit. I had death visit me a couple of times as I said goodbye to loved ones. I am dealing with a life and death situation yet again for a family member who is still in his teens. This hurts. Do these cases of adversity build character or just shred your emotions before throwing them up? This is the first time in my life where I have said that I don’t have the answer, multiple times. Still, I get out of bed and face the day, sometimes knowing full well that once I turn on my phone after breakfast that I was going to cry. I was a hard man some years ago but not so much anymore. I feel worn and tired, though I do appreciate every breath that I have. I know death can be quick or long and painful but it is an end. An end to times that we can smile back and forth, hoot and holler down a river or bodysurf the waves in the Atlantic. Memories are painted in my mind and when I try and distract myself from one loss, another one appears. I have heard whispers in my ears from the voices that were carried in bodies no more and they have helped heal my heart. I won’t forget, I don’t forget and I will yell your names at the top of my lungs when I get to those places, our special places.

            

Broken brains, and the like

          I'm kind of a creep, and I'm interested in things that make other people vomit. Last night I was watching an episode of Criminal Minds before bed-- because that's always a great idea-- and this particular episode was about a German dude who kidnapped two (really three, but that first dead body didn't count!) grad students and did medical experiments on them. Most of the experimentation had to do with high-tech monitoring of situations by implanting small cameras in the eyes of the victims, as well as performing lobotomies on the victims. Of course one of the victims gets away and the BAU gets shit figured out, but I started to lose interest in the episode after that because I started thinking about what narratives could exist or could be created that tell the story of outdated modes of medical treatment.
          I read a book a couple of years ago called The Rules of the Tunnel: My Brief Period of Madness that was the story of the author's experience with electroconvulsive therapy-- and this book was written and published less than five years ago. The author, Ned Zeman, struggled with clinical depression and crippling anxiety, and after spending years going from therapist to therapist and medication to medication, he looked into the "treatment of last resort," shock therapy. This ultimately resulted in both retrograde AND anterograde amnesia, meaning he couldn't remember much of what had come before shock therapy, and he also struggled to make new memories after shock therapy. As a journalist, Zeman sought out the story of what had happened to bring him to that point by talking to friends, family, coworkers, and through his personal notes, and was able to create a book that dealt with memory, mental illness, and what it means to be a writer.
          There were also moments where he points out the history of famous writers and adventurers who sought extreme treatment for similar afflictions, but he doesn't use them as examples of what not to do, but instead they become his guides out of hell. In The Rules of the Tunnel Zeman shows what modern stories and experiences can add to the narrative of medical treatment-- especially those considered outdated.
          Lobotomies, shock treatment, and bloodletting (among so many other "treatments") don't traditionally have first-person accounts of how these procedures effected the people that received them. I'm wondering if that is because of the potentially awful side-effects of these things, or maybe it's because we as humans don't like to admit failure. More likely, it comes down to the stigma of mental illness, where narratives are discounted because of a condition that is pitied, or feared, or misunderstood. I think it's our job as writers to bring these stories to the page, and to recognize the importance of narratives that counter traditional societal ideals.
          If anyone knows of any pieces that fit this theme, I would love to know. Otherwise, here's a link to Ned Zeman's site: http://therulesofthetunnel.com/index.html.  

Were we supposed to post the drafts from conference here?

My iron count was down. I was in a home of amazing cooks (when was that going to happen again?). Now what the time to eat animal for the first time in ten years. I stabbed a piece of cut up chicken, covered in Alfredo sauce, with my fork, taking a tiny nibble when it neared my mouth. I ran my tongue over it, taking in the flavor before deciding to eat more. I put the rest of the piece in my mouth, along with some noodles; I liked the crispy texture before biting into the soft chicken. After my third tiny piece, i stopped eating the chicken, conscious that my body needed to slowly adjust to animals again or else it'd get sick. I focused on the pasta.

Refresh

Refresh

By

Brian O’Neill

            There are moments in life that are easily remembered or never forgotten, it depends on how you want to dress that statement up, almost like dressing up a turkey for Thanksgiving.

            Yesterday, while giving back to those who served before me, I was taken back in time with stories of simple yet tough times. Their words reminded me that, what is seen and heard through the eyes and ears of the elderly is different from my own. They have seen more change over time and have grown to accept things in a more humbling way than I have chosen to my past few years. Their smiles, kind words, and a few stories between us, made for some good laughs. One man that I wheeled around was almost blind, though he had vision until the turn of the century. He asked me to describe all that I saw. I was thankful that I was able to do so in such a “colorful” manner, which had him laughing and smiling quite a bit. He was a bit of a character himself.

            Throughout the day, I listened as they commented on the sounds they heard from the multiple of performances put on by neighboring schools and community organizations. My favorite was, “ I want a hippopotamus for Christmas…” I danced, snacked on cookies and gave some people a different take on life, as they had given to me.

            Towards the end of the day, one of the many Senior Centers that were passing through and I recognized some familiar faces. I had worked with the elderly for two years prior to enrolling at BSU. I went up to a few of them and led them into who I was, showing the tattoos helped, along with the smile that they said they missed. I hadn’t seen these folks in over four years yet, I was remembered, hugged, and kissed. I was told that I needed to visit as well as someone we new was “feisty as ever”. I’m still wearing that smile.

            I went out yesterday with good intentions in my heart. I needed this. I didn’t expect to be affected so much by the ones I thought I was helping. They helped me. I have though about giving back for a while but something always came up. I have thought about visiting my old friends but something always came up. As I thought about the events that transpired yesterday, something came up. I found my refresh button, which I am in great need of lately and I am thankful for that.

            

A Leap of Faith

I could reach out and touch the heavens if I wanted. The clouds were a dream of cotton candy. The day was perfect and I was waiting for the inevitable moment that angels would start singing a gentle hallelujah from their cotton candy castles above. But with a violent shudder brought on by looking down at the lake below, I was brought back to the task at hand. I better just jump and get it over with. The more I looked down, the more convinced I was that I was sprouting feathers and would be forced to spend the rest of my clucking. Cluck Cluck Cluck. So that’s that then. I have to jump or commit to living a life as a chicken. Why must the angels condemn me so?! Stepping closer to the edge of the mountainous cliff, a small rock plummets in a death jump to the bottom of the lake. No way. I can’t do this. I will end up at the bottom of the lake just like the helpless rock. Take a deep breath. One more step and I am back at the edge. My toes wiggle as though they are trying desperately to fly away from this crazy place. I guess clucking isn't so bad. At least I will be alive. I close my eyes and jump. The air rapidly whooshes by me and my life flashes before my eyes. Well my triumph over becoming a chicken flashed before my eyes. Don’t forget to hold your breath! My stomach is in my chest and the adrenaline is unbelievable. I could probably throw a bus right now so my brothers shouldn't mess with me. My feet touch the water and the adrenaline trumps the panic. As each part of my body is submerged in the icy water, I am reminded of my victory here today. The gentle hallelujah from the angels comes crashing down on me as my head breaks the surface. I’m alive. “Let’s do that again!”

I'm too old for this!

It was cold like it is now. My friends actually talk me into going night skiing up at Bogus Basin. I did not want to go…I did not want to go! They convinced me it would be warmer and the powder, perfect.

            We get up there and its cold, the snow is icy, and it’s very, very windy. My friends convince me to take chair one to the back side. Not the new chair one…the old chair one. Skiing would be good and no wind. As we cruise up on the chairlift to the top of the hill, the winds are picking up, lifting the snow from the adjacent hill right into our path of vision. I almost missed getting off the ski lift which landed me flat on my ass. As I look down the mountain, visibility is Neel. “I’m going home!” and proceeded down to the lodge.

I reach the top and the wind gusts are strong…forty miles an hour strong. I can’t see and I am pissed. I didn't even hit ten feet when I hit a patch of ice that pulled the rug right out from under me, landing me directly onto my left knee. Ooooh the pain! I ended up having to piggy back on some dude just to get down the mountain.

I haven’t been skiing since…

Again...

Yes, Really

My alarm woke me up to my favorite song. It was going to be an awesome day.

I had Choco Chomps for breakfast. They are awesome.

I ran late to class but at the last moment a spot opened up close to where I had to be. That was totally awesome.

When I went to lunch I saw a stranger help an old lady cross the street. It made me feel good.

Awesome!

I went to a movie that night with my friends. It was such a kickass, awesome film. After that we went out for drinks and had such an awesome time.

The bar tender thought one of my friends was hot so she gave us free shots. It was awesome.

I haven’t seen my best friend in quite some time. He had a rough year battling cancer but now he’s in remission. That is so awesome. We grew up in the same neighborhood and we had a lot of awesome times together. I can’t wait to start making plans for when he is here it’s going to be so awesome.

I feel like I’m going to puke.

Awesome!