it's all fun and games 'til you're picking brains up off the carpet


i was having a conversation with a friend from church a few weeks ago. they were telling me about a group of people, i can't exactly recall what church or organization they are connected with, who've taken it upon themselves an extraordinary ministry. i wish i could remember all the vitals of the conversation tonight. maybe, during the moment, the story seemed scary enough that i didn't want to hold onto all the gory details for the sake of my own peace of mind. anyway, if i remember half-correctly, the group has a contact within a local coroner's office or maybe just a well-placed ear to the ground. regardless, the job they have taken on is gruesome and grace personified all in one big ball of unconditional love. if the group hears of a suicide within their reach, they respond to the call and go to the affected person's home. there, they volunteer themselves to the family left behind to clean up the tragic scene after the police have done what they do. imagine the gift this must be. maybe it couldn't be fully comprehended or understood when the offer was made, but i think about a family who has lost a loved one whose life was so bloody hard or turned upside down that they chose death instead of life. the blunt trauma of the loss would be too much to take, in and of itself. "what could we have done?" "why wouldn't they let us help them?" "didn't they think about us?" "why, god, why???" the emotions, the guilt, the self-loathing would be too much to bear. add to that the physical mess left behind if the person committing suicide chose a gun as the weapon of choice to do the deed. carnage everywhere. literal bits of the shattered soul are all that is left behind, painting a canvas of terror for those forced to see it. cue this special group of people. a crew of angels on earth that have intentionally realized the impact of a suicide on a family. they understand the insult to injury cleaning up the remains of their lost love can be. and they take it on themselves to sanitize up the room. every bit. like it never happened. the emotional scars will be just enough, thank you very much. the physical ones they remove themselves.

amazing.

my guess is there are these types of groups all over our state, country, and world. that i wasn't aware of their existence only tells me that i am lucky to have never been forced to worry about it.

i have thought of this story and these types of groups a lot over the last two weeks.

i've thought about newtown, obviously, and "what it all means".

i've argued with friends and family about the impact of guns on our lives and our culture.

i've been saddened with the thoughts that, for many of those friends and family, they don't really want guns. they feel like they need them. to make them feel safe. to help them sleep at night.

what if someone broke in my home at night and wanted to hurt my family. not on my watch. not with my gun.

what if someone with a gun out in public was threatening the welfare of not only my family, but the innocent public? not on my watch. not with my gun.

that kind of paranoia makes me sad for them. it makes me sad for us as a country. that this is what it has come to. we are afraid of the hypothetical bogeyman. we realize the state of desperation that this "christian" nation of ours continues to perpetuate, and god love the desperate, but desperate is as desperate does. we fear what we don't feel like we can control, be that black scary people or scary disease or scary weather. and so we build our fortresses, both literal and figurative, against them all.

i don't want scary cancer again, so i take chemo, and while it beats the shit out of me, i must convince myself that the torment will keep the cancer away after my treatment. i get the fear, man. i do. the paranoia is strong with this one, too.

but what are we really afraid of? what rights are we so interested in preserving? who privileged us to only have to look out for number one? for those of us that go to church and are interested, like even one teeny bit, in the context of the four gospels, who the fuck have we let brainwash us into thinking the poor and the needy are the poor and the needy because they did it to themselves? what fairy tale world have we been raised in? what church has corrupted god's message of unconditional love? what part of "thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven" don't we understand?

buckle the fuck up, folks.

this shit is way past sad.

this is where we are. it's not a culture problem. it's a "me" problem. it's a "i am comfortable with my lot in life, no matter how fortunate my circumstances were compared to my brother on the other side of the tracks" problem. it's an "us" problem. it's a "we" problem. and we are acting like we don't give a shit.

two weeks ago tomorrow, 20 kids were gunned down in their school classroom and everyone went batshit crazy about guns, evil, and the like.

we've moved on now, though, haven't we?

have we?

my brother in law offered me some fresh perspective on the matter yesterday. he posted a link on facebook that has documented the 72 homicides in birmingham proper since the beginning of 2012. 72 as of december 15th. at least 57 of the 72 were gun deaths. 6 were from auto collisions. 2 were from blunt force trauma. 1 was from a stabbing.

i'll wait a second and let those numbers sink in. remember, we are talking homicides. people killing other people on purpose. not accidents. not drunk driving situations. in birmingham, in 2012, when people wanted to kill other people, at least 80 percent of the time, the killers were using guns.

cue the hypothetical bogeyman.

cue our paranoia.

cue us thinking that we need guns. to protect ourselves. to protect our families. to protect "us" from black people "them".

ever since i heard the story about the suicide clean-up ministry, there's a part of me that has wanted to find them and be a part of them. what if we all participated in one such job. if not after a suicide, maybe after a homicide. to go in, clean up the death. taste it. feel it. and then have to clean the american horror story out from underneath our fingernails.

jesus christ, people. like, literally, most of us choose to believe the words that came out of his mouth included...

"thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven."

and so, what does that mean? does it mean running out to pee-wee's pawn to grab all the ar's we can before the "gubmint" comes to take our guns? does it mean keeping our foot on the necks of the needy and bullshit ourselves into believing they did this to themselves? does it mean that we are totally cool with letting disease rot inside the uninsured and kill them off because by the time they went to the er it was too late? is it merely turning the channel away from the local news when they lead with another shooting in low income housing?

folks, i don't think that's what it means, man. and if the america you believe in believes in these types of things, i'm even less of a patriot than i thought i was.

truthfully, though, i don't think this is what you believe in. not in your heart.

you're just paranoid. or scared. and i get it. i am, too.

we don't have to be this way. america shouldn't feel this way. so, stop it.

the world is full of shit. and guns won't save us.

only hearts full of grace, hearts like those that serve on those suicide clean up squads will lead to any real change. so, maybe we pay a little more in tax. maybe we can't buy weapons of war or mega clips. maybe someone without a job gets considered with the same amount of healthcare as you do. is that really so bad?

and if your answer to any of those is "yes", what does that say about you?

what does it say about us?

this isn't the day to talk about this
(part ten)


ignorance isn't bliss. it's ignorant.

i've already given a friend a hard time about stat-ripping since the newtown massacre went down. "this country has stricter gun laws than us and has more crime. more death."

yada, yada, yada. we need more guns, not less. arm the teachers. arm everyone. arm the world. death to us all! yada, yada, yada... the hunger games is real. we kill children on tv for our own entertainment.

rabble, rabble, rabble. we're much more civilized than that. that would never happen. our country would collectively change draw the line in the sand. right there. no children killing children on television. NEVER!!! 

no, i won't bother with too many statistics. i'll just share one and one prediction, both from demandaplan.org.

as of this morning, the site cites that 5155 people have been killed by guns in this country since the night of the aurora, colorado shootings on july 20. since mass gun death is already on your brain, think of that number in all caps.

FIVE THOUSAND, ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-FIVE people in LESS THAN FIVE MONTHS.

fucking ridiculous.

FORTY-EIGHT THOUSAND predicted to die in the next four years.

fucking ridiculous.

guns don't kill people. people kill people. with guns.

fucking ridiculous.

we all have mass gun death on the brain, because, this time around, kids were involved. sweet, innocent children.

we've heard the reports now. sweet, innocent children doing nothing more than spending their day at school. maniac breaks in. shoots each child between two times and ELEVEN times.

we've had nightmares about what those bullets did to their little bodies, ripping them to pieces. we've hoped and prayed that they didn't know what hit them, because we can't stand the thought of a child suffering. we've already started removing the images and the thoughts from the front part of our brains, haven't we? we can't stand to keep thinking about it. we've got other things to do. we've got to go on with our lives.

god bless that small community of newtown, but thank god it wasn't trussville, right?

wrong.

because it could've been trussville. or chalkville. or huffman. or your child's school. or your grandchild's. it just wasn't on friday.

and for 5155 families in the last five months, it happened to them in their home, their place of employment, or somewhere else. some place, any place that they didn't expect to die from a bullet from a gun being held by a person.

fucking ridiculous.

just because we were lucky enough this time to not draw the short straw, does that mean it's okay to not change anything?

it's not.

i'm telling you, man. it's a bad way to live.

you keep telling yourself you're not going to have an ak-47 stuck in your forehead until you do.

you keep telling yourself you're not gonna get cancer until you do.

you keep telling yourself that our country's fascination with fucking guns is not going to come back and bite us. and then it does. over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over. and over...

you get my point.

5155 in less than five months.

stop this shit. stop telling me it's better this way. stop telling me more people with guns is the answer.

please, stop it.

if those bullets ripping through those children isn't enough to change your mind, your mind is likely not going to change. i want to say, "shame on you". that's harsh. i'll just think it.

the same way you think i'm foolish for thinking that eliminating guns from our country and culture is a pipe dream and dangerous in its own right.

you're right. it wasn't your gun or your negligence that destroyed those children's bodies and lives.

it was someone just like you. just like me. someone that never thought it would happen to them.

only it did. and, god rest her soul, she was shot in the face, too.

it's time to change. it's past time to change. it's over time to change.

please, let's change.

"this isn't the day to talk about this"
(part nine)


"I know karate. So, it's okay. I'll lead the way out."

For me, it will be this quote that sticks with me the longest I expect.

Only a child, a bright-eyed, innocent little boy full of piss and vinegar could (most likely, subconsciously)  block out the fact that the world around him was falling to pieces, stay calm, and move out of the chaos.

kids say the darndest things.

this isn't the day to talk about this
(part eight)


anything you can stat-rip, i can stat-rip, bettttaaaa. i can stat-rip anything better than you. no, you can't. yes, i can. no, you can't. yes, i can. no, you can't. yes, i can. yes, i can. yes, i caaaaannn!

i was told that i had a 97% chance of my cancer never returning after it was removed in 2009. 97%. those are pretty good odds, right? statistics would say that i was in the clear. i wasn't. it came back.

i can tell you how many gun deaths this country has suffered just this year.

you can tell me about other countries with gun control laws considered stricter than ours and how those laws have led to more death and not less.

i can tell you about japan.

you can tell me about mexico.

to twenty sets of parents in newtown, statistics don't mean shit. they lost their sons and daughters yesterday because some maniac chose to gun them down in their classroom. statistics would tell them that this kind of thing had less of a chance of happening in their small town than my cancer had a chance of returning to my body. it happened.

and so, now what?

statistically speaking, newtown, specifically sandy hook elementary, is likely to be the safest place on earth from now 'til the end of time. these things hardly ever happen anywhere. they certainly never happen in the same place twice.

i feel better already.

this isn't the day to talk about this
(part seven)


"if not us, then who? if not now, then when? will there be a better day for it tomorrow or next year? will it be less dangerous then? will someone else's children have to risk their lives instead of us risking ours" - john lewis

how long is long enough to mourn and remember a tragedy you are not directly related to? who sets the arbitrary time line which defines what is appropriate now and what is appropriate later?

as i mentioned last night, there are those people who genuinely are making efforts to connect on some spiritual level with the families in newtown. this attention they are offering is undivided and unwavering. i say again, the world needs those people. for those people, if they need to wait and have this conversation later, god bless them, because they bless us all.

i choose to connect on a different level. i choose to hear and see and read about and think about and be horrified of the events in newtown. i keep those children in my mind as i type these words. i do not dishonor their being taken from their families. i take offense to it. as we all do.

yesterday was absolutely the day to continue (not begin or pause or stop) this conversation. that a highlighted and brutal event broadened our scope of horror towards gun violence in our country was inevitable. that it didn't happen again today only means we are lucky.

has anything changed yet?

this isn't the day to talk about this
(part six)

ed: thanks to sarah for giving this place a delightful dose of mom's perspective last night. 

amy, katie, and i were out to lunch celebrating their birthday yesterday. i had been at the store, disconnected from the world 'til then. at some point during the meal, i checked my phone.

sarah had linked to the first story i'd seen of the shooting.

her comment was simple and profound, "this is horrifying..."

for the rest of the meal, our attention was divided. we talked about going to see a movie but ended up back at my house, eyes glued to cnn, our mouths agape.

i thumbed through twitter, constantly refreshing for reaction and new information. it was a trainwreck. we couldn't look away.

for the rest of their lives, one of the most tragic days in the history of our country will be remembered on the same day as their birthday.

on some level, that makes me sad for them.

this isn't the day to talk about this
(part 'sarah takes the wheel')

the empathy i feel for today's events is smothering. i am truly horrified. my breaking point was hearing a reporter talk about watching parents walk up to the school and double over as they learned they were taking their precious love of a child home before walking away from the crime scene. and then there were the parents who walked up to the school only to learn they were leaving empty-handed. spirit-crushing horror...

in my worldview, there is nothing in the universe more terrible than children dying. not a thing. it's the most ungodly horror i can think of. this applies to any manner of dying, too, including starving, HIV, accidental drownings, car crashes, head injuries, cancer, abuse/neglect...

i have to admit that one of my thoughts today, in the midst of sorrow, was "maybe at least now no one can  argue about gun control when the equivalent of a kindergarten classroom and a half at paine was killed by someone with a gun." surely the conversation changes when children are victims. this could be our "in." a turning point. a tragic but historical moment in time when something happens.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

or not.

once again, i was idealistic and hopeful. you may not know this, but i'm kevin's yang. i'm a glass half-full kind of girl. and i'm wrong a lot of the time. so i was really disheartened at the gun control haters i've read from in the last several hours.

kevin will be the first to tell you that i am psycho-crazy worrying about our children. all. the. time. i am constantly imagining the things that could happen to them in all of the most bizarre of circumstances.

every morning i ponder the sweet smiles and waves and kisses blown and "i love you" signs that the big girls and i exchange through their school bus window. them being on a bus terrifies me. them being in a car with anyone other than me terrifies me. them being in a car with me terrifies me. i trust nothing and no one when it comes to our children. that includes kevin. he knows this. i am never fully comfortable until they are in my reach and sight. is it because i think the world is out to get them? no, not really. but i can not bear the thought of losing them, and i am chronically worried that this may happen in a preventable circumstance. i did not say any of this was healthy. i'm just being honest.

guns have always scared me. people with guns have always scared me. not because i've worried someone was going to put one in my face (like happened to kevin twice in 2 months just a few years ago). we all saw that 90210 episode where scott shot himself when playing with a gun. i went to the funeral of a sweet teenage boy who lived in our townhomes who may or may not have intentionally/accidentally shot himself (i've always thought the former, having observed how mean the boys on the bus were to him and walking home with him in the afternoons). i love many people who i know own guns. i've shot one myself on my grandfather's farm (i was nauseated much of the time, replaying the aforementioned scene in my head over and over). i know that there a lot of people out there who do act responsibly with guns and can fully support the arguments that are made for "a right to bear arms." i do, in fact, get this.

i acknowledge the "people kill people" argument. this is true. they do. it is as good as the "god made adam and eve, not adam and steve" argument in my book, because without guns we most certainly would not have the news story we had today. there is no other comparison. yes, there are mass casualties through other means, and there are individual casualties through other means, but nothing compares to the immediate and near certain damage inflicted by a bullet. anything that can be done in a split second with no going back can not be a good thing.

it may be shocking, but i also empathize with today's shooter. i have tried imagining what he must have been feeling today and for months ahead of time. what brought him to this day where this seemed like the thing to do? how horrible of a place he must have been in to feel that this was what he had to do. unimaginable pain was surely in him. call it evil or whatever, but people who kill people are still people. and i wish for him, in addition to all the victims, that he did not have access to a gun. i could write for years on the role that mental health might have played in this event, but removing barriers to treatment and solving mental health issues in our country is considerably more of a task than adopting a "no guns here" policy. at least there are models for successful gun control in other nations.

i agree with kevin that something needs to happen. it needed to happen before 12/14/2012, though, for those sweet little babies who were caroline's age and grade and probably talking about watching polar express in their pj's next week before their holiday break. some of whom probably drove their parents crazy this morning and got yelled at or time out before they left for school because being in kindergarten has only strengthened their perceived powers of persuasion and stubbornness. their families will never know peace again.

the time is now. i appreciate that leaders are not discussing it today, but it is most certainly time. it is time for something to change. time for us to question what has been and why and how we can truly keep our world safe for those we love. we can't keep our sweet babies in a bubble or in the basement or anywhere totally safe. but we can definitely do our best to remove the dangers to them along the way.

this isn't the day to talk about this
(part four)


one of the phone calls i made to sarah today found her crying on the other end.

"you're crying?", i asked.

i knew why she was crying. it's because a classroom full of children kissed their mommies and daddies earlier this morning, smiled on their way out the door, and then had their lives taken from them by a crazy person.

the idea of those scared children, being shot and killed in what should have been the safe haven of their classroom will be a haunting nightmare to me, sarah, and every parent with a beating heart tonight. and then likely the next night. and the next. and the next. and the next. and for as long as it takes to shake the idea that this could've been our children. who knows how long that will take. longer than your typical news cycle.

here's why this conversation, this gun conversation, this something needs to happen now with a quickness needs to happen today.

because there is nothing in place that would prevent this from happening tomorrow. in another town. to another group of innocent children or adults.

nothing.

wrapping my head around that idea makes me want to shit myself.

what if we wait 'til tomorrow when we could've done something different. something better for the greater good. but we dragged our feet due to some arbitrarily set time of mourning. what then?

more death is okay?

that's pretty a fucked idea.

this isn't the day to talk about this
(part three)


there seems to be three areas of pushback at folks like me that don't agree with the idea that gun control should be one of the primary thoughts this evening.

"it's too soon. give it some time to breathe. today should be a day of mourning."

"guns don't kill people. people kill people. what? do you want to ban cars, too, since drunk driving kills many, many more people than guns?"

"jesus, come back. it's time."

to the first sentiment, i respect it. there are people of this earth that are genuinely sharing their worry and concern and prayer with those directly affected by the gunmen today. the world needs those people. i need those people. i am thankful those people exist. sometimes, i wish i was one of those people.

moving on....

to the second sentiment. if you can logically correlate an act of intentional gun violence with the unintended consequences of a drunk driver, you should own neither a gun or a car. and you scare me. people with guns kill people. people with knives kill fewer people. people with a blunt objects kill fewer people. people who drink and drive are a plague, but, again, their intent is not to kill another. their bad decision may, in fact, have dreadful consequences, but it is not the same. today gave us a coincidental comparison of two madmen. one in connecticut with a gun. one in beijing with a knife. the numbers were eerily similar. the one with knife sent children home or to the hospital injured, scarred physically and emotionally, and possibly traumatized for a long, long time. the one with the guns sent children home dead. dead, dead. children, man.

to the third. come on, man?! evil isn't more prevalent now than ever before. we just get to hear about it all. jesus is back, y'all. his idea and his ideals allegedly live within us all. wishing him to come back is a cop out. he's here. and he's likely very sad right along with the rest of us. so, what are we going to do about it?

this isn't the day to talk about this
(part two)


i always look forward to fajita friday. for the food. for the company. for the conversation. on days like today,  it's a lot of fun and very fulfilling to sound back and forth with my brother-in-law, joseph.

some of what follows may have been talked about around the table tonight, and some may have just brewed over the course of processing the day's events and the reaction to the event.

it is my opinion that there is no better day to talk about the shooting or shootings that have happened and will happen than the day of the shootings. what better time to focus on the issue that is close to your heart than when it has your undivided attention? the over-saturation of our country, world, etc. with guns is something that i think about almost daily. but there are days that those thoughts are clouded or divided by other thoughts like my falcons or bobby petrino or work or family or how terrible cancer is or how atrocious chemo can be or american horror story or the walking dead or dark knight rises or you get my point.

today, from lunchtime on, i thought about the tragedy in newtown. i absorbed every bit of that i could. i cried at the horrifying thought that it could have been my caroline's kindergarten classroom. i prayed selfish prayers of thanksgiving that it wasn't. i wished good thoughts towards the families of the victims. i didn't think of anything else. well, barely anything else. it was a couple of my best friends' birthdays. they got some of my attention.

but the thought of that fucker having four guns and the thought that our country refuses to take a more intentional stance about the easy access to those weapons made me so, so fucking mad i couldn't stand it.

i still can't.

this isn't the day to talk about this
(part one)


this is probably going to fail miserably, but too many of my thoughts about today and the massacre in connecticut are longer than 140 characters, and people are too easily annoyed on facebook if they aren't interested in an opinion that differs from their own, so i am going to try a little micro-blogging and see if it inspires something more long-formish later down the road.

“do you have a relationship with jesus christ?”

 merry chemo christmas, all. humbug is one way to describe how i feel this morning. starting a cycle is never easy. 28 days feels like a long time to not feel good, and, truthfully, it is. this will be a different kind of christmas, in that it’ll be my first year that I’ve celebrated the holiday at the same time i’m likely to feel all different kinds of bad on the special morning. i’ll be exactly two weeks in, and the medicine will have reached its full levels by then. will it be my feet, or the intense heartburn that started last cycle or the normal fatigue and nausea and diarrhea and normal “how do you feel?” “shit-tastic.” stuff, or will it be a glorious combination of them all? we shall see.

physically, today i still feel well. i only took my first pill last night. it’s going to take a few more days for things to ramp up and get weird. i should be able to taste my fajita friday dinner tomorrow as god intended. that will be nice. i should be able to get one or two more really good workouts in, which will hopefully help me feel a little better on those days that i can’t. limbo is doing their holiday get-together on saturday. i should be able to appropriately enjoy catchphrase and making a fool out of myself when that bastard timer goes off in my hands. i can’t wait to see everyone and enjoy the comfort and company of people that I care a lot about. i'll be able to get around at the huge falcons game sunday. i hope they don't lose.  

and then, the next week will happen, and things will start to change. some predictability, if nothing else, comes with having completed five cycles of chemotherapy. i no longer hold out hope that i won’t feel bad. i know i’m gonna. at this point, it’s all about managing the side effects, anticipating them in a way that it doesn’t come as a massive surprise when it becomes a real exercise in pain tolerance to go and sit down in the bathroom. when i have to shift the weight around on the bottoms of my feet to avoid the most sensitive of hot spots. when i will not be able to taste my food. when i’ll regret eating that food because there’s a good chance i’m going to feel a pretty intense burning in my chest for a couple of hours afterwards. when the fatigue hits at 1 o’clock in the afternoon. the world will see me as fine. “you look great, kevin!” so, i’ll look like a pussy when it’s all i can do to move out of the office. when my gums bleed at the slightest touch of the toothbrush and become so sensitive that cavities don’t sound so bad. when shifting the weight around on the bottoms of my feet doesn’t help anymore. when it all hits me all at once. when i realize that i couldn’t be being more of an asshole at home because i can’t get up and outside my own self-loathing. chemo, man. it’s a helluva drug.

merry christmas?

people are funny.

a lady recently asked my cashier if she had a relationship with jesus. how are you supposed to respond to that, really? such a mindless and rote way of evangelizing. how many times has she asked someone that question? how many times has she received an honest response? probably very few, but, deep down, i wonder if she felt better about her effort, her work for the greater good, her reason for the season. it’s all speculation. i wish she would’ve asked me. this morning, it would have turned into something more interesting. something more than she expected. something different altogether. of course, i wouldn’t have been mean. i just would have been honest. people hate honesty. so do i.

i’ve had cancer. and then it came back.

 “do you have a relationship with jesus?”

 Who knows, ma’am. i have no idea what the reason for the season is anymore. what would you say if i told you “no.”? would you invite me to your church? would you hand me a tract? what’s your role in this, footsoldier or savior?

 the reason for my season this year will be my children. my family. my friends. my standing up to my cancer and my fighting the good fight for that hypothetical one person that may see my battle and buckle up themselves.

 i love my god. don’t get me wrong, please. i think my creator loves me.

 i hope it’s okay. it’s not, necessarily, that i want to take christ out of my christmas. but, just this once, i think he’s going to end up on the backburner. he’ll be there with me still, right? that’s how it works?

 who knows how it works?

disciplined in my journey, i’ll travel on. there is something to be gained from the valleys just as there are the hills.  

“you look great, Kevin!”

yeah? cool. thanks.

“do you have a relationship with jesus?”

eh. can i get back to you?

“do you have a relationship with jesus?”

not today.

but i'm listening.

"you're not wanted...on this island!"


an open letter to mr. bobby petrino:


dear mr. petrino, 

first off, how's the neck, man? and the road rash that was all over your face? i've dreamed of having a motorcycle for several years, now, but the picture of your neck in that brace and that road rash, man, it gives me pause. road rash seems like a pretty gnarly injury, like an indian sunburn times a million. it seems like it would be really terrible to skid across the pavement. on your face. just sayin'. 

i digress. 

you don't know me. my name is kevin o'kelley. i used to be a fan of yours. for a hot minute back in 2007, you took the reins of my atlanta falcons. your offensive mind seemed like a good fit to turn one of my favorite football players of all time, mike vick, into a complete quarterback. unfortunately for you, before you were even able to play with your new toy, news emerged that starship was all about fightin' some dogs back home, and so began what falcons fans now refer to as "the lost season". you were forced to start joey harrington at quarterback. joey harrington was terrible at playing quarterback. you lost a lot of games and mid-december, you bolted us for a more stable gig at the university of arkansas. i don't really blame you. i didn't pay any attention to the falcons while joey harrington was the quarterback either. then again, i wasn't on the payroll. then again, you let your players know of your decision by leaving laminated notes in their lockers. that was kind of a douche move, man. but you know all this. 

moving on, congrats on all your success at arkansas. you never really recruited defense or bothered coaching defense, but your offense was spectacular. so spectacular, in fact, that you won many more games than you lost even though you didn't really recruit defense or coach defense. you were set to have a really special season in 2012, but then that whole motorcycle thing happened. again, i'm really sorry about that road rash. that whole motorcycle thing brought to light that you had been having an affair and hired your mistress on at the university and may have expensed a $20,000 gift to her and all sorts of other soap opera-y stuff. because you misled your employers, they let you go, man. but you know all of this. 

fast forward to now and there are openings all over the sec that your name's been attached to. one of those openings is auburn, a school near and dear to me in that they are the most hated rival of my favorite professional college football team, the alabama crimson tide. 

i'm worried for you, man. in the last few days since auburn relieved noted awesome guy, gene chizik, from his duties as the football overlord in auburn, your name is being dragged through the mud like nobody's business. people in alabama talk a lot about the lord and the bible and sweet baby jesus' eternal gift of salvation, but we are not a forgiving bunch. even if we say that we forgive, we don't really forget. we hold grudges like motherfuckers, even if they aren't our grudges to hold. i'm telling you, man. to be so all about the bible as we say we are and quote all the time, we're a scary bunch. 

the prevailing sentiment amongst our god fearing state is that you are a scumbag. you have a lot of "baggage". you like "women" too much. you "lie". you are much more of a "problem" than you are worth. 

word on the street is that you are going to interview for the auburn job. 

i say turn away, man. i repeat, "you're not wanted...on this island." 

i know what you are thinking, bobby. i know it. 

you are thinking that you've learned your lesson. you realize the mistakes you've made are heinous, disrespectful towards your wife, your loved ones, and the university of arkansas. all you are thinking is that you would love one more last chance. to prove your naysayers wrong. to prove that a bad decision (or eight)  does not a bad man make. and i get it, bobby. i do. i'm a scumbag, too. sweet baby jesus knows how many times i've fucked up, and no one important has banned me from their life yet. 

i want you to have another chance bobby. i think you deserve it. i think everyone does. but alabama isn't everybody, man. just between you and me, it scares me here sometimes. the bible tells this really incredible story of a god that unconditionally loves all of his creation. in this state, there is no such thing as unconditional love. there are always conditions. 

you may be thinking that, in spite of my worries for you, you're the man for this auburn job. honestly, i don't disagree with you. but be warned, bobby. lots and lots of people, even auburn people, already really don't like you. they think you're damaged goods, man. they are okay if you work again. they just don't want you to work here. 

...

i know, bobby. i know. you've never had any problems with the ncaa. that seems important, especially when the previous football overlord at auburn had to provide semi-permanent office space for folks that were looking into all sorts of shenanigans with his program. it doesn't matter, bobby. you lied, man. you cheated on your wife. that's all that matters. 

...

i know, bobby. i know. you think you could beat alabama within three years and have auburn back on the national map sooner than the majority in this state could correctly spell "adultery". i don't think it matters, man. they don't want you. you're scum to them, man. you'll always be that joker of a guy in a neck brace with road rash all over his face. 

i'm rooting for you, though. i want you to to compete for this job. i want you to get it. i want you to win at auburn and win big, because alabama beating a competitive auburn is more much satisfying than beating down a shell of what auburn used to be football team.

if you are offered this job, bobby, again, don't say i didn't warn you. 

"you're not wanted...on this island."  

sincerely, 

kevin

please don't go shopping at 3:00 am friday


the above picture has been making the rounds on facebook this week. it's dramatic, sure, but it's on point, right?

my girls have crafted their christmas lists for the most part already. most of their wants are gadget-y, relatively expensive stuff. hannah wants an ipod touch. caroline wants a meep, something akin to a tablet for children i think. don't tell 'em before the big day, but they are going to get what they want, at least those two big prizes, because, why not? they want them. as parents, we can afford them. they are good kids. they deserve awesome christmases. right?

well, sure they do.

but therein lies the crux.

the kids on the left hand side of the pointed picture above, they deserve to have awesome christmases, too. and they ain't gonna get it.

so, i close my eyes.

click my heels.

"there's no place like home." "there's no place like home." "there's no place like home."

bam.

i'm back. thank god.

back in kansas the united states of commercialism capitalism.

6 BILLION dollars. that was the rounded off figure that's been widely reported as being spent by the two parties competing for the office of president.

define necessity.

the american research group predicts the average american will spend about $854 dollars for gifts this year. in 2010, shoppertrak estimates over 10 BILLION dollars was spent on black friday alone. according to comscore, inc., christmas shopping in 2011 reached upwards and over the 35 BILLION dollar mark, up 15 percent from the previous year.

define necessity.

hello, my name is kevin. i'm a consumer.

i'm part of the problem. sarah is. my friends are. we all are.

our grandparents' sentiment of wanting their children to have a better life and better chances than they did has evolved and mutated into an ugly keeping up with the jones' approach to life.

we have felt this since moving to trussville.

hannah began her primary education at chalkville. the classes were more diverse, and by diverse i mean that hannah was in the minority. the degree of affluence was lower. kids didn't bring techno-shit to school for the most part.

that's not the case at paine. and make no mistake, we love paine. both the intermediate and primary schools have been amazing for hannah and caroline, but i worry we are tipping them to an expectation level that is skewing their view of the world in which we live. every classroom is computer-literate. the classrooms are all fitted with up to date technology and those benefits are worked into the child's education. it's a different beast. i don't know, necessarily, that it's better, but i already feel like the girls will be farther ahead in a lot of ways than if they were somewhere with shallower pockets.

define necessity.

is it being able to bring a kindle to class so you can read your textbooks online? is it being jealous as an eight year old when your contemporaries are carrying around kiddie vera bradley purses. is it neither? is it both?

all this bullshit talk about our economy, man.

all this bullshit talk about obama turning us into socialists.

all this bullshit talk about conditional giving. "i don't mind helping people, just so long as they can't help themselves."

ugh.

it makes me sick, man. sick.

maybe it's just me, but each time i hear something like that, what i really hear is, "i am fine right now. don't bother me with all your fancy stats about poverty and whatnot. if you'll excuse me, i am going to go down the hall to the starbucks... in the middle of my church.

define necessity.

we are good at luxury. and by we i mean i. i don't want to give up my falcons football games. i want fancy ipads and clever t-shirts and other things that i don't have that i don't really need. i want a phablet because the one in lebron's commercial looks awesome.

my name is kevin, and i am sick. i'm a consumer. i need your help.

please don't go shopping at 300 in the morning on friday. stay home. with your family. visit a friend. go play outside. do something real. something that'll stick to your spiritual bones. something...simple.

hang on to some of that cash. give it to a charity. send it oversees to a child you'll never see.

help me.

help you.

you go talk to your friends, talk to my friends, talk to me.

define necessity.

define a good christmas. give your loved ones something fun or nice or some thing they would never get for themselves. then stop.

go see a movie together.

just please don't go shopping at 300 in the morning on friday.

help you.

help me.

jesus is coming, y'all

"he's climbing in yo windows. he's snatchin' yo people up, tryin' to rape 'em. so, y'all need to hide your kids, hide your wife, and hide yo husband 'cause they rapin' err'body out here."


in case you were busy hiding under a rock or praying for our country, you missed the biggest meltdown i've seen on facebook since cam newton ripped alabama's heart out two seasons ago.

on tuesday, in spite of obvious evidence that our country probably needs more than two parties to choose from when electing our commander-in-chief, we had an election, verily, between two men. the entire country was aware of the two possible outcomes. either the incumbent would win and control the world for another four years, or his opponent would win and take his shot in the box to win the world over and save humanity in less time than it takes a toddler to figure out how to write their name. no pressure.

you would imagine, with only two possible outcomes, rational people would have prepared themselves for both outcomes. happy if their guy won. disappointed if their guy lost, get up, go to work the next morning, all the same.

but you would be wrong.

gloriously wrong.

like, mind-blowingly, orgasm-ly wrong.

on social media and the cable news networks at about 1130 pm eastern standard time, shit got real.

obama was declared the winner.

the loser?

america?

the real winner?

me. and you. and every other human that likes to mix it up on facebook.

(names removed to protect the innocent)

"WELCOME TO THE SOCIALIST STATES OF AMERICA."

"FUCK THIS SHIT. I'M GOING TO GET MY FOOD STAMPS. WHO'S WITH ME?"

"PLEASE, LOVING, HOLY CHRISTIANS REPUBLICANS OF THE WORLD. PRAY FOR OUR FUTURE."

"I AM SCARED. NO, REALLY. I AM LITERALLY PEEING MY PANTS RIGHT NOW. I DON'T KNOW WHY, BUT I KNOW OBAMA IS TO BLAME."

"SWEET BABY JESUS. COME TAKE ME NOW. I AM READY TO SEE YOU (and my hamster, cocoa, that passed away last year)!!!"

"LEVITICUS THIS!"

"PAUL THAT!"

"wait, colorado passed what?"

"HAVE FUN KILLING ALL THOSE BABIES, OBAMA."

"ALL HOMOSEXUALS ARE COMING TO SEX ON YOU. RIGHT. NOW. ALL OF THEM."

and so on. and so forth. and so on. and so forth.

behind seeing the birth of my three children, had i been off on wednesday, it may have been the greatest day of my life.

people shit on facebook all the time, but if it is not a glorious human experiment, i don't know what is.

facebook and twitter and tumblr and reddit and name that social media outlet give humans the liquid courage to, if nothing more, speak their mind in an honest way that they often wouldn't in face to face interactions.

sarah and others have asked themselves why they read comment boards after an interesting article. if you make a habit of it, you often feel like you have to shower the smog of humanity off of you before heading out for the rest of your day. but there is goodness in facebook. and on those boards. because you get one of two types of people. trolls, there just to stir the shit, worthwhile in their own minute way, and honest people.

in general, most of our face to face encounters are short and sweet, with very little depth. we are all too busy to talk to all 367 facebook friends several times a year and look through picture-books of their kids and family, find out where they are working, find out what they like and don't like, find out what grinds their gears. spend a few hours online, though, and you can find out a lot about a person. at the very least, you find out what they want you to know, which, in and of itself, is telling.

wednesday, man. you found out a LOT about a lot of people. through what they posted. through their comments. through their passive aggressive retweets and "likes". if there was a footprint of a person anywhere on wednesday, you knew if they were for your team or not.

my team won the election, but, wow, did the other side win the next term in the land of dramatic overreaction-ville.

not only were the above all caps quotes (or some sentiment thereof) shouted from the mountaintops, but some folks were so forlorn they swore off social media altogether. their spirits were so broken down by what they thought would happen or should happen, it was just too much.

there have been continuations of that theme as the week has tip-toed forward, but nothing as grandiose as the chicken little act that hit the fan wednesday.

if it all wasn't so incredibly awesome, one might be ashamed. i am not ashamed. i am only disappointed i couldn't micro-blog the entire experience from my couch.

i suppose cooler heads will prevail. maybe we'll all learn to get along and not be so surprised at the result of an event that fivethirtyeight.com has had pegged for weeks and weeks and weeks, because, you know, he does math. but nate silver isn't asked to make the rounds at fox news. fox news bases most of their forecasting on the obese gut feelings of dick morris and karl rove.

while those guys finish wiping the shards of their remains off the fox news floor, i'll be anxiously awaiting republican jesus and hope he doesn't throw poop on me while he judges me to be left behind.

until then, seriously, chill the fuck out, people.

my bullshit is going to miss your bullshit


for weeks, i've been keeping a "hit list" in my head. i'm not usually prone to violence, so the term doesn't properly apply, but the idea has been fairly straightforward. keep a fluid list in my head of the folks and "friends" on my social networks that make the least amount of sense or make the most idiotic comments regarding today's election. when i head to the polls today, i will think of that list, i will reflect on it one last time, and will take immense joy in casting my vote for barack obama and knowing that i've canceled out some very special vocal supporter of the other guy. i'll leave the voting booth happy and accomplished, and i'll head home to watch the returns come in and hopefully celebrate another four years with a president that seems genuinely interested in improving the lives of the poor, in making the environment and the future of the planet more livable, in creating a country where legal equality applies to all persons and all genders, no matter your sexual preference, and a president interested in making sure everyone in the country has access to health insurance.

you can come here or to my facebook timeline and debate me on my above four qualifiers (in fact, i wish you would), but that is why i am voting again for our current president, and that is why i've been keeping my hit list.

let's take a look at my four main (not only) reasons to vote obama, and i want to document here some of the bullshit i've digested so the girls will at some point know and understand how their daddy may have come to his decision.

warning: there will be no scripture ripping in the following four bullet points.

poor people - listen, man. i guess i kind of get it. we are only voting our experience. and some of us have never lived in trailer parks or gone without or had kids throw rocks at you when you got off the school bus because you were wearing shoes from wal-mart. i have. and all three of those things sucked. being a poor kid, living in a fucking small apartment and a fucking trailer sucked. but here's the thing, man. i didn't have shit to do with it. and that's the point that all of these assholes that are telling people to "get back to work, you lazy slut!" are missing. my mom worked fucking hard. so hard, in fact, it drove her into depression. she worked hard, kept terrible dudes around that contributed to the household income, made sure we had food to eat and clothes to wear and some cool shit to play with, but it didn't matter. she didn't do anything wrong. and i and my brother certainly didn't do anything to end up with divorced parents or to live in a trailer with a single to remarried to single to remarried (etc.) mom. it just fucking happens that way. to kids for sure, but to adults, alike. shit happens. life happens. jobs are lost. pay goes down. shit happens again. life happens. death happens. and people find themselves in the bottom of some barrel with no ladder to get out. and it happened to us. you know what, though? who the fuck gives a shit? it made me who i am today, which is a lot tougher than these spineless assholes that are "sick and tired of giving their money to people that don't deserve it" or think bullshitted ideas like "if you are poor enough to be on food stamps, you shouldn't have an iphone."

man, fuck you and fuck you.

cause here's the fucking rub. as "bad" as i had it growing it, i didn't even know what bad fucking was until i grew up and made the intentional decision to work in roebuck. man, people in roebuck and east lake and center point, some of these folks have it fucking bad. the economy and the businesses in the community have run off and left them. it's all they can do to find money for some fast food or some shitty ass dog food for that one thing on this planet, their pet, that they can fool themselves into believing gives a shit about them. and yeah, man, some of them live in government housing. and yeah, man, some of them have food stamps.

but you know who has it worse? the fucking children in those families that didn't have shit to do with their parents' situation. and they need those food stamps. they need that ps3 if they can get it so they aren't constantly reminded how shit-tastic their life is. and they need the rest of the country to wake the fuck up and figure out a solution more fucking detail-oriented than "we are going to put this country back to work."

the other guy, in so many words, said behind closed doors that 47% of the country are slackers. he didn't address that 47 percent's kids. and the fact of the matter is, even though i technically belong to the 53% of the country that he worries about, the 47% is where i come from, and it's who i'll always care about the most.

environment - "president obama promised to stop the rise of the oceans and heal the planet. (dramatic pause, hold eat shit look, wait for laughter and applause from the base)"

holy. god. damn.

a joke at the expense of the president and the planet.

listen, i am no climate scientist. i am not going to claim to be one here, but there are such people, and they seem to be worried the fuck out about the direction the planet is heading. that kind of freaks me out. i've read that around TEN PERCENT of the world's population live at elevations of less than 10 meters above sea level.

the impact of frankenstorm last week along the east coast put a quick halt to this type of rhetorical jokey-joke, but the issue was brought to light again. i am not going to go so far as to say that the other guy hates the planet. i don't think that's the case.

but the president and his policies have shown intentional support towards healing this planet. i hope some of my money is trickling into that effort, too, even if there are still assholes out there that don't believe it's a concern.

equality - pay equality for women. same sex marriage equality. excuse me once again while i allow my tongue to spit hot fire. WHY THE MISERABLE FUCK ARE WE STILL HAVING TO TALK ABOUT THIS SHIT???

"but the bible says this..."
"...and the bible says that..."
"don't forget that one other time when the bible said women suck more than men..."

oh. my. fucking. god.

i promised no scripture ripping, but i will add the following comment that has been made hundreds of times but keeps going in some people's ear and out the other. jesus doesn't mention homosexuality. he talks a whole lot about a whole lot of stuff. not this. stop backing up your bigotry with misinformation.

gay marriage is not going to ruin your marriage.

you are going to ruin your marriage. because you and me??? we are assholes. selfish assholes ruin marriages, not sexual preference. or god.

universal health care - raise your hand if you know an asshole that doesn't think this is what every human should be afforded, let alone every american.

(raises hand)

"i don't want the dadgum government telling me i have to have insurance. i'll smoke and kill myself if i goddam well please." 
"it'll kill small businesses" 
"i don't like black people."
"i like my insurance the way it is now."

mind you, these are examples of some of the more intelligent discourse i've observed over the last many weeks when people are trashing the affordable care act.

it's one of the many things about the election cycle that i am happy to say i will never understand. you may not agree with every single thing contained in the bill (but let's be fucking honest, all you know about it is that it happened because of obama and you hate black people him.), but if you stand in opposition of the idea, itself, and think you have health coverage because you've done something mighty and different than the folks that cannot currently afford it, well, in my opinion, you should be ashamed.

alabama is going to vote "yes" on amendment six today, because there are a lot of ignorant, self-righteous assholes in alabama. i'm an ignorant asshole, but i'll be voting no.

in about twelve hours, we'll know the results. we'll either continue forward or we'll begin bracing for a new direction...again.

we talked in limbo sunday and the opinion was shared and agreed on that many of us are "ready for this to be over", all the talk, the debate, the back and forth, the arguing, the name calling. and, honestly, i don't disagree. something is seriously off-putting about a twelve month (or longer) election cycle. i want our president to be able to work and not have to defend his turf for weeks and weeks and weeks, regardless of their political affiliation. and you want to talk about being fucked up? we talk about the poor and how much need there is in this country, and we just spent over 6 BILLION dollars in campaign funds working up to this day. that's a whole lot of food stamps. that's a whole lot of waste.

for me, though? i am going to miss the bullshit. i am going to miss picking facebook fights with people that don't share my opinions. i love asking hard questions and having to defend where it is i stand on certain issues and certain moral standards. i am going to miss thinking that even one person might be enlightened by one of my crude comments. and i am going to miss being unfriended because of something i feel passionate about.

no matter, i suppose. i'll find other reasons to be unfriended. but i guaran-goddamn-tee you this. when i do call you an asshole or an idiot or something else that i'll later regret, it's going to be for one simple reason.

you are standing up for an idea instead a person.

that is why we fail.

that is why we will continue to fail.

if you are mad because you think people should "go to work" and don't deserve your tax money, that's a you problem.

if you are mad because you don't think gay people should have the right to marry or that women shouldn't get equal pay for equal work, that's a you problem.

if you don't believe in climate change and that we should be worried about it, holy shit, read a science book. and that's a you problem.

if you don't think humans should care for other humans' health and americans shouldn't pay for all americans' health care, that's a you problem. following that line of logic tells me that if i were not in a fortunate enough situation to have health coverage in 2009 and could not have have my cancerous kidney removed or if i were not still in a fortunate enough situation to have health coverage this year and be able to afford yet another surgery and the 2,000 dollars a month to pay for chemo, well, that line of logic tells me that you would be okay if i died. is that true? would you be okay if i died because i didn't have insurance and could not afford treatment? if so, fuck you. and that's a you problem.

i am going to be fine, as will you, if the other guy wins today. i'll make the best of it, and i hope you will, too.

i am going to miss the bullshit, though. it's where i grew up. it's where i came from. i can spot it a mile away.

stop putting words in jesus' mouth, y'all. if you are a christian, follow the words of christ. contextualize and understand the rest of the bible, but emphasize JESUS' message. love. love the poor. love your enemy. love.

don't stand up for ideas. ideas are a waste of fucking time, man.

stand up for people.

love.

people.

#obama2012

a blog for june


two months removed from my last post is ridiculous.

i am going to have to consider some social media maneuvering to make more time for HACAJAM soon. under twenty posts for the year isn't going to cut it, cancer or no cancer.

june, man.

our baby, baby, baby girl turned one on thursday of last week. as is customary, we got all the usual "we can't believe she's so big!" comments, all the "wow, she shouldn't be one already!" or "oh, how time flies." stuff. and i get it. if you don't spend every day with someone, time does seem to fly by. if you've only seen her on facebook or in person three or four times in the last twelve months, she probably looks like a mighty midget contrasted to that sweet, dark haired little newborn of last october.

but a year it absolutely has been, even longer than that if you are counting in cancer months.

you see, cancer months or, maybe more specifically, chemo months don't move in the same way normal months do. they move hella slow, so slow sometimes that each day feels like two or three, since i don't really sleep the same while i'm on the medicine either.

i have drifted in and out of reality in the last six months or so. some days i feel bad. some days i feel worse. i don't look much worse for the wear on the outside unless i am limping like an old person, so it feels pretty stupid to tell someone that asks how shitty the last few days have been. what's the point? it's not going to change the way i feel, and the person doing the asking isn't going to ask again if i waste more than 30 seconds of their time. most people have just stopped asking at this point. i don't blame them. i don't like remembering that i am on chemo. i am sure other folks around me would like to forget, too. it's a drag. and it's easier to just handle it by myself anyway. i've always been better at feeling sorry for kevin o'kelley versus others feeling sorry for me.

what would make the last six months even worse is if we had a terrible, no good, crying all the time baby in the house. the big girls have been a handful, each terrible and no good in their own perfect ways. most of time, we are fairly certain hannah and caroline hate each other. they just fight so much. maybe once a day, we'll get a glimpse into their care for each other. they'll share a toy or sit down and watch a show together and quietly be around each other. mostly, though, they just pick and scrap and and tease and tattle and make the other's life miserable. as any other parent(s) can attest, this back and forth and back and forth makes you hate your children at times. they become burdensome, and people look at you weird when you're fed up with them in public. i hate that, because i'm always fed up with them, but, really, they (the girls) don't know what real pain is. they don't know what chemo is doing to me. they don't care, so i can't guilt them into being nice to each other as much as i can just cry in front of them. that's the only thing that makes them pause. really, i should just pick them up from after school care crying and see if our afternoons were better that way.

yes, what would make the last six months even worse is if we had a terrible, no good, crying all the time baby in the house.

but, we don't.

we have june.

named after one of the sweetest and most patient people this universe has ever known, june has repaid us for the compliment.

june.

the sweetest baby we've ever had.

the sweet baby that smiles all the time.

that needs to be the center of everyone's attention, but, really, totally should because you are missing out on something fantastically cute if you aren't paying attention all the time.

the sweet baby with the best baby nod.

the sweet baby that just sleeps, sleeps, sleeps through the night, only to wake up, coo, and talk a little every once and again and then falls right back asleep.

the sweet baby that is always told how beautiful she is.

the sweet baby that is, of course, beautiful.

the sweet baby that never really fusses unless she's super hungry or super tired.

that june "twist"s.

that moves her arm up and down and around to the sound of music like she's moshing at a straight edge concert.

the sweet baby that loves her ice cream.

the sweet baby that is about to walk.

the sweet baby that is playful and bashful and and corny and hilarious all within a five minute burst of june.

let her smile at you and try not to have your heart melt.

the most perfect baby for maybe the most trying time of her parents' lives.

it's not that we think she's going to stay perfect. her older sisters will ruin her of that potential sooner rather than later, we are sure.

it's more that, when we couldn't afford to have another catastrophe in our house, june made sure that she wasn't going to pile on.

it's truly been one of the most perfect blessings of my life, in a year when i've had so much to complain about, that a newborn wasn't one of those things.

in a year when i've had so much to complain about, that newborn may have been the one of the few things that helped me hold it together. to not backslide into late 2009. to not lash out at every goof on the street that said or did something stupid. to not be mean all of the time.

june, named after one of the sweetest and most patient people the universe has ever known, june has absolutely repaid the compliment in full, making our lives an even more beautiful place, making it worth being "in the fight", just being june.

i love you, sweet baby june. i am sorry daddy hasn't made you a bigger presence here. i'll do my best to work on that.

thanks for a good first year.

"have the day you'll have"
(caroline and me)


the above is a great quote from the very sweet movie, "the odd life of timothy green".

amongst its many relevant themes, the one that jumped out and stuck with me is just how fucking difficult it is to be a parent.

the movie begins with an idea that is all too depressing, in and of itself, that being when a committed set of adults decide they are ready to be parents but nature doesn't allow it to happen. there are many, many stories of parents that aren't physically capable of making a child.  no matter how many marvels of modern medicine hoops they jump through, it just doesn't happen. sarah has a graduate school friend who went through countless mechanical and unromantic measures and years of disappointments and miscarriages before finally having a child. it's one of life's little quirks that isn't quite fair and, yet, happens anyway.

so the movie begins with a couple stating their case to an unidentified adoption agency on why they are fit to be adoptive parents. they tell the story of timothy green, the titular little boy the universe gives the couple for a very short period of time who, in a very disney way, changes their lives forever.

some of the funnier parts of the film are the parents coming to terms with the fact that they have no idea what they are doing. as with most comedy, the funny is found in the truth of the matter.

we took caroline to see "...timothy green" on her 5th birthday. throughout the hour and a half, i found myself nodding and laughing several times when the movie reminded me of an equivalent parenting situation that i completely botched.

when it comes right down to it, i suppose i botch more than i get right.

society, culture and the like is such a funny and fickle headache when it comes to defining how parents should behave in and around their children. the books, television shows, and movies articulate to us an understood list of unwritten rules that can and should be followed.

don't be mean to your children.

don't spank your children.

don't fight in front of your children.

always encourage your children.

if your child is upset, give that child some ice cream.

if you are out of ice cream, find a fucking cookie. stat.

take your children out to eat with you. nothing will ever go wrong.

if your child won't sit in their seat for the hour you are trying to enjoy mexican, don't yell at them. just ask them nicely to sit back in their seat. 

if they then throw beans at your face, make a happy face and kiss them on the forehead. then, and only then, will they know they are loved.

if your child doesn't want to do something, let them not do it, especially in public. better to let them get away with that shit and not cause a scene than for the parent to look like an asshole.

and so on. and so on. what sucks is the parent isn't given a copy of the rulebook. we have to figure it out as we go along.

what doubly sucks is that the child seems to have the unwritten rulebook hardwired into their mother-scratching brains at birth so they know every button to push at just the right time to drive their parents batshit crazy.

seriously, if i had a nickel for every time i gritted my teeth in public only to unleash holy hell on the girls once i got back in the privacy of my car, i'd have enough money to bail my ass out of jail if a police officer ever caught me in that very act.

a couple weeks ago, i was trying and failing to call a buddy on the phone when the girls started attacking each other as we were leaving the church. i did everything i could to shoot lasers out of my eyes (targeting their throats), unleashed a few "motherfucks" and finally caught my breath long enough to see that my buddy had likely been on the phone the whole time. son. of. a bitch. my secret was out. i am a terrible dad. a father knows shit. my buddy was going to out me at church, on facebook and i'd never be the same again. he comforted me by saying, "it's okay, dude. one of mine just ran over my toe with a wheelbarrow. i was lucky enough to miss when i tried to kick her."

deep breath.

how does all of this relate to caroline?

well, in a way, it doesn't, and. in a way, it all does. hannah, caroline, and someday june have the unwritten rules and i don't.

not a day goes by that i don't have to govern my rage and remind myself that i love them unconditionally.

but not a day goes by that i don't understand how i couldn't live without them.

caroline, man. that girl is my girl. she doesn't want to talk to anybody she doesn't have to. she barely makes eye contact with most people, because, like her daddy, it drains her energy at double-speed to put on a social show.

when we took her to the movie, as she is wont to do, she fell asleep with about twenty minutes left to go (thankfully, missing the sad part of the show) and got all pissed at us when she woke up that we "let" her fall asleep.

she started kindergarten last week and today is her first day that she'll stay to 3 o'clock like all the other big kids she now joins. every day last week she came home wasted, and last week she got out at 12. i can only imagine what a little demon she'll be this afternoon.

she's a daddy's girl, though. hannah has her daddy moments, but i'd like to think that caroline would save me first from the figurative burning building. (no offense, sarah. hannah would save you and you'd be carrying june.)

over the past weekend, when i was suffering pretty badly from my chemo feet, hannah played the role of mom, constantly bringing me my crutches or soft shoes, asking me if she could do anything to help (she's my girl, too).

caroline wasn't having any of that shit. she had better things to worry about. her new american girl doll. her party that was happening sunday. hers was a "you don't have to go home, daddy, but you gotta get the hell out of here" attitude. i barely saw her all weekend as i was propping up my feet or sleeping off the chemo hangover.

it's a different kind of motivation, but one that i need just as much as hannah's loving soul. together, they know the unwritten rules, and they know how to piss me off, but they, both, are pushing me to keep on keeping on. seeing there's gain to the pain. seeing the end through the means.

it would be lazy to say that caroline "shouldn't" be five. shouldn't be going to kindergarten. shouldn't be so big. the sentiment would imply that time was going by too fast, and, as i've said before, my time doesn't go fast anymore.

caroline should be five. she should be big. and she is going to motor through kindergarten and the bus and the lunch lines and new friends and all of it just as easily as her big sister.

she'll keep attacking hannah (and eventually june), she'll keep rolling her eyes at us. she'll keep yelling and pitching her caroline fits.  she'll keep getting out of her seat and shaking her naked booty and not getting in the shower and hating to brush her teeth.

she'll do it all because, i think, deep down, she can see it in our eyes that we are okay with it. and i think she can feel that we love her. and we'll keep her safe. even if we don't own a gun.

sure, we'll yell some. and tough love some. and not always have ice cream (or a cookie) on hand to ease her pain. we may not even always be her best friend (even though it breaks my heart to think that), but we'll always have her back.

happy birthday, caroline lilla. please don't kick hannah again.

i'm a blogger in the same way i'm a runner...


...which is to say, i am not much of either.

i wonder, once the girls come to this place and start to take it all in, if the massive lapses in posts in 2012 will be every bit or more haunting than anything they read before.

after the move and after starting therapy, it's been hard to motivate myself to do much of anything other than swim, enjoy the house, enjoy the family, enjoy a few of my friends, and put whatever is left into my job.

starting cycle three this week, this much is clear. chemo sucks, man. no other way to slice it.

i've tried to use and emphasize perspective during my whiny moments, but it doesn't help a whole lot outside of those brief periods. "it could be worse". sure, man. it could. i have a friend at church that has it worse. his cancer is worse. his treatment is worse. i get it. and i hate it, more than anything, for him.

but he's not me. and i'm not him.

i get it, but i can't actually get it, and i so i have to come back to me.

my fucking feet are peeling, man. what the fuck is up with that? i put pictures of them up on facebook over the weekend, and my brother in law texted me and told me that i looked like i had run a marathon barefooted.

he also told me to keep my feet off camera, which i thought was funny. i've gotten a lot of "i've never seen feet on facebook" feedback. my thought has been, yeah, well, i have never had cancer that led to treatment that led to this kind of pain that led to my foot skin ripping away from the rest of my body. it's a selfish thought. it was a selfish act. i told someone the other day that i put them up in a dark moment. i wanted folks to see what cancer and treatment was doing to me. people tell me all the time that they are thinking about me and praying for me, and i know those comments are genuine. in my dark moments, though, i think, "no you aren't. it sounds good to say, but you don't know even know what you're praying for." i put the pictures up so people could see and know what they were praying for, so people could see what cancer and treatment was doing to me, so they could understand that when i see them and smile at church and at work and on the street, it's an act. that i am hurting. and tired. and angry. and sad. that i am selfish and wish that it was 2008 again, when none of this shit had happened yet, experiencing the blissful ignorance away from what was to come.

it's hard line to balance. i haven't figured out how to do it yet. i can't go around being miserable all the time. every time someone asks me "how are you doing?", i can't say, "shitty. you?" even if that's how i feel. i want to. i want to tell the whole world to stop asking. i want to accuse them of not really caring. of never calling. of never emailing. even if they do all of those things.

it's one of the reasons i haven't come here much this year. as much as no one else wants to hear me whine, i don't want to actively hear it either. i'd rather take the "if someone is on chemo and never complains about it, are they really on chemo?" approach. if i don't talk about it. if i don't write about it, it doesn't feel so bad. i can pretend my way through the day, and i can get to the next one.

it's ridiculous and disheartening that june has been barely mentioned on this, the girls' blog. there hasn't been the first "june and me" post and i haven't talked about the other girls in months.

i can't get away from myself, and i can't get away from chemo as much as i want to.

and so, i guess i have to keep wanting to and hope the want eventually outweighs the excuses. the want to talk about what a beautiful and perfect little baby june has been. the want to think about and process both of my older girls riding the same bus to the (relatively) same school. the want to longform-ish talk about stupid chick-fil-a and stupid guns and stupid politics and stupid "my" obama is going to destroy "your" romney in november and stupid football.

i'll keep wanting.

summer with my shirt off


i've loved swimming for as long as i can remember.

not just being in a pool, wading in the shallow end, or floating on top of the water sunbathing. i love to swim, man. on top of the water pretending like i'm freestyling next to matt biondi (because i'm old, you see) or underwater pretending like i'm aquaman, "when i've got the music (water), i've got a place to go."

the problem, if that's the right word, has been that over the last ten years or so, i haven't really done a whole lot of swimming. outside of the yearly trip to gulf shores plantation we made when i was on staff at huffman or the once every three years or so trip to the beach i've made with my family in the last ten years, we just don't do it much. we don't belong to the y. haven't really had close friends with pools. it's not like we've been deprived. it's just not something, swimming that is, that we've put on our radar.

until now.

and now, we are spoiled. magnificently spoiled.

if my count is right, some combination of our family has been in our new pool in our backyard of our new house that we moved into the first of may 15 out of the last 18 days.

how we ever lived without having a pool in our backyard, i'll never know. i do hope that we won't have to worry about going back to living without one for a long, long time.

in the almost a full month since i posted about my chemo side effects, i've had my first two week break. the first week or so, i didn't experience a whole lot of relief. the second week was absolutely glorious, though! i got my normal taste back. the sores on my hands and feet calmed down and healed to the point where it wasn't painful to walk, run, or exercise. the sores on my gums healed and i could chew on the right side of my mouth again. i got my energy back. i felt like myself for, like, four or five full days.

then, of course, i set myself up to be disappointed. i told myself that, since it took about 10 days for me to feel the effects of the chemo during my first cycle, i could predict the same timetable during the second cycle. i didn't take into account that i would still have low levels of the medicine in my system when the second cycle started, and it only took a couple days for the effects to flare up inside of me after the restart.

today, almost two weeks in, my gums are bleeding again. my taste buds are fucked again. i'm out of energy by late lunch every day again. what's worse, at least today, is the sores are coming back. on my hands, my dumbbells are re-aggravating the places that were hurting a month ago. my feet are worse than last month already. a spot from the first go-round is coming back on my right foot. yesterday morning, i woke up and i couldn't put any weight on my left foot because, of all places, hell has taken up residence in the tip of my second toe.

i can't even think about running. like i told some limbo folks this morning, it takes me ten or more steps just to walk off a limp.

complain, complain, complain. bitch, bitch, bitch. oh, poor kevin. shut the fuck up, you little whiner.

but i've got my pool. our pool.

our new house feels like a beach condo for as much as we are in our swimsuits, dripping everywhere, being beach hungry all the time. i've had my shirt off more than i've had it on over the last month, and it is absolutely fantastic.

a fantastic distraction from the hell in my toe, a distraction from every hole (like, every hole...it's disgusting, and infuriating, and embarrassing) on my body drying up, bleeding, and scabbing over and from the fact that i am taking medicine that arrives in the mail and is adorned with a biohazard label.

we didn't go looking for our new house. in a way, it kind of came and found us.

if i believed in such things, i could argue that we were meant to be here. for the pool. for the distraction. for the fun.

if i believed...