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Showing posts from September, 2015

I Don't Save Lives

When I tell people what I do for a living, I generally get one of two responses. The first is the nodding head accompanied by some form of the phrase "Oh, that's cool." I generally assume that these are the kind folks who, for the sake of social norms, asked me about myself without really wanting to know the answer. It's the same as when you ask someone "How are you?" Unless you are a medical provider, you aren't really looking for them to tell you about their hemorrhoids and how they're having difficulty getting an erection.

The second response, however, goes something like "Oh, wow! You save lives!" That's far better for the ego. I've thought about this many times throughout my career. "Saving lives " sounds so noble and so heroic. Upon hearing this phrase I picture myself shirtless with six pack abs and bulging biceps (neither of which I have ever had) standing atop a mountain of smoldering debris. The near -lifeless b…

"Much Ado" - Throwback Short Story.

I move among others in the pre-dawn haze. We are many drifting within this shroud of heavy, wet air, haunting the darkness that hangs thick all around us. I cut it first with glances, then with fear, then with focus.

My life is really about cutting. Years ago I cut my emotions away, carving them out of myself with more recklessness than skill. I disemboweled my soul as if with a dull spoon. It bled bitterness and confusion onto the floors of bars and clubs, and all over the unwitting attendees of many wild midnight parties. I cut until the pain went away, when the cutting neither hurt nor required any effort anymore. My heart, like Pandora’s Box, held the messy, vile emotions of life, and at long last I carved into the soft sides of it, too. I released torrents of sadness, anger, joy and fear. The ruptured receptacle rained insults and prejudice and indifference, soaking all who stood by with the steady drizzle of weeping psychological wounds – until the box, once filled with eve…