I used to suffer panic attacks fairly often. More often when I was on prednisone, when all it would take is was something small like misplacing my car keys, or not having any coffee in the house, or the thought of going outside. Even for a while after coming off the steroids I would still get panic attacks from mildly bothersome things like losing my wallet, or a bad stick at dialysis. It's been over two years since I've been on prednisone, though, and a long time since I've had a good, ol' fashioned, hyperventilating panic attack. I didn't miss them.

It seems somethings, though, I'm never going to live without, and panic attacks are one of them. Now they have a brand new trigger. Although much more reasonable and much less random than the old ones, they still suck, and they still strike without warning. Here's the story:

Early this morning I was where I can usually be found at that hour - here in front of my computer. It's pretty cold in this house when I don't have my heater on, so I was wearing a sweater. Under the sweater I had 2 shirts on, so I was a little bundled up, and the sweater was getting a bit snug. I must have been sitting on the bottom of it or something, and when I leaned forward to look at the screen a little better (I didn't have my glasses on) it pulled tightet against my chest. And thst's when I couldn't breath anymore. It was a half-second of pressure on my chest, max, but that was enough. My lungs were burning, and my heart started racing. I was dying all over again, and I couldn't get the thought of my head. Unlike the prednisone induced panic attacks, beneath the terror I was still calm. This was reasonable, I told myself. This made sense. After a few minutes I could shake the ghostly feeling of nurses grips on my arms. I could quietly tell myself I was alright, and my breathing slowed. The chest stops burning, and the eyes close a little. Slumped in my chair, hand on my chest to try and quiet my heart from pounding through my tired ribcage.

Then I tore off my sweatshirt and turned on the heater.

Every person, no matter well you think you know them, has a dozen hidden facets. A dozen hidden identities that you may have never suspected, but can be clearly seen when the wind changes direction. All people are born with the capability for as many behaviors and emotions as their intellect will allow, and those can range wildly.

The friend you know today may not be the same friend you meet tomorrow, and it is only our ignorance that keeps us thinking that people never change.

I'm sitting here listening to AC/DC's Back in Black and nodding along thinking, "Yeah. That sounds about right."

I feel pretty good. I've been out like 4 nights in a row now, and apart from the problem of spending more money than I should it's been a lot of fun. I'm not out clubbing or anything, but getting out of the house and walking around is a nice change of pace from what I've been doing with myself for the last year or so.

I need to get my license so that on these long nights I'm not walking around a sleeping house by myself. 2 more weeks until the glasses arrive. Then it's DMV time.

Next I looked up Dire Straits "Sultan of Swing," and Bruce Springsteen's "Born to Run."





I feel human again.

There are some art projects that I've still never seen duplicated. EBN is one of them:



One more diversion in the theater of entertainment we all now live in.

I haven't updated this in a while, and that's a shame because a lot has happened since I last did. Well, a lot to me anyway. I quit Everquest 2. Well, ok, I quit the guild I was in. I still occasionally log in and play for a few hours in the wee hours of the morning, but I'm no longer raiding. I no longer have 3-6 hours a night, 4 nights a week, dedicated to huddling around my computer talking with my friends about killing dagrons and all our phat loots. It's a change, though. Three years of my life I've spent on that game. To that guild in particular I've given 15 months, and over $150 cash. As the guild leader I can't even count the hours and days I spent worrying about things and people that I couldn't control, or even effect. It was a lot of work, and a lot of stress, and a whole lot of fun. I'm leaving about a month later than should have, though. I should have quit when I was in the hospital. I definitely didn't need that mess while I was trying to work out so much other crap in my life. It complicated things.

But now it's gone, and I have a lot of free time. Thankfully some of that time is being filled by a cute asian girl named Raseny some of you from OC/Long Beach might remember. She moved up here 2 weeks ago, and we've formed a sort of mutually beneficial cooperation. She wants company and someone to show her around, and I want someone to drive me places and help distract me from my gnawing hunger for raids and phat loots.

Seriously, MMo's are worse than narcotics. I have an easier time going without the latter than I do the former.

So now that I have all this free time expect more updates. Not all of them brilliant, but all of them definitely filled with text.

Well the surgery was a partial success. My arm is much improved, but it's still a little swollen. The surgeon came by after I gave the nurse the ultimatum, "Look, there's no reason for me to be here. Either the guy comes by and signs my discharge papers, or I walk out of here on my own. Either way, I'm leaving." Suddenly he had the time to talk to me. I'm not going to go into all the gory details of what the surgery was, or what it was supposed to do, but it didn't do all it was supposed to. Apparently, though, he could do it. It would just have to be done in stages.

That's right, Stages. More surgeries to get something he told me he could do with one. Well fuck that. Better is good enough for me right now. I've been through too much hospital crap in the last two months. I want time off to recover before I even think about going through this shit again. I want my body to heal and me to be able to walk again (they had to cut up my leg on this one). I want time to get off these goddam pain pills (they wrote me a new script for Oxycodone, and I need it right now). I want time to feel like a human being again, and not a ripped up meat puppet.

So fuck you and your Stages, buddy. Find someone else to fund your vacations. I quit.

Check in for surgery is 15 hours to fix The Arm Problem. Maybe I'll be home and in bed within 24. I have 3 more hours before I'm supposed to stop eating, but years of this nonsense has taught me that I have more like 6 - 8 hours to eat without being in any danger of a complication with the anesthetic. I'll be good tonight, though. A last meal around 11:30, then 12 hours of nothing until show time.

Who knows, by this time tomorrow night the world may look a little better, even though I'll look a little worse.

I got into the habit a few years ago of writing eulogies for people. It started shortly after Natasha left. I found it real hard to be upset about people when I thought about having to speak at their funeral. As much as I might hate someone in life, once dead I have no choice but to remember them for the good as well as the bad. I think my grandfather taught me that. I always thought he was a monster growing up. An abusive alcoholic in his youth, a slack-jawed dullard in his old age. I pitied him in the end, though, when Alzheimer's took him. Hearing stories of my aunt locking him in his room so he wouldn't wander and get lost, or because she didn't feel like dealing with him.

I forgot all of it at his funeral. Listening to my aunts talk about his life without ever revealing the hell he'd put all of them through. They just talked about the things they were proud of, and they were happy remembering. He was a soldier in World War 2. He went on to become an engineer for NASA. He worked on projects for the first moon landing, and continued to work there until he retired in the 80's. Father of 6 kids, he took every opportunity to drive those kids and his wife across the country. I can barely stand being in a car with one other person for 6 hours. I can't imagine driving a bus with 6 kids back and forth across the country. I guess that might drive me to drink, too. He loved dogs, and a good glass of whiskey, and a fine cigar. He loved his wife, and his kids. So they said that day.
There weren't any tears for my grandfather. Not from me. That was the first time I realized that behind all the anger my mom had at her dad she had all these fond memories she just couldn't remember until he was gone.

So while out walking aimlessly around Santa Ana early one morning thinking about how pissed off I was I started imagining speaking at Natasha's funeral. Things change when you think someone is gone. Maybe it's just easier to admit some things when there is no chance they'll ever be used against us. All the grudges disappear, taking all the unanswered questions and demands with them, leaving only the memories they left you with. The good ones and the bad. We spend enough time hating each other while we live. Maybe we give the dead a reprieve, at least for the duration of their funeral. For a moment we admit that we took some joy from the lives of the people we've met. Even the ones who have wronged us, and we have wronged.

So I started writing eulogies for people. The people who are dead to me that I know I'll never see or talk to again. When closure is called for, I'd rather remember them as dead where I can remember them in the light of an afternoon funeral. Where the grudges are forgotten, and all I have left are the good memories before saying goodbye forever.

I may start playing WoW. I download the 10 day demo. Several of my EQ2 buddies are buying the full version in the next couple of days. I will have 5 friend on the Malorne PvP server. I was thinking of making a toon on the same server as the SG guild, but I've been playing MMOs with these guys for 2 years now. I'll stick with them for a while. Not like I'll be playing WoW for long even if I do get into it. Once Warhammer Online goes live I'm dropping whatever other game I'm playing and moving to that. In fact the officers of my Everquest2 guild and I have already started talking about moving our whole guild over to Warhammer. I like these people a lot, and to hop from one game world into another, with the power of 29 of my friends at my back, sounds pretty exciting. We'll see how it goes.

In the meantime it seems my decisions are working out for me. I've been feeling better. Not just physically, but about my life, the world, and my place in it. It's good to know who your friends are.

Holy shit, it was like two responsible things in two days. You know those people you know you shouldn't be friends with, but for whatever reason you just don't tell them to fuck off? Well now I have, and it feels pretty awesome.

Yesterday's choice was difficult. This one was much easier, and left me feeling much better afterwards.

Yup, there's sun in Portland. It's awesome outside. I think I'm going to enjoy what's left of it.