When Your Heart Was Open Wide
I have become redundant. I'm a broken record. I'm just saying the same things I've been saying for the past two years. I'm bored with myself.
What about you? What are you into? What are your dreams?
Some times my dreams are big--big like the Grand Canyon, western expansion, manifest destiny, liberty, Death Valley.
Some times all I want to do is work at a place like B&D for the rest of my life, be another version of that guy, Gary, who I never say "Hi" to when I stop in for a sandwich if Lindsey's working.
A mover and a shaker, and a stay at home husband/dad.
I don't want to let my future be at all influenced by the research papers I've written. I wish that when I finish college, one day, I could cut that part off my body. Not the drinking and stuff--that's cool, I dig that--and not even the classes I went to and the notes I took--mostly, that's been good--but the research papers are killing me. If I can forget about one thing about college when it's all over with, I hope I forget about the research papers, and the year of Mountain Dew Code Red and Aderol, followed by the year of turning in papers two weeks late that were a page or two under the requirement, followed by the year I basically just didn't do them.
I have shards of glass in my knees. There's a ship coming in, and I'm scrambling for a ticket, on my hands and knees, looking for a winner trampled in the beer and dirt of the parking lot.
I'm going to bed now because I'm worthless right now.
Gah. February is too grey.
Fuck it. Buck up.
Hermano,
I don't remember if I told you about my trip to visit him two weekends ago with Amy and Jarred. It was a good trip, and we felt confident in his health upon leaving. He was responsive--even under sedation--and he looked strong. Since then, we've had only more good news.
Gilmore woke up on Thursday, as you know. After such a prolonged nap, they expect him to still experience side-effects from the sedation for 7-10 days afterward, which puts the optimal re-upping dates at Feb. 28-Mar. 1, or this Thurs.-Sat.
A number of people visited him this weekend, including a cavalcade of Ohio State acquaintances, chief among them Al, as well as appearances by Face and Jolene on Sat. and Amy, Heather, and Jen on Sun. It should be noted that Jolene made Gilmore laugh by making fun of me, and so I'm happy to be included in the recovery process.
His left side is strong and he's able to move, but not so much on the right side. He's not able to talk so much, but has managed to utter a few curse words, presumably out of frustration with his situation--which he's certainly beginning to comprehend--as well as out of frustration with his mother's incessant babying of him. According to Jolene, he told Mrs. Gilmore to "Shut the fuck up." So this is good news.
Our expectations are thus: he will probably be moved to a rehabilitative hospital on the west side sometime this weekend/early next week. We are unsure how long he is planned to remain there, but doctors have said rehabilitation will likely be a six-month process... long, but bearable, with most of it do-able from home.
This is all good news, and I am happy to hear it, and happy to pass it along. Lauren's going up to Cleveland this Friday to visit him, and I'm planning on another trip up in the middle of March, for my spring break. A little less exciting than the Grand Canyon, I guess, but probably more necessary.
Anyway, hermano, we are happy.
And so it is, I leave you,
Upbeat and buoyant,
Though drowning in American Studies,
And depressingly bored with my other classes,
But finding reason to celebrate the weekends,
And with a liver begging forgiveness,
For some offense done in another life,
Like Kevin Costner to Christian Slater,
In "Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves,"
In which the former shot an arrow through the latter's hand,
And my liver certainly never did that,
Cordially yours,
Andrew
What about you? What are you into? What are your dreams?
Some times my dreams are big--big like the Grand Canyon, western expansion, manifest destiny, liberty, Death Valley.
Some times all I want to do is work at a place like B&D for the rest of my life, be another version of that guy, Gary, who I never say "Hi" to when I stop in for a sandwich if Lindsey's working.
A mover and a shaker, and a stay at home husband/dad.
I don't want to let my future be at all influenced by the research papers I've written. I wish that when I finish college, one day, I could cut that part off my body. Not the drinking and stuff--that's cool, I dig that--and not even the classes I went to and the notes I took--mostly, that's been good--but the research papers are killing me. If I can forget about one thing about college when it's all over with, I hope I forget about the research papers, and the year of Mountain Dew Code Red and Aderol, followed by the year of turning in papers two weeks late that were a page or two under the requirement, followed by the year I basically just didn't do them.
I have shards of glass in my knees. There's a ship coming in, and I'm scrambling for a ticket, on my hands and knees, looking for a winner trampled in the beer and dirt of the parking lot.
I'm going to bed now because I'm worthless right now.
Gah. February is too grey.
Fuck it. Buck up.
Hermano,
I don't remember if I told you about my trip to visit him two weekends ago with Amy and Jarred. It was a good trip, and we felt confident in his health upon leaving. He was responsive--even under sedation--and he looked strong. Since then, we've had only more good news.
Gilmore woke up on Thursday, as you know. After such a prolonged nap, they expect him to still experience side-effects from the sedation for 7-10 days afterward, which puts the optimal re-upping dates at Feb. 28-Mar. 1, or this Thurs.-Sat.
A number of people visited him this weekend, including a cavalcade of Ohio State acquaintances, chief among them Al, as well as appearances by Face and Jolene on Sat. and Amy, Heather, and Jen on Sun. It should be noted that Jolene made Gilmore laugh by making fun of me, and so I'm happy to be included in the recovery process.
His left side is strong and he's able to move, but not so much on the right side. He's not able to talk so much, but has managed to utter a few curse words, presumably out of frustration with his situation--which he's certainly beginning to comprehend--as well as out of frustration with his mother's incessant babying of him. According to Jolene, he told Mrs. Gilmore to "Shut the fuck up." So this is good news.
Our expectations are thus: he will probably be moved to a rehabilitative hospital on the west side sometime this weekend/early next week. We are unsure how long he is planned to remain there, but doctors have said rehabilitation will likely be a six-month process... long, but bearable, with most of it do-able from home.
This is all good news, and I am happy to hear it, and happy to pass it along. Lauren's going up to Cleveland this Friday to visit him, and I'm planning on another trip up in the middle of March, for my spring break. A little less exciting than the Grand Canyon, I guess, but probably more necessary.
Anyway, hermano, we are happy.
And so it is, I leave you,
Upbeat and buoyant,
Though drowning in American Studies,
And depressingly bored with my other classes,
But finding reason to celebrate the weekends,
And with a liver begging forgiveness,
For some offense done in another life,
Like Kevin Costner to Christian Slater,
In "Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves,"
In which the former shot an arrow through the latter's hand,
And my liver certainly never did that,
Cordially yours,
Andrew