Don’t worry, this’ll all be interesting when I’m dead.

I think I realized this blog was really only existing for one person. I have no interest in sharing such intimate details with anyone else. I didn’t/don’t care that anyone else reads. So now, since I’ve shut her out of my view and assume the opposite has occurred, too, I have little use for this space.

Besides, only one person even bothered to ask for part 2 of my surgery blog. Just goes to show how many are truly interested. I’m not hurt by that, because it’s not surprising.

I will probably end up changing this layout… maybe to something more appropriate to my online life. Less focus on this rotting corpse of a blog and more on Twitter and/or other things.

I need the record to show that I have done quite well with my withdrawal of Lee Anne. It’s been a little scary, though. I’ve always said that the thing that keeps us going is knowing there’s something to live for, something better than here and now. So when I put every ounce of hope into a particular dream, knowing that will make everything better, allowing it to be the one and only thing I was living for… well… it’s a little scary to let such a thing go. Will I lose faith in life? Will I succumb to complete and total apathy and put an end to this now-pointless life?

Nope. I know there’s something (see: someONE) else out there. I believe in my heart we were meant to be together, when we met, but it didn’t happen. I also know there can and will never be anything as great and powerful as what we experienced. But there are so many facets to our relationships with people, there stands the possibility that I will have something equally as important and equally as fulfilling in due time.

I was never bitter about the situation. Disappointed, to say the least… but never bitter, never jealous. Just thoroughly confused about how something so completely right was just not able to be possible. No, I was never bitter. And for a while, almost 2 years, I was a better man because of it. I could revel in the enlightenment I achieved from knowing her. I was at my best in that year following their marriage. I was the fittest I ever was, I was all-around healthier, too. But things quickly changed after all the ups and downs.

Dysthymia seeped in at some point. I’m now fully engulfed by this disorder and oh, how it touches so many around me. The dysfunction it causes it only strengthens its grip on me.

So this is what I need to work on, now. That and a body which is worse-off now than it was before the surgery. The past 3-4 weeks, I’ve been eating healthier than ever before. I actually am making my own salads using fresh ingredients and preparing them the night before! Dinners are all turkey & cheese, tuna, and/or baked beans. …But I’m still not losing weight.

I’ve not made mention of it, but I can’t even go up a flight of stairs without it totally knocking the wind out of me and making me feel like I’m going to pass out. I have to sit down after standing up some times. And the test is scheduled weeks in advance so I won’t know for awhile if they see anything wrong. My knees, at times, feel like the cartilage in the joint is thinning. The good news is, I’m not coughing up blood since the surgery.

Anyway, these subjects are pretty much all I write about on here anymore. Boring!
I advise you to not check here often, since there won’t be much going on.
Not for awhile, anyway.

I’m done. I’m done.
I’m going to try to be done.
But I need to be done.

…..I don’t want to be done….

But I’m done. I think I’m done.
I don’t know how I’m going to do this, but I’m going to try.

Almost five and a half years of being a rock. Steady and patient. Devoted and keen. Empowered, enlightened, and grateful; I cannot be a rock any longer. My heart has atrophied.

So much has changed! With her, I mean.
But I have all these words saved with me that I can read over and over again, to remind me of what once was the ultimate kind of love and connection.

Then I wonder, what is love without background; without history and time behind it? True, we had unspeakable chemistry and I believe the forces of nature were putting all their effort into making us find and be together. But there’s something to be said about the time two people spend with each other that gives that relationship substance you cannot otherwise have with someone you just met. It gives real meaning to loving someone. So I have to wonder.

And without any explanation (and PLENTY of attempts at obtaining one), she’s ignored me for almost a year. Is this her way of giving me a hint? I don’t take hints very well. I like pure, unadulterated honesty. I’ve said time and time again to tell me to go away the moment you don’t want me in your life anymore. That doesn’t happen, so I go on believing I am still wanted.   But going through a major, somewhat risky surgery without a peep? One that was only a 2 hour drive from her home?  And then, being here in town with nothing to do and purposefully, with intent, did not contact me?  This is big-time rejection, more than I’d expect from even the most casual of acquaintances.  Hell, I even got “Get Well Soon” wishes from people I’ve never even spoken to!

It matters no more. The explanation for this silent treatment is what *I* needed to move on. Obviously, it’s not what she feels she needs to give me — and I can’t keep hanging on to that, giving me another excuse to keep this door cracked, letting the hope continue to seep in.

I don’t exactly know how I’m going to do this.
I have some ideas, which my chances of success are questionable, but we’ll see.  Either way, I’m done.

Really.

Door is closed.

I will dedicate no more time to your birthday this year than that which I have put into writing this sentence.

DumbVantage! Amiright, folks?

I’ve always been pretty happy with at&t’s VoIP system called CallVantage (see: Vonage, Comcast Digital Voice). I’ve had it since it first came out back in ‘04 or so. But lately there’s been a few things just not working right. Actual performance issues. But I haven’t ever said anything because I rarely ever use the landline.
But I wrote them an email yesterday in which I totally didn’t mention any service issues and just asked a question about how I’d prefer my voicemails to be sent in mp3 format rather than wav.

My email:

The voicemails are emailed in .wav format.
Can these be offered/emailed as mp3s instead?

If not available now, may I suggest this feature for the future? Switching to mp3 will greatly reduce the file sizes anyway, which would be beneficial to the at&t servers which are storing them.

I received the “We received your email and will get around to it within 48 hrs.” standard form mail. I waited a day. This was the response I just got:

Dear Carl Baldwin:

In response to your bill inquiry, Tracking Number: ##############, requesting information on account: ############, the following information has been obtained:

We apologize for the inconvenience you have experienced with your service. Please contact our repair office to resolve your issues. You can reach this office by calling #############.

Thank you for choosing AT&T.

Really? REALLY?
This, along with my actual problems with the service as of late just may cause me to switch to Comcast. At least maybe then I’ll stop getting 3 Comcast junk mailings a week (of which I asked to be taken off that list a year ago, too).

This is very difficult for me, because I have no idea what I’m going to write.  I usually have a few points; a few ideas or moments I want to convey before I sit down for something like this.  But I’ve not a single moment that stands out among the rest.  This is kind of the reason I am doing this; to connect back to it, to embrace it, to understand what made a difference and where I detached.  My therapist tells me this is important.  I agree.  I wasn’t going to do this.  I never seem to write about the big, huge events in my life.  Not because I intentionally try to avoid them, but because by the time I realize I should write about it, it’s not affecting me and seems boring and self-gratifying.

It’s also not usual for me to preface something prior to writing it.  My prefaces usually are written afterwords.  Maybe I’ll add something here before giving it to you.

So, as I attempt to even think of where to start I’m realizing there wasn’t a single moment where I had any heightened emotion and to try and document this thing one step at a time would be the absolute most boring thing I’ve ever written and you’ve ever read.  So this may go a little differently than we expected.

I acknowledged what was about to happen.  The week leading up to the surgery was pretty hellish.  It began with a dental examination and pulmonary (lung) exam on Thursday which was made in an attempt to figure out why I cough up blood all the time.  Without much warning I would just begin to feel my lungs fill up with blood and I’d have to cough it all up while I wait for it to stop.  It went on for 2 and half years and no one could figure out why.  I was giving these doctors a week to figure it out.  They told me to have the surgery and see if it still happens.  So I wasted 4 days worth of hotel costs.  Hotel costs that, by the way, were up in the 3 star price range but 1 star quality.  Thanks for that, doc.

The wind chill outside was -22.  Temperature was -1.

The dental examination led me to an emergency endodontist’s office the next day, Friday, where this other guy could give me 3 root canals, back-to-back-to-back in one sitting.  This resulted in a missing tooth just left-of-center in my smile.  Except for dealing with the missing tooth, there wasn’t much pain involved and it didn’t affect me too much.   They needed to do this in order to ensure I’d have no infections in my mouth which could travel down to my heart while it was vulnerable during post-op.  A fairly common precaution, actually, and could be fatal.

The sprinkler system malfunctioned in the hotel on Saturday.  The alarms were going off everywhere.  I rushed out of the room and attempted to find a stairwell. No one else was out of their rooms.  No one was in the stairs.  Wh… ummm…what?  The stairwell I found led to an alarm-sounding door to the outside.  This didn’t seem right.  The fire alarm stopped. I went back upstairs.  Still no one was around, so I went to the elevators and took them to the lobby where there I saw the glass vestibule walls were cascading with a constant flow of water.  I had no idea what was going on until I asked the girls at the front desk.  Seems to me this would have been a good time to utilize their P.A. system and announce there was no fire, everything’s OK.  But apparently those types of thoughts don’t occur to these girls.  I developed a severe migraine and the Eagles ended their playoff run that night.

Sunday night began a fasting.  I had a bunch of tests the next day and wouldn’t eat again until Monday afternoon.  I also met with my cardiologist who promptly ordered a neurological exam and colonoscopy because of some passing comments I made about two recent, odd events: a Transient Ischemic Attack and a little blood in my stool one day.  Nooooooo.

After the testing I’d fast again because I had a heart catheterization the next morning, which turned out to be a bigger procedure than I expected.  That’s where they shave your groin area, cut a hole and shove a tube into your femeral artery.  They guide the tube all the way up your torso and into your heart.  Then they inject dye while they take x-rays to see how the blood flows.  I was in the waiting room for this procedure while Barack Obama was being sworn in.  First I stood with another 20 or so people as we all gathered around a TV hanging on the wall.  Then was guided to another area where I was sitting with another 10 or so people, some of which were foreign.  The swearing in occured and there was some silence for a moment until one lady decided to start clapping.  I would have started it myself, but really, when you don’t know other people’s feelings on the subject, I didn’t want to get into any arguments.  But most everyone joined in the lady’s clapping for a few seconds and we continued to watch the ceremonies until I was led into the cath lab, which was pretty much an operating room.

I awoke to the inaugural parade and enjoyed it from my recovery bed.  This was not exactly how I wanted to enjoy these historical events, but whatever.

A couple hours later I began the preparation for a colonoscopy which was scheduled for the next day.  But I hadn’t eaten!  So I ate something and then waited a certain amount of time before drinking the god awful “medication” to clean me out.  Talk about binge and purge.  This was literally like drinking water straight from the ocean.  It’s not that bad if you get one or two mouthfulls. But a gallon?  In like, an hour?  Can’t be done.  Not by me, at least.  I drank about 75% of it and went to bed.

Woke up Wednesday morning and went to the neuro exam.  He orders a CT scan on my head and declares the TIA I had was probably not TIA and just random numbness.  Then the waiting began as I was unable to get to my next appointment on time to meet with the surgeon and had to wait until he got through with a surgery.  When he finally showed up, it was brief but friendly.  I also got to meet with his scheduler who’d been more of a help to me throughout this whole process than anyone else.  I had every intention to send her a thank you card, but still haven’t yet.  Dammit.

Well, I ran from his meeting downstairs to where my colonoscopy was schedule and to which I was late for.  I gained some sympathy from the attractive, young nurse — which reminds me… holy crap, the nurses throughout this complex were all so pretty.  Many could easily have a side career as models.  My completely deshevled appearance made for a much easier time interacting with them because I knew I had no chance in hell.  And yet, I was conflicted because I was still embarrassed by my situation and even still OK with gaining their sympathy, like it would somehow lead to some fleeting romance while I limped from the hole in my crotch, smiled awkwardly due to the hole in my smile, and tried to contain the air buildup from the probe that was just inside my ass.  Yes, yes… please love me.  Aren’t I adorable and helpless??? 

*pause for sarcastic effect*

So it was all done.  All the testing, at least.  I could finally eat again, too, but not for long because tomorrow was the big surgery; the reason I was really there, 400 miles away from home and 400 miles from anyone I knew.  To repair a damaged heart, in the most literal of ways.

You can see all the photos from this period in my life here:
http://picasaweb.google.com/auxzealot/Myectomy2009#

In the mood to write, I am not. But I haven’t done so in awhile, during a very hectic time in my life, so I figure I should.
(side note: I do “tweet” a lot, so you can at least be paying attention to that…)

So, what’s going on. New Years just happened. Dan called me a couple nights before and invited me to something quite special. A private party in Brooklyn with Amanda Palmer from The Dresden Dolls, along with 60 or so other people, followed by a concert of hers at The Bowery Ballroom.

Admittedly, I’ve never been able to get into her music but I could appreciate it and the conviction she puts into it. So, I agreed to go with him because I thought it would be a crazy adventure to go into Brooklyn for only the 2nd time ever. It ended up not being a crazy adventure, but more of a pleasant, dream-like evening which was a real good distraction from the typical New Years celebrations.

There was no focus on the glittery ball, Times Square, the time, or anything else but ourselves; a room full of strangers, each with our respective vices, shames, habits, and obsessions to give up.

You see, we all were given a piece of paper to write down one thing we want to let go of. After midnight, we all sat around the perimeter of the place and the room went silent. We were lit mainly by candles around the room. We put all our papers into a tin bucket and then we were all given tea candles. The hosts came around with candlesticks and lit all our tea candles, bringing me back to the annual Christmas Eve Mass when I used to go with my grandmom. They came around with the bucket again and we all placed our candles inside, burning all our papers into smoke and ash.

I’d never not watched “The Ball.”

It was beautiful.

A little while later, we all formed groups and took the train to Manhattan where the show was at. The show was fantastic, I listened to and watched every note come alive to keep us awake until 6am and beyond.

Dan and I recruited one of the girls at the party & concert to take us to a place to eat. We couldn’t find one, so we finally walked into a deli and they had a grill going. Finally at about 8am we started the 2 hour drive back. Well, Dan did. I slept for most of it as my hangover began to kick in big time. As I get older, I have more and more difficulty enjoying a night with alcohol. It’s kind of a shame in some respects, but I’m not complaining either.

Videos of her serenading us with The Cure & Radiohead while at the party are up at my YouTube. Pictures are here.

Oh, Christmas has also come and gone. It was ok.
I miss being 7.

For some reason, Lee Anne has not spoken to me since late August. Well, even that was only a friendly reply to a text I sent. It’s probably been since May since I SPOKE to her. She was able to tell me she’s ok, though… she just can’t communicate with me right now. That was via text circa late October, early November. I don’t know what’s going on there. This is highly unusual and I’d be OK with whatever her reasons are, if only I knew why.

Heart surgery. Oh, my poor, achy, breaky heart.
Less than 18 days away, now.

A lot of people are asking if I’m nervous. No, not really. I’m more nervous about the trip and preparations and making sure I don’t forget anything, etc. Once I’m there, I mean, I’ll be in the care of some of the nation’s best hands. So, no. Not nervous about the surgery.

I’ve installed my itinerary on the side, there, for everyone. You can see the schedule I’ll be going by. If I’ve got nothing going on, it means I’m at the hotel. Cleveland Clinic Guest House. But, you can probably reach me on my cell. I’ll be tweeting as much as I can throughout the process. The tweets may be just a picture. Who knows. But it should be fun. Full blog posts when I can, too. I’ll have access to all my emails but it would be more convenient for me if you wrote me at the address listed on the “TOUCH” page.

I’m also buying a new livingroom set because the one I have now takes up so much room. New couch, coffee table, and TV stand. I am having THE WORST LUCK selling on Craigslist! Everyone I talk to says they had no issues. ALL I’M HAVING IS ISSUES! First of all, 95% of the people who respond to my ads are scammers. I can tell because their text is obviously a canned reply, and/or they’re asking questions which the ad already answered, and/or they’re speaking in broken english which wouldn’t be so bad except when I first started this, I gave them the benefit of the doubt and sure enough, they were going to “send me a money order” and send out their “movers” to get my items to deliver it to them who are conveniently living in another country. So… no more broken english. No one signs their emails with a name at all. It’s very impersonal and no one’s trusting the other person, it’s so obvious. But I had two bites on my old Blackberry (which I’m also selling) and both guys disappeared the day we were supposed to meet. They stopped returning my calls and never showed up. And today, a woman was going to buy my coffee table but her husband decided at the last minute to keep their old one and I was left at home waiting for them when I could have been running errands. At least she called, though.

I need to sell this stuff within 8-10 weeks, which is when all my new stuff will be ready and delivered together. But there’s no way I’m going to just give the stuff away for ridiculous prices. That’s not cool.

So, here are the things I’m selling. A couch, a coffee table, and a Blackberry Curve. If you know anyone looking for this stuff, let them know asap. Thanks. And yes, I’m gonna have to deal with the moving of this furniture while I’m recovering. I should be OK, though.
COUCH: http://philadelphia.craigslist.org/fuo/978353805.html
COFFEE TABLE: http://philadelphia.craigslist.org/fuo/978356176.html
BLACKBERRY: http://philadelphia.craigslist.org/ele/980554202.html

Also, if you’re an expert on selling on Craigslist, tell me what the hell I’m doing wrong? I’ve put these 3 items up at least 7 times now. I think people are only looking for dirt cheap or free shit on here. Stupid.

Dr. Drew Pinsky explains why science backs up the “Addiction is a disease” theory on his mid-morning radio show “Dr. Drew Live“.
This is one of my favorite calls I’ve heard on the show.

As for A.A. being a Christian organization, there were some calls placed into the show since then that also talked about how, when in A.A., they are turned off by the whole religious aspect. The gist of his response to those valid concerns is that not all A.A. groups are quite as focused on the religious aspect so it’s helpful to keep looking for a group that suits you. However, if you can’t find one, the best thing for you to do is essentially replace the word God with Faith, because that’s really the focus; having faith in yourself, your abilities, and faith in a better life.

The 12-step program is an essential part in an addict’s recovery. It’s THE most proven method of staying clean. Anyone can get clean but it’s STAYING clean which is so hard for addicts & alcoholics. Without 12-step, the odds are really, really against you.

It’s been 10 days since Circuit Theory “broke up” and played their last show.

It’s been 4 days since I witnessed a woman crossing the street get struck by a speeding car, who never stopped. Kinda having a hard time getting that out of my head.

Thursday will mark one month since my grandmother’s death.

I’ve been thinking lately about people in my past. I’ve been thinking about how we can have people play such integral roles in our lives; to be friends and/or lovers with someone for whatever amount of time and then just separate like a split cell to go in totally different directions, never looking back. It’s kind of amazing that we work like that, y’know? We can walk past someone in the mall that we went to high school with and not even nod. We can live within a mile of an old flame and never acknowledge each others existence.

I look back a lot. I mean A LOT. And I’m left wondering if others are looking back, too, thinking about me, and we both continue on figuring the other is not interested in catching up. Or is it that I am broken in some way because of how I am not able to just not look back?

It does depends on the situation, though. There are some that I never think about that I might be expected to. But not many.

So what if we were struck by a car? What if our lives ended without re-connecting with those who were so important to us in the past? It may not make much of a difference but unless we make efforts, we risk never being able to say “Thank you. You were good to me.” or “I’m sorry.”

1.  Grandmom’s on the verge…. probably won’t be much longer.  I went to see her today, not that she will remember due to the morphine.
2.  I’ll be going back to work tomorrow.
3.  The alarm clock watch I bought doesn’t work for me.  Will be returning.

4.  Why didn’t anyone tell me I could still register for this election???  Information I received earlier in the year led me to believe if I wasn’t registered for the primaries, I couldn’t vote in the general election.  But I can!  So I filled out my registration form and will be eligible to help vote Barack Obama in.

This stupid election is way too close for comfort and it’s all because people are so blinded by Palin’s American Idol nomination.  Look, it’s America and it’s great that we are all able to become president or vp.  It’s one thing about our country that’s pretty cool.  But just because “ANYBODY” can be it doesn’t entitle any ol’ person to be it.  Come ON!

I mean, let’s erase the gender here and ask yourselves who’d be better suited for this job:  The CEO of a Fortune 500 company or your kid’s elementary school gym teacher?   The District Attorney or the guy who just sliced your cold cuts at the deli? 

Now, I’m not comparing Palin to a high school gym teacher or a deli clerk.  I’m simply saying not EVERYONE should be viewed as someone who should be put in The White House.

By the way, she believes in Creationism.  ‘Nuff said.  But if that wasn’t enough, here are a couple other reminders of how Sarah Palin prefers to think:  Dinosaurs didn’t exist, the Earth is less than 10,000 years old, and if the love of your life gets raped, if Palin had her way, your love would not even have the option to CHOOSE to continue to have that baby or not.  But hey, she’s entitled to her opinion.  If only there was some assurance she wouldn’t (o)press her opinions onto us in the form of laws.  Hmmmm… No, there’s no assurance of that.  Get away from me, crazy lady;  you and your gimpy, old, robotic dad—  errr, I mean running-mate.