Wanna know whats goin on? You sure?
Really: So, I'm not going to Florida. Yep. LJ official. Stephan is still going on without me, and more power to him. Mother is upset, as is the norm for motherly responses. Father knew I had confidence in what I was doing. What am I doing, you ask? How about: none of your business. Honestly. I will be straight up with you, then you will tear down my decision, and not that it will sway me, but I don't want to disappoint anyone. And my answer WILL be disappointing. Sorry that I'm not following a failing formula of going to college, owing billions to a company I deem really fuggin stupid, to an institution whose cost rises in value but not education, just so I can get a piece of paper stating that I was silly enough to jump through those hoops and have the employer look at me and say "You didn't jump through the ones we wanted you to jump through." Sorry, but not interested. At all. Go for it, but I've decided to wait that one out. Stephan is gonna learn what he needs to learn, as will we all if we are approaching a dream and not a career. Then my decision falls upon not being in debt. I'm a fan of that. Never owing Sallie Mae, or the government that shouldn't have money at all. But my plan is to get this new job that will get my ass out of LC for good, and find a place to call my own. I have roomates lined up. So I'll still be here. Until I get really sick of it. For now, I'm not ready to no longer call this place home. Cowardice, determination, drugs, intervention, common sense. Call it what you want. I know why I'm staying.
Also really: My brother, Adam, was on his way home from a show by a local band, and was broad sided by a drunk driver. There were no witnesses, but the police department was about 100 yards away, and the officer heard the crash happen. He ran out and approached the crash, then called for assistance. If he didn't hear that crash, I'd have another dead brother. The car is totalled. My brother was taken to ICU, and he was stable. He has broken left ribs, broken right arm, gouges in his head [but no head injuries to his brain], bruises covering more that a decent percentage of his body, and a torn artery. The artery was damaged, but there was surgery that ended very well and he is now very stable. But this artery, if severed, could've been fatal. If the drunk driver was going 5mph more, I'd have another dead brother. Two close calls, and I thank God that he's okay. For those of you who have a grudge or who don't believe are probably looking at this as a moment of bad fucking luck. Well, yeah. He barely had his new car for a week. He bought a new watch. Fixed the "check engine" light. Leveled the oil and coolant. And saw Critical Bill. Then he gets hit on 18 and woodward. Bad luck. But I could've had a dead brother. I'm thanking God Almighty. Do what you want, I'm thanking him. He's now recovering in Royal Oak Beaumont Hospital, labelled as the best in the state. There is a TEAM of doctors treating my brother as a top priority. The drunk driver is being taken care of by the authorities, and right now, I couldn't care less about that bastard. He's seeing jail time. He had no liscence, driving a company car, while intoxicated. If he walks, I'll consider some ironic manslaughter with my vehicle. Just consider.
But: It wasn't the accident. Or the news or updates. Or the blood. Or how much hospitals bother the fuck out of me. It was seeing my brother like that; having a machine breathe for him, his hair partially shaven, his wrists restrained, tubes with a rainbow of fluids exiting and entering his body, with enough machinery to consider him a legal cyborg, and him lying still. No number of seasons of House prepared me for it. No amount of playing Doom, Diablo II, Half-Life, Call of Duty, or anything didn't prepare me for that. That made me uncomfortable. No videogame made me feel THAT uncomfortable. CoD came close, but seeing red pixels fly by on a screen whilst screaming obscenities with boobs hanging out didn't. fucking. prepare. me. for seeing my brother like that. So many things were jolted into perspective when I saw that phone call reading BEAUMONT HOSP. I couldn't speak. I mustered enough to laugh at the trivial things. Suddenly, Stephan and I were easing the tension, but there was fucking elephant that reared its head when it needed to. I looked on the phone, and turned it off. The world I have back at home wasn't worth bringing in. I was waiting during his surgery and I read the updates on FB. Idk why, but I started to get so angry. At everyone. Like there inside jokes, relationships, pictures, friends... none of it mattered. But they toted it as if it were all that had. I've lost a brother once, and I'm already considered "off" by those I fucking befriend. I can tell some, for I know they'll understand. Others... idk... How fucking complacent have we become. How lazy, self-serving, ungrateful sons and daughters of bitches have we become? I may be preaching, and you may be offended. Like "WTF does he know about me?" The answer is nothing. Let's keep it that way. I'm not sure who cares about my brothers condition. EVERY woman on the Coney Island wait staff sent their love. Waitresses. The "end all be all scum of the employment world" most people I know would say. Fuck.
IDK: But, in 6 months time, Adam will be fully recovered. I thank you for your support, not for me, of course. I probably pissed you off. Well, get the fuck over yourself and keep Adam in your thoughts. He needs it. He deserves it. And I need to calm down. Things were going well for him, and shit like this happens. Thank God thats all. I'll visit when I can, and will also pursue my escape plan of the Davis household. But much like Adam's recovery process, it will be a process.
[ Alright. I'm done. ]
Also really: My brother, Adam, was on his way home from a show by a local band, and was broad sided by a drunk driver. There were no witnesses, but the police department was about 100 yards away, and the officer heard the crash happen. He ran out and approached the crash, then called for assistance. If he didn't hear that crash, I'd have another dead brother. The car is totalled. My brother was taken to ICU, and he was stable. He has broken left ribs, broken right arm, gouges in his head [but no head injuries to his brain], bruises covering more that a decent percentage of his body, and a torn artery. The artery was damaged, but there was surgery that ended very well and he is now very stable. But this artery, if severed, could've been fatal. If the drunk driver was going 5mph more, I'd have another dead brother. Two close calls, and I thank God that he's okay. For those of you who have a grudge or who don't believe are probably looking at this as a moment of bad fucking luck. Well, yeah. He barely had his new car for a week. He bought a new watch. Fixed the "check engine" light. Leveled the oil and coolant. And saw Critical Bill. Then he gets hit on 18 and woodward. Bad luck. But I could've had a dead brother. I'm thanking God Almighty. Do what you want, I'm thanking him. He's now recovering in Royal Oak Beaumont Hospital, labelled as the best in the state. There is a TEAM of doctors treating my brother as a top priority. The drunk driver is being taken care of by the authorities, and right now, I couldn't care less about that bastard. He's seeing jail time. He had no liscence, driving a company car, while intoxicated. If he walks, I'll consider some ironic manslaughter with my vehicle. Just consider.
But: It wasn't the accident. Or the news or updates. Or the blood. Or how much hospitals bother the fuck out of me. It was seeing my brother like that; having a machine breathe for him, his hair partially shaven, his wrists restrained, tubes with a rainbow of fluids exiting and entering his body, with enough machinery to consider him a legal cyborg, and him lying still. No number of seasons of House prepared me for it. No amount of playing Doom, Diablo II, Half-Life, Call of Duty, or anything didn't prepare me for that. That made me uncomfortable. No videogame made me feel THAT uncomfortable. CoD came close, but seeing red pixels fly by on a screen whilst screaming obscenities with boobs hanging out didn't. fucking. prepare. me. for seeing my brother like that. So many things were jolted into perspective when I saw that phone call reading BEAUMONT HOSP. I couldn't speak. I mustered enough to laugh at the trivial things. Suddenly, Stephan and I were easing the tension, but there was fucking elephant that reared its head when it needed to. I looked on the phone, and turned it off. The world I have back at home wasn't worth bringing in. I was waiting during his surgery and I read the updates on FB. Idk why, but I started to get so angry. At everyone. Like there inside jokes, relationships, pictures, friends... none of it mattered. But they toted it as if it were all that had. I've lost a brother once, and I'm already considered "off" by those I fucking befriend. I can tell some, for I know they'll understand. Others... idk... How fucking complacent have we become. How lazy, self-serving, ungrateful sons and daughters of bitches have we become? I may be preaching, and you may be offended. Like "WTF does he know about me?" The answer is nothing. Let's keep it that way. I'm not sure who cares about my brothers condition. EVERY woman on the Coney Island wait staff sent their love. Waitresses. The "end all be all scum of the employment world" most people I know would say. Fuck.
IDK: But, in 6 months time, Adam will be fully recovered. I thank you for your support, not for me, of course. I probably pissed you off. Well, get the fuck over yourself and keep Adam in your thoughts. He needs it. He deserves it. And I need to calm down. Things were going well for him, and shit like this happens. Thank God thats all. I'll visit when I can, and will also pursue my escape plan of the Davis household. But much like Adam's recovery process, it will be a process.
[ Alright. I'm done. ]