33 1/3

Have you ever seen a radiation mask? They look like old hockey masks, like the one Jason Vorhees wears, except these are custom molded and have latches on the side that lock into the bed of a radiation machine. I suppose its important to restrict your mobility when the room is turned into a life-sized microwave.  

The rays in there weren’t physically visible or painful, but I could still feel and hear them. I swear I could. If I closed my eyes at just the right moment, I could even see little flashes of light escaping my eyelids. But this was the extent to which I felt the therapy. 15 minutes later, the Megatron had finished its daily orbit around my skull and delivered its dose of radiation.

I could lie and say that I made use of the time. That the flashes of light under my eyelids were inspirational. That I used the Megatron’s time in orbit to meditate and ponder life. 

Its not that I didn’t try. I tried insanely hard. It just didn’t happen. 

All I really wanted was to be somewhere else. That’s where all my thoughts went to: somewhere else. And before I knew it, the session was over, saved by the clock once again. 

Every now and then, I close my eyes and wake up inside the microwave. A masked reflection laid out across the Megatron. Locked, motionless, thoughtless. 

Admittedly, I tense up a bit. I clench and freak out about not making the best use of my time. Painfully ironic.

One foot on the grave

My head troubles are slightly more aggressive than previously thought. Still good, just, you know, not as good.

They’re the type news you don’t want to receive. You don’t want to be around for them. You don’t want to publicize them in any way. How do you casually bring them up in conversation? How do you look at your loved ones in the eye and tell them you will need additional treatments? That it’s somehow, possibly, worse?

I need to put everyone else I care about through more? F*ck.

But we’ve all got our personal horrors to deal with, our own complex problems to face. They seem unapproachable, uncompromisable, and unsolvable. If we let them, they consume everyone and everything. They warrant a reaction no matter what. This is mine.

Throw it at me.

Repent, Repent!

At some point in my early life, I was (for a very brief moment) wise beyond my years and made the decision that a church wasn’t meant for me. I just didn’t like it. Plus, it’s probably one of the leading causes of death throughout our history. I’m fortunate to not have any violently traumatic experiences associated with a church, but I do have an amazing repertoire of relationships and times that have been damaged in the name of personal beliefs. It happens more often than I’d like.

I also have incredibly little knowledge in theology. Although I do have an above-average history of anthropological education. I’m stupidly curious. I spent way more time in school than I should’ve. 

Throughout this experience though, everyone has been so unexpectedly welcoming and respectful. For the first time in my life, I’ve actually been asked if I have any moral implications before being blessed. When the hell did everyone get so mature?

Except, (of course, there’s always an exception) the one old acquaintance that reached out and blatantly assumed my health troubles were due to the amount of drugs I was consuming. Mind you, this is someone I’ve had no interaction with in a decade. Someone with no current knowledge of my life, where I stand, what I’ve done, what I continue to do, who I surround myself with, and is unfamiliar with my mentality. Still, despite not knowing, she proceeded to wishfully warn that the “good lord should take mercy on my poor soul” because you know, I’m truly evil and in dire need of salvation.

My response was short for selfish reasons, brevity is incredibly useful. My time and effort are far too precious to waste on something so trivial and meaningless. I retain no hard feelings, but it is a perfect example of the ignorance that will make you lose things along the way. Zealotry and stupidity at its finest.

My relationship with god and spirituality is not a complicated one. I simply do not know enough and I never will. So it remains largely respectful. However, I am edgy, I am a product of what I grew up with, and I all too often lash out against religion. Plus, I have an affinity for the hidden and occult, the darker side of things. The imagery. The stories and art associated with it. I proudly live in traditional sin.

Nevertheless, I appreciate the effort to keep me in prayer, meditation, & thought circles. To keep me, in any sort of positive mental capacity, it’s a beautiful place to be in. It’s a place I can’t complain about being in. Only a fool would do so. 

I am a believer in the power of ones own conscience. I’m weird that way. I’d rather give an individual effort and quality to a person and our interactions than to whatever subset they’re a part of. It’s only fair, even though I’m frequently on the receiving end of such lectures. Go figure. Oh the humanity.