Wednesday, November 30, 2016

22...NO MORE!

The most widely used and generally agreed-upon number of 22 when discussing veteran suicide rates (a number I use as well) is actually (quite likely) much lower than the true rate of how many of my brothers- and sisters-in-arms take their lives, after losing their battles with their demons, daily. It is an epidemic that can be slowed, sometimes just from being a friendly ear (it helped me all those years ago).

If you know someone having a hard time, either give them the hotline number (1-800-273-8255) or call it yourself. Hell, volunteer to work the hotline. As I said, sometimes all it takes is someone listening to help ease the fight.

Don't be afraid of us, don't chastise us. Until any administration gets off its collective ass and completely overhauls Veterans Affairs, especially the medical division, any help that may be given will, in most cases, be gladly received.

Do not shun us, do not taunt us. We deserve as much consideration as any other group of Americans.

And we have most certainly paid for it, at a much steeper price than most can imagine...

Keep soldiering on, my brothers and sisters!

#22is22toomany

Friday, November 11, 2016

Going live...again

So, due to an overwhelming amount of 'yes' votes, I've built a webpage/site that will host not only my book, but any and all new writings I produce (including the two y'all read here first over the last few days), as well as submissions from other authors.

Check it out: RTS Works

Monday, November 7, 2016

...is like trying to grasp the wind.

I showered you with attention;
I spoke your name in love;
My feelings for you was no invention;
It was you I placed above;

Now when I look your way;
You turn your head and sigh;
And soon, I fear, will be the day;
That to each other we say goodbye.

© 2016 RTS Works

Trying to postpone the inevitable...

I'll have a beer;
Maybe ten and three;
Then maybe I'll be near
To forgetting all my misery

There's a piece here;
Some more over there;
Fragments of every fear
Are scattered everywhere

You say you care;
Yet you are never around;
Giving you everything that I dare
Is apparently not enough, so I have found

I must try and move on;
And save what dignity I've got;
The cloak of aloofness I must don
For the patience of Job I have not

And when you ask
To where have I gone away
The response given, from behind the mask
Shall be, "where never again will I be led astray."


© 2016, RTS Works

Sunday, October 9, 2016

Who made that man a gunner?


The current MU Music Department Full Tuition Scholarship awardees: Mary, Jimmy, Emily, Ben, Alexis, Davey, Sarah, myself, Hannah, Chris, Jordan, and Jamario
      A lot has gone on in the almost 3 weeks since my last post. New brochure photoshoot. First Student Day Recital. The birth of a "club" which led to some fun times. Another paid gig worked. The death of a classmate's mom. A chapel performance.

Jamario, Jimmy, Ben, Davey, myself, and Chris
     The photoshoot was not fun in the regard that we walked a lot, and this was before I received my hard brace, so all I had on was a wrap. Oy.

I actually look decent. Unlike last year's photos where I looked like a old, fat woman...

     The sun makes it look like I have less hair than I do, which is still bad, lol! I still need a haircut, pretty shaggy in the back, although I did have the sides trimmed (more on that later).

Why was I chosen to do the "action" shots?

     The ankle issue is just one of many ways this semester has been completely jacked up. But that's neither here nor there, and this is not the place to cover it.

     Solo auditions for the Regina Coeli were, compared to recent performances, kinda grueling. Yet, we got through them, and I was lucky enough to be selected as the bass soloist. Just wish there was more for the bass to do, but, enh, who ya gonna call (the original Ghostbusters, not that travesty of a remake)?

Breast Cancer Awareness month, kicked off by a 52 - 13 shellacking at the hands of Maryville...

     FINALLY got to see and talk with EJ, which I haven't done in forever, since he was at the game to pick up Kyle as opposed to Ginger doing it. Yakked on and on for almost an entire quarter. Had Emma and Talia wondering where the hell I went, lol.

Sweet Josie Brown from Raleigh

Sweet Josie with what's left of my Americo

     Brixx is definitely my new watering hole. Even after the management upheaval a little over a week ago, it's an awesome place to enjoy a craft brew and a brick oven pizza. My regular barmaid is also a musician/music nerd, so we have plenty to talk about when she isn't hustling her butt off. The new GM, Will, is awesome, and has a slight connection to MU.

A week earlier than the doctor said was the minimum, but I was going absolutely bat-shit crazy not being able to do anything. This is the game prior to the game that was prior to ours, BTW.

     After much, well, not so much begging as pleading, I returned to the team this past Thursday, even thought the doctor said it would be a week longer, minimum, before I could play. I knew the team we were playing was going to destroy us, but I had to do it, for my sanity if nothing else. And yet, we managed to secure our first victory of the season (1-10, baby!) with a 21-20 victory in 5 innings (shortened due to time constraints). Went 4-for-4 with a walk and 4 singles, 7 RBIs, and 3 runs scored. Defensively, had two putouts and 3 assists as again I was at my defensive home (2nd base). It was the first time I was able to meet all Fitbit goals in a while...

Can't wait till I can go back to doing this daily...

     Anyway, about the haircut. Woman I had met online through a certain site reestablished contact, wanted piano lessons. Mentioned needing a haircut, she trimmed my top and sides. Really need the back done, but, enh, what ya gonna do?

     And finally for this "where are they now" update, our first Student Day Recital was Friday the 30th, and I was one of the seven performing (even though I am only in my second year: I don't use Fresh/Soph/Junior/Senior in my regards, as it just creates confusion since I am listed one standing higher than the actual year I am in), and one of only two vocalists. Only slight jiggling of my knee this time ("The terror of performing never goes away. You just get very, very used to being terrified." - Eric Whitacre), but I crushed it. Dr. McCloud was impressed (and I was informed that that is difficult to do), Dr. Hancock could envision the story as I sang, there were tears shed, and, most importantly, Dr. Susan was very proud of what I had achieved that day. Now the real work begins...

     As I finish this post, there still has been no decision on classes even though MU is still without power AND water, and there's still the consideration of its commuter students and their ability to get to the campus (I should have no issues should the need arise, but I know a great many who are unable to get out of their neighborhood, much less make it to campus). Oh, well. Still studying for my mid-terms, just in case...




Sunday, September 18, 2016

Wolfman's got 'nards?

     School tomorrow is going to be interesting. Crutches with a heavy-ass backpack. At least I have no classes in Trustees or Riddle...

It looks like some kind of horror movie prosthetic...

This is what I get after waiting for 5+ hours at level 9 pain...a wrap.

     So, while I was chatting with my Kimmum, it was time to ice my ankle. I turn my foot to place the pack on it and I see this:

Pretty...

     That didn't present until last night. I just wonder what they'd have said had it done so while at the VA.

     I really haven't paid much attention to it, but by virtue of my last Theory III test score, this crap that is going on is indeed affecting my schoolwork. January can't get here soon enough.

     There is so much shite I have to get done tomorrow, not sure I'll be able to do it all, to include getting my hard brace from the VA and finally get my car registered and title transfered to NC.

Damn hippies...

     I don't know why, but I really like this pic from a few weeks ago. Before things went in the crapper. I was coming up ("like a flower..." God, I'm old) and out of my shell. Shit is starting to spiral out of control in several aspects: school, music, health...Christe...

My Cheesy Chicken Fiber Bomb

     As I've said, thank God I know how to cook...


Thursday, September 15, 2016

Welcome back to reality...

     So, finally got on a rec team. I now play for the Holy Trinity Episcopalian Scared Hitless softball team. And this is how I'm greeted:



Swollen like a grapefruit...

     Second batter of the game, ground ball to short, I'm heading to the bag to at least get the lead, if not turn two. Didn't see the freakin' hole next to the base, and I swear I heard something snap. It's not broken, thank God, but I had to play the rest of the game on it (mercifully it only went 5 innings), yet still managed to earn my paycheck. In addition to the assist on that putout (still hung on to the ball and dragged my foot across the bag), I had two more assists, four putouts (had pretty decent range even with that ankle), and went 2 for 3 with a single and a double, an RBI and two runs scored.

     What welcome back to the game. Ah, well, even with the injury, I had one hell of a good time. I'll get a lot more of these during the season:


     Two tests, a practice test, and the return of a test during tomorrow's school day. What fun. Theory III and Physical Science have the tests, VB Programming has the practice, and we should get our Pre-Calc tests from Wednesday back. Then have to make a run to the landfill, then probably some other things have to be done that I've forgotten.  *sigh*

     I run a freakin' Spartan Race, slightly ding a shoulder and get a few bumps, bruises, scrapes, and cuts. Play less than 5 minutes of a softball game and completely jack my ankle up. SMDH. Ah, well. Need to also do some laundry since we have to take pictures for the new Full Tuition Music Scholarship brochures tomorrow.

     Courtney, I love you very much, and if you need me to, I'll do what needs to be done, capisce? You know we are all here for you.

     Alright, enough babbling on, a lot to do, short time to do it. 


Tuesday, September 13, 2016

More Spartan Goodness

https://youtu.be/yTY5TBqjw2o - Nice video of OEW taking on the rope climb near the end of the race.

In a sort of chronological order are some of the photos posted by Spartan:

Jess on the Pancake Carry (Showing off by carrying the men's pancake)

Me on the bucket carry. I over-filled it...

Heave! Ho!

Jess coming through the Bucket Brigade

I don't know why, but I had NO problem getting up and over the monkey net A-frame...

Which is weird, because I HATE cargo nets...

Up and over come Bill and Jess...

Still coming...

Slowly...

Zzzzzzz...lolol!

Bill, Jess, and some of the other OCA's on the Fire Leap

Where's Dork?

Find him yet?

How about now?

Still no?

How about from the rear view?

Jess with an elder Adaptive and other OCA's

Just before standing back up and crossing the finish line


Didn't even warn me she about to click...SMH

Those are the ones I could find from the official results page. Once OEW has corrected their website issues, I'll post some more.

Man, I CANNOT wait until year's race...

Monday, September 12, 2016

Your excuses are INVALID!!!


     Let me first begin by saying, wow, I am in much better shape than I thought. I fully expected to be bed-ridden this morning due to a mass of aches and pains as a result of the beating my body took yesterday. Surprisingly, my only soreness is in my triceps area, upper lats, and the small of my back. And it's not a debilitating soreness, either. Aroo!

Our team shirt for the race...

     So. How do I put the events of yesterday into words. As some of you know, I'm a fairly prolific wordsmith. Yet, I'm not sure even I can adequately put down what it was like to be with such a group of people, from the meet and greet Friday night, to Operation Chew-n-Brew last night. But I will attempt to do so...

     Friday night, Mellow Mushroom donated 10% of their profits from 1700-2300 to Operation Enduring Warrior. I'd like to thank my schoolmates Max, Erika, Alexis, and (I'm sorry, I forgot his name) Alexis' beau for coming out and supporting us. After they left, I went out to mingle with my teammates, and met some of the coolest damn people you could meet. And most of them are not from the area. And with every person I met, all of whom were either members of OEWs operational arm, or have been OCAs from at least last year's Spartan at Bragg, not once did I feel like an outsider.  I left satisfied that the next morning's run would be great. Little did I know HOW great...

My packet

It's been a VERY long time since I've had to be up at 0-dark-30...

     I arrive at Smith Lake a little later than planned, but that was fine, as it was still earlier than the team was asked to arrive. Went through security, went to the line my bib number was in, received my packet, but then was told we couldn't enter yet because they needed more security...so, back out into the bullpen. Opened my packet, went through it, and put my headband on, all while waiting for an 'all-clear' or something. Time slowly rolls...15 minutes later they reopened entrance to the lake area.

Two of our Adaptive Athletes

Only half the team is pictured here, with the tent for Biggest Team just left of center...

     Scott calls us together for some instructions, but has to stop early as time has caught up to us and we have to head down to the DJ booth on the beach to collect the award for Biggest Team, where we are met with applause.

For the second year in a row, OEW takes Biggest Team, nearly doubling last year's number

We return to the tent area and Scott calls us together again for more instructions, then he and the rest of the MAT members head off to get into their gear and masks while the Adaptives are assisted down to the sidewalk near the changing area to prepare for our procession to the starting corral, while some of us follow the MAT members to provide a wall for them to get into their gear and anonymous personas. When all is prepared, the Adaptives are lead out by the MAT, followed by the remainder of us (OCAs) marching 2x2 down the hill, across the beach, and up another hill to the start, all while being led by the Fayetteville Light Infantry's Bagpipe Corps and to thunderous cheers and applause. Our team's total compliment: 323 MATs, AAs, and OCAs. No, we did not all fit in the corral, and somehow I kept falling towards the rear of the group. By the time I got to the wall to enter the corral, our heat had been started. But, for the first time in my life, I was not stymied by a freakin' wall (like I was in BMT), and I was up, over, and on my way...

     It's a long run/jog/walk to the first obstacle, so I spend the time not running or jogging by getting to know some of the other OCAs near the rear of the group. Some are active duty Army, Air Force, and Marines. Some are veterans. Some are spouses of service members, active/reserve/veteran/retired/passed. And some are civilians that are thankful for what we do/have done/have sacrificed for this country. We reach the first obstacle, the hurdle, which is basically the wall without the bottom of the wall. I hate this type of obstacle. But, I've committed myself to doing this. Hands on the angled square log, leap, push, lean forward...elbows give out. Arms crash on the angle, right shoulder pops, momentum has me spinning around the log like a returning yo-yo. Way to start the day, dork! Well, thanks to that, had to skip the second log. The next obstacle was not that far off, 3 water pits (muddy water, of course). Shawnie decides he wants to cannonball into the first and third pits. We are now covered in this crappy water...thanks Captain Safety (so called because he decided to wear two PT belts for the race). Next was the Under-Over-Through walls. We blow through this one and get to the first water station only to realize that Shawnie had disappeared. So we hung around trying to locate him as the next two or three heats storm past us (forgot to mention that we averaged 1 mile per hour on the course). Ah! There he is! He was assisting a few MATs with Casey, one of our AAs. Righteous. So we fell in with them. There was some difficulty moving Casey along in his wheelchair in this area as it became very sandy, so he requested to walk. Onward and upward!

     Here it becomes muddled as to what order things came in. My mind is still processing everything, so I will go through everything we went through, it just may not be in chronological order. And remember, throughout this entire course, we were always near a group of MATs with their AA, so while it is called a Spartan Race, it wasn't about time for us and them. It was about persevering, about showing what the human spirit can achieve, about proving that these men and women, who sacrificed so much for the country they love, are STILL among the best of America's defenders.  There are calls of "OCAs to the right!" telling us that runners are coming through, we need to clear the left for them. And it was the rare runner indeed who failed to shout encouragement as they passed ("You guys are great!", "Way to be awesome!","Keep driving on!", "Thank you for your service!", "You got this!" are a few of the ones I remember).

     Again, these are in no particular order, with the exception of the last six (seven, really, but the last one was a group thing, not an official obstacle). We traversed a monkey net wall, then on to the Atlas Carry. A little further along was the A-frame wall, which I required assistance in starting, as my shoulder flared up on the Atlas Carry. Once started, though, it was up and over. Somewhere in all of this were two fetid mud pits that were just under knee-deep for me. There was the Plate Drag (which I personally blew through, didn't know I had it in me, lol), and Horizontal Wall Traverse (the only obstacle that I had to take the 30 burpee penalty). At about the 1/3 point was a large post-board for the Memory Test (based on the last two digits of your bib number, there was a call letter and a seven digit number; mine was Tango-827-6129, no burpees for me!). The Pancake Carry was a pain, as my shoulder was again acting up and it just didn't feel right carrying it on my left. But up the hill, around and down I went. Dropped off my pancake and up the other side of the hill to the Inverted Wall. Again, required assistance due to the shoulder, but once started, I was able to continue on and complete it. There was the Bucket Carry which involved a mud pit just after the "quarry" we filled our buckets at. I very nearly failed the Hercules Hoist, as I almost let the bag drop near the end, but with a nifty butt/leg maneuver, was able to stop the sudden descent, lol! We had a low-crawl through mud under a monkey net, then there was the jungle gym (rings, ropes, long bars). That one hurt, but I was able to slap the bell before losing my grip. There was a monkey net version of the A-frame that was twice as high (about 50 feet). We get to the home stretch, which passes through the camping section of Smith Lake, and Jess, Bill, Eric #2, and I meet an elderly couple who cheered us on, and the lady said, "Don't give up! It's all downhill from here!"

     She wasn't kidding. Our first obstacle of the home stretch was the barbed wire crawl. And, while it wasn't muddy, it was pretty rocky (ask, and I'll show you where my knees were cut up), and it was...downhill at about a 30-degree angle. And looooooong. A hundred yards if it was a foot. At the completion of the crawl, we came across the Memory Test, and, as I mentioned above, I nailed it. Right after was the Spear Throw. Some of these things were so bent, it looked like Lamarr Latrelle's spear in Revenge of the Nerds...

     Anyway, it was after this obstacle that we regrouped as one, 323 strong, to take on the last three obstacles and cross the finish line as a unit. First up, the Rope Climb, and for every single AA who went up, a roar arose from the crowd watching us finish. This one gave me more trouble than it should have, but the ropes were slimy as hell. Then came the Slippery Wall which turned out to be pretty damn easy. Finally (sort of) was the Fire Jump. Once everyone was over the fire, we regrouped one last time and low-crawled the last bit of distance to the finish line before popping back up and taking the final few steps. Here we were met by volunteers who awarded us our medals. The sweet, little old lady who put mine around my neck took a look at me and said, "you look like you can use a hug," and I wrapped my arms around her and gave her one of my typical lift-you-off-the-ground bearhugs. We get our timepieces removed, pick up our banana, Clif Builder bar, FitAid, Recovery Milk, and finisher's shirts, then get our individual/couples Victory photos. I eschewed the beer, I don't know why, it wasn't even my head that I had one coming.

     So, back up the hill to the OEW area to grab my bag, get cleaned up, and change. But some goodbyes were in order, as some people, like Jess, were not staying for Chew-n-Brew later that night and were heading back to their respective cities. Then I figured, well since there's several hours before Chew-n-Brew even starts, and I only live on the other side of post, I'll just go home and get cleaned up there, where I'm not in a rush because other people needed to get cleaned up as well.

I lived. And those socks WERE white when I started, I swear.

A closer view of my medal and Sprint Wedge

     Get home and do as planned. No time for a nap, gotta head clear out to the airport in Raeford. And, Lord, was I filthy.

No, that's not the picture of a black man's leg wearing black socks...

Not so sure these are salvageable...

     As the only OEW shirt I had was the one I raced in (and was therefore filthy), I decided to go ahead and wear my finisher's shirt:

Hmm, I'm starting to cut a somewhat impressive figure...LOL!

     Arrive at the airport, check in, and wander around seeing the sights, grab my first brew, checked out the silent auction, then took a seat and listened as the entertainment started.

Lady from WKML introducing opening act

Opening act guy. Forgot his name. Local, though.

     Started to finally get hungry, so went and picked up my plate, and come across one of the cooks that works in the Green and Gold CafĂ© on campus. We joke for a bit, then I grab my grub.

Yeah, I let myself eat the bread...

     I eat and relax some more, then go pick up my other brew, and sit back down to enjoy the breeze and some of the skydivers that were jumping in. People started to show up, and under the tent began to fill up.

Yes, that's an Adaptive in the blue shirt...

Wider angle shot showing the filling up of the tent

     Raffle drawings were held (didn't win anything), as well as a 50/50 (again, didn't win), this Luke Combs guy performed, the silent auction ended and the winners paid for their items (some pretty nifty stuff, I tell you). Some fire-dancing is performed, a discussion with the new OEW president, Team Captain Eric (former president Scott stepped down near the end of the night) is had, and the day was finished off with a spectacular fireworks display that lasted nearly 20 minutes. More goodbyes were made, with promises of seeing each other at next year's race.

     As I told TC Eric, yesterday became one of the three BEST days of my life, and funnily enough, all three are in some way service connected.

     November 19th, 1991 - the day I swore my oath of service to faithfully defend the Constitution of the United States.

     January 9th, 1992 - the day I graduated from BMT as an Honor Graduate and headed off to the Presidio of Monterey and DLI.

     September 10th, 2016 - the day I completed my first Spartan Race with some of the most impressive and dedicated people I've ever met, a reminder of what it takes to answer our country's call to service.

     My life has again been fundamentally set on its ear, more so than I expected. I knew yesterday would be transformative, just not in what way. As it turns out, it was, and in more than one way.

     My appreciation for those who have TRULY stood by me through my recent and past turmoil was tremendously renewed in light of the support shown and given to our Adaptive Athletes by the MAT and OCAs not only during the race, but before and after. And though there are few of you, I still cannot adequately express my love for each and every one of you.

     My forgiveness for those of you who are my haters, deniers, and doubters remains, but it is now mixed with pity for your narrow-mindedness, meanness of spirit, and self-loathing. They say people hate what they can't be. Well, I learned one thing: The saying "Whether you think you can or you can't, you're right" is defeatist. The Spartan (and supportive) saying is "If you think you can't, you're wrong." Don't hate me because you aren't me. Don't hate me because I'm not you. Don't hate anything except the self-doubt that makes you think you can't do/be what you want. Be a Spartan. Better yet, have the drive and determination that our Adaptive Athletes have to not let life be dictated by fate, but by your own convictions and perseverance.

     And my determination to be what I want to be, and to have the wherewithal needed to accomplish what I need to become what I want to be, exploded into the deepest and darkest recesses of my being. No more blowing off practice, or homework, or gym time because I might be a little tired, or a little sore. If these men and women, who, through no fault but a quirk of fate, can rise and overcome a much more serious issue, then I can do my utmost to improve myself, and, in turn, help them help themselves.

     God bless you, my friends and colleagues, instructors and pupils, girls, guys, and tenors.

     And please consider supporting Operation Enduring Warrior in their endeavors. You can click the link at the top of this post to donate, or you can visit www.enduringwarrior.org to read about this robust and worthy group.

     Again, God bless, and good night.