Missing, Part 2

This is a second part of a story.  Hence the “Part 2” in the title.  If you would like to read Part 1, there is probably something wrong with you but you can do so here.

They arrived at the closed base.  Their unit operated stateside there for counter-terrorism operations during the height of the Iraq insurgency.  Deploying with little to no notice for short periods of time, their team was very successful when allowed to engage and they all felt they deserved the most credit for keeping things as stable as they could be.  Being that they were special ops, they knew the credit would not be forthcoming and were pretty resigned (if not a little unhappy) about the credit going to the President’s “surge”.

None of them really felt their country should have been there in the first place.  By the time they were mopping up the administration’s destabilization and failure to have an exit strategy, it was clear that no weapons of mass destruction would be found.  But they did their jobs, because their training told them to.  They had a chain of command to follow, even if they all knew that chain of command was corrupt or just stupid.  Joe really began to sour on military service, and decided to get out when the opportunity first presented itself.  He kept working hard until his chance for discharge.  He loved his force, he loved the guys who fought alongside him, he just hated those who used them.

Steve was the youngest.  He was one of the better soldiers Joe fought alongside.  He was smart and strong, and very dedicated.  He gave Bill serious competition for being the group’s second best.  Until he shot the kid.

They were doing a raid in Mosul.  They burst through the door as always, dropping a couple of flash-bangs to disorient the people inside.  Their target was one of the more brutal leaders of the insurgency, and they knew he was inside.  Everything went according to plan as they grabbed him, black-bagged him, and took him away.  As they were loading him into the Bradley, a child ran up behind Steve.  It was the man’s son, and he was just scared because his dad was being taken away.  Steve heard the footsteps running toward him and turned and fired three rounds, dropping the unarmed kid.  Joe tried to tell him that any of them would have done the same, but it was like Steve couldn’t hear at that point.

On the next missions, Steve was useless.  Joe tried to get him into the fight but he was compromising the safety of the team.  Steve began to blame Joe for not training him better to prevent it from happening, and even more when Joe filed to have him removed from active duty.

Before they set foot on the base, Rachel pulled up in her pickup.  They met outside the gate and went over the plan.  Rachel was tall and tough looking, but with a very feminine energy.  She had a .50 military issued sniper rifle on her shoulder.  Joe didn’t even want to know where she or Bill got it.  He told her to take position on a hill just to the West of the base.  He told her to track them through the scope and sweep every five seconds for targets.  He told her to fire whenever she had a shot.

Bill and Joe watched as she ran off then they got in the Humvee to storm the base’s gate.  They crashed through and hit a small mine, likely a claymore.  The blast wasn’t enough to send the shrapnel through the armor on the Humvee, but was enough to knock it on its side and out of commission.

“Steve ain’t fucking around, is he?” Bill laughed as they checked to make sure they were alive.

They got out with as much weapons as they could carry, checking for any targets nearby.  With nothing in sight, they walked as much in the middle of the roads between buildings as they could, scanning up for snipers, down for mines, and around for enemies.

As they reached the middle of the base, there stood Steve and Susie.  Susie, was held in front of Steve with a blade to her throat.

Joe knew Rachel would not have a shot because the buildings would block Steve from view.

“Let her go!” Joe yelled as he walked slowly toward them.

“Gladly!”  Steve replied.  “Bill, come get Susie and take her out of here.  Once you are clear of the gate, fire into the air so I know you’re clear.  This is between Joe and I.  Once you do, I’ll have my men let that pretty sniper go…disarmed, of course.”

“Shit, Rachel,” Bill said as he looked to Joe for direction.

“Take her and go, he has no use to hurt the women.  He wouldn’t want to hurt an innocent person again.”  Joe said, placing emphasis on the word “again” to try to get in Steve’s head.

Bill snatched away Susie and they ran back toward the gate.  As he did, Joe drew his .45.

“If you shoot me now, I’ll have my men kill them all,” Steve warned Joe.  “I get a chance to draw my weapon.”

“When I know they are free, we’ll finish it,” Joe told him.

There was a shot fired into the air outside of the gate.  Then a crackle of the radio on Steve’s hip.

Boss, they’re out.  Should we really let them go?

“Let them go, they don’t know who you are, right?”

No, the other ten grand, where is it?” came the voice over the radio.

“In locker 1542 at the station.  You’ll find the key in your pocket.  Good work, soldier.  They are non-combatants, leave and get your money.  Give them the radio so they can let us know when they are clear.”

Will do, Boss, good luck.

“So, it comes down to this, Joe and Steve.  Finally,” Steve said as he holstered his knife and drew his sidearm.

“It doesn’t have to be this way, I tried to help you,” Joe told him.

“You made me,” Steve replied.  “As soon as you hear your people are clear, we do this.”

“What, old west style?” Joe asked.  “Our guns are already drawn.”

“Fastest shot, best aim.  One is quick, one is dead.”

Steve, facing Joe, suddenly dropped to his knees as his head exploded.

Standing behind him, was Susie, with a 9mm smoking from the barrel.  “You’re no daisy, you’re no daisy at all,” she said, quoting Tombstone.

She ran up to Joe and jumped into his arms.  “We flanked him!  We flanked him!  I know what that means now!” she laughed.

“What…how…huh?” Joe asked.

“As soon as the guy drove off, (no plated, white van, by the way), Bill decided not to say we were clear right away.  He grabbed a 9mm he had hidden on his leg that the guy never checked and we decided to flank this guy and come up from behind.  I begged Bill to let me do it.”

Bill and Rachel walked up to the couple hand in hand.

“My place for dinner?” Bill asked.

 

 

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Missing, Part 1

“She was out on a walk through the park,” he began, “She is usually home within a couple of hours.”

He waited to hear what the dispatch had to say before responding.

“No, everything was great between us.  I was going to take her to dinner, she was looking forward to it.  This isn’t like her at all.”

Again, he waited.

“No, that is bullshit!” he said through gritted teeth as the agitation became apparent.  “We weren’t fighting, we were very happy.  We were going to go to one of her favorite spots tonight for a romantic dinner.  She has been gone for six hours when it usually takes her one or two.  Her cellphone is going right to voicemail and she never lets it do that.  She isn’t responding to any of my texts.  She hasn’t checked in on any of her social media.”

He listened for a second to the other end of the line before yelling, “NO!  She isn’t fucking cheating on me, you stupid bitch.  So help me, if anything happens to her while you guys are sitting on your ass, I will hold you personally responsible.  Fuck your twenty-four hours!”

He pressed “End Call” on his cellphone and dialed up another number.

“Hey Bill,” he started into the phone, “It’s Joe.  Long time.  Listen, do you still have that survival bunker on your property?”

He listened for a second when he cut Bill off.

“Sorry Bill, we can catch up when this is all over.  I need your help.  I need to borrow some things.  It’s Susie.”

Bill told him to come over.

Joe looked into his closet and in the very back, behind some boxes, he found his fatigues.  As he began to put them on he wondered if he kept in good enough shape that they would still fit.  They did.  He turned around and walked to the safe bolted to his bed frame.  He entered the combination and grabbed his .45.  He went out to the driveway and moved the minivan to the street, then went back into the house.  He went into the garage from the side-door and pulled off the car cover, revealing his 1966 Pontiac GTO.  He hit the door opener and fired it up.

He drove slowly through his residential neighborhood, scanning the streets and sidewalks for any signs of her.  When he reached the highway, he stepped on the gas, and the secondaries on the tri-power opened up.  He was at 95 by the top of the on-ramp.  Soon he was doing 140 on the empty highway as he drove out to Bill’s compound.

About twenty minutes later, he let off the gas and slowed to the exit he needed.  He got off on a frontage road for a few miles before turning onto the long road toward Bill’s property.  He turned onto the long driveway toward Bill’s farmhouse, where Bill was standing outside waiting for him.

He shut off the car.

“I thought I was bat-shit,” Bill yelled to him as he got out of the GTO.  “Looks like I was pretty sane after all.”

“Who could have seen this happening?” Joe asked.

“Well, not this, but something always happens.  Better to be prepared.”

Joe couldn’t argue with that.  He gave his old friend a hug, complete with a few good pats on the back to let him know they were still men.

“You can use anything you want, on two conditions,” Bill told him.

“What are those?” Joe asked, hoping they wouldn’t be too difficult.

“I get to help, and you and Susie come for dinner and meet my Rachel when this is all over.”

“You met someone?” Joe asked his old friend.

“She’s great.  And an amazing shot.  Would you mind if we let her back us up on the sniper rifle should we need it?”

Joe laughed, hoping they wouldn’t need it.  “I’ll take all the help I can get.”

They walked around the back of the house to what looked like an ordinary pair of storm cellar doors.  Bill pulled them open to reveal a steel blast door with a keypad.  He entered the code and the door slid open.  They made their way down the stairs.  When they reached the bottom, they found another steel blast door, this one with a fingerprint scanner.  Bill placed his thumb on the scanner and the door slid open.

“You’ve been doing some upgrades,” Joe said.

“Gotta keep up with the times,” Bill responded as they looked at the steel and concrete reinforced bunker with every type of hand-held or shoulder-mounted weapon imaginable adorning the walls.

“Let’s load up and go find her,” Joe said.

They grabbed a lot of the guns off of the walls.  They grabbed a couple of Javelin anti-tank missiles.  They grabbed a few boxes of grenades.  They loaded it into Bill’s Humvee, locked up the bunker, and headed off toward the park.

Armed to the teeth and looking straight out of some Arnold Schwarzenegger movie, they walked into the park along the trails she liked the best.  A few families were walking, saw them coming, and turned in the other direction.  They turned onto one of the smaller, less-known trails, and Joe spotted a little bit of blood on the ground.

“Susie!” he shouted as he ran toward it.

Bill came up alongside.  There wasn’t much blood, a couple of drops in the center, and a few leading off of the trail into the trees.  They followed the blood and found a note pinned to one of the trees.

Hey Joe.  I said, where you goin’ with that gun in your hand?  That is pig’s blood.  She’s fine, for now.  Let’s finish what we started.  We’ll be where it all went down.  I’ll see you soon.

Joe turned to Bill.  “Call Rachel, tell her I want to meet her.  Tell her to bring her gun.”

Concludes in Part 2 tomorrow  

 

Crashing Down

He had built her up so much in his mind that he really thought of her as being someone he could see himself with.  He knew she was beautiful, in fact, he thought so for years, but it was other things about her that mattered.  And he knew she had issues, but he could look right past them.  Then one day, without any warning, it all came crashing down.

She had done one of her famous disappearing acts.  The one thing about her that really bothered him, because it made it impossible for him to know where he stood.  He accepted that about her every time before, but something about this time felt different to him.  He couldn’t put his finger on it.  He began to wonder, if she never wanted to talk to him, answer him back, or interact in any other way, why he wasted his thoughts on her.  He wondered why they were even friends in the first place.  He definitely started to wonder why he desired to be more.

And then, he just stopped.  He started to think about himself.  He realized that his thoughts and feelings for her were unhealthy if never responded to.  He wanted a simple yes or no.  But she dodged it anytime he tried to bring it up.  He didn’t understand her inability to be straight with him.  He poured back over the things in his mind, and began to realize how mixed the messaged truly were.  He would have been happy even if he got a “Yes, but there are too many things in the way I’m not willing to deal with right now.”  And he would have been happy even with a, “No, I only want to be your friend but I’ll make more of an effort to be there more often.”  She gave him neither, and didn’t even really have a good reason why.  So he decided to move on.

She was busy making plans.  She knew that somewhere along the way she had fallen for him.  Since he never hid his feelings, she knew he had fallen for her too.  She was trying to play it cool, she did not want to scare him off for seeming over eager.  She liked that he was willing to challenge her but still recognized the person she was inside.  The person she had always wanted to be, but lost somewhere along the way.  The person who was buried under a sea of bad people and events in her life.  She wanted to be with him, but had a lot of work to do in order to make it happen.  She ended up wishing she would have let him know.

He was driving back from a date that cold January night.  The woman he met was intelligent and funny.  She seemed genuine, which was a huge requirement in somebody.  She was very attractive and their conversation flowed so well that they had to chug their drinks when they decided to leave because neither of them were really sipping on them as they were talking.  They laughed and flirted through the night as they got to know each other.  There was a definite spark.  As he drove along the roads, he realized his lips were still tingling from their kiss.

He had that feeling in his chest, the butterfly feeling one gets when they meet someone they really like.  He was excited for their next date.  She lived a little further from him than he would’ve liked, but he didn’t think it was too awful.  She was on the South end of town, and he was more on the North side.  At night, the roads were open enough that he wouldn’t be sitting in traffic, but still, he thought that if he lived where he used to he could make that distance in the quarter of the time.  It did allow him to think about how much his life had changed in such a short period of time.  It allowed him to realize how hopeful he felt for the future again.

She was writing him a message.  She was ready to tell him her feelings and her plan.  She was ready to see if he wanted to go along and make sure he still felt the same.  She checked it over a few times to make sure it sounded just the way she wanted it to.

He was thinking about her again.  He had a great time on his date, but something always drew his mind back to her.  He rounded the curve on the bridge over the roads beneath and tried again to put her out of his mind.  He knew it was no use wasting thoughts on her.

She pressed send.

The notification came in on his phone just as the truck’s trailer slammed into the side of his car.  The investigation would later reveal that the truck had not signaled or even bothered to check his mirrors as he decided to move around a slower moving car in front and into the left lane.  The driver was cited for careless driving, improper lane change, failure to signal, and being a vehicle of that size in the left lane which was illegal in his state.  His car went right through the guard rail at the end of the bridge, and it all came crashing down.

To Those Who Keep Trying

Here is to those who keep trying; the ones who have lost but continue on.  Here is to the ones in constant pain of one kind or another who refuse to throw in the towel.  Here is to the people who don’t believe the social media memes that consistently seem to say if a relationship went bad that you are broken.  Here is to the people who are happy with themselves but strive to be a better version of themselves than they were the previous day.  Here is to the sick who continue to fight.  Here is to the people who still give a fuck, despite being told not to in order to protect themselves.  Here is to the lonely who still believe that they will find someone worthy to spend their time with.  Here is to the friendless who still smile at people and say hi to strangers.  Here is to all of those who have been abused but refuse to abuse others.  Here is to all of the manipulated who reached deep-down to realize they were more than the person manipulating them made them out to be.  Here is to the single parents who put their kids first, sometimes at the expense of their own happiness.  Here is to the tired workers who continue to do their job to the best of their abilities despite being treated as nothing more than expendable cattle by those in the board room.  Here is to all of the people who continue to welcome those who may be different or disadvantaged into their communities.  Here is to the people who continue to show up to the polls despite being forced to choose between two evils for too long.  Here is to all of those on any dating site, meetup site, or any other social site who try to make connections in a world that devalues them.  Here is to those who are unafraid to truly open up to people, knowing the risks involved.  Here is to everyone who tries to speak out and stop injustice in a world full of it.  Here is to the people who love.  Here is to the people who get out of bed each day and try as hard as they can to find something colorful in a sea of grey.  Here is to the people who do their best to reject fear, knowing how powerful and destructive it can be.  Here is to the people who do not settle.  Here is to the dreamers, who have kept going in spite of overwhelming criticism and predictions of failure.  Here is to the peaceful, who still believe that a flower can be more powerful than a gun.  Here is to the individuals, who realize how boring uniformity can be.  Here is to the outcasts, who may not have the social skills to fit in, but still have the heart.  Here is to the popular, who reach out to include the outcasts, risking their own popularity.  Here is to the mentally ill, who keep going to therapy as hard as it may be so that they can heal.  Here is to the people with terminal illness, who try to squeeze every drop of life out of the time they have remaining.  Here is to the people fighting against long odds for a good cause.  Here is to the people who understand and live with empathy.  Here is to the people ridiculed for their belief that there is more to life than keeping up with the media whores.  Here is to the writers, that attempt to entertain, inspire, educate, or enlighten people with words that they have no choice but to throw onto an empty page.  Here is to the readers, that continue to live under the belief that reading is important and can be fun.  Here is to all the people who try to make someone else’s day a little brighter.  Here is to all the people who give compassion without expectation.

You all are my people.  May this next year be our year.  May we turn the tide toward a caring, learning, growing society.  May we win against those who believe “I’ve got mine and that’s all that matters.”

So raise your coffee, tea, wine, beer, soda, water, milk, etc… and join me in this toast.

Here’s to you!

New Year’s Eve

Hello dear reader(s)!

I think I am getting old.  Today, an opportunity presented itself for me to go out on New Year’s Eve.  With another person.  A real person.  One who isn’t family.  I politely declined.

Don’t get me wrong, when it hits midnight and the ball drops on the 3 hour broadcast delay for the West Coast (the best coast), I would be happy to have someone there helping me ring in the New Year, but to actually go out?  In traffic?  Or try to find a cab?  Or pay the $17 million for an Uber because it would be peak hours only for the Uber to get stuck in the same traffic I would have?  Or to possibly be hit and killed by one of the way too many drunk people on the roads when they should be passed out on bathroom tile praying to the porcelain god?  Or to be crammed around way too many of those drunk people fending off kisses from the lonely and desperate?  Yeah.  No thanks.

It isn’t that I don’t like being out with people sometimes.  It isn’t like I don’t ever drink.  It isn’t even like getting stuck in a little traffic is going to be worst thing in the world.  The issue, is all of those things happen in one 10 minute stretch when the bars close.  That, and you hit the traffic leftover from the fireworks being launched from the major national landmark in your area.

So with those things in mind, I present the top 10 reasons not to go out on New Year’s Eve.

  1. Hotels are outrageously priced or sold-out.  I know, because I checked.  Being able to walk right to the hotel from the event would have made me reconsider.  But they are about $500 for a room you could normally get for $150 if done two weeks prior on a non-holiday through Expedia.  This is after drinking champagne that will run you the same price per glass it normally would per bottle.
  2. You are expected to make out with somebody.  Now, making out is not always a bad thing.  But what if you and your New Year’s date don’t hit it off?  There is almost an obligatory weight that would be over the whole night about kissing at midnight.  And if you are both mature enough to decide together that you don’t want to, some desperate person will almost certainly step into try.  And the last place I want to ring in the New Year is behind bars for punching out some drunk and desperate woman looking for a little lip-action.
  3. Prices.  Prices out on New Year’s Eve are gouged more than gasoline after a skirmish in the middle east.  They are raised higher than my name from my followers after their ritual sacrifice and blood-oath to me.  They are spiked more than that drink that poor girl is about to consume because that douche is a rapist.
  4. Cold.  Unless you are in parts of the South or East, you know it is freaking December into January.  That means it is cold.  Why would you want to celebrate hypothermia, frostbite, or at the very least…painfully hard nipples?  Although celebrating the nipple can be fun.
  5. Countdowns.  Should’t be that hard.  Large crowd of people, starting from 10.  See how often they go wrong.  Observe and listen to the 15 different shouts of “1” and “Happy New Year!”
  6. You can’t take your bed with you.  You people are lucky I will even be awake for it.  Now you expect me to be upright and wearing actual clothes?
  7. Drunk drivers.  Now, I live in a ground floor apartment off of a fairly major street, so I am not completely protected, but the walls should give me the precious seconds I need to get to safety should some drunken idiot be too absorbed in singing Auld Lang Syne or something sort of resembling it to realize that no, in fact, that is not the road.
  8. Paper noisemakers and hats.  Those were fun when I was 7.  I also liked the circus then too.  And Knight Rider.
  9. Idiots.  I was an idiot once.  So I am not judging.  But there is only so much partying that people should ever do.  I don’t want to see your naked ass, random person.  Yes, that is vomit on your shoe, and no, I will not help you get it off.  No, you should not point the champagne bottle at your friend’s eye when you pop it, and by the way, half of that champagne is now on the floor, asshole.
  10. Snacks.  Something about New Year’s Eve makes me want to have snack food and a drink or two.  I can not shovel snacks into my face in public.  Especially not on any type of date.  I don’t want to have to pay attention to how I eat.  I want to sit in my lounge pants, wrapped up in a Snuggy, eat my snacks, drink my cheap champagne, and watch only the last few minutes of the New York Countdown on tape-delay with my cats by my side.  In fact, this reason alone keeps me from forgetting about all other things on the list.

 What about you dear reader(s)?  Staying in, or going out?

 

Featured Image By Dan Bennett from Seattle, USA (DSC_2046  Uploaded by X-Weinzar) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

2262

When she walked out of the door, she stepped on his heart…literally.  She had to wipe it off her heel on the welcome mat as she walked into the sunrise on the quiet street where he lived until last night.  After she eviscerated him, she slipped back into her human skin and the little black dress she wore the night before.  She was happy to take one more douche off the streets.

Scott didn’t mean to be a douche, he just was.  He was the kind of person who felt ultra possessive of any woman he was attracted to, whether there was anything between them or not.  He felt women were fragile princesses who needed rescuing.  He wanted to put them on a pedestal.  He compensated for his lack of confidence by pretending to be ultra macho whenever he felt like another man may have interest in one of his targets.  He even referred to the women he liked as targets.  His lack of confidence was clear in his direct interaction with those women because he would choke and would not be able to tell them of his attraction.  He hoped that by agreeing with everything they said and “liking” all of their social media posts, that they would pick up on it.

She knew exactly how to play them.  She would constantly go on fishing expeditions to see who would bite.  And she was so beautiful in her human skin, she had them lining up to do so.

Two thousand, two hundred, and sixty-two miles away, he saw one of those fishing expeditions.  He wondered if she was that lonely or if she was playing a game.  All of the douches would come up with one form or another of saying, “Pick Me, Pick Me!”  But not him.

He did like her.  He liked her a lot, actually.  But there was no way he would treat her like a princess.  He would not line up to compete for her affection.  When he thought she was wrong, he would say so.  He didn’t agree with every little thing she ever said, and didn’t try to pretend that everything she did was something he liked.  He didn’t know if his honesty and refusal to be her lapdog hurt his chances, but he didn’t care, because he would not change who he was for anyone.  He expected real, and so he gave real.  Besides, she was two thousand, two hundred, and sixty-two miles away.

So he’d occasionally send her a message, telling her to have a good day or something basic.  He knew she knew it was just a way to tell her that she was on his mind.  Sometimes they would talk for hours on some days, and sometimes they would hardly speak for weeks.  He wondered if the douches talked with her in the same way.

Scott didn’t.  Scott wasn’t going to talk to anyone anymore.  After playing the friend card, and trying to slide in from the outside, he tried to make her his princess.  She had a bad day and he finally convinced her to go out.  They went for drinks and had a relatively good time, except she was mostly just telling him about her day while he listened with fake concern.  She wanted to go home, but he convinced her that she should go to his place to talk some more.  When they got inside, he tried to kiss her.  It had been a while since she used her powers, but he was begging for it.

She gave him one last chance to be a man, but he tried to force himself on her.  She fought as he took off her dress.  She could have stopped him, but it would make it easier for her to shed her skin and unleash her power anyway.

And then it happened.

An explosion of white light shot from her eyes as her human skin fell off and the goddess was revealed.  She didn’t have to lift a finger for Scott’s entrails to be strewn across the floor.  It would have been a pretty gruesome sight were it not something she had seen quite a few times before.  She waited until sunrise so as not to raise suspicion and left feeling a sense of accomplishment for the favor she had done the female population of the world.

She messaged him that night.  They talked for a while and he told her that he wanted to see her.  He told her he had enough money and could book a flight.  She told him that would be nice and he booked the flight for two weeks out.

During those two weeks, she struggled with whether or not to tell him about her true form.  She didn’t want to scare him off, and she could think of no better way to scare off a man than revealing that she occasionally eviscerated people.

He arrived in her city.  He couldn’t wait to see her.  He had been thinking of this day for a long time.

They spent the day together and had a great time.  They were very comfortable with each other, but there was no doubt there was a fierce attraction just below the surface.  As the day turned to night and he knew that their time together that day was drawing to a close, he looked into her piercing, dark eyes and said, “It’s okay.”

“What’s okay?” she asked, taken aback.

“I know you want to kiss me.  It’s okay, I want to kiss you too.”

He leaned in and they kissed.  He didn’t want to go any further that night.  He liked her, and wanted to do things right.

They stopped kissing, hungry for more, but he controlled himself and wished her a good night.  He asked to see her again the next day.

“Of course!” she replied.

The next day they spent more time together.  As the night drew in, she took him back to her house.  They were kissing and things were progressing.  He couldn’t have stopped it if he tried, so he didn’t.

She stopped and turned away from him, crying.  “I have something to tell you.  I understand if you want to run away after this,” she sobbed.

“Oh, you mean the goddess thing?” he began, “Yeah, I know.  Why do you think I never tried to treat you like a princess?  Now let me get you out of those clothes and that skin.”

Boxers Day

Hello dear reader(s)!

Given the time difference, I think for my friends in the UK it is already pretty late on Boxing Day.  If not Boxing Night now.  We don’t really have that here in the US, so I have decided that today, the day after Christmas, shall be known as Boxers Day.

Why Boxers Day?

Because I ate too much last night and do not feel like putting on pants.  Therefore, I will sit around in my boxers all day.  Boxers Day.  Simple.

So now with the Yule/Christmas/December holidays pretty much out of the way, it is time to focus on New Year’s.  By the calendar most of us use, the year changes in a little bit of time.  Since we keep track by those numbers, I guess it is rather significant.

Let’s look back on 2015, shall we?

Let’s not and say we did.

2015, was, and likely always will be, the worst year of my life.

However, as near as I can tell, it was also the end of the era of horrible years.  It is hard to get worse than what happened in July.  I mean, I’m not trying to tempt the fates, but I don’t know if a zombie apocalypse would be as devastating.  So this year, seems in a way to have been a cap on all of the awful.  Rock bottom, which means things should be going up.

And while I know I was in the hospital again fairly recently, I see that as more of a fluke than a sign that I am not better.  I still have the things I need to watch out for, I still have some growth I need in my bone marrow before I can live a life anything close to what some would call “normal”, but I feel 2015 was the beginning of the end.

I met a couple of people who are really important to me.  I moved from the high desert yuckiness that I detest.  I have traveled alone to Alaska.  I spent more time outside of the hospital than in it by a huge margin.  That hasn’t hasn’t happened for literal years.

2015 was the year that my old life almost completely vanished and now I have to figure out how to restart.  I imagine 2016 will be a bit bumpy, but I am determined to do it.  Already trying hard to make new friends, and I am seeing some success in that area, but it is tough without work or school as a basis.  So I’ve had to be a little creative.  I am hoping that soon I will know whether or not my B-cell line has come in.  With vaccines and a bit more immunity, if I am careful, maybe, just maybe, I can get working again at some point this year.  I certainly hope so, anyway.

All in all, I am hopeful for 2016.  I think the hope is realistic too.  Yes, I was hopeful for 2015, but I still had so much to lose.  And I did.  This year will start almost like a blank slate.  New town, improving health (hopefully), new friends and methods for making more, and less to lose.  Granted, there are still people and things that I could lose that would be devastating, but I really don’t know if anything could touch what was lost in 2015.

To summarize, goodbye 2015, don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.

Eventually I suppose I will need to put on some pants and try to work off all of the goodies I had last night.  But for now, I am content to celebrate Boxers Day.  I’d post a pic, but this isn’t that type of blog-type-thing.  Besides, I am sure a lot of you are already flooded with inappropriate pictures.

Do you have any plans for New Year’s?  Any resolutions?  Are you going to party it up or make it low-key?  Will you be awake when the clock strikes and the calendar flips?  Would love to hear from you all about it.

 

Drawing courtesy “Boxer shorts” by Svgdraw – Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Commons – https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Boxer_shorts.svg#/media/File:Boxer_shorts.svg