I get by with a little help from my friends, and maybe an ex in-law.

Lucky day today. Just when I needed it. I could have been a little more desperate I guess. But maybe not.


On July 1st, 2009 I needed to get out of my office. I was working Operations for a contractor in central Iraq near the Iranian border. Maybe not a "gravy" job. But as jobs in Iraq go, I was pretty lucky. Having an Air Conditioned office job was about as gravy as you could get. But cabin fever was setting in, and I needed to stretch my legs. We were supplying a generator to the military that day. Instead of sending a Mechanic out to it to document it, I decided to go do it myself. Just get a few pictures to show what condition it is in, get all the identifying numbers off of it, easy, and it showed the guys out in the heat, I was willing to get out of the AC and do what I could to make their job easier. As I stepped out of the generator on to the gravel covering the ground, the gravel shifted into a hole that couldn't be seen because the gravel was loose. My foot went one way, my leg went another, and the rest of me collapsed against a concrete barrier. It hurt like a bitch. It hurt to stand. It hurt to walk. It hurt to just sit there and look at it. But I'm not a pussy. Especially in front of a bunch of other guys in the middle of Iraq. I limped back to my vehicle and had my driver take me back to the office. My ankle was already swollen and purple. It had only been a year before when a similar thing happened to me and it turned out to be broken. I was pretty sure it was fractured again. It being a small outpost, there was no medic with the company I worked for. I showed my ankle to my boss and the camp manager who I regularly sat outside and smoked cigarettes with. He said I should see the military medic on base. So I did. The military didn't have any x-ray equipment because the camp was so small. But the doc on base did say it needed to be x-rayed. This info was relayed up the contractor chain of command and it was determined I would fly to Baghdad or Balad where the bigger bases would have the equipment to properly check me out. I had a bad feeling this was going to end up sending me home. I packed everything I cared about into 2 bags and climbed aboard the first black hawk that flew into camp. It took me to another small base. From there I took a 2nd black hawk to a slightly larger base, but still not where I needed to be. From there I sat for hours. Hours and Hours and Hours. I could have driven to Baghdad in this amount of time. But a dust storm had blown in, and what few choppers could get in and out gave the military priority. I can't say I blame them. But I was on my own on crutches with my leg in a brace in a lot of pain and no medication. I really needed to get to a hospital. I finally got another Black Hawk. We lifted up, flew over the walls of the camp, turned around and flew back in to the same camp. Another dust storm had grounded them. I didnt even know where I was supposed to get food. Over 16 hours I tried to get out of that base before I finally did. Starving. It was 3 in the morning, dusty, hot, and I was in 1 of 2 Black Hawks buzzing low lever over Baghdad. I was miserable, but it was the coolest flight I have ever taken.
When we finally touched down, I was taken to my company's compound and given a room for the night. Details of what will be going on for me would be worked out after some sleep and some food.
I checked in with the medical office after breakfast. Their news was that it had been decided I would fly to Dubai and see a doctor there. I knew now it would be a long time before I am back in Iraq and was glad I had brought everything with me. I didn't mind going to Dubai. I loved it there. If my leg was ok it would just be a week or two out of Iraq that I was still getting paid for. My flight to Dubai didn't leave for a couple of days. But I at least had help getting around the camp I was stuck on. I passed the days reading, watching movies and Facebooking my friends back home on my laptop.
On the day I was taken to Baghdad international airport to fly to Dubai, I was surprised at the lack of help my company offered with getting bags around, and even more surprised at the help I WAS getting from Iraqis that worked in the airport.
Off to Dubai I go on a flight contracted to fly only people that worked for the company I was with. It was an uneventful flight to me. Maybe to someone that had never done a combat landing or take off it would have been more exciting. But it was just another of many flights I had taken around Iraq.
It's been 2 weeks and I still havent had any pain meds for a leg that I was more and more becoming convinced was broken again. In a brace on a plane with little leg room for my 6'4 frame. I was miserable. But looking forward to some time in Dubai.
At the time, the company leased several floors of a hotel to put personnel up in while in town. I was given a room with 2 beds, but luckily no room mate at the time. My medical appointments would be made for me. All I had to do was check in and find out when they were. The hotel had a pool and restaurant. But no bar. Food in the restaurant was free for us. If we wanted to eat elsewhere we were on our own. Working as a civilian in Iraq left me with shortage of spending money. I was even given an advance for travel expenses. Though the leg was hurting, I still found my way to the mall across the street several times for their version of American fast food. Most of the time, I stayed in my room on my computer, or laid around and swam in the pool. My first appointment was 3 days from when I arrived in Dubai. 3 days of paid doing nothing but hurting. I took a couple of taxis to get out and about. If you ever want to feel like a rock star, be a white guy in a bar in Dubai. The trafficed women flock to you like you're an ATM. But mostly I enjoyed being able to relax.
When I finally saw a doctor, he x-rayed me and MRI scanned me. over 3 weeks have now gone by since I first injured it. He said it looked like it was fractured and that I had done quite a bit of soft tissue damage. The healing process would take longer than the company would allow me to remain on their dime. Worker Compensation process was started and I was told I would be flown back to Florida in a couple of days.


It was bitter sweet. I enjoyed my job and the pay that came with it. But I also knew the work comp pay would be substantial also, and I would get a bit of a vacation home out of it. I figured a month, maybe 2 at the most, and I would be good as new and back to work.


Wrong. The soft tissue damage around my ankle was worse than I thought. Even once the bone was fine, the pain and swelling remained. Several doctors tried many things. Even when I was told by one doctor how surgery could fix it, another doctor would have another opinion. 2 years this went on. With me having to go thru different types of therapy and braces. Nothing worked. My last doctor finally decided that any surgery done would possibly leave me with similar issues even after it healed. There was no getting back to 100 percent. But during those 2 years I was enjoying being home. A very well paid vacation. All I had to do was go to the doctor. The work comp checks rolled in every 2 weeks and not a job in town could pay me the kind of money I was getting. There was no point in getting a job. I was counting on healing and going back to work. In the mean time I enjoyed living at the beach. Sun, sand, and salt were my daily rituals. I got to make up for lost time with my son. I was living life like a Jimmy Buffet song. But when the doc said I am as good as I can get, and I wasn't a hundred percent, I realized I wouldn't be able to return to my 10 grand a month office job in Iraq. Life as an ex-patriot came to a screeching halt in May of 2011. The work comp checks continued until I was given an insurance settlement check. That would be the last check I would see until I found a job in the real world. That was December. Just in time for Christmas.


Somehow, since then, with a little help from friends and family, we have been able to make ends meet since the check ran out and we were living on just my wife's salary. The past few months have been the hardest. The ends just seemed to get farther and farther away from each other, and seemed like I was never the right fit for any job applied to. I'd go on interviews. But would hear anything back. I hide my crazy well. But maybe other people just interviewed better. Or maybe the people getting the jobs knew someone that helped them. I don't know. What I did know, was I needed an income desperately.


A city job that I applied to months ago had emailed me with their reason for why they didn't think I was qualified. I got emails like that multiple times a day. Disheartening to say the least. But this particular one, and their reason just didn't make sense to me. I knew I could do the job, and possible do it better than most. I knew I had the qualifications. So I replied to the email. I didn't think anyone would read it. It was a generic city email address. But I took a shot it and even carbon copied the mayor's email address to it on the off chance that was something someone actually read also. Then I called my ex-wife's dad, my ex-father in law. There was no animosity between us even though his daughter and I divorced. I knew he knew people, and that's what I needed. Clearly it's who you know if you want a job. At least that's how I felt. So I told him the situation, and he was willing to make some calls.
I got a reply to my email. Maybe my email alone worked. But I doubt it. I don't know for sure. I'm not sure I want to know for sure. But I was told in the email I was being added to the list of candidates for the position. I finally had my foot in the door of somewhere I believed I could get into. A later email gave me a date and time for an open house. I added it to my calendar wrong. I was supposed to be there at 10. I put it in as 1030. I was there at 10 to 10, but sat outside as to not be too early. At 10:10 I walked in 10 minutes late not even knowing it. Shit. I look like an ass. No way in hell these people will consider me now. But I was shown in to a room with the rest of the group. I participated. I took notes. I asked questions. I was even able to show off an ability that would be an asset to the position.
The group was given a sheet of paper to sign whether or not you wanted to test for the job. I think everyone said yes. It's a stressful job with shitty pay and even worse hours. But work is work, and it's a job that I was still certain that I was perfect for.
I was emailed a date to test. It seemed like a month had gone by since the open house. I knew I couldn't just sit around waiting for this one job. I continued applying and interviewing for other jobs. When the test started, I was caught quite off guard. It began with a typing test. I've never taken a typing class. Part of my Army communications training was 10 minutes of being told the proper way to place your fingers on the keys. But other than that, and 18 years of instant messaging my way into women's pants, I had no real typing experience. Off I went at it as best I could. 5 minutes of typing, twice. I got to the exact same word both times with no idea of my speed. The bright side was, the first time, I looked at the woman next to me, and I was ahead of her. The second time, she was on the same word I got to both times. We all were told that if we did not type 35 wpm at least once, we were to leave. No more processing for that position. There were 6 women, and 4 men including me testing at that time. Our results were handed out, and I typed exactly 35 wpm both times. The other 3 men in the room stood up and walked out. My odds just improved. I made a couple of stupid mistakes during the rest of the test. But the computer wouldn't let me fix them. Once the answer was given, that was it. I still thought I did ok. Weeks went by and wondered how I did and what the next step, if there was one, was going to be. I kept my cell on me at all times during the day because I did not want to miss that call. 
One afternoon after my hopes had begun dwindling again I left my phone in the house while I went outside. Probably to smoke. When I came back in, I realized I had missed a call with what I was certain was a city number. I had a message. I checked it, and sure enough it was the division manager calling me to schedule an interview. I called her right back. The soonest I (or anyone else) could interview was a month away. I took the earliest appointment time she had. but another month of not knowing. I kept applying, and interviewing, and nothing else coming through.
The day of my interview I made sure to be there early. Another guy was in the waiting area waiting to interview also. I don't know how long he had been waiting when I got there. He told me another guy was being interviewed at that time. I figured the guy waiting would go before me. The parking meter was only an hour long. I knew I would have to put some money in it again. But I didn't want to not be waiting when they called for me. I figured a parking ticket would be worth it if I got the job.
For whatever reason, the Manager came in and called for me, instead of the guy that had been there before me. I didn't hesitate. I figured there was a reason for that. I just got up and went with her. I had seen the first guy that interviewed come out. He was all dressed in a suit. The guy waiting before me had a shirt and tie on. I was just in cargo khakis and a polo style Under Armor shirt. I didn't even have any nice shoes that went with that outfit. I was wearing my desert combat boots that had as many miles on them as my 1998 Jeep Wrangler. I really felt like I was not looking too impressive. But I was clean, and neat. Maybe they would think I currently had a job and that was what I had to wear. I don't know.
The interview turned out to be a group interrogation. The Division manager sat in the back while 4 of her staff, and 1 HR rep from the city asked me a series of rewritten questions. I was nervous. I sitting in the middle of 2 of them on one side of a table, while the other 3 sat across from us. I was quite literally surrounded. I remained calm. I answered them the best I thought I could. An old friend that works for that division of the city had written a letter of recommendation for me, so I gave that to them. I even joked a little on accident. I wanted to be professional and serious. But it just isn't me and it showed a couple of times. They finished with me and asked if I had any questions. I asked them how I did. I made it a bit of a joke. But I meant it. They all said I did fine and would hear something by the end of the week.


It was a long week. By Friday midday it was killing me. I couldn't wait any longer. I called the Division Manager and asked her if a decision had been made. She told me I was on her list of people to call. She wanted to hire me. To say I was ecstatic would be an understatement. Someone finally wanted to hire me. I was in disbelief. She said an HR rep with the division would contact me for the next step.
The HR woman emailed me. I had to fill out some paperwork. Get finger printed. Take a drug test. And get a physical exam. Finger printed? Oh shit. I knew there was going to be a kicker. I have the dumbest looking criminal arrest record. To read it, I must be a horrible violent child molester. But I'm nothing at all like that. Like I said, it's an arrest record. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time will you get arrested. But luckily the truth came out and charges were dropped. But it takes a bit of effort to look into all of that and when it happened. First glance, no one would want me and I wouldn't blame them. But take the time to see the facts, and you'll see it's all stupid. I didn't think any HR person especially a civil servant was going to take the time to figure all of that out.
But I did it. I filled out the paperwork in one city building. Went to another to get finger printed. Went into another office to get the information for the physical. Then drove across town to get the drug test and physical done. I was told someone from the city would contact me in about 10 days to let me know the results of everything.


That was last Thursday.


I have been stressing that background check for over a week. I just knew my past was going to mess something up for me again. But I was holding out for some hope. 10 days would take it into next week. Maybe some luck will come my way.


I was making my lunch and talking to my son on the phone this afternoon when I heard my cell ring in the living room. I had plugged it in because the battery was getting low. I ran in and saw it was a city number. It was the division HR rep calling me with a start date. I'm employed again.


 It was one of those phone calls that we occasionally get in life that changes our life. My life at this moment is different than it was when I woke up this morning because I know by the end of this month I will be doing something that makes a difference in people's life again.
 I'm somebody again. I'm not lost anymore. I'm not worried that I won't be able to buy my son a birthday present next month. I don't have to feel like a burden on my wife anymore.


The days in my childhood when my father would drive me all over town as he did his job, to meeting just the right person in high school, to doing just the right job as a soldier, to marrying the wrong girl, to going to war, to doing just the right thing in construction, has molded me into the round peg that fits perfectly into this round hole of a job. A life time of lessons and experiences has come together to put me in a place where I can be the right person in the right place at the right time to get paid for helping someone that needs it.


That's all I ever wanted.


The next chapter of my life started this afternoon. 

OMG!!! I forgot I was here!!!

I have the attention span of a kitten on meth. I come up with this great idea, then see something shiny, then come up with a great idea. oooooo look. pretty.

I was sure my URL for this page was insanityssanctuary dot wth ever. So I google insanityssancutary to see if I could find myself. Much to my dismay, I get multiple links to some pretty creepy stuff. Its mainly creepy because my name and the word "curse" are often used in the same sentence. Awesome. Just freakin awesome. I swear I had no idea about it when I decided on naming my url.

Speaking of curse, that is why I came looking for myself again after almost a year. I wanted to say fuck. A lot.

It's 11:38 at night and I can't call anyone. So this is as good a place as any to vent at the moment.

I fundamentally stand behind the American Liberty to say what you want. Call it what the hell ever. freedom of this, or freedom of that. As I fundamentally stand behind them, I have literally stood in front of those same rights. Not for any dedication to my country, or god, or glory. It was a fucking job. A job I was proud of, that in return brought pride from friends, family, strangers, and even people I despise. I admit, it was a bit of a great side effect.
 I honestly don't think Freedom of expression, or freedom of speech have ever actually been threatened during my time in camouflage. But had it been, I would have been the first guy on the bus, carrying the biggest damn gun. Not because freedom was threatened. Not because I am some kind of patriotic patriot. I would have done it because I was being paid to. I can't buy cigarettes with little damn American Flags.

So, when someone doesn't like something I say/write/sing/sign/gesture or fart, it is with great pleasure that I bid you adieu. Block me hide me delete me add me to that "dont answer" contact in your phone that goes straight to voice mail. It's where I kept all of my military commanders.

I have to admit. Little ole' me wrote a little ole' blog entry on another little ole' travel blog page that stirred up some controversy for someone else mentioned in the blog. Said someone is a group of people I consider friends. I feel bad for causing my friends any problems. Any of them. Anywhere. Anytime. But its happened before. It will happen again. Unless I turn into a boring person that I dont want to be. Love me or hate me. Just stick to one or the other. If you're going to throw me under the bus, at least let me put a jacket on first.

I'm not going to change for you. I wont ask you to apologize for you being you. I love my friends for being who they are. You may post the dumbest fucking consistent flow of stupid drama on the internet. But I know, you are actually one of the sweetest girls I have ever known. You might praise Jesus on Facebook for every right and wrong turn you make in life. But I know you're a great mom. You may be a little weirdly in to Mickey Mouse. But you have always been there. Always. I accept people for who they have been as much for as who they are. Be yourself. I love you anyway.

I'm genuinely regretting getting my friends involved in what has turned out to be a pain in the ass. They saw it before I posted it and thought it was funny. But like me, they never thought anyone would actually take it seriously if they ever even saw it.

Now I'm under the bus without a jacket because they are using it to cover their asses. 

This is just somewhere after the beginning. I have no idea where it is going to go. Maybe I'll lose a pal over it. Maybe he wasn't really pal to begin with.

oooo look, something shiny. I think I'll write a cooking blog based around raman noodles, and hamburger helper without the hamburger. I think I'll call it "Helper".

When I say Adieu, it sounds like Awldoo or owl doo. My redneck friends think I'm fancy when I use smart words from other countries.

The internet is a big place. Sometimes it's monorail stops at crazy town. You dont have to get off.

If you dont see the humor, put on your 3d glasses, and go watch the Avengers. It's an awesome movie.

I really dont like that disapproving look George Washington gives me on the $1 bill. As if to say "You're making bad decisions".

All I went to the store for was some Dr. Pepper to get my day going. I passed 3 stores to go to the one that isn't part of a national chain so I could support a local business. But it just happens that behind the counter at this one store there are 3 15 foot long shelves of porn. I dont mind porn. It's mostly just normal porn as porn goes. But it seems to be a hellalot for a corner store. There is no way to miss it. It is completely impossible to look at the owner or whoever happens to be behind the cash register without seeing the latest issue of JUGGS.
This morning it was a Penthouse Forum that caught my attention. Those things hardly have any pictures in them. But the cover was a chic that looked like Shakira. I knew I had to have that bookish magazine thing no matter how wrong it was. It was just enough that I lost all train of thought as I was paying for my drink. For a split second I had no idea why I was even in the store. Then I looked down at the counter. Lying there was my 2 single dollar bills. President Washington just staring back up at me with his stink eye. I had never noticed that look before. It was just enough to bring me back to reality and pass on bringing Shakira home with me. Thanks for ruining my good time George. Thanks a lot.