So here's to another banner year...

(As I write this entry, I sit in my parent’s yard enjoying a glass of Angel’s Envy whiskey and a cigar. 

The weather is highly unseasonable for December 12^th.)

So here is sit taking in the world around me as I watch the creeps of this ever changing neighborhood power walk past the house. With each person, the dog goes absolutely batshit crazy at each one. Over the last several weeks it has been a complete shit show of events. With my shoulder injury, I have been going through a complete nightmare of trying to obtain some type of normalcy. I have never been sidelined in a situation like this and I must admit. It is a really shitty thing to go through. Having to spend the last month being unable to work sets in really quick. Luckily for me, I don’t have children at this time so I don’t have to worry about feeding more mouths other than my own fat self, but it still pretty nerve wracking to wonder that if you buy a sandwich, will you be able to make the credit card payment. Penny pinching is an understatement.

What heightens this horrible feeling is that it falls at the end of the year when everyone is supposed to be merry and in the Christmas spirit. A spirit which I find to be a load of complete horseshit. As a child you yearn for the idea of Christmas and receiving gifts, as you get older and you start making money, you pride yourself on the fact that you can give others gifts with the money that you had made all year. Then you start to hit a lull where you really don’t give a shit about the holidays. For me, I would always combat that by simply working on the holidays. This would keep with my personal flaw of that if I am working, then I don’t have to handle the situation. I had slipped down a path where I would use my line of work as a mask to hide from family, friends, enemies, and situations that I would not want to or I was just too afraid to take on. It was much easier to say that I had to work, and it was an easy out. I can proudly say that I have moved past this part of my life, and I realize that I pissed away some of the best years of my life. I wasted away the precious hours and days of my life, by sitting on a street corner waiting to chauffer the next drunk or PCP addict to a free bed. But I digress.

Today is an emotional day for me, a day where I usually spend a good amount of time looking back on what I have (or have not) accomplished over the last 12 months. I sit here as I watch a sunset to the south quickly turn the sky a beautiful shade of orange tucked behind a façade of blue and grey clouds. In a completely honest statement, the events over the last year were a very big disappointment to me. Now don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love the person I am with. I wonder on a daily basis why she even puts up with me and my shit. She is a true saint. She has a heart bigger than anyone I know and does the right thing. On top of her dealing with my shit, I sit and watch her brave a smile day in and day out as the people around her try her patience at every turn. She breaks her ass day in and day out and it kills me to see some of the complete and utter bullshit she has to deal with on a regular basis.

What hurts more about this injury is that it is going to take that much longer to give her the life that I know her and I both deserve. She has had such an outstanding effect on me and its one that is almost impossible to put into words. It really is a rarity that you find someone who you mesh with so well. Someone who understands your fucked up sense of humor and can continue one of your asinine jokes and plays along with all your stupid and embarrassing moments. It has killed me to see her so upset over the last several months as she does her best to overcome the loss of a person who has always been by her side. I often find it very hard to relate because I lost those who were closest to me over 15 years ago. She will be okay, I try to tell her that the first year and the first set of holidays are always the worst. It is a shitty feeling, but we all eventually learn to cope. I just wish there is more that I can do.

Over this last year, I have also seen some great accomplishments from some close friends. I was asked to be a groomsman in my best friend’s wedding. I couldn’t be more excited for my best friend and am beyond excited for this new chapter of his life. He is marrying the girl that he has been dating since high school, which is a cliché thing to hear that someone is marrying their high school sweetheart almost 10 years after high school. He also celebrated his first year of sobriety and I can do nothing but give him praise for that. Not saying that I am an alcoholic, but the personal willpower to be able to give up something that you enjoy and something so predominant in society is something to be admired.

As for me, I was able to roll of a great deal of significant blows dealt to me. I was denied a promotion that I had my heart set on more than many people know. I was raised on the teaching of “hard work and dedication” will always prevail. I thought that by breaking my ass and always doing the right thing would allow me to move up the ladder, and unfortunately I was mistake. And that is fine. I have moved past what had happened. I also had the opportunity to be selected as a police officer recruit, and that didn’t work out either. It’s a series of blows that have left me with a serious case of failure, and a large bag of police gear that will probably never be used. But on a positive note, I have a large duffel bag with my name on it, so I will get through baggage claim sooner!

I along with everyone else all say, “Everything happens for a reason”. Which is a nice way of saying “that really blows”. It is a quick coping mechanism. Nobody knows why I happens, but for whatever reason it does. Every year at this time, I always say that this year is going to be my year.  With some fading hope that things will finally work out for me. I gotta say that as I get older, I hope to finally achieve the things I have been striving for.  A person can only take so much heartbreak and disappointment before he gives up. I would like to think that I am showing a bold effort in remaining resilient throughout this entire shit show. 

I must admit that if I have to start from the bottom and work my way to the top. That it at least be with something that I will enjoy doing every day. Whatever that thing may be. Money and benefits are a great thing. But one thing that I have realized throughout the latter part of the year is that the people that I do have around me are those that I plan on keeping from now on. I don’t need much else. I have a partner who I would give the world (or what little I have left) for. I have a great group of friends who back me up no matter what happens. I may not have the dream life that I was hoping to have by now, but that is okay, everything happens for a reason. So here’s to another year. Let’s hope that 27 works out. 

Confessions of the almost not ambalampse driver...

So here I sit. Here in the physical therapist office. Amid a sea of the wounded and weak. Grandmothers recovering from broken joints, and car accident victims being massaged of legally advised back pain. This is now my new life. Things changed very quickly for jbiggz. 

Things were looking up, life was looking great. I was finally getting my phone call up to the big leagues. I had passed all the requirements, cleared the medical, psych, and background checks. I was going to be starting my career as a police officer. So as things began to set in that this is becoming a reality, life changed quite rapidly.

Before I could even try to get a grasp of things, I was taking leaves from

My ems jobs. A whirlwind of emotions take over. Is this the right choice? Am I going to be able to keep up? Will I remember what I need to? Am I ready for this? Is this the right move? I've got this! I can do this! I'm going to be the difference I would like to see in the community!

The hardest part hit me like a cinder block. Saying goodbye. Saying goodbye to the family that had stuck by me for longest time. I had submitted my change to become a per diem employee in case things didn't work out. The remaining days flew by. People tell you the war stories of what it was like when they went through. How bad the academy was for them, and how you go from a person who saves lives to someone who is less than shit. But you block it out and move on. You realize that these are the moments you are going to miss the most. Slowly time ticks down to the last hour of the last day. You get no warning that it is going to hurt as much as it will. There's no person telling you how much you're going to miss the people that worked alongside of you for so long. That part always seems to be left out. Whoops.

So as I return my bus back to the station, you hear a few "good byes" and "good lucks" over the radio as you make that final approach. You hand in your keys and radio for the final time, it has gotten real. You hear the slam of the broken metal door that takes the beating of a lifetime day in and day out. You realize that you won't hear that slam anymore. You won't hear those voices that always made you realize that you survived the night. You won't hear any of that stuff anymore. 

Before you can grasp the new change, life is beginning again. It's a whole new life that you think you might be prepared for... But there is never enough preparation for. Now due to unwritten law, I cannot discuss the things that had occurred but I certainly was not in Kansas anymore.

Some lessons that I did learn:

- You can never spit shine shoes well enough.

- You gain a whole new appreciation for your uniform. 

- You never appreciate your friends, family and significant others more than during this time.

- I'm nasty.

There are other things that I had learned which gave me a brand new outlook on life. I wake up each day feeling motivated and ready to take on a whole new set of challenges. Despite being broken down mentally and physically, I was feeling okay. 

And then this happened...

While performing physical activity in training, I felt a slight pain in my right shoulder. Meh, no big deal. Probably just sore from the activities of the last week. As I continued the physical activity, the pain suddenly became worse. Not just a soreness, a pain so severe that I was ready to call a civil war field doctor in to amputate the arm at the shoulder. In following procedures, I go to the doctor. After a weekend of anti-inflammatories and rest, I am faced with the reality that I may have torn the labrum in my shoulder. To countinue every the reality of this, I was going to miss the required physical training of the academy and due to the treatment plan. This land me in a lose/lose situation where the only resolution would cause me to have to resign from the academy. So after a long road background checks, psych evaluations, medical evaluations, and stress, a shoulder injury was the demise of police recruit Biggy. So as a result now, and due to agency policy, I'm jobless, sidelined with a broken wing, and freaking out about where I will work next. And that folks is the tale of jbiggz the police recruit and that time I got just a brief taste of the major leagues before injury sent me back to the minors. 

Now it's not all a story of gladness, with a shadow of sadness (prep reference). Everything happens for a reason. Whatever higher power clearly has a plan for me. And even I don't know what that plan is that this point (Could be just about anything), but it was not in the cards for me to be a police officer. I'm keeping my head up and eyes open in the meantime. Maybe this is the time for me to explore my options and see what else is out there for myself. Then again, bridge painting seems like a pretty stable career.

the highs... and mostly lows of the job.

It has been a hectic few weeks to say the least, and for that I apologize. Due to an insanely high work load and a complete shift in things at work, it has left little to no time to blog. Things here have not been the best. The organization has been losing employees in droves. Most taking jobs going to other organizations that offer better pay with easier workloads. And others are going to other systems that simply, “aren’t here”.

It is a very sad reality to witness great employees leave. Some that bring a very personal touch to those in the field. Some that will brighten up you’re the last few moments of a hellacious shift as you walk out the door.  Others were those clutch team players that would always manage to help you get out of a sticky situation. And then there were the few transients who viewed this place only as a stepping stone, in an effort to go somewhere else.

I can proudly say that I have poured a great amount of blood, sweat, and tears into the organization. I cannot make a sound decision nor put myself before the welfare of my coworkers, because I view them to be family. I have witnessed births, deaths, buried our own, as well as picked one another up when they were down. I would be lying if I said I didn’t take it personally to see the organization in this shape.

Before every shift, I pull myself together in a grand prix style fashion… Racing through a shower and shave, while I grab spare uniforms and sprint out the door. In an effort not to be late for work, and as I get to the car, I realize that I forgot something. Upon the return into the house, I am greeted by the dogs ecstatic to greet the person at the door (despite leaving 2 minutes prior). Once gathering the remainder of my uniform, it’s time for the pre-work phone call to the girlfriend. The commute usually allows for a 15-25 minute conversation about how much dislike other people, and how we can enjoy the next 4 hours a week we will have to see one another between the conflicting schedules. Once battling for the parking spot at work, it’s time for goodbyes and the hopes that I will have enough time for one more phone call before its time for her to sleep.

The sad part, is as soon as the phone is hung up, I am overcome by a head pain that stems from the base of my neck, to my eyes. A stress headache always seems to strike at that exact moment. It last for about the ENTIRE length of my shift, and usually subsides when my head hits the pillow the following morning. Why does it have to be this way? I ask myself almost daily. I wish that there was an answer to this question. Is it dedication to the organization that causes you to feel this way? Is it the fact that you do not like watching all of your hard work go to waste? Or is it that you know that the organization is capable of doing better, but is too caught up in their own drama that it has an overwhelming effect on morale? We may never know, but I can assure you, I don’t like it.

So here is to hoping that everyone can put all the nonsense behind them, start showing up for their assigned shifts, handle the increased work load, and we can get through this. Because this certainly isn’t the place that I fell in love with. 

It's okay, you're not alone...

"You gonna blog about this one now joe?" -A.M.

Well as a matter of fact, I am. 

Several weeks ago as part of my continuing education as a fire official, I participated in a recertification program titled "stress management". For those who read this blog, it's obvious that it was worth a shot. What could it hurt? I thought... What is there to lose? Plus it was free, so Why not? 

Now I took an oath that what was said in the class would remain confidential, but I can certainly share my experience. There were some familiar faces and some new. The class was put on by a psychologist and a leadership company which I have had a fairly good learning experience from. So I kept an open mind going into this. 

As the class begun, we were informed that first responders are now able to be diagnosed with PTSD, which was a big thing. Now police, firefighters, and EMT's can be classified with an anxiety and psychological diagnoses! Just what we would like to be labeled with. None of us in this industry or anyone in general wants to be labeled. But in the case of first responders, a label like that, immediately spins us into panic mode. A panic that we will no longer be fit for duty. A scary thing. Why? Because we worked very hard to be where we are. We love our jobs. We don't want to lose what we have. It's a underlying fear of seeing the things we see... That we will get labeled. 

As the class chugged a long, there were people like myself willing to discuss some of their personal issues, and others that were not. Which is perfectly fine. I take pride in the fact that I am not afraid to say how I feel. I am also not afraid of others know about it. 

Some interesting topics that I walked away with, was the notion that you're not alone. It was comforting to know that there were others who feel the same as me. There are other dispatchers who feel the stress of trying to get information from a person who is taking their last gasping breaths over the phone. Or the pit in your stomach when you are unable to get a hold of unit that is not answering their radio. The things that the public will never know. 

Again, you aren't alone. There are plenty of others in this field who feel the same way that you do. And it's okay. I can say that I have felt lonely for a long time. Not in a sense that you are physically lonely, but emotionally. That nobody can relate to you and that you feel like an outsider. That you feel by yourself in a boat on the rough seas. After the class it was great to know that I was, in fact, not alone at all. And that many of us feel this way. 

Many of those that are willing to open up, have a fear that the person listening won't understand what they are experiencing. I feel that our industry would greatly benefit from some "job specific" counsellors. Former and current police officers, firefighters, and EMT's that have experience and can better understand those who are looking to speak to others. I know there are some out there, but I think there is a need for more. 

A notion in this line of work, is that you are the bravest of the brave and that you have to stay tough at all times. Which is not necessarily true. Bravery and being able to accept that you are human are two separate things. We all have a certain degree of bravery that we must accept on the job. We are going to see terrible and tragic things. We are going to break our asses on jobs we don't want to be on. We are going to be pushed to crazy limits, and then pushed a little further. It's a necessary evil of this work. But if there was one thing that I took away from the day, was that it's okay.

It's okay. 

It's okay to feel feelings. We are all humans, and we are supposed to to feel emotions whether we would like to or not. It's part of being a person. Yes, we put on our game faces, and we mask our thoughts. We use comedy as a crutch, As a means of temporarily putting a band aid on how we truly feel. It's okay to get back to the station and shed a tear after seeing something terrible. It's okay to talk about how shitty it feels sometimes. 

The sadness comes even worse when we see how many first responders are taking their own lives. Several campaigns have started as a means of reaching out to help other first responders. Which is a great thing, but it's sadly a bit too late. For years those who were willing to open up and talk to someone about their emotions, were viewed as the weak. When in reality, they are the strong ones. They are willing to go against the norm and accept that they are human.

I learned that I am far from perfect and that I carry a large burden on my shoulders. My strong desire for success and my strive for excellence keeps me from appreciating what I have. I spend more time worrying about not being a failure that I don't take time to enjoy what's going on around me. It's something that I accept as an issue and am working towards fixing it. 

I think as an industry of public safety professionals we all need to take the time to reach out to someone that we know may be going through a rough time. Take a second after you know that someone just had a bad call or a bad shift. Take a moment to list to them. Take a moment to see if they need anything. It could mean the world to them at that moment. If we start to take care of one another a bit more, we may be able to change the industry around. 

It's okay to be human, you're not alone. 

The coaching life, a break from the insanity, kinda sorta...

In the recent few weeks, I have been in a complete rut. Things have gotten to the point at work, that there is nothing left to look forward to. In the last few weeks, I have been lucky enough to have very amazing saves and some not so great moments. Sadly the nonsense that has been occurring, has all but masked any hope for a good shift. 

So as a result, I have been looking more and more forward to a volunteering as a lacrosse coach for a youth lacrosse program. I must say, that I was a bit skeptical walking into this new endeavor. I was the new coach in a town, with kids that I didn't know, and a new set of difficulties. I took it with a grain of salt focussing on the bigger picture... That I get to introduce kids on one of the greatest sports there is.

Lacrosse is a sport that translates into "little brother of war". It is a game that is a mix of hockey, soccer, and the contact of football. You play with a solid rubber ball and your only defense is a thin set of padding. You get to run around and beat others with a stick. It's known as the fastest game on two feet, and anyone who has witnessed a game played can agree. 

The challenge that I have come across while doing this, is that many kids do not like being there. I always have heard that rants of my coaches growing up that practice is not a baby sitting service. And sadly I see that now. 

Don't get me wrong, there is nothing more rewarding that having a young player ask you for help or ask for advice. It's a great feeling. I feel like I'm making more of an impact than I do working as an EMT. However, some of the questions I have been asked are a little bit more off the wall. 

What type of questions are these? Well... Let's begin... "Coach, why do you think the government is putting bugs in our food?" Or my personal favorite, "Coach, I shit my pants, what should I do?" 

What do you do? What do you do? How have you gotten this far in life? 

Where the hell am I supposed to find an answer to these things? On top of that, I am faced with noticing that most kids just walk off the field when there is something that they do not want to do. The biggest part of lacrosse is running. And if they don't want to run, they just walk away. They drop their things and walk away. If they don't walk away they make an attempt to hurt me by taking shots at my head. Ahh, to be young... This is an action that would have had Coach Hal, firmly plant his foot up my ass. That would have been followed by sprints until I threw up, and then more sprints to follow. 

But tomorrow is a new day, and another practice. So here's to hoping we can maybe grasp the "1-3-2" offense, and I will not be talking to myself in a field of 20 kids who couldn't give a damn less about me and what I have to say. Being a kid is hard, I get that. You need to worry about the government bugging your food. 

The "break" Room

On an almost daily basis, I find myself letting my imagination run wild when thinking about material items that I will treat myself to once I finally make it. In fact, there is a game that my girlfriend and I play called, “when I build my house…” The game is simple, when an idea comes to mind, you then say that is what will be put inside your dream house. For example, I always say that when I build my house it’s going to have a 4 car garage. Two bays for my everyday vehicles, one bay for hanging out and projects, and one for my project car that I will be restoring in my free time. This is in addition to my man-cave, which at this point will be all the inane shit that I have collected and currently display in the museum I call an apartment. Then I will also have a large shed that opens up to entertain in my large yard. This will accompany the large fire pit area. The game goes on and on. After I meet all the needs for everything that I will have planned, I realize that I might as well buy a sleazy jersey shore motel and attempt to live in that with my crazy fantasies.

All joking aside, one thing that has come to the realization as I have grown up, is how valuable a helping hand is. The apartment that I am currently living in, has an amazing landlord, a nice set up, and all the accommodations’ that a young person trying to make it and live the "American Scheme" would need. It is well furnished with the furniture that does not match, decorated with art that amuses me, kitchen gadgets that are far from a set, and a collection of firefighting memorabilia. My rent is generously low and the way that I view it, it was given a major gift. If I was in better financial position, I would eliminate the need for a roommate and keep the apartment to myself. But I am not, so here I sit and write another blog.

Check out my new coat hook... Nifty eh?

Being that I feel that my apartment was a gift, I have done by best to continue to pass that gift on along to others that are in need of a helping hand. Over the last several years living in Jersey City, I have had a few different faces come and go. More often than not, I try to offer the room I have to someone that is in need of assistance. Some have been down on their luck and going through life changes, some have been going through divorces, some were trying to start a new career, and a few were looking to make it on their own. Whatever the case may be, I have always tried to use the apartment as a means of helping others.

Which then dawned on me, when I build that house with all the rooms. I plan to build the “break room” (and no, I am not referring to dispatch). Now it’s not your average break room with that over-weight weird guy from accounting that always seems to be constantly microwaving left overs. Nor will it have sexual harassment and right-to-know posters on the wall. No, my break room is for a different kind of break. It will be about lending someone a hand when their back is up against the ropes and they have nowhere to go. Whether it be a friend, family, a colleague, or just someone who needs a place to crash for a while so they can get on their feet, there will be a place for them to rest their head. (DON’T TELL MARE! About this plan! She doesn't know yet!)

In this line of work, and by line of work, I mean in public safety, there is a very high rate of divorce and separation. As if the stress of that isn’t enough, you have to still support a family, while having to have a place over your head. My plan is to be that helping hand. To be the safe haven, that just when you think you have nowhere else to turn to, someone comes and bails you out.  Granted, I speak highly of this now, with no crystal ball to see into my future. For all that I know I may be in need of someone else’s break room, but here's to wishful thinking.

I hope that those who read this, become inspired to help someone else out in a way they may not normally consider. More often than not we find ourselves throwing money at the problem rather than fixing it. I feel that we as a society have become more caught up with taking a selfie with tragedy and despair, rather than be willing to lend a helping hand and help out the fellow man. One thing that was instilled to me as a “yout” and further emphasized in high school was to give and not count the cost. I guess that’s why I still volunteer for some unknown reason. I am in no means saying that you should open up a homeless shelter, but if you know someone in need, and you have some extra space or some way that you can help them out, don’t hesitate to do so. I'm sure someone else with appreciate it, and if nothing else you score a roommate/live in drinking buddy. So you'll have that going for you, which is nice...

I left my hair in hoboken....

Granted it’s not as meaningful as, “I left my heart in San Francisco”, but what does make sense in this blog? Nothing really. It's a statement that is almost like a trophy. Kind of like, "I left it all out on the field". With the exception of leaving an ill fitting fashion prothstetic on the streets of a hudson county city. But hey, you go girl! 

Recently, I was approached by a new guy (who from this point forward shall be referred to as, “new guy”). New guy tries to casually start a discussion during his field training. He started with, “So I have heard a lot about you…”, and I must say, I wasn’t that surprised. I have gained myself quite a reputation as the funny guy, the a-hole, the smart ass, the guy who has no filter, as well as being the most handsome 26 year old man this area has ever seen. When I ask "new guy" how he heard about me, he mentioned a name of another EMS professional that I have never heard of. Here I am thinking that he has heard of me from a party, or some convention where I was whoring myself out by aggressively networking with who I hoped were all the right people. On the contrary, new guy tells me that he had heard that I write an EMS blog and that it apparently has quite a following. I reply with a subtle, “NO SHIT! Don’t bullshit me kid!”

(As I type this, there is a new show about swingers playing in the background. I must say, that I find it quite amusing yet awkward watching these couples wife swap with total strangers in a bar. The face of the bartender watching them spank one another was pretty priceless. Either way, pardon if it appears this was written by a complete scatter brains.)

The news knocked me for a loop. I don’t write this for anyone but myself. Not to sound selfish but I have used this as a place for me to blow off steam. Mainly because you really can’t get away with running outside and screaming your lungs out anymore. Damn local noise ordinance laws and everyone’s hypersensitivity to people having mental breakdowns, has really put a damper on it. 

But would anyone really blame the guy who goes outside and just starts screaming? I wouldn’t, not at all, hell i'd probably join his as he attempts to scream it out in effort to keep it all together. As humans we need that good release of pent up energy. Growing up they tell you to “punch a pillow” or “count to ten”. This gets us absolutely nowhere with the exception of being able to build on the fundamentals of southpaw and becoming masters of 10 digits sequences.

So where does that leave us as people? What do we do when we have hit our breaking point? Well, as Disney has so conveniently drilled into our brains, "let it go". In the case of myself, and those who know me attest, when I become pissed, I tend to rant. Not just a little rant, I make sure those immediately around me know how I feel and then I am fine. Once I get it out of my system, I look back and laugh about it. Then I realize that my behavior was that of a horse’s ass, and I progress forward.

For others, this is not so easy. Many people have their vices and I cannot blame them for that. Some turn to drugs and alcohol to cope with their stresses. Some lose their stresses by walking it off. Some choose exercise (not me), but some people think that is a good way to expel stress.

Now I know you all are sitting back and thinking, “Well Joe, if you say that you rant as a way of stress relief, why do you write?” And that is a great question. I write because I can. I have found that putting your thoughts and ideas on paper or in this case the web, leaves a legacy. It gives you the opportunity to look back and see how far you have come. For me I can look back and see how I am not nearly as stressed and have less to worry about in my life. It also works as a way for me to shed excess baggage silently when there is nobody to talk to.

So now the steam is pretty much clear from this otherwise shitty night. I didn’t get my way at work and I was put in less than ideal circumstances due to what some would say are “life choices I made in the past”. That makes it sound like I used to live a life of drugs and crime, not stepping up and getting my dispatcher certification. (Crazy how certain phrases can be interpreted eh?) So I threw my hissy fit, expressed my dissatisfaction with my coworkers, had my rant, and sat dead silently at my console.

I suffered through the rest of my shift in a room that makes me beyond uncomfortable, listening to the grinding of an antique space heater, making a dangerous grinding noise as if disaster is lurking immediately around the corner. The kind of machine that looks like the cause of a house fire. A loud grinding noise similar to that of a 2-stroke weed whacker engine fills the room, loud enough to drown out the sound of my audio book that I was quite interested in. Which if I could make a recommendation, Simon Rich’s, Man Seeking Woman: and other love stories. It is a hilarious look at dating in this day and age, and some funny ass stories about the insecurities of moving on past a relationship. Quite comical.

Well I think this concludes my rant. I have been slacking on my blogging lately. It has been taking its toll on me and I honestly have been too lazy and busy feeling sorry for myself. So let it be known that I will attempt to be a much less lazy ass and keep writing more. In the meantime, I’m going to go practice my yoga, align my chi, and really focus on my flexibility. Not just the flexibility of this fortress of a body, but my mind, and spirit as well. Namaste. 

"I didn't ask for this beer, but I'll accept it anyway"...or somethinglike that. A scene from outside healys tavern and an agreement to makeit the next blog title.

Things have been quite an up and down of events but, neither fun yet exciting. As usual, life has been plagued by the adventures and  exciting times on the bus. Recently, my promotion as a field training officer has been in overdrive. I have been doing my part to mold the future of the organization. In doing this I have been delivered a severe blow as to what the future holds. 

As I am always reluctant to do, I must give thanks to my parents and coaches growing up for turning me into the man I am today. I can only wish that today's youth could have such a guiding light, because.... DAYUM! 

We have approached two polar opposites of the new employee who has entered not only this organization but society as a whole. There are the obedient and respectful. And there are those who feel they are entitled and need to be put into place. 

The respectful are few and far between, but much appreciated. When given information they accept it and remember it for what it is. They are willing to ask questions and not just assume things on their own. They have manners not only for their coworkers but their superiors as well. They make working a breeze and it makes the job so much more meaningful.

As far as the entitled, they have made working an utter nightmare. They have it all figured out despite not seeing a thing. They want to drive when they are clueless about the response area. Yet they act like we should consider ourselves blessed to be in their presence. 

I wish I could say that this was a thing when I was their age, but only a few short years ago it wasn't. I was raised by people who taught you how to behave, when to speak, and when to keep your mouth shut. We had discipline. We knew not to show up to a job interview in a pair of jogging pants and sneakers. 

(And yes that really happened.)

Now lets take a second and look at what is going on here... At what point in any one of our lives were we told that sweatpants were acceptable to wear to a job interview? Hell, I freak out if my suit is not absolutely perfect when I arrive for an entrance exam. Granted I look like 10 points of shit in a 5 pound bag, but I atleast make an effort. Then the real kick in the ass is when you see the "specimen" that had barely had his shit together when going through the hiring process on the truck going to a working fire, and youre on the sidelines with your jump bag and a yellow helmet that clearly says, "I'm still waiting for my shot to move out of this job!"

The youth of America lacks discipline. They were never told the word know and they don't understand rejection. I find it amazing that this is how things have played out. Maybe it's just how I was raised but we really have gone down a horrible path. 

Where have we gone wrong as a society? Why does it feel like those with common sense are the ones who finish last? Why does it feel like those who are in positions of authority are lacking intelligence. Granted, not all those in leadership positions are, but I've found a great deal of those who are put in control of serious responsibility have a difficult time with basic life skills. I don't mean life skills like math and reading, but more so on a primitive level. Skills such as breathing, walking, or sitting down without injuring themselves. 

A perfect example of this is when I need to obtain transcripts from the college in which I graduated from. Many of those who work there cannot execute basic tasks nor can they function without the direct orders of a supervisor. That is scary knowing that these are the people who run out higher education. Which is proof that those that make it through college bear no weight at all on society. God only knows the Rhode Scholars that are running admissions. I would assume they spend most of the day coloring pretty pictures for mommy and daddy to hang on the fridge. 

I've quickly come realize our future is doomed and I know why the elderly are so angry at the youth of today. I think we are doomed. But in the meantime, I will continue to try and keep the future of EMS alive and well. Weeding out the those who are not cut out of this line of work, and those who just seem to take to this job, like a duck to water.

Now I know this doesn't solely apply to EMS, everyone has that person they work with that they feel only had gotten their job because someone had felt really bad for them. Or that they may be part of a employment aid program giving people jobs in a half-assed attempt to help the economy, knowing whole-heartedly they will blow their entire paychecks on sour patch kids and video games. You know, those who really need and can appreciate the title that they hold... But until then we all keep out heads held high and spew lies of optimism through out teeth. We give Oscar worthy acts of excitement for these organisms as we pull the emotional knife from out abdomens and continue to press on. However, one day our call will come, and then we will have the chance to serve under the kid who interviewed in sweatpants. 

Richie

It's hard to believe that it has been 2 years. Feels like it was only yesterday that this organization, this city, this area, and this industry lost a truly inspirational leader. It's amazing that people will put a time frame on how well you may know a person, or that the longer you know someone, the more impact they have on you. I worked under his lead for 2 years which at the MC is a lifespan for many EMT's or medics. But in that short period of time, amazing lessons were taught to not only myself but my colleagues and practiced everyday. 

Simple things on leadership: and how it's much easier to achieve a desired result when you ask and not demand from those who work for you. 

Acceptance: and how we are all in this job together. Yes there is that breaking in of the new guy, but you were accepted by him unless you proved yourself otherwise. 

Accountability: a boss that would back you up 100% to the end, as long as you acted in good faith, but also give you the opportunity to take the initiative and prove yourself. Not just someone who would stand by and watch you drown in your own mistakes, but rather the first person to throw you a life ring.

Kindness: how he would find you at 2 am just to ask how things are going with school or if you needed any references for that 2nd job you were applying for to make ends meet. Maybe it was that text message making sure you were feeling okay and if you needed anything when you called out sick. 

It seems like simple things, but to those who have worked under such a great leader, it things that make you want to perform better as a person. They make you want to push yourself harder so that you may continue on the legacy of this person. It's been 2 years Rich, not a day goes by that myself and the rest of the d-team do not miss coming in and being greeted by your caring and warm personality. 

We all know that you are watching over us and making sure we do the right thing. That we go where you want us to go, and that we are there in the right places and the right times. More importantly that when the times get tough, we pull together the way you would want is to. Rest easy chief, we will continue to handle down here. 

Tour Chief Richard "Richie" Lopez 

JCMC 226

EOW 01/21/2013

The Exits

As I began my trek to work this evening, I ventured a different path. Today, I came from an area that I don't normally travel from. In fact today I didn't follow my normal routine of sleeping all day prior to my shift. In fact, I remained awake most of the day. As I began my commute from the western side of the state, I couldn't help but admire some of the views along the way. 

With it being dusk, the views weren't that of the rolling hills along route 10, or the sights of Morris county. But I couldn't help but admire the lights that lit up routes 80 and 280. The lights shine brightly on the highways, and faintly trail off into the suburbs. From a distance it looks like an IV contrast pumping through the body as it transitions from bright in the arteries to faint in the veins. 

As I make my way close to the city, I am struck with a sense of déjà vu. Not because of the trip, but because of the feeling. It's a feeling that hit me several weeks ago as I returned from a football game. As I pass the exits along the highway, I can't help but recall the people who I used to know and the time spent at places off those ramps. 

Now I am sure that this sounds petty, but as I approached certain exits, all I could recall was road trips that started or ended there. The nights wasted bullshitting in parking lots on nights when you had school or work early the next day. The beers drank around fire pits, and even heart to heart conversations with those going through shitty times. 

An awkward feeling at best, but it hit home for a few seconds. It made emotions sink in. For a moment I felt uneasy. You begin to feel proud that you were able to branch out and meet so many people. Being a kid from a small southern Bergen county, from a town where nobody ventures out. You witness those you grew up with make lives there, they never get up and see what is out there. For them, God bless, but I don't think I could ever find myself settling down from the town of back stabbers and shit talkers. At a young age, and with the permission of my parents, I ventured out. And I encourage all parents to allow their kids to explore the world around them and meet new people. It builds character and allows them to understand life a bit better. 

My adventuring started with a bordering town. Then a town two towns away. Once in high school it was weekends spent in hoboken and jersey city with new classmates. Then team mates drew me towards Kearny where I fell into a group of friends (QP) in which we all still hang out today. These guys all live off of 15e or 16w. Or route 3. Or 21. Some live off the Belleville turnpike. From there, the exits were the side streets off the main roads. 

As time went on people moved away. Some came home, some did not. Some moved on, some were buried. As life moves on so do our circles of friends. But not those damn exits. 

In my education, an exit is always considered a way out. And it is in a certain degree. You can exit a house, you can exit a structure. But an exit from a highway simply opens up a new pathway. Yes, it takes you off of

The speedway, the express lane, but it takes through the area and allows you to see the world. You need to take life's local roads. It keeps you humble and forces you to appreciate things.

But as the commute continues, I drive past the exits, as well as the people who still live there. The memories jog as you drive along. You wonder what ever happened to them? If they still remember you? Is it all just a distant memory? The lights get brighter, the exits become closer together. You don't have as much time to think between ramps. The mile markers serve as a count down till the next memory. Each number correlates to a person or an event. It's those god damn exits... They really make you think.