OK, this is a pretty spooky video that is kind of a creepy Halloween treat.
It was filmed for a German car company, but never aired because when the film company was editing it they discovered a weird "ghostly" mist that followed the car. The sound also got weird whenever the mist appeared.
It's kind of hard to see because the camera is far away, but look close when the car emerges from the trees.
It really is creepy....turn up the sound as the music is pretty eerie, but quiet.
I think my biggest regret -- we all have them, right? -- was I never got to say goodbye to my mom.
Let me take you back to 1998. December. I was busy with work, you know, working the 60-hour work week, busy with the family, getting ready for the holidays. The last time I had talked to my mom was about two weeks previous, when my brother and me went to California to move the possessions of another brother back to Colorado.
With my mom and me, it was always, if you don't hear from me, things are OK. So, after getting back from California with a Uhual full of stuff, it was a quick phone call to let her know things went OK.
That was the last time I talked to her. And it was on the phone.
A couple of weeks later, she got deathly ill, was hospitalized, and died a couple of days later. I had known my mother was sick for some time. That's one of the reasons I moved back to Colorado from Arizona in 1997. I wanted my son to get to know his grandmother a little more on a personal level. He did, and for that I was thankful.
But I digress. When my mom was hospitalized, my brothers told me she was doing OK, that I didn't need to rush down (I lived about an hour away at that time.) to see her in the hospital. So I went to work that day (I worked basically a swing shift at the time), and I got a call later that night that my mom took a turn for the worse. She was in a coma.
She would never wake up. I would never get a chance to tell her how much I loved her, or that I needed her still (we always need our moms, right?). When I arrived at the hospital early the next day, she had taken another turn for the worse, and the doctors' prognosis was grim: She had multiple organ failure and would not awake from the coma. The doctors put her on a ventilator during the night, and they said she could live like that, probably indefinitely, but as soon as we pulled her off it, she would die.
My three brothers and sister had to make a decision: take our mom off the ventilator and watch her die, or let her live on the ventilator and hope for a miracle. I had known from previous talks with my mom that she didn't want to live like that. In fact, she had told that fact to all of us. Knowing her wishes sure didn't make it any easier to pull the plug.
That's what we did. And my mom died a few hours later.
So, let me tell you a few of the reasons I hate myself: • The what if question: What if we didn't pull the plug? Logically and from a strictly clinical point, the statistics and the diagnosis backed up our decision. But where was my faith? There will always be part of me that thinks if my faith was stronger, then the outcome would have been different. • Why was I so indifferent as not to call my mom during those final weeks? Why didn't I just take off of work and go to the hospital ASAP to spend some last quality time with my mom before she went into the coma? Was I really that busy? I've come to the conclusion that I was just a bad son. Part of me thinks that I didn't do the things a good son should have, so ......
I've written before about how alcohol has dominated my life for a long time. But I was actually doing pretty good until my mom died, and then I fell off the wagon for good, and haven't found a way to get back on. For someone who is an addict, it is really easy to find excuses to feed the addiction. For the past almost eight years, I have used the two reasons above as reasons to hate myself, and to feed my addiction.
That's right, I'm back on the sauce, as hard as ever Sometimes it starts innocently enough -- one drink in a social setting But that turns into two, then five, then 10 sometimes more Other times, I'm just set on drinking myself into a stupor from the beginning, the only goal to see how much I can drink before passing out.
I think I'm drinking myself to death, one drink at a time.
What's that you say? Get some help? Yes, you're right. I have a lot to live for, a great son, good friends and a good job.
But I've never been one to ask for help. I've had it drilled into me my entire life that men don't ask for help. We give it. Asking for help is a sign of weaknees. And we all know that men can't be weak.
Besides, how can I ask for help? I am not a good person. I've done things in my life that can never be forgiven, at least from my drunken point of veiw. (Lest you start thinking I've enacted horrible crimes upon people, I haven't. The world wouldn't view me as a monster, but I view myself as one.) Yes, I know the first step is to forgive myself. Then again, I don't know how nor do I think I deserve even my own forgiveness.
I'm not writing this because I'm seeking sympathy, empathy or anything else. This is one of those blog posts where I'm just writing to put words on paper. There's no meaning to the words -- they are just the thoughts of a drunken man.
In the end, it all comes down to this: It is what it is.
-------------------------------------------------- How many men does it take to open a beer? None. It should be opened when she brings it --------------------------------------------------- Why do women have smaller feet than men? It's one of those "evolutionary things" that allows them to stand closer to the kitchen sink. -------------------------------------------------------------- How do you know when a woman is about to say something smart? When she starts a sentence with "A man once told me..." -------------------------------------------------------------- Why do men fart more than women? Because women can't shut up long enough to build up the required pressure. ---------------------------------------------------------- If your dog is barking at the back door and your wife is yelling at the front door, who do you let in first? The dog, of course. He'll shut up once you let him in. --------------------------------------------------------- I married a Miss Right. I just didn't know her first name was Always. ------------------------------------------------------- Scientists have discovered a food that diminishes a woman's sex drive by 90%. It's called a Wedding Cake. -------------------------------------------------------- Women will never be equal to men until they can walk down the street with a bald head and a beer gut, and still think they are sexy. ----------------------------------------------------- In the beginning, God created the earth and rested. Then God created Man and rested. Then God created Woman. Since then, neither God nor Man has rested. ------------------------------------------------------ Send this to a few good men who need a laugh and to th e select few women who can handle the truth !
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