Tag Archives: scared

Here I Come…Whether I am Ready or Not

I wrote a post the other day about a young woman I loved in high school and how I hung onto that memory for years only to find out I was incorrect in the reason it ended.  There was a comment that came back from one reader telling me how much she loved the post.  That makes me very happy, but…

I wish people understood that, while I know how important it is to be personal on a blog, and that people love to read stories from experience (especially, those with heart), it is so very difficult for me to write about personal experiences.  I can talk about them one-on-one with someone I know.  I can discuss in a small group a lot of personal things.  However, putting it on virtual paper and passing it around the world is a whole other cup of tea.

I am a private person.  I live a lot to help others.  You can do that without sharing great details about yourself.  I find that I don’t mind sharing something with one person who has brought a similar problem to my attention.  I don’t mind generalizing my problems to help people understand a point.  Again, though, there is something about leaving it up on my computer (or on the WordPress cloud) so that people can go back anytime to see it, which bothers me.

I wish I wasn’t this way most of the time.  I hurt fairly easily.  This has changed a lot since the stroke (I got tougher and simply don’t give a sh** a lot), but it is still there underneath it all.  I don’t worry near as much what people will think, but I still try to avoid arguments and fights.  I find myself fearing what people who know me or were a part of it will think when I express my opinion on the matter and tell what I remember happening, or what happened to and inside me.

But, I am thankful for WordPress.  For well over 400 posts, I have been putting myself out there and you all keep coming back, many following this blog.  You take it all in stride and even compliment me, at times, for what I have gone through or what I think of it all – or both.

So, thank you!  Because of you all, I will continue to say what I feel and think and experience.  I may do so through a story, a retelling, a poem, or a picture, but I will do it.  Not only that, but you have enabled me to begin telling things I used to be afraid to talk about.  It’s good therapy.  I have decided that, if someone really snorts back at me (someone who was there or thinks they were hurt by what I said) I will talk about that and how I feel and what’s going on.  Again, more therapy.

It’s really all about that.  We are a community.  We care and we share.  You have each told me some things that have made me smile, cry, laugh, think, and all of them combined.  There has been no shock; it is just your life.  I will now try to do the same.

So, look out.  I am not certain what will be coming off and on, but it will be significant.

I love you all.

How does that make you feel?

What do you want to know about?  Ask…it helps me a lot.

Namaste,

Scott

Who Me? I’m Not Afraid!

Nope, not me, I never did THAT!

Yesterday, I talked about my work as a security guard in closing down a theft ring in our company.  There were other less important, but just as exciting jobs and circumstances that I  had to suffer through, deal with as a security guard.  In many ways it was one of my very favorite jobs.  However, there were times…

I began my duties on third shift.  We had 8 buildings to guard and 4 of them were empty during my shift; 7 of them empty on weekends.  So, a lot of the time, I was walking through totally empty (I hoped) buildings in the dark.  I had a flashlight and it was a good one, however, I did enjoy horror movies and stories.  Coupled with the dark and the circumstances…you get the idea.

Yeah, but minus the guy and all the lights!!!

One of our buildings was right next to a set of railroad tracks.  These tracks were well-used all through the night.  I didn’t mind the noise of the train.  Silence is often eerie and the train’s noises on the track and the whistles would break up that dreaded silence.  In fact, it got to the point, for me, that I blocked out the train’s noises nearly completely.  That, was a bad thing, it turned out.

This building was also extra dark.  Every single light was turned off inside when people were not there.  It was very nearly pitch dark.  You know, that type of darkness that seems to suck in the light; that type of darkness you often see on the horror movies.

Our main concern was checking for broken pipes or lights left on, things of that nature.  Sure, we were to check for theft and such, but a lot of that would be evident from tampering on the outside of the building or just inside the door (ie. noises).

Anyway, my duty on that round would be to punch in the detex watchclock (I carried a round timer in my hand.  I would go to a spot in the building that had a small key and I would turn it in the timer.  This would record what time I was at that station.).  There was really only one in this building, but we would always walk the inside perimeter just to make sure.

I was walking this route in the deep dark once night and the train went by.  As I have said, I almost didn’t hear it anymore.  I was on the far side of the building and the train’s vibrations shook a box of fasteners off the shelf.  The box of fasteners shattered the, otherwise, silent atmosphere of the building.  I managed not to wet myself, but, not knowing what the noise was, I hid behind a pallet of boxes and waited a good ten minutes before venturing out.  I found the broken box of fasteners, cleaned it up a bit, and figured out what had happened.

From that time onward, since I was supposed to be the only one in the building, I would walk in the door, close it, and scream at the top of my lungs, then listen for any other noise that might be someone else.

The closest I ever had to any real problems in that building was when checking the second floor once.  We had to check it out in the winter to make certain none of the pipes had burst.  The second floor consisted of old, unused office rooms with doors.  I remember opening one door and being hit in the face.  I grabbed my mace and sprayed the intruder, who turned out to be a pigeon or dove who had gotten stuck upstairs and was sitting on the door when I opened it.  It had dropped to the floor and I carried it outside.  For those of you who don’t know, mace, I guess, only works on this type of bird for about two minutes.  I had not completely gotten it to where I was going to let it go when it woke up and began flapping in my face!  It seemed about the size of a car at that moment, though it was not very huge at all.

Life as a security guard – what fun!

Namaste,

Scott

saania2806.wordpress.com/

Philosophy is all about being curious, asking basic questions. And it can be fun!

North Noir

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