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Author Archives: nlvogs

About nlvogs

I woke up from a dream today, And everything was upside down. The ceiling crumbled at my feet, And to the sky I fell. The clouds slipped thru my hopeful hands, Until the sky turned dark. Before I knew it stars were there, And Earth was just a dot. I do not know just where I'll be, 20 years from now, But that dream I had is with me here, And shall not be forgot. I think it is odd that curiosity once seemed so innocent, and I want to know when that changed. I don't like wires, and when tangles are involed, I have small panic attacks. I like the smell of the inside of a piano. I don't like doing laundry. I am almost always on time or early. I can relax when I feel accomplished. I don't mind being the one to eat the last cookie, and usually I do want a glass of milk to suit. If you tell me your name, I can't promise I will remember your name until we are friends on facebook. I am not afraid of heights. I like to be challenged. I can take criticism from someone who is not afraid to be criticized. I can take a complement from someone who is not afraid to be complemented. I like individuals. I like logic. I don't like apathy. People who try are cool. People who try again are smart. People who don't stop trying are brilliant. The sun is fun, colored leaves are comforting, shining snow is enchanting, and green grass is inviting...

Turning it over… Willingness: The first step of action.


Caught in the turbulent seas of a storm ridden coast, a small john boat chugged its way back to port. The novice man behind the helm had little experience with such weather, but was confident that he was poised safely ahead of the severe front to come. Small flashes of light broke through the distant rain bands, followed by calm and muted rolling rumbles.

When the engine began to sputter, the young man’s gaze shifted to the distant shore. Nothing more than a sliver of shadows was present on the horizon. He knew he tested the limits one too many times. He ventured beyond the safe bounds, and the hazards of probability had finally caught up to him.

As the engine choked and the boat began to coast into a drift, the rolling rumbles were no longer so muted. The flashes of light became more vibrant in the dimming light of dusk and storm. The wind grew in strength and was filled with mist of the foaming sea. Knowing only that a boat adrift is a boat destine for danger, his ability to control the situation was limited to an anchor of hope.

With a strong toss, the anchor marched swiftly to the sea floor below. He knew to give himself a fair length of line in order to tow into the coming seas. Cracking skys of wind, water, light, and sound bore fully upon him. His free will was what brought him into the precarious calamity, but a will beyond his own would decide his fate. Surrender was behind him. He knew he was powerless. His decisions had made the situation unmanageable. Perhaps he once believed he was bigger than the power of the sea, but no more. That sort of thinking was clearly outside the realms of sanity. His will and his life were now in the care of a higher power. A higher power to which he calmly and willingly submit. In but a moment, clarity was upon him.

 
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Posted by on July 25, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

An empty chair…

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Two chairs. Thats how it started. Two chairs at the end of a dock. Each holding a piece of a hopeful future. The potential of each was unlimited. Side by side they could set the stage for a life paired to take on the world. But the shadows that set the stage were ever present. The storms that clouded the dock demanded attention. They demanded that they be addressed… and to turn a blind eye to the threat was foolish.

But life was so exciting in the sunshine. The ambition and drive seemed to clear the path. A new life amid hope. And, love… oh love. It masked the bitter clutch of peril that lie ahead.

The grip of the bottle was ingrained deeper than either knew. Its hidden and cunning toll was concealed in coats of glamourous oil colors, and adventure that spanned the globe. The strives of accomplishment so great that no such evil could be thought to lie just below the surface. Intellect and charm convinced even the sharpest of minds that the stumbles of the past were merely hurdles. In truth they were tearing screams of a drowning soul coming up for gasps of life. But the subconscious mind was fierce to protect, a habit that crippled the life in which it had taken root.

As time passed, the toll began to show signs on the surface. Rust began to creep at the corners and edges. Without the attention, the unvarnished chair of the pair weakened. Its task to bear the weight of life was under question; yet even in this dire time, no immediate action was taken.

And then it happened. The weight of the bottle broke the legs of the unvarnished chair. The lack of self care, and attention brought the chair to failure. Riddled with the rot of neglect the chair was forced to its knees. To it’s knees. Exactly where it belonged.

Let it be known that the legs, though rusted and weary, can and will be repaired. The formidable days behind built a strong soul. Appreciation and respect for the storms past, come as cautionary tales that need be heeded. Understanding that those storms are on the brink of every horizon is essential. That every day is a new chance, and every chance is a new opportunity. Life will be whole, with new purpose. Hope will anchor the soul and the sunshine will return.

 
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Posted by on July 7, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

A brief glimpse of beautiful irony…

I haven’t been at this job long. I haven’t experienced all the grime and grit that comes to wear down the seasoned paramedics with whom I share the road. I still have a “new car smell” attitude towards the job. Many tell me that this will fade, and I am sure in part it will. However, part of me cannot help but to see the beauty in the tragedies we are a part of day in and day out. 

I look at the role models I have in life that have endured the field for decades now, and believe that there is a reason they are still at it. My Mom was a pediatric ER nurse for nearly 20 years, when she left; and after 5 years in the insurance side of medicine, she felt called back to the floor. And she loves it more today than ever before. So how? Why do we do it?
I can not definitively answer these questions with such limited experience, but I can narrate my initial impressions. The calls don’t stop. Even as I sit here writing this, the radio sounds with chatter and echos. Each tone is another person in trouble. Whether petty or traumatic, it is a life quite literally on the line. 

To me, there are few things more beautiful to see than an elderly couple clenching hands with worry and anguish. Not because of the pain (physical or emotional) associated with the incident, but because of everything that came before it. Couples who spent 50, 60, 70 years together. The work that went in to making it through the hard times. The joy shared during the great times. The nights on the couch. The weekends away. The bills. The vacations. The heartache of loss. The beauty of love. 

It is amazing to witness the culmination of all these events in the back of an ambulance… and this is my job. THIS is what I do. I feel honored. Honored to be invited, needed, in these moments. This life we live is a one way track. We are all only one step behind the next… but our ability to share life with one another enriches our lives in ways that amazes me… that’s what I’ve learned so far.

 
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Posted by on February 5, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

Protected: Unavoidable Destinations (Working Title)

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Posted by on December 30, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

#take3

This is the first release of my first, fully recorded song. A year flies by when you find passion.

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Posted by on August 7, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

A collection of Illustrations, works, sketches and notes.

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Posted by on July 4, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

Mighty Tarzan Hear His Roar…

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I grew up with him. I woke up to his mighty roaring yawns. He was the last cat to wander in from the night, and the first push his way to the front of the food line. The house we lived in was a zoo. Eight dogs, and five house cats (most of whom were wanderers more than residents). My grandpa called this particular wandering grey furred beast… Tarzan; so, the name stuck. I couldn’t tell you the story of how he became a part of our family, I was too young, but a part of our family, he was.

To this day, I can name every mangey mutt in that house. (Hedda, Aspen, Razzie, Sassy, Tiger & Lilly, Tonka & Yoda), But I only remember the cats that were a part of my daydreams; and Tarzan filled them as a child.

His days were filled with long naps and patrols of the hallways. His reign was supreme. His force and strength were recognized by each and every feline… and even a few of our house pack canines.

Each night, as the evenings drew closer, Tarzan would begin to rise nobly from his days’ rest. He would stretch and strut amid the hallways’s setting sun. His routine was impeccably precise. Somewhere along the lines, turing Tarzan’s rise to power, my grandpa started feeding him a can of sardines before his nightly quests. The sliding glass door would open, and Tarzan would step outside, as my grandfather placed the sardines on the porch. After a few grateful mouthfuls, Tarzan would stalk prominently into the dusk setting wood. Fearlessly to the march of the crickets, he would go.

 
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Posted by on December 31, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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