What's Does It All Mean Anyway?*

What Does It All Mean Anyway?

            They say that a near death experience brings an enlightenment of some kind to one’s encounter with such an event.  It is even believed that people see some sort of bright light or heavenly being during this moment.  As for me, the only bright light I witnessed didn’t come from Heaven and it wasn’t gloriously white. They were red and blue.  The lights I saw came from our local sheriff’s department and they were very bright indeed.

            It was just like every other morning back in the summer of 2005.  The weather was extremely hot and I was running late for work, again.  This had become a typical pattern for me in the months preceding that day.  In fact, this was the hardest time of my life, what I refer to as the beginning of my darkest hour. 

Going through a divorce can really take its toll on a person.  I couldn’t believe that my life could have gone so wrong; this wasn’t how I had planned it. One day I was living the dream, happy and in love, then without warning I was living in the eye of a hurricane named Chaos.

Thank God I had my job to turn to.  The real dilemma at the time was my other outlet for pain, my addiction.  Since the separation I had become extremely dependent on methamphetamines as a crutch to cope with what my life had become.   As I was saying, that dreadful morning was just like any other, except for the fact that I was missing one thing, my fix.  I remember being so late, but yet searching frantically for something to curb my urges.  I called every one I could think of to get what I needed.  Come to think of it, this was an odd day.  I never ran out, I was always prepared.  But looking back, it was destiny in the works.  My best friend Mario wasn’t able to help me, but assured me that he would work on it and call me when

something came up.  There was no other choice: I had to suck it up make the long drive to work.  I worked out in Simi Valley as a pest control technician, my hours were flexible and my customers loved me, so I was still okay.  I was only two hours late, nobody would notice, especially not my boss. 

I remember that drive being the longest drive ever.  The heat outside was at an all time high, no one was going fast enough, and I kept wanting to fall asleep.  My body would not cooperate with me whatsoever.  Sleep was all I could think about.  By this time the withdrawal was taking over, but I had to push myself. I couldn’t lose my job over this and especially not now in life.  Working was the only thing that kept me connected to the normal world.

As I arrived in Simi Valley, I began my usual round of service calls.  It seemed as though there were more than usual, and the strength I had wouldn’t suffice.  Just then, I remembered that I had a friend who lived nearby who might be able to help me.  So I decided to take a detour and explore that option.  To my surprise, he was able to supply me with what I needed to continue on that afternoon.

Finally relief flooded my bloodstream, almost likened to when Popeye the Sailor man ate his spinach.  New found strength came over me and I was able to crank out the rest of that afternoon’s service calls.  It was a good thing because it was getting later in the afternoon and I had an important meeting at 4:30pm that I could not miss.  I had already been late several times to these weekly meetings; I knew my boss and my co-workers were beginning to suspect something was extremely wrong. 

My drive home that afternoon was like so many others I had been making lately; I was in a hurry while trying to stay awake.  You see, I had no problem staying alert when I was out on the job.  I had to keep moving from one house to another and each stop was usually within a couple mile radius from each other.   There was really no time for my body to relax or for my mind to wander.  Driving home, however, was an entirely different story.  It never failed, the moment I began my trek home, I would become overwhelmed with exhaustion.  I’m not sure if it was because I finally stopped moving, or my body just couldn’t take it anymore.  Either way, the result would always be the same, dozing while at the wheel. 

I’m sure everyone has been in a similar situation one time or another where they were extremely tired while driving.  I know my grandma always told me that when she would get tired while driving, she would just pull over to the side of the road and rest her eyes for just a little while.  Unfortunately for me, time was not something I had to spare. 

I can recall this as if it were yesterday; I had been on the drive home no more than ten minutes when I began to drift.  Driving down Madera Road I could feel my eyes start to sting, and then no sooner than I felt that gloomy feeling did I see that familiar sight - darkness.  My eyes were finally in control, and my body cooperated.  Deep in the back of my mind I could hear myself frantically convincing myself to stay awake.  It started with the usual, “You can do this Adam.  You did it yesterday, you can do it again.”  And there was a lot of truth to it, I had done this before.  I had always dozed off while driving. Normally I could shake my head, roll down the window, or turn up the music and that would bring me out of my slumber.  But this was not a normal day, and I had never dealt with such an overpowering feeling of helplessness.

Reality began to hit me when I felt the vibration from my tires. I was going over the little bumps that are used to divide the lanes in the road.  I had done that before too. But this darkness was closing in on me at a surprisingly fast pace.  My eyes opened for a split second, just long enough to steer my truck into my lane.  It seemed as though the drowsiness couldn’t be beat, just then I hear a horn blaring out at me.  This time I had gone over the little bumps in the road and had not even noticed.  I knew then and there, I was in trouble.  Not only was I fearful of hurting myself and someone else, but also that I was in a company work truck.  There was a “1-800-How’s-my-driving?” bumper sticker on my truck.  This meant that I could be traced to driving erratically.  As these conflicting emotions ran wild in my mind, all I could do was fight to stay awake.  Suddenly I felt it.  I felt an unfamiliar bump in the road; an eerie feeling went through me all the way to my core.  It unnerved me so badly that my eyes shot open like a wild man only to see a horrific series of events that will have forever changed me. 

The unfamiliar bump turned out to be a curb.  I had failed to make that wind in the road and kept moving in a straight line.  That slight turn I make everyday, I should have known it was there.  But I didn’t.  How could I have missed it?  I had been completely asleep.

The bump was just the beginning.  After having popped the curb, I was heading dead on for a tree.  This tree was no sapling either.  It was a sturdy sycamore type no less than 40 years of age.  I remember seeing no way to avoid hitting it, and then WHAM! The lowest branch had smashed the entire top half of my truck’s cab. Now I couldn’t see very well out my windshield or my side window because they had both been shattered.  But the one thing I did notice is that I hadn’t slowed down one bit.  Everything seemed to be spinning out of control around me.  As I tried to gain balance in these two seconds I saw the most horrific sight I’ve ever seen.  I’m not even sure if I tried using the brakes, but I was continuing at an alarming speed into the opposing side of traffic.  I was frantic in that millisecond.  And there it was, my date with destiny:  a king sized navy blue Ford F-150.  I was barreling over the median like a freight train and I was heading for a head on collision.  I still remember seeing the driver.   He was an overweight man in a red shirt wearing sunglasses.  Of all the thoughts that could have been running through my head at that moment, only one rang loud and clear, “this can’t be happening to me.”  And then there was silence.  Just like the calm before the storm.  Instantly I made contact with the front left of his truck, followed by a great crashing sound.  Before I knew it, I was jolted back and forth in my seatbelt, much like a rollercoaster at theme park.  Except this was no ride and this was no fun.  My cell phone seemed to be floating to the ceiling, “How is that possible?” I

thought to myself. I knew this answer, I was rolling!  With each flip of my truck, the cab was getting smaller and smaller. I was being crushed alive.  When would this end?  Was I dying?  So many thoughts bombarding me all at once.  What was that God awful smell? A putrid smell, like sulfur, was about to make me vomit. Where was it coming from anyways?  After what seemed like forever, it ended; silence again. 

When the rolling had ended, I landed right side up. I looked out the window to see dust, my windshield, the cab in my truck and everything was destroyed. Immediately I looked down to see if I was in tact, and I was, thank God.  I moved my arms, they were both working. So far I was doing okay.  Finally I moved my legs, and I felt utter relief.  I was alive! I had survived.  But I wasn’t quite out of the woods just yet.  That damn sulfur smell, it had been from my airbag being deployed. And I could hear the faint sound of something dripping. Was it gasoline?  Suddenly panic swept over me, I had to get out of the truck now! I was able to unbuckle my seatbelt, but my door had been mangled so badly it wouldn’t open.  Once again, like Popeye with his spinach, a supernatural strength came over me.  I forced the door open and fell to the ground then ran as far away from the truck as I could. 

As I gazed blankly around at the mess I had created, I became afraid.  I knew this was bad.  I could hear sirens.  I looked at the fat man in the blue truck and he wasn’t moving.  “Oh God, was he injured badly?  Was he dead? Where’s my phone? What do I do?” I ran back to my truck and searched frantically for my phone.  Then I remembered that I had seen it fall to the ceiling.  It must be somewhere on the floor.  There it was almost exactly opposite of where it had hit the ceiling.   I picked it up and called the only person I knew of for help, my best friend Mario.  When he answered I was already in tears.  I could only muster up the words, “I’m in trouble, I crashed my truck, and I don’t know what to do.”  His only words were, “Where are you? I’m on my way.”  Those words brought me comfort and assurance.

I waited for the inevitable: the cops, the ambulance, and the questions.  It seemed like an eternity, but Mario showed up.  By then I was in the back of the ambulance refusing medical attention.  I had no idea what to think. Did I have a controlled substance in my system?  Of course I did.  I was an addict.  But no one knew that.

 Mario and his girlfriend stayed by my side the entire time until my boss showed up at the scene.  He seemed to have been in utter disbelief of the situation at hand.  Who can blame him?  As far as I could see, papers were scattered all over the road.  My pesticide tank was a hundred yards from my poor mangled truck.  Hazmat was at the scene making sure dangerous pesticides had not contaminated the side of the road.  Cars were at a complete stand still for miles because the road was closed. Everything was a mess and it was all my fault.

Needless to say, I ended up losing my job.  It wasn’t because I tested positive for any type of drug or alcohol.  I made sure to pass the tests.  It was because the accident was the straw that broke the camel’s back.  Losing my job wasn’t my moment of enlightenment.  It was those moments immediately following my accident that made me see things differently.  After the dust had settled and I sat waiting for my friends to show up; I had time to reflect.  As I gazed at my truck in utter disbelief, I wondered how it was that someone could survive such an accident.  The entire front end had been demolished. A bare engine stared back at me, an engine that had obviously been pushed back several feet.  A truck cab that had been completely caved in, except where the driver sat.  Just fifteen feet farther was a drop down a steep hill with a residential neighborhood below.  If I had rolled once, maybe twice more, I surely would have gone over the edge to my grave.

I saw this as God’s mercy in my life. I had been spared. It wasn’t really my time to die, just time to wake up.  It placed a great appreciation for life and what it means.  At that very moment, I understood that life is a gift, one not to be taken for granted.  If I had been spared by God, Why?  For what purpose?  Something I had to find out for myself.  Up until then, my wife had been my purpose. When she left, I had felt so had my purpose.  By surviving that accident, It was obvious to me.  God had to intervene to show me that I still had a reason to live.   



Oscar's Life

            As I interviewed Mr. Machuca, I learned that much can be said about a man of such caliber.  What I discovered is that people aren’t always what they seem to be on the outside. 

Oscar Machuca was born in Los Angeles in the year 1983.  He is the second oldest of his siblings and has become a positive role model for them all.  For the most part he lived what we all consider the typical family life. His family moved to Riverside when he was six.  Oscar graduated from high school in 2002 while living in Moreno Valley.  It is his post high school years that I found to be the most unique and inspiring.

            Immediately after graduation, he spared no time and jumped into life feet first and gave everything he had.  Oscar joined the U.S. Marines.  Of all the occupations and positions available, he chose to go with infantry, what he refers to as "a grunt."  This is a moniker that most military personnel label their infantry soldiers.  The name sounds somewhat crude in nature, but in reality it is a nickname for some of our bravest soldiers in the U.S. Marines. 

During his tour serving as a soldier, he spent eighteen months in Iraq during our most recent invasion.  As I spoke to him I asked him about his position on the war and about the time he spent there, it was clear that he didn’t feel he wasn't just another soldier fighting a bloody war.  His battalion “1/4” spent much of their time helping the communities they were stationed near.  The team worked at rebuilding homes that had been battered by war and by an unstable environment.  They invested time, energy, and finances into the lives of many people in Iraq.

            After four long years serving as a Marine and after his many travels around the world, Oscar was now ready to embark on the next chapter of his life.  In 2006 he was released from duty with an honorable discharge and was now ready to make the transition to civilian life.  Once again Oscar spared no time in jumping into the unknown.  In 2006 he then made a bold decision and moved to Guam.  He spent eighteen months on an island over 5,000 miles away.  Despite the high humidity there, he was able to hike to the top of Mount Lamlam, a mountain that is rumored to be the tallest mountain in the world.

            His journeys are not limited to these few:  He has also been to Korea, France, Belgium, Germany, and the Netherlands.  Oscar truly believes that the traveling he has done thus far in life has really shaped him into the man he is today.  In fact, he is choosing to dedicate the rest of his life to traveling the world.  His desire is to become a cultural anthropologist and study the lives, beliefs, and traditions of people all around the world. 

           

            While he waits for his dream to be fulfilled, he diligently works toward his necessary degrees at Oxnard College.  He is currently a full time student and is giving his undivided attention to making sure he achieves his goal.  As we were wrapping up the interview I did feel the need to ask just one more question; I asked him what advice he would give to someone who desires to do great things in life or by what philosophy does he live his life by.  After a brief pause, he looked me in the eye and said, “Common sense.  Don’t outsmart it.”

Texting While Driving. Who Does That Anyways?

           Personally I feel that texting while driving is obnoxious.  I hate nothing more than to be stuck driving behind or next to some chick wearing huge sunglasses completely oblivious to the whole world because she is too busy looking down at her phone texting someone.  I don’t mean to sound prejudice in the sense that only women do such things, God knows when I had my phone I have been guilty of doing the same thing, sans huge sunglasses :)

            I find that people who are texting while behind the steering wheel tend to be somewhat selfish people in nature.  Why can I make such a harsh statement about someone that I don’t even know?  Well when you really stop to think about it, people who are busy on their phones instead of paying attention to the roads usually make errors.  Sometimes people might not go when the light turns green or make the inappropriate move at a four way stop sign; which is by far the most annoying.  When I honk my horn at their error, they have the nerve to look at me sideways!  It projects the impression that the driver has no regard for anyone else on the road especially when they are unwilling to admit their fault.  That kind of behavior seems pretty self-centered to me.  Besides are they so important that the call/text cannot wait another ten minutes until they get to their destination?  I understand some people have children or jobs with high communication needs, but that is why Bluetooth was invented and implemented as a law.  Too bad they haven’t made texting while driving against the law as well. 

            Beyond the previously stated reasons that I dislike texting while driving, it is far more dangerous than people think.  I know we have all read articles about people accidently hitting pedestrians, trees, and occasional fender benders, but the reality is that it is so unsafe to be distracted while operating a two ton piece of metal.  The more time you spend paying attention to your phone = the less time you spend paying attention to the road.  I read somewhere that texting while driving is about six times more likely to result in an accident than driving while intoxicated!  Can you believe that statistic?  That number alone should make MADD really mad. 

            One final complaint against texting in general:  It’s hard to tell what is actually being communicated via text.  In the past, I have gotten into some serious arguments all because the other party or I misunderstood the communication.  Maybe I’m alone on that one because I do have a way of getting myself into those kinds of “situations.” 

REALITY, IS IT THAT GREAT?

     Who doesn’t enjoy a good reality television program? There is such a smorgasbord to choose from. If romance is your thing, then ABC can meet your needs with the “Bachelor/ette”. Should you love drama, MTV has got your back with “Bad Girls Club”. Then there is always TLC, with their assortment of odd and disturbing reality programming. So much can be said about such television shows that we define as “entertainment.” Even more can be said about those who watch these programs.



     Personally, I am not a huge fan of reality television, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t watch them. I am guilty of tuning in weekly to my certain favorites. I prefer to watch The Food Network and their variety of cooking competitions. Honestly they intrigue me, primarily due to what cooking tips I learn from these competitors. I also love the DIY Network and their exterior/interior home renovation competitions. Who would have known that there are so many uses for PVC piping? I justify watching these reality shows by telling myself that I am gleaning a world of useful knowledge and practical tips for my future, however, I cannot deny the small part of me that feeds off of the anticipation of seeing the contestants complete their project on time or which chef will be chopped next.



     I feel that most reality shows have one important factor in common, DRAMA. Whether it is some sort of dating/matchmaking show or a competitive sports challenge like “Survivor,” it’s usually a level of competition that leads into arguments and underhanded moves by each contestant. Sometimes this tension masquerades behind “good intentions”. Either way it’s that drama that keeps us coming back.



     I believe that some reality shows are a little more unnerving than others. For instance “Too Fat for Fifteen,” is a show based on a group of severely overweight teenagers. Each week these obese children are pushed to their limits with exercise and strict eating regime. Sometimes they succeed, other times they pass out from exhaustion. Occasionally these kids break down emotionally because they are not losing weight, but in some cases, gaining weight. It sometimes makes me wonder how that is possible. Aren’t they in a fat camp? It is my opinion that in cases like these, people are being exploited. Of course no person can be exploited without signing some kind of contract with the network providing this show. What makes me sad with a show like “Too Fat for Fifteen” is that someday when these kids grow up, they might regret sharing such an intimate detail of their childhood. Perhaps their parents were the ones who influenced their decision? Another heartbreaker for me is the whole divorce scandal between Jon & Kate Gosselin. This family opened their home with intentions to share with the world about their “unique” story and complicated lifestyle. As time goes by, dad ends up having an affair. This probably would have happened any way, but for it to transpire in front of the world? What kind of impact will this have on the children? To accommodate this turn in events, the network then changes the show’s title from “Jon & Kate plus Eight,” to “Kate plus Eight.” It is almost as if he was never there at all and he was that easy to forget.



      I know we live in an era that is corrupt from the very top in society down to the lowliest of ghettos, but have we honestly gotten so hard heartened that we can call a family meltdown entertaining? Are we a people who get a quick thrill off of someone else’s pain? I believe in some cases, yes. Some people really enjoy other people’s misfortunes. In other cases, I think people just thrive on watching other people’s misery just to forget about their own.