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MrWorthington
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Name: Matt
Country: United States
State: Texas
Metro: Abilene
Gender: Male
Interests: Jesus, Acting, Singing, Books, Reading, Writing, Guitar, Theatre, Music, Friends, Peoples around me, and last but absolute not the least... my Family
Expertise: Theatre, Writing, Hanging out, and making sure the man doesn't hold me down
Occupation: Student
Industry: Entertainment, Religion, Writi
Message: message me
Website: visit my website
AIM:  SupermanforGod
Member Since:
1/24/2005
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| I held a dying man's head today. The soil from his scalp is on my fingers as I write this note.
Life is very, very fragile. I don't think I realized that until after just 30 minutes ago. Today I slept in, woke up to my roommates in my warm house, carpooled to Evan's parents' house with all of them for breakfast, and upon return we all happened to stumble upon the site of a freshly dressed disaster. I don't know how it happened, but I just know that it happened. He was lying there, seemingly asleep like he was merely snoring. When in reality, his tongue was bunched up against the roof of his mouth, and he was gargling his blood. He was not conscious, and his eyes looked glossy. One of his front teeth looked loose, there was some grass hanging off of it. The front end of his motorcycle had been smashed into a million pieces. His helmet apparently flew off. Much of his layered clothing had been pulled off of his body, one of his gloves missing and his pants pulled mostly down with both shoes in two different places in a 10 yard radius around the accident. His Interstate Batteries jacket had come over his back and was pulled tightly over his face, pinching his nose shut. I think he must have slid. I don't know that for sure though. People were gathering around the accident. My roommates and I ran up, and someone called the EMTs. A lady kept saying, "Don't move him! Don't move him!" I was angry at her because I knew that wasn't the best thing for him and I wanted one of us to save him, I didn't care if it was me or the lady whose lawn this man was sprawled out on. Instead, we were all just there, some of us standing and facing the accident, some with our faces pushed away towards the sky, but ultimately with no immediate solution. I don't think any of us really knew just how bad it was. We were all scared, feeling strangely connected to the bleeding man who none of us recognized.
I told people that we had to get his head up. That lady kept yelling, "Don't move him! Don't move him!" but I could hear him choking on his blood and knew that his head being tilted back with his jacket pinching his nose was only obstructing the flow of oxygen into his body and making things worse. Then I said some things about trusting me and that this guy needed to have his head lifted so he could breathe. So I loosened the tension in his jacket and pulled it back over his face and bunched the jacket up under his head. We all laid our coats over him and people stuffed beanies and other soft things under his head to give him some support. We were all trying to open his airway. The lady who was telling us not to move him stopped yelling and started praying. After I lifted his head and tried loosening his jaw to try and get him to breathe in, I started panicking on the inside, hoping that the EMTs would just hurry up and do all of the things that I couldn't. I noticed that shortly after we lifted his head some blood poured out of his nose. The EMTs then pulled up and I rushed to tell them all of what we had done. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't. I was angry and sad, and so were many of us standing around. People started closing in around the EMTs and most of us didn't even know each other. The EMTs began opening his airway, giving him a breathing mask while the ambulance pulled up. Somehow we all became really close.
The ambulance then showed up and placed several sticky pads around his chest with one big rectangular pad placed over his heart that was connected to a defibrillator. They induced shock treatment and I saw his body jolt. There was a guy that showed up, probably my age, who hadn't been there before. He had a very strong foreign accent and just kept saying, "He's gone. He's gone." I tried not to listen to what he was saying, but it was hard because everyone else was positioned somewhere away from the two of us. I almost started crying because I felt like all of us had failed. "You don't know that," I said. But he just kept saying "He's gone", and then he complained about the stupidity of people who ride motorcycles. I couldn't tell him, but I wanted to punch him because I didn't understand how he could be so insensitive while someone was injured like this. It's not until now, as I write this, that I understand that people deal with tragedies in different ways. They put the man on a stretcher and loaded him into an ambulance.
I asked the EMT, "Is he breathing?" And while loading things in his bag he said, "I don't know." "Well, do you think he'll make it?" I responded. The man continued typing up tubes and stuffing things back in their proper pouches and replied with his head down, "I'm not gonna guess."
Evan, Spenser, Jason, and myself then stood around very somberly. Spenser asked if he could pray, then a lady came over and stood with us while Spenser asked God to be in all of the places that none of us could be in right now: with the family, with the hands of the doctors, with the body of the man, all of those places we knew were deeply engaged in the pain surrounding this accident. The guy who I wanted to punch came over and kept saying, "He's gone. He's gone. How can people ride those things? It's so stupid. He's gone. He's gone." We tried to help gather the injured man's things, but the police told us to leave them on the ground. They were still questioning the man who hit him with his car. As I watched them talk, I remember thinking how much I would hate to be the driver of the vehicle who hit this man. I can't even imagine what it feels like to know that because you were rushing somewhere, you may have killed someone.
After that, all four of us walked to Evan's car. On the ride home, no one really talked. There were a few words, I think. Perhaps I just wasn't paying attention. All I could think about was how just a few feet, and a few seconds in front of us, someone was now flirting with eternity.Death was near to all of us today because we touched a man who was being hugged by his mortality. I don't think I'd ever felt so human. I don't know what else to say except that I hope the man makes it. I hope his family is okay too.
I don't know that I can do much today after seeing that. I think I may go and sleep.
**Update**: I found out from a friend who works at one of the news stations here in Abilene that the man on the motorcycle passed away earlier this evening (Saturday Jan 19th).
http://reporternews.com/news/2008/jan/19/motorcyclist-killed-in-abilene-crash/
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| Happy New Year Everyone! Hope you guys are having good times! | | |
| ***(Let me preface this note by saying I'm not an expert in politics, nor am I an expert in International relations, nor am I a seasoned theologian. But I do care about the world. Oh, and I'm also not predicting the end of the world or citing that the "End is Near." So don't freak out by the title.)
I'm not sure if you all know this, but two days ago, the former Prime Minister of Pakistan, Benazir Bhutto, was assassinated in Rawalpindi after speaking at Political Rally for the Pakistan People's Party (PPP). I won't go much into it because you can just read about it here:
Pakistan | An Assassin Strikes | Economist.com
However, I did want to say this. I was very disheartened when I watched the news yesterday. I was watching CNN and they were talking with Rudy Giuliani as he was responding to  the assassination of Benazir Bhutto. Apparently no one really knows who did it. Some suggest that the President of Pakistan, Pervez Musharraf, and his followers were behind it. Others suggest it was the Taliban or Al Qaeda. People are arguing about who how she died exactly. There's video of a man who fired three shots directly at her and then proceeded to detonate the explosives that were to strapped to himself. Despite this, officials in Pakistan say that she wasn't killed by any shrapnel or bullets or anything from the explosives. I haven't quite figured out what they're suggesting she died of, but I've only figured what they're suggesting she didn't die of.
So who knows who did it? I don't, that's for sure.
Anyways, this is my problem. They were talking to Giuliani about this, and he just starts going on and on about how terrorism is alive in the world and how we need to put an end to this, and how this is what he's been talking about all along. "Terrorism is our #1 priority," he said. I know this may be hard for some of you to understand, but it made me very angry that he said that. For this reason: he really didn't seem all that sad that Benazir Bhutto was dead. What it felt like was that Giuliani was capitalizing off of Benazir Bhutto's death. And while I recognize these are just my feelings, at the same time I wouldn't put it past a politician to do such a thing.
And you know, I'm not just bashing on Rudy. I would suggest that all of us pay close attention in the coming months as to how many times Benazir Bhutto's death is referred to with terrorism. Already they're having specials on the news, "Is Pakistan the new face of Global terrorism and instability in the world?" This kills me. I wonder how much people really care about Pakistanis? I wonder how much they're interested in the fact that people lost their hope of a step towards a more free Pakistan when Benazir Bhutto was assassinated two days ago? In my opinion, I don't really feel like these people are that concerned with the plight of the Pakistan people who are truly hurting because of her death. Instead, I'm sure they've got their campaign strategy managers all coming up w th ways to fit Bhutto's death into furthering the credentials of their campaign. "Look at Bhutto," they'll say. "Isn't this reason enough that terrorism is alive in this world and that we need to attack this. People, this is what I've been trying to say all along and now, because we have not given enough attention to this, people around the world are suffering."
 Listen for that. I'm sure in some way, form, or fashion, you'll hear this. And I say be weary of it. Too, be aware of politicians who mud sling. Mitt Romney is becoming notorious for this. It's terrible. if you were really the best candidate for position, why would you feel the need to mud sling about other candidates. If you were the best candidate available, wouldn't you be good enough that your integrity would stand out against those who are supposedly trying to decieve of other people? Romney has been slinging Mudd at McCain and Huckabee and it's disgusting.
"But Matt, don't you know that? That's how life is. You can't avoid that. People are selfish." I'm sure this is running through some people's minds right now.
I couldn't agree more. But I say that this is a tragedy. And we shouldn't just concede to this. Instead, we need to be speaking against this manipulation of an international tragedy. I don't know how to do that. Obviously none of us have an international platform to say these kinds of things. But I do remember something that Mother Theresa said about feeding the poor and I think it applies here, "If you can't feed one hundred poor people, then just feed one poor person." Essentially, don't concede to being void of action just because you can't make an impact on a global level. If you don't have a platform, then make a commitment to be aware of these things yourself.
The other thing is that we should mourn the loss of the Pakistanis ourselves. I know that we're in America and that most of those reading this may not have any Pakistani blood in you, but this is indeed becoming a smaller world. Independence and separation are no longer an option anymore. Nor is dependence. Instead, interdependence. The idea of global brotherhood and sisterhood, this is the idea I'm getting at. If we can't learn to mourn for our brothers and sisters who live in other countries, we will surely destroy ourselves eventually. Now, I'm not one who believes that when the end of the world happens that it God will come down from the clouds and start destroying things. Instead I believe that the end of the world will come when we become, as nations, so self-consumed with our own survival that we fail to learn what it means to be a global family. Our world is growing at a rapid rate. In Jesus' time, the world population was 230 million people. At the end of the first millennium it was 270 million people. In 1820, it was roughly 900 million people. in 1950, it grew to around 2.8 billion people. Today it's around 6.8, almost 7 billion people. Also today, there are 2.8 billion people who live on less than $2 a day. Essentially, the entire world population of 1950 lives on less than $2 a day. In the next 25-50 years, the world's population is expected to double. Can you imagine if in 25-50 years, that 6.8 billion people live in poverty? It's not unlikely to me if we continue to view ourselves as independent and not interdependent.
What we need to do, whether we're polticians or artists or economists or teachers or bus drives or the people at the corner store, is we need to look at our world as a body. Our physical bodies are made up of many parts that are not parasitic to one another, nor are they independent of one another, but they are interdependent. They work to make us walk, to make us run, to make us hug someone that we love. Without all of our parts working together, the body would not function. they could not separate themselves from one another.
Tying this all back up, when people get assassinated, we really need to spend some time mourning and in silence with our brothers and sisters. We need to ask ourselves how they are hurting. We don't need to speedily respond to the circumstance by citing our political agendas, suggesting that if people would just vote for us, that these kinds of things would not happen. We're human beings, we can't fix it all. Surely not alone. We need to learn what it means to be interdependent.
 When I read the Bible, I feel that what God is not saying is, "You've gotta learn to get it right or I'm gonna come down there and destroy all of you with supernatural disasters." I don't see him as a cosmic policeman waiting to implement his wrath. He is not a cosmic sadist. Instead what I see him saying to people is, "You've gotta get it right, or you're going to destroy yourselves. And this is what it'll look like, (insert some prophetic image)."
I think we should pay attention to the suffering around the world. I think we need to learn to love those who are suffering around the world, and try to understand their pain. I do not think that pain and suffering is a commodity for America to capitalize on. If we don't learn to understand this, we will surely ruin not only our own country, but we will, without a doubt, ruin our world.
***(It's also a kind of ramble, but if I told you that in the beginning, there's a greater chance you wouldn't have given me the time of day.) | | |
| For the seven millionth time, I'm drinking my glass of milk in a coffeeshop, staring down an aisle of ceiling lights, wishing to God that I could hold you in these arms, but you are absolutely too sweet for me. You'd give me the shakes, and then diabetes, and then... that's when you'd kill me. And I know it too. I know it all too well and still I've chosen to drink you. I tell myself that I've stayed away for quite some time now, and that having just a little bit of you really won't be that bad for me at all. But then I feel you, hollowing out my veins and then pinching them to feel like I just put my tongue on a battery. If I could, I would tell you my secret of how I've got nothing up my sleeves and that really, I'm just dying from being strung on a line that's hanging between what I've I believe the world needs, what I believe you need, and how much it hurts me inside when I bear down and try it. There are so many ways that I want to love you, but I just don't know how.
If only I could displace myself, and start over as a nobody who wears a five o clock shadow everyday at 4:00 o clock, sitting in this coffee shop holding my glass of milk. And that's when you'd walk in. You'd come in with your weekly subscription to the Economist, trying to save the world even with your cup of coffee. Then you'd sit down across from me and you'd open your magazine and your mocha colored curls would pour in front of your face as you simultaneously take a bite from your fair trade muffin. And that's when you'd catch me with my eyes away from the computer screen, looking around the place for my next few sentences. And that’s when you’d brush a smile my way, and that's where it would all start.
My next few sentences would be about you. | | |
| On very particular evenings, I get this wishing inside of me. I look down at the backs of my hands, and I begin dreaming that I can walk on the Sea. I get to thinking that if I weren't so tied down by what I'm usually doing, that I could step out onto an ocean and look far back upon the City I've left behind. And perhaps even, that I could step as deep into it as my fear would allow. Even still, just as much as I fear it, there is this part of me that wishes I could spend the night in the Sea. Oh, that I could sleep in the Earth's aquarium. | | |
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