The Art Of Death

There have been four deaths in the last three or four months of regulars from my bar- some not even in the area, but while they were out of town. Most recently was the sweetest, silliest girl I've ever known, who passed away after several days on life support.
Last Thursday, we had a very quiet, uneventful night at the bar. No fights, a small-ish crowd for a Thursday, no big thing.
And then closing time came, and I was working the parking lot with three of the guys.
To say a fight started isn't an accurate description. We heard yelling, I saw an arm raised and come down, and I pulled a young man off the fight the male bouncers were already trying to break up.
There was so much blood.
I hate it when it's soldiers fighting- I spent more than five relatively uneventful years as a US Army Medic and, truthfully, I've seen more medical trauma in the three or four months I've worked at the bar, from seizures to fights, etc.
This was the worst I've ever seen, though.
One of our bouncers caught a couple nicks from the knife.
The young man covered in blood had some very serious injuries. I just held pressure and talked to him, trying to keep him as calm as possible. There was so little I could do for him, and the injuries were so bad, I didn't think he'd make it until the ambulance arrived. He was so sweet and funny, and so young.
He lived, though, the police told me when I left the station at 6 the following morning that he was still in surgery, but doing far better than had been expected. I cried.
People at work have called me hero and told me I saved his life, and maybe- MAYBE- that's the case, but really, who's to say? He was a fighter, he wasn't giving up that easily and it just wasn't his time. I'm just glad he survived.
Today, I get a text message.
One of my favorite battle buddies took shrapnel in Afghanistan, but has been taken to Germany and is in stable condition.
I've lost a lot of people in my life- far more than most people- but the numbers on this are really starting to scare me. How many people I know will be hurt or killed before this horrible streak is over?

Never Standing Still

I've been seeing the same man for a month and a half.
For most people, that's nothing.
But men don't generally hit the month mark before I see them for who they are trying to pretend they aren't, or they run screaming because I am still a woman underneath my tough exterior.
This one encourages the woman aspect, which I really like, but I'm still trying to find the balance to everything I am.
I changed my mind about auto mechanics at the last moment- that felt like I would have been denying a large part of myself had I pursued it.
So I have applied to a university for a double major in anthropology and art. Don't ask me what I'll do with it, I don't know, but it sounds like enough fun that I'm quite sure I'll find some way to make it useful.
I bought myself four pairs of new shoes today, something I haven't done in ages. I want to buy two new blazers, one black and one red, and then I'll feel like I have expanded my wardrobe enough to get me through the fall and possibly winter.
That's not to say there isn't more that I want, but it's necessary to pace myself and not overspend on my tight budget.
The other half is about to start school to be a police officer. There's something I never thought I'd encourage. Me with a cop. Lord have mercy.
I'm attempting to get back into fashion, though it's more complicated than I thought being built like I am. I lost twenty pounds since February, and have gained a handful back the last few days. I'm not sure what that will amount to in the long run, but at 5'9", 170 pounds, nobody guesses over 120 and I think that's by virtue of it all being in my legs. Size 11 jeans for the first time in several years is a great feeling and I'd really like to keep that.
Enough rambling for tonight.
J