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life

a complete rewrite

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It has been said that there is a time and a place for everything. Right now, I feel out of place and without time for anything.

Maybe I’m trying too hard. Maybe I’m so driven that I’m missing subtle queues. Maybe I just never knew how to detect them in the first place. Maybe I’m not trying hard enough. Maybe I need to push myself even more than before. Or maybe I shouldn’t be trying at all. Between the amount of guilt I feel and my ever decreasing self-esteem, it’s amazing I ever actually enjoy anything I do or have any people in my life that I really care about.

Maybe I need to pull deep inside myself. I could be that guy who always says he’s going to do something or be somewhere and then, at the last minute, decide not to go. The limits the amount of complaining I’d have to hear from people who want me to go and yet would still allow me to stay by myself away from people. I’ll stop answering emails and IMs and immediately as possible. I’ll stop doing favors for people. I might even outright ignore a message or two just because I want to. I might not even return some phone calls.

Maybe I need higher standards and a stronger code for what I’ll accept from others. I’ve always been very open both with myself and with others. I’ve always opted to let people do what people will do and have tried very hard not to let their lifestyle choices influence their worth to me. I’ve always been more than willing to let transgressions slide when presented with a reasonable excuse or explanation. I’ve always tried to find the good in people. Maybe I need to be more selective about who I associate with. Maybe I need to be more strict about what I’m willing to accept. Maybe I need to weed out those that don’t represent an immediate or future value to me. Maybe I need to shy away from those that threaten my current line of thought.

Maybe I need lower standards and a weaker code for myself. I’ve always held myself to nearly impossible standards in all aspects of life: at work, at home, with friends, to my country. Not do I constantly consider such things and occupy lots of time and energy on them, but, should I falter in some way, I beat myself up severely over it. Maybe I need to be less honest. Maybe I should be less up front, less truthful. Maybe when I feel I need it, I should manipulate people into saying things or doing things that will help me or make me feel better.

I don’t actually believe that any of this will make my life better and I’m almost certain I would like the person I would become even less than I like the person I am now. But there are lots of people practicing these exact same things and they seem to be sticking by it. Maybe it’s just one of those things you have to try to understand.

yesterday, today, and tomorrow

I enjoy having a packed schedule. It makes the down time more enjoyable and keeps me from wallowing in too much madness. Unfortunately, a packed schedule often comes with the stress of those things that are packing the schedule as well as the guilt that comes with the fact that many of those things pull me away from my wife and daughter.

Last Friday was nice. I wouldn’t have minded a few people coming over to goof off. But, as it was, it was just Jess and the baby and I, and that was just right. We watching the debate, discussed the heights of the candidates in comparison to those in the Koreas, and bragged about our own bracelets.

Saturday was supposed to be filled with family and parties and friends. As it turned out, Jess had an infection in her hand that was working up her arm. It was too serious to ignore so we called a emergency clinic who told us to go to the ER. 6 hours later, they did nothing for her but write a prescription. Later that night we got to spend some time with a dear friend of mine who is moving to Florida. She will be sorely missed. It was nice to spend some time letting loose.

Sunday my Dad and my brother and I met Johnny and Justin out in the sticks of DFW to work on the scaffolding for the Arc for our camp at Myschievia this year. (If you’re not going to Myschievia… WHY NOT?!) I can’t say it was “fun”, but I left with some work being done, a trailer full of parts, a very good plan, some sore muscles, and a tight sunburn. We headed back to my dad’s for dinner. Then goofed off a bit before meeting Johnny and Skwid for coffee and then heading home.

Tonight we’re working on the top part of the Arc. We’re all gathering at Justin’s place.

Tomorrow is a prep day: house work, cleaning, and such.

Then, Wednesday, I pick up my mom from the airport. She’s staying for a week. Weee!

a flava pick me up

Or, if you prefer, the non-live non-acoustic version.

I had only 4 hours of sleep and now have a pounding headache.

I have to leave right after work today for a Myschievia Work Weekend. I’m not ready.

But, it’s a DITL day, and I feel alright.

stagnant

I feel like I need to keep writing, even when I don’t know what result I’m seeking. I have nothing to explain, because I don’t even understand it myself. I have nothing to share because I feel as though with each passing day I get closer and closer to a complete stop. Stagnant. I have nothing to gain. I have nothing to prove. Yet I feel like if I don’t make some sort of noise — some scream in the dark — I’ll go unheard, unseen, unfound. And then I’ll be as good as gone.

drowning

Somewhere at the bottom of all this I know that I do have something to share, something for others to be excited about, something to proclaim, something people will remember. I just can’t seem to find it. And I feel like if I don’t get there soon, I’ll lose my chance. So I’m panicking.

Even though most days pass without any sort of mentioned or noticeable change in my physical or emotional life I know that something is changing — something is moving. Not because I feel it, but because I remember what has happened. It’s like this:

12 years ago I lived on coffee, cigarettes, and whatever food happened to pass in front of me when I had time for it. Slowly, second by second, in the most invisible way possible, I grew insecure, distrusting, fat, and afraid. I didn’t notice any of this happening, I just woke up one day and realized it. I was 15 pounds heavier than I should be. Most of my friends were abusive users. I tried to clean it up. I straightened everything out. I got back on the right track and moved on with life. Then I woke up one day realized it again. I was now 30 pounds heavier than I should be. While I had friendships, I hadn’t really let myself get very close to any of them. I was ignoring my wife. I was disappointed in myself in a regular basis. I was severely unhappy and all the money and time in the world wouldn’t fix it. I hadn’t challenged myself in so long. I had become stagnant. I had become complacent.

Only this time it wasn’t the past. It isn’t the past. It’s me. The present. Now. Right now. That is what I am. Fat, and stagnant, and lonely. And drowning in it all.

releasing concern

a single thoughtThere’s a small, growing, unnamed peace that can be found in releasing concern. I was tempted to use say “that can be found in not caring”, but there is a difference. That subtle difference is what leads allows this to lead to peace instead of frustration. The Buddhists definitely have something there.

Last night I wanted to go for a walk in one of my favorite parks and make photographs under the storm clouds. Unfortunately the storm clouds began to rain and I was reluctant to even leave my hotel. With a few deep breaths I just let it go. I packed what I needed into my bag and headed out. I walked in the rain with my bag slung over my shoulder. My camera was in a cumbersome bag meant to protect it from water. Despite being difficult to use, I made a choice to not concern myself with the difficulty. I had to keep clearing the lens port of rain drops, my face was dripping into my eyes, my bag was soaked, my shirt was sticking to my chest, and I just didn’t care. I laughed. I damn near fell in the lake more than once. I said “hello” to the few people out walking in the rain. I loved every second of it.

There’s a big part of me that worries about everything and everyone. I spend so much time worrying that I forget to enjoy myself. I’m proud of myself that I am thoughtful, that I plan things through, that I consider others, that I worry about people. That makes me who I am and I wouldn’t change that. But, I need to learn to loosen up a bit too or all the planning and worrying will never lead to anything I can enjoy.

So that’s it. My big lesson of the day, founded, forged, and tested all in an evening under a rain cloud.

I wish Jet or Morgan could have been there. Of all the people I cherish in my life, I can think of no one that would have appreciated it more than them, and no one that I would have rather spent it with.

all a blur

over used

With so much travel occupying my weeks, my weekends can get quite blurry. Here’s my last one in a nutshell.

Last Friday I got off the plane from Providence and headed home. As I pulled up, so did a few friends. Another friend showed up later that evening. We had dinner, a few drinks, played crazy card games (Fluxx is awesome!), and watched a couple of really warped movies. I went to bed somewhere around 4am.

8:30am on Saturday and I’m up, of course. We lounged around the house quite a bit. Towards the afternoon we did a little shopping, stopped by a friends house, changed clothes, and then went to a housewarming party. A few more drinks, a stripper pole, lots of people dressed very nice. Jess and I left early and headed home. I think we went to be around 11:30pm.

7:30am on Sunday and I’m up again. Jess and I bum around the house a bit and then head out around 10:00am. We stop by Fry’s for a little shopping then go to my dad’s for Father’s Day lunch. We had a great lunch and a couple of beers outside as my nieces and nephews played on the water slide. Then my dad and my brother and I played poker over a bottle of Don Julio. Jess drove home. We got home very late, threw some wash in, started packing my bags and then went to bed.

6:30am on Monday I woke up, finished packing and got ready to leave. Jess brought me to the airport at about 8:30am. I get to NYC that afternoon, check in to my hotel, wander the streets a bit, and get rained on. Then I meet up with a couple of friends, have too many martinis, followed by my first ever oyster experience, followed by sushi and sake. Finding my way home on the subway and then trying to remember which side of Broadway my hotel was on was fun. I made it back to the hotel before 12 and was in bed before 1.

Which brings me to now.

When I think back over it all it seems very busy and very rushed. But, in reality, I enjoyed every minute of it and, except for feeling like I was rushed Monday morning, never felt as though I was doing too much with too little.


photo schedule – the first week

A few weeks ago I laid out a plan to help me better vary the kind of photograph I was putting out there. It certainly wasn’t simple or easy, but I felt like I could do it.

Last week doesn’t count thanks to the fact that I was out of town and without the technical means to publish a photo thanks to my stupid laptop. So let’s look at the week before that and see how well I did.

Breaking Out – This falls into Non-Landscape. If I were very lenient with myself, this might also be considered Other Portrait.

(more…)

and 4 months passed just like that

what button do I push... I know I say something similar about once a month, but, I cannot believe Celeste is going to be 4 months old next week. I’m sure that I was standing in that hospital nursery just yesterday afternoon thinkings, “There she is! That beautiful, kicking, crying baby is 100% yours to love and care for and nurture and support and potentially ruin.” Then, just the other day, she comes home from the store with mom wearing sun glasses and I think, “This is it. This is the start of the long drawn out event in which she grows up into an active teenager and I become her old dad who just doesn’t know what cool is and doesn’t understand.”

Despite the message the accompanying photo might portray, she’s actually been quite easy. Take yesterday, for example. The day before she was awake until 11pm that night when she fell asleep in the car on the way home. The next morning we woke her up at 5:30am, threw her in the car and took her for a 4 hour long hike strapped to my chest, most of which she was wide awake for and even entertained us with some singing along the way. Then we took her home for a quick nap and then threw her back in the car and drove her to Ennis where we expected her to pose pretty amongst the wild flowers. And she did. She was nothing but smiles until she got hungry. But 30 minutes at her mother’s breast solved that and she was ready to go again. So we brought her to a birthday party where she made it until about 9:00 when she finally started to get a little cranky. Even then, after the quick nap on the way home she was all smiles again.

Certainly a large portion of her good nature has to do with how naturally likable, charming, and easy going I am. Of course. That must be it. But she wasn’t always this easy. It took (and still takes) some work on our part. So I think that the lifestyle we keep her in has a lot to do with it, for which I am very grateful.

Next week I have to travel to New York on business for the entire week. The thought of being away from my family for that long has me feeling terrible. I’m smothering Celeste with all the attention I can muster and, some how, it just doesn’t seem to be enough to last for an entire week. We’re planning a trip to Canada this summer and there is some talk of Jess going up there earlier than me in order to spend some extra with her family. Words like “1 month” and “I’ll be fine by myself” and “at least we can come home together” are being thrown around and I feel like my lungs have been shrunk to the size of pinto beans and then fried… twice. I know that compromise is important and I have to keep an open mind and consider the needs of both my family and my extended family but I’m really having a hard time with this. It hard enough for me to accept being away for one week — 5 days really — on a trip required by my job which supports my family, it seems almost impossible to accept a voluntary month long separation.

I never realized how completely different my life could be as a father. Not that I didn’t have fair warning. No. Many of those that were fathers and mothers before me warned me both directly and indirectly that this would happen. And I believed them. But, the reality is so much different than the perception.

they grow up so fast

At the same time though, the warnings that my entire life outside of this little bundle of drool and poop and spit-up would change — if not end entirely — have been mostly untrue. Things are different, yes. Everything has been reprioritized, no doubt about it. Some aspects of life had to be compressed in order to make room for more important things, this is true. But, I still have time for my hobbies, my friends, my joys, and my passions. I was told that the things I wanted to do with my time would change. I was told that many of my prior thoughts and desires and passions and dreams would be completely replaced, but it just hasn’t happened that way.

While everything has certainly been reshuffled and I’ve made some conscious choices to toss a few things out here and there, all in all I feel as though I am intact. I feel as though fatherhood has made me a better person and continues to change me in positive ways. I’m the type of person who seeks personal change. I revel in every step of that transformation. While these particular changes may feel more poignant, I don’t feel like any of me is different or missing now that I’m a father.

I’m happy about that, too. Despite some self-esteem issues and a constant (unnecessary, I know) search for external validation, I’m pretty damn happy with who I am. Sure, there are some things about me that I would change and work daily towards doing so. But all-in-all, I really like who I am. And I’m glad that I can be this person for my wife, my daughter, my future family, and the group of people, both new and old, that I draw closer and closer to me with each passing day.

a morning/mourning

I’ve been up for a little less than 2 hours now — somewhere between 4 and 5am is a typical wake up time for me. I have a 7am meeting that I’m taking from home. I have to leave no later than 9:30am to catch my flight to Hershey, PA. I get back around midnight on Friday night. I should be in the shower right about now so that, once my meeting ends, I can spend my remaining time packing my bags and visiting with Celeste and Jess before I go but my mind is racing. Maybe this will help.

The longest I’ve been away from Celeste has been about 2 1/2 days. This will be about the same with the exception that she is not likely to be awake when I get home Friday night. Some how, it feels longer though.

I found out yesterday that I’ve got to be back in Syracuse for the week of 4/21. I just now realized I forgot to even tell Jess that with everything going on yesterday so, if you’re up early this morning, you may even find out before her. It also looks like I might be in Hampton, VA for the week of 5/5. That’s not set in stone just yet, but it’ll happen soon. These will not be easy times.

I’m reminded that I need to find a rock to put on top of the small mound of clay and grass where I laid Samson. Perhaps this weekend Jess will help me pick out something worthwhile.

I understand death. It’s natural, and necessary, and normal. It’s part of the cycle. It isn’t easy, but I can accept it. But there are some aspects of this that I’m having a really hard time with.

First, the pain and torture that poor creature must have experienced in his final moments. I have a horrific, graphic, visual record of it imprinted on my brain. The details would only serve to horrify others as well. I’d like to get them off my chest. But not now. For now, they are mine. Throughout the day I somehow convinced myself that I had imagined it worse than it was. But burying him last night I realized that I did not. I’m sure time slowed for me in those moments, but it felt like it lasted so long, and I knew there was nothing I could do. Knowing this animal suffered hurts me. And it hurts me even more to know that he suffered at my hand, even if indirectly.

I’m also having a hard time knowing that there is some family — possibly some little Celeste or even adult Jessica — that misses him dearly and continues to wonder when he’ll come home. Maybe they call for him at night. Maybe they fill a bowl of food on the porch every morning, just in case. I wonder if, in a few weeks, I’ll see a sign in the community center. I wonder if I should go look or if it’s just better that I didn’t.

At least I know that I did right by Samson and his family. I know that if in a few weeks from now some little boy wants to know where his cat went I’ll have something to say to him. I can tell him that there was an accident, tell him that his dear friend is no longer here, and give him a visible place to mourn. This is much better than having to tell this little boy that his cat’s body was tossed aside with the rest of the trash and now sits rotting at the top of the Denton landfill.

I don’t feel guilty about his death. There was nothing I could have done to prevent it. Sure, I now have the habit of checking every single tire of my car before driving off anywhere and, in that light, there was something I could have done. But I accept what happened as an accident and not due to negligence, or hurriedness, tunnel vision. And I’m grateful that this burden fell on me instead of the family of this dear friend. But still, I hurt.