Okay, so it's been over two weeks since my last blog entry, and quite a lot has happened in that stretch of time. First, I eulogized my stepfather, and I was honored to do so. Second, I lost my job at Ohio Citizen Action. Not a huge deal, I'm not going to die without it, but I miss it; it was fun, it was good exercise, I liked my coworkers, and it was a cause I believe in. (Editor's Note: please write your Reps and Senators and ask them to cosponsor HR. 1310 and S. 696)
Basically, I just wasn't bringing home the bacon, and non-profs are all about the money. I knew that going in. But, the same day, I moved into my new office at Longworth Hall. A friend of mine has a large office suite, and gave me a room that had recently been vacated when the old occupant quit his business. Yep, that's right: I'm open for business. For the foreseeable future, I am pursuing my freelance design work for a living, with my other job as a supplement.
Wednesday was my first full day in my new office, or at least I though it was going to be. I showed up to find my office trashed, and a threatening note left by the old occupant of said office. Apparently, he decided he unquit, and wanted his old office back. And since he's a brother in the family that owns the building, he gets what he wants. All he has to do is act like a child, and he's really good at that, especially for a 40-some year old man.
So, I was forced to pack up and move into a large room down the hall with several of my friend's employees; so, no real privacy, no window, no hardwood floors.
Which brings me to my point: when am I allowed to snap? When do I get to go off? Everyone else gets to trash someone else's office because they can't stick to their decisions. Everyone else gets to behave irrationally, and is coddled and bailed out because of it. Everyone else gets to develop a chemical dependency, and we all have to ignore it.
When's my time? How much weight do I have to bear before I'm allowed to break? I've always been expected to be better than everyone else. "You're smarter than all your classmates," I was told, in the same breath as a scolding for "acting smart." I'm sick of this "higher standard" bullshit, and it is bullshit. There's no other word that quite gets it across.
I think it's time for me to do something stupid. I think it's time for me to go against my better judgement, and do something because it feels right at the moment, damn the torpedoes, to hell with the consequences.
I realized last week that, if a couple of things go right over the next couple of months, I will be able to cut ties with every responsibility I have that keeps me here. My thought for what to do with such a unique situation? Go to Europe. Pack a backpack, grab a guitar, fly standby, and wander around Europe for an indeterminate amount of time. I know a few people there, and they have hostels and other places to stay. And of course, during warmer months, I could always sleep outdoors, under bridges, etc.
This, of course, goes against everything I've ever been about, but maybe that's the point.
I also decided that, likely next week, I'm going backpacking overnight in Red River Gorge, by myself. I need to get my head straight.
My mother couldn't handle that, and all but forbade me from going. What'll she do when I leave the continent?
I don't know what my future holds, but for the first time in my life, I feel like I have options. I can do whatever I want, when I want.
So I guess I'm really starting my new life, cobbled together out of parts of the person I used to be and whatever parts anyone else can spare. I'm actually doing things I never would have done before. I don't know if I'm doing them because I want to, because I need to, because someone talked me into doing them, or if it's just to prove to myself that things have changed. Maybe a little bit of everything. I see echoes of my former self, but he's gone now. As soon as I get to know my new self, I'll introduce him around.
Put down your things and rest awhile,
You know we've both nowhere to go.
Yeah, daddy had to crash,
He was always halfway there, you know.
And no, I don't pretend there's any more of that,
They say one day, you'll look up and laugh and hear the same sad echo.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
XXI - Losing Time
Sorry I haven't been writing. My stepfather died Saturday morning. The time spent at the hospital last week didn't lend itself to writing, and as I'm speaking at his funeral tomorrow, I have other things to write.
That being said, I had to mention something very odd I saw yesterday. I was canvassing in Springboro, Ohio, in an upper-middle class neighborhood. As I was walking down the street, I heard a ton of loud, banging noises and music coming from a garage. I got closer, and saw what was going on. About six or seven teenage boys were in their garage with the door open, practicing skateboarding tricks while listening to "You Were Meant For Me" by Jewel.
The moral of the story? Never assume anything.
That being said, I had to mention something very odd I saw yesterday. I was canvassing in Springboro, Ohio, in an upper-middle class neighborhood. As I was walking down the street, I heard a ton of loud, banging noises and music coming from a garage. I got closer, and saw what was going on. About six or seven teenage boys were in their garage with the door open, practicing skateboarding tricks while listening to "You Were Meant For Me" by Jewel.
The moral of the story? Never assume anything.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
XX - I'll Never Fall In Love Again
I noticed recently that the initialization of the title of this blog is "tome." Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines "tome" as "a volume forming a part of a larger work." To me, that's a pretty apt description of this blog. What I've been describing is a cross-section, a segment of time which is part of the larger work that is my life. Someday, this volume will close, as this part of my life comes to an end. Maybe at that time I'll begin another tome. There's always more to write.
But I didn't come here to write about that.
Isn't falling in love wonderful? I'm not saying I have, but I've been reexamining my history of relationships, and remembering the journey of falling in love. There's the moments, when you feel a new connection, when you're sitting on a porch, watching the moon travel across an empty sky, and you work up the nerve to put your arm around the one you're with. It starts getting cold, but you don't want to leave, and you remember that you can just get closer. It's a beautiful thing, and I'm looking forward to it again.
Sure, as soon as you open up, you just make yourself vulnerable again. You set yourself up for another fall. I've spent a lot of time questioning if I'd ever try to open up again; if I'd even be able to trust someone again. But I've seen that guy. I don't want to be the fifty year old, desperately alone, pretending everything's okay, hiding behind a lifestyle of drinking and anonymous sex. That's not a life I want to live.
I had a beautiful evening yesterday, and you know who you are. Thank you. Some of you are going to want to know more. All in due time. That's another volume in the larger work that is my life. So, I'm moving forward with extreme trepidation; I'm scared of the prospect of being hurt again, but I know I have to take that chance.
What do you get when you fall in love? You only get lies and pain and sorrow. So far at least until tomorrow, I'll never fall in love again.
But I didn't come here to write about that.
Isn't falling in love wonderful? I'm not saying I have, but I've been reexamining my history of relationships, and remembering the journey of falling in love. There's the moments, when you feel a new connection, when you're sitting on a porch, watching the moon travel across an empty sky, and you work up the nerve to put your arm around the one you're with. It starts getting cold, but you don't want to leave, and you remember that you can just get closer. It's a beautiful thing, and I'm looking forward to it again.
Sure, as soon as you open up, you just make yourself vulnerable again. You set yourself up for another fall. I've spent a lot of time questioning if I'd ever try to open up again; if I'd even be able to trust someone again. But I've seen that guy. I don't want to be the fifty year old, desperately alone, pretending everything's okay, hiding behind a lifestyle of drinking and anonymous sex. That's not a life I want to live.
I had a beautiful evening yesterday, and you know who you are. Thank you. Some of you are going to want to know more. All in due time. That's another volume in the larger work that is my life. So, I'm moving forward with extreme trepidation; I'm scared of the prospect of being hurt again, but I know I have to take that chance.
What do you get when you fall in love? You only get lies and pain and sorrow. So far at least until tomorrow, I'll never fall in love again.
Friday, October 2, 2009
XIX - Fall
It's been a long week. It's been a long month. It's been a long life.
Today is the one month anniversary of when Nancy told me she was leaving. One Month. I made it this far. Somehow. I have to give a lot of credit to my friends, who have been there for me every step of the way, especially those who have been fielding my calls, texts, and emails at all hours, and taking my neuroses in stride. You know who you are, and I can never repay you (I'll still try, though).
I paid the rent yesterday. By myself. I didn't think I could do it, but I did. I did what I had to do to survive, and, at least for the time being, it worked. I have to say I'm proud of myself. It's been the little things in which I find comfort, joy, and beauty, like I did yesterday while out canvassing.
Stepping onto a porch, I caught the sweet perfume of flowers hanging in a basket on the porch, the last vestiges of a spring long forgotten. The scent transported me to somewhere I'd never been, to the memory of a life I'd never lived; not a memory of a place or time, but of feeling and emotion, and one that briefly overtook me. Leaving the porch, I pulled in one, last, deep lungfull of the enchanting attar, and was on my way. It set my head right, and I had a great night of canvassing.
Earlier in the day, during our round of introductions, we were asked about our favorite part of fall.
Autumn is time of ending, bringing with it the promise of the coming death of winter. But there's more than that. The trees shed their verdant leaves in a glorious explosion of color, and those very same leaves become part of the soil, covered by the snows of winter, so that they may bring life again in the promise of spring. In the reality of death, there is the promise of life.
That is eternity.
When you fall, you will arise again. That's what I love about fall.
Today is the one month anniversary of when Nancy told me she was leaving. One Month. I made it this far. Somehow. I have to give a lot of credit to my friends, who have been there for me every step of the way, especially those who have been fielding my calls, texts, and emails at all hours, and taking my neuroses in stride. You know who you are, and I can never repay you (I'll still try, though).
I paid the rent yesterday. By myself. I didn't think I could do it, but I did. I did what I had to do to survive, and, at least for the time being, it worked. I have to say I'm proud of myself. It's been the little things in which I find comfort, joy, and beauty, like I did yesterday while out canvassing.
Stepping onto a porch, I caught the sweet perfume of flowers hanging in a basket on the porch, the last vestiges of a spring long forgotten. The scent transported me to somewhere I'd never been, to the memory of a life I'd never lived; not a memory of a place or time, but of feeling and emotion, and one that briefly overtook me. Leaving the porch, I pulled in one, last, deep lungfull of the enchanting attar, and was on my way. It set my head right, and I had a great night of canvassing.
Earlier in the day, during our round of introductions, we were asked about our favorite part of fall.
Autumn is time of ending, bringing with it the promise of the coming death of winter. But there's more than that. The trees shed their verdant leaves in a glorious explosion of color, and those very same leaves become part of the soil, covered by the snows of winter, so that they may bring life again in the promise of spring. In the reality of death, there is the promise of life.
That is eternity.
When you fall, you will arise again. That's what I love about fall.
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