The_matt79 4 of 5 stars to The Saloon on the Rocky Mountain Mini... by Elliott West http://t.co/eLyT9qk0
I’m private
The Art of Growing Up.
If you check my ID you will see that I am a full fledged adult.
If you look inside my brain, you might sometimes question this fact, hell sometimes even I do. That’s where I have been hung up lately. That’s what has caused me to think and compare.
Ahh, thinking, one of my greatest attributes and biggest detriments. Over thinking gets me into trouble, under thinking does the same, so how do I ever answer any questions? That’s something I often wonder, but as I have stated before, it just kind of seems to work out. I guess that is what growing up is, and as you get older, you realize that more and more.
When you’re young, all the adults in your life are the voices of authority, so you learn to take their word for things, to follow their lead, to believe they have it together. Because of that, I have had this understanding in the back of my head that eventually you get to the point that you get it, that you know what to do, and that things make more sense. You know what? It doesn’t, and it never will, but that is the true beauty of life.
There will always be things that make perfect and complete sense, but there will also be the things that knock us on our ass, the things that make us question our ability to be what we dreamed of being. I have come to the firm belief that this will never change, start to finish that is what it is. What changes is us. We make mistakes, we learn. We make decisions, we face the consequences. We succeed, we fail, we are!
I have had instances lately that make me wonder if I am where I am supposed to be, in regards to a life’s timeline that is. I have friends that are married, that have kids, that have set up careers, and that have made some forward motion that seems more evident than mine. My timeline has made a loop of sorts, and at times it feels like I am moving sideways more than I am moving forward. I am proud of my accomplishments in life. I am happy with where I sit monetarily. Although I have those positives in my life, I can’t help but wonder, wonder about whether I should have something else.
I think the thing that sets it all apart is comparisons, and that’s a tricky game to play. Sometimes I look at where my parents were at my age, where others are at a younger age, and I wonder about some of my decisions. I have never been one to rush into things, I think them through, I play them out, and then I act accordingly. This can be useful, and it can make you miss out on things. I also kind of just lied to you there, I have made decisions with less thought to them, simply because they were a step B of sorts.
What do I mean by that? Well, let’s look at college, I knew I wanted to go and I had the idea of what I wanted to get out of it, but I didn’t really think about where I wanted to go. Certain events in my life basically made my decisions easy for me, and didn’t really require that much deep though on my part. Perhaps it should have, but I think the right things happened with those decisions, and so I am happy I made them. On the flip side, there are decisions in my life that I didn’t make, at the time I lamented them, but now I see I did the right thing. (Usually anyways, I can’t win em all)
You can see why I would question if I am doing what I should have done by this point, you can see why I wonder if there are check marks that my life’s list is missing, you can see how I go back and forth on things. I sat with these wonderings in my head and they stymied me for a bit there, but then I had an aha moment of sorts that led me to realize that I am just where I am supposed to be. I talked to people to get knowledge and information, and I found that I shouldn’t worry about it. I flashed back to my 6th grade teacher telling me, at her son’s wedding, that she knew I would go on with my education and that I would take my time with it.
The main thing I took out of all these things is that I am Matt Sadorf, and he’s a pretty damn good person to be. I am a person that gets things done at his pace, and that’s fine because I get them done. I am a person that moves forward at his pace, a pace that maybe isn’t as quick paced as others, but is every bit as important and successful.
No one hands you the answers when you hit a certain age, you learn as you go, or at least you should. You gotta live, you have to make mistakes, you have to just be, and you have to learn from all of that. There are going to be hurdles, and there are going to be snares, but you learn to recognize them as you grow, and you learn how to deal with them as you age. You get a sense for the world as you stay attached to it’s spinning orb.
One of the cool things about growing up is that you get to act like a kid sometimes, but you know enough to not live like that. Some night you might decide to just have cookies for supper, you might decide that a new video game is more important than a few really good meals, you get to be nostalgic and buy overpriced things attached to your inner child’s memories. These are things you get to do because you can, but at the same time you register them differently in your mind than you did as a child, and that’s another part of growing up. As a child you dream of doing these things, of having these things simply because they are what you must have at that moment in time, no outside context other than it’s what you want and you must have it. As an adult these things are a reprieve from the stresses of the everyday world, they are a moment for you to relax and glom onto something you once had.
Growing up is hard, especially when you’re worried that you don’t know what you should, or that you’re not where you’re supposed to be, but growing up is realizing the need to take a step back and see these things for what they are. If you can take that step back and make sense of things, or at least see a path forward, well, you’ve grown up and you’re going to be okay. Live and learn, make mistakes and learn, trip yourself up and learn, learn and learn… that’s all you have to do to master the art of growing up…learn a little as you go.
Simple isn’t it?
If you check my ID you will see that I am a full fledged adult.
If you look inside my brain, you might sometimes question this fact, hell sometimes even I do. That’s where I have been hung up lately. That’s what has caused me to think and compare.
Ahh, thinking, one of my greatest attributes and biggest detriments. Over thinking gets me into trouble, under thinking does the same, so how do I ever answer any questions? That’s something I often wonder, but as I have stated before, it just kind of seems to work out. I guess that is what growing up is, and as you get older, you realize that more and more.
When you’re young, all the adults in your life are the voices of authority, so you learn to take their word for things, to follow their lead, to believe they have it together. Because of that, I have had this understanding in the back of my head that eventually you get to the point that you get it, that you know what to do, and that things make more sense. You know what? It doesn’t, and it never will, but that is the true beauty of life.
There will always be things that make perfect and complete sense, but there will also be the things that knock us on our ass, the things that make us question our ability to be what we dreamed of being. I have come to the firm belief that this will never change, start to finish that is what it is. What changes is us. We make mistakes, we learn. We make decisions, we face the consequences. We succeed, we fail, we are!
I have had instances lately that make me wonder if I am where I am supposed to be, in regards to a life’s timeline that is. I have friends that are married, that have kids, that have set up careers, and that have made some forward motion that seems more evident than mine. My timeline has made a loop of sorts, and at times it feels like I am moving sideways more than I am moving forward. I am proud of my accomplishments in life. I am happy with where I sit monetarily. Although I have those positives in my life, I can’t help but wonder, wonder about whether I should have something else.
I think the thing that sets it all apart is comparisons, and that’s a tricky game to play. Sometimes I look at where my parents were at my age, where others are at a younger age, and I wonder about some of my decisions. I have never been one to rush into things, I think them through, I play them out, and then I act accordingly. This can be useful, and it can make you miss out on things. I also kind of just lied to you there, I have made decisions with less thought to them, simply because they were a step B of sorts.
What do I mean by that? Well, let’s look at college, I knew I wanted to go and I had the idea of what I wanted to get out of it, but I didn’t really think about where I wanted to go. Certain events in my life basically made my decisions easy for me, and didn’t really require that much deep though on my part. Perhaps it should have, but I think the right things happened with those decisions, and so I am happy I made them. On the flip side, there are decisions in my life that I didn’t make, at the time I lamented them, but now I see I did the right thing. (Usually anyways, I can’t win em all)
You can see why I would question if I am doing what I should have done by this point, you can see why I wonder if there are check marks that my life’s list is missing, you can see how I go back and forth on things. I sat with these wonderings in my head and they stymied me for a bit there, but then I had an aha moment of sorts that led me to realize that I am just where I am supposed to be. I talked to people to get knowledge and information, and I found that I shouldn’t worry about it. I flashed back to my 6th grade teacher telling me, at her son’s wedding, that she knew I would go on with my education and that I would take my time with it.
The main thing I took out of all these things is that I am Matt Sadorf, and he’s a pretty damn good person to be. I am a person that gets things done at his pace, and that’s fine because I get them done. I am a person that moves forward at his pace, a pace that maybe isn’t as quick paced as others, but is every bit as important and successful.
No one hands you the answers when you hit a certain age, you learn as you go, or at least you should. You gotta live, you have to make mistakes, you have to just be, and you have to learn from all of that. There are going to be hurdles, and there are going to be snares, but you learn to recognize them as you grow, and you learn how to deal with them as you age. You get a sense for the world as you stay attached to it’s spinning orb.
One of the cool things about growing up is that you get to act like a kid sometimes, but you know enough to not live like that. Some night you might decide to just have cookies for supper, you might decide that a new video game is more important than a few really good meals, you get to be nostalgic and buy overpriced things attached to your inner child’s memories. These are things you get to do because you can, but at the same time you register them differently in your mind than you did as a child, and that’s another part of growing up. As a child you dream of doing these things, of having these things simply because they are what you must have at that moment in time, no outside context other than it’s what you want and you must have it. As an adult these things are a reprieve from the stresses of the everyday world, they are a moment for you to relax and glom onto something you once had.
Growing up is hard, especially when you’re worried that you don’t know what you should, or that you’re not where you’re supposed to be, but growing up is realizing the need to take a step back and see these things for what they are. If you can take that step back and make sense of things, or at least see a path forward, well, you’ve grown up and you’re going to be okay. Live and learn, make mistakes and learn, trip yourself up and learn, learn and learn… that’s all you have to do to master the art of growing up…learn a little as you go.
Simple isn’t it?
Hey, I have been blogging over at Wordpress lately, so I have been slacking on here. Sorry about that.
Right now I have a big book giveaway going on, so head on over and get in on the fun.
www.mattandmaturing.wordpress.com
Hope to see you there.
Right now I have a big book giveaway going on, so head on over and get in on the fun.
www.mattandmaturing.wordpress.com
Hope to see you there.
So far away, yet so close!
I was thinking the other day, and a topic popped into my head and I started to figure out what I thought about it. It had to do with long distance friendships, and friendships that start over the internet itself. I had heard people bring up the question of whether you can truly be friends with someone you meet in this manner, in comparison to people you meet in real life. I have always thought yes, because I form bonds that I would describe as friendship over the internet, friendships that I know are true.
How do I know this? Well, there might always be the fear that there is an element of bullshit involved when talking to someone on the internet, that they might not be what they say are, but I like to think I have enough of a bullshit meter to weed those folks out. If not, oh well, the majority of those I bestow the title of friend upon, won’t turn out to be asshats. Besides, doesn’t that make it more akin to real life in the long run? How many times in your life have you met new people, hung out with them, thought you knew them, and they they undertake an act of betrayal that you never saw coming? So yeah, internet and real life both have the possibilities of meeting someone that isn’t what they seem, but on the flip side they also bring the possibility that the person is going to be someone both important and amazing. So why fear this new realm of friendship that can be yours just by embracing technology?
Don’t. That’s the short and easy answer to that question. Technology moves life forward in good and bad ways, but opening the world up through communication will always be a good thing. There are so many people on this planet, so many people that share interests with us, why hold yourself back to those that are in your immediate area? Of course it easier for those that live in bigger areas, more highly populated areas, but for those like me, the ones that live in smaller areas, it can be harder to find those people that you share interests with. This is where technology is amazing. Facebook, Twitter, and many other websites out there have allowed people to find like minded ones, to know they aren’t the only one that has that opinion. not the only one that finds that other thing completely aggravating, and this is and always will be good.
Technology allows people to reach out to others, to find people they can talk to without feeling judged, sometimes this is due to the partial anonymity, but often times it is because of the knowledge that commonalities exist and allow you to discuss things in a way that you feel comfortable about. So again, why not embrace technology for all these good things that it can do?
I applied this to my life and that is how I started to form the opinion you are reading here. I looked back at the friendships I have made over the internet, the ones that lasted and that I met, and the ones that drifted away, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything at all. I also realized why this type of friendship resonates with me, and that is because so many of my dear, dear friends live far away from me. People I have met through my 33 years of life, people that have taken up residence in my life for all the best of reasons, these people live miles away. The miles between me and those I have met are just like the miles between me and those I have yet to meet.
The friends I “know” in my life have become so through talking, hanging out, highs and lows, and the friends I don’t “know” often get to see this in a similar way. I talk to people almost daily, random chit chat, or actual in depth conversations (doesn’t matter), the communication aspect is indeed there. The hanging out part is harder to do, as you might imagine, but sometimes you are brought into these types of situations through technology with mentions, or sent pictures, or even skyping I suppose. The highs and lows will also always play into this because sometimes you cannot help but to share, to throw your situation out there, to reach out and see what comes back to you. These things are all what turns into true friendship, and these are things that happen in person, or over miles and miles of distance.
Most of my friends live far away from me, and some I haven’t even met yet, but I am glad to have all of them in my world.
I was thinking the other day, and a topic popped into my head and I started to figure out what I thought about it. It had to do with long distance friendships, and friendships that start over the internet itself. I had heard people bring up the question of whether you can truly be friends with someone you meet in this manner, in comparison to people you meet in real life. I have always thought yes, because I form bonds that I would describe as friendship over the internet, friendships that I know are true.
How do I know this? Well, there might always be the fear that there is an element of bullshit involved when talking to someone on the internet, that they might not be what they say are, but I like to think I have enough of a bullshit meter to weed those folks out. If not, oh well, the majority of those I bestow the title of friend upon, won’t turn out to be asshats. Besides, doesn’t that make it more akin to real life in the long run? How many times in your life have you met new people, hung out with them, thought you knew them, and they they undertake an act of betrayal that you never saw coming? So yeah, internet and real life both have the possibilities of meeting someone that isn’t what they seem, but on the flip side they also bring the possibility that the person is going to be someone both important and amazing. So why fear this new realm of friendship that can be yours just by embracing technology?
Don’t. That’s the short and easy answer to that question. Technology moves life forward in good and bad ways, but opening the world up through communication will always be a good thing. There are so many people on this planet, so many people that share interests with us, why hold yourself back to those that are in your immediate area? Of course it easier for those that live in bigger areas, more highly populated areas, but for those like me, the ones that live in smaller areas, it can be harder to find those people that you share interests with. This is where technology is amazing. Facebook, Twitter, and many other websites out there have allowed people to find like minded ones, to know they aren’t the only one that has that opinion. not the only one that finds that other thing completely aggravating, and this is and always will be good.
Technology allows people to reach out to others, to find people they can talk to without feeling judged, sometimes this is due to the partial anonymity, but often times it is because of the knowledge that commonalities exist and allow you to discuss things in a way that you feel comfortable about. So again, why not embrace technology for all these good things that it can do?
I applied this to my life and that is how I started to form the opinion you are reading here. I looked back at the friendships I have made over the internet, the ones that lasted and that I met, and the ones that drifted away, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything at all. I also realized why this type of friendship resonates with me, and that is because so many of my dear, dear friends live far away from me. People I have met through my 33 years of life, people that have taken up residence in my life for all the best of reasons, these people live miles away. The miles between me and those I have met are just like the miles between me and those I have yet to meet.
The friends I “know” in my life have become so through talking, hanging out, highs and lows, and the friends I don’t “know” often get to see this in a similar way. I talk to people almost daily, random chit chat, or actual in depth conversations (doesn’t matter), the communication aspect is indeed there. The hanging out part is harder to do, as you might imagine, but sometimes you are brought into these types of situations through technology with mentions, or sent pictures, or even skyping I suppose. The highs and lows will also always play into this because sometimes you cannot help but to share, to throw your situation out there, to reach out and see what comes back to you. These things are all what turns into true friendship, and these are things that happen in person, or over miles and miles of distance.
Most of my friends live far away from me, and some I haven’t even met yet, but I am glad to have all of them in my world.
Talking to yourself…I does that!
I talk to myself.
Yup, I will admit it is something I do.
I don’t walk around mumbling incoherently, rather, I will discuss things with myself when no one is around. Thinking can only get me so far sometimes, and I have to vocalize what is going on in my head. I find it easier to see both sides of a situation if I can actually hear them. Yes, last Monday I did this for probably a half hour or so, but it had to be done. I was thinking too much, and it wasn’t working well for me, and so, I talked. Yes, I held a discussion with myself addressing my side of things, looking at the other persons, and applying logic to the whole thing.
Logic in talking to yourself? Yes, logic, don’t scoff at me. It makes perfect sense if you think about it, so please think about it.
I have done this for a long time in my life. Sometimes I did this as an exercise when I had to deliver a speech, or had to present a paper in a class. That is probably where it all started actually, now that I think about it. Although I can kind of remember doing it as a child too, but not to the extent that I now do of course. I imagine if someone actually witnessed me do this kind of exercise they would think me a little off, but really all it is, is the process of my brain coming out and making itself more apparent.
I am a deep thinker, always have been, but sometimes those thoughts cannot be kept within, and those are when I have to do this. I can see perspective more clearly, I can look at all angles of a situation, I can see answers that were hiding from me before this. I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon, but I also am self conscious enough to know I will always do it without an audience. Of course if I really trust those around me, there is a chance they will get to see it in action.
I have been accused of being ranty in the past, and perhaps this is an extension of my talking to myself, because often I don’t realize I am off on a rant, much like I don’t realize the extent of my self discussion. Sometimes life problems need that though, situations we are in need a new perspective and you can’t get that by just sitting and thinking on it.
See, if you keep it in your head, it just bounces around in the same way every time, and if something bounces in the same way, you’ll get used to it, but you won’t solve any of the bouncing. If you let it outside of your brain, let it walk around so that you can see it in action, suddenly things make more sense. For me, there is much less self doubt involved when I address something like this in this manner, and that is always a good thing.
Maybe this exercise is why my friends have always told me I give good advice, and that I am great to talk to when they have something going on. I have always been able to help people with problems or conundrums they might be having, and I do this by talking to them, and listening to them. All too often I can’t follow my own advice, and I think it is because I don’t utilize this exercise of mine, because it always works much better when I talk and listen, even if it is too myself.
I talk to myself, and I don’t plan on stopping.
I talk to myself.
Yup, I will admit it is something I do.
I don’t walk around mumbling incoherently, rather, I will discuss things with myself when no one is around. Thinking can only get me so far sometimes, and I have to vocalize what is going on in my head. I find it easier to see both sides of a situation if I can actually hear them. Yes, last Monday I did this for probably a half hour or so, but it had to be done. I was thinking too much, and it wasn’t working well for me, and so, I talked. Yes, I held a discussion with myself addressing my side of things, looking at the other persons, and applying logic to the whole thing.
Logic in talking to yourself? Yes, logic, don’t scoff at me. It makes perfect sense if you think about it, so please think about it.
I have done this for a long time in my life. Sometimes I did this as an exercise when I had to deliver a speech, or had to present a paper in a class. That is probably where it all started actually, now that I think about it. Although I can kind of remember doing it as a child too, but not to the extent that I now do of course. I imagine if someone actually witnessed me do this kind of exercise they would think me a little off, but really all it is, is the process of my brain coming out and making itself more apparent.
I am a deep thinker, always have been, but sometimes those thoughts cannot be kept within, and those are when I have to do this. I can see perspective more clearly, I can look at all angles of a situation, I can see answers that were hiding from me before this. I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon, but I also am self conscious enough to know I will always do it without an audience. Of course if I really trust those around me, there is a chance they will get to see it in action.
I have been accused of being ranty in the past, and perhaps this is an extension of my talking to myself, because often I don’t realize I am off on a rant, much like I don’t realize the extent of my self discussion. Sometimes life problems need that though, situations we are in need a new perspective and you can’t get that by just sitting and thinking on it.
See, if you keep it in your head, it just bounces around in the same way every time, and if something bounces in the same way, you’ll get used to it, but you won’t solve any of the bouncing. If you let it outside of your brain, let it walk around so that you can see it in action, suddenly things make more sense. For me, there is much less self doubt involved when I address something like this in this manner, and that is always a good thing.
Maybe this exercise is why my friends have always told me I give good advice, and that I am great to talk to when they have something going on. I have always been able to help people with problems or conundrums they might be having, and I do this by talking to them, and listening to them. All too often I can’t follow my own advice, and I think it is because I don’t utilize this exercise of mine, because it always works much better when I talk and listen, even if it is too myself.
I talk to myself, and I don’t plan on stopping.
The gut wrenching ability of realization…
After lunch today I was walking through the roundhouse back to the material building that I work out of, and something dawned on me. At first I thought it was that I hate my job, but that’s not totally true. I hate aspects of my job, but it mainly comes down to the fact that it allows me to do what I want to do comfortably. That comfort is what plays into my realization… I am only 60% happy, at best.
This is something I hide from myself, an ability, I have learned in the last couple years, that I have. For the most part this ability works out for me as it allows me to keep on keeping on without too much of a struggle. The downside of it being that I never know when this ability will weaken and I will have knowledge thrust upon me. Awareness is good, but I like a little warning before I get it, but my mind plays dirty apparently.
So what do I do when I realize…well, I think, because that’s something I always do. I try to figure out what the feeling is, what it means, and what I should do with it. I think about why I feel that way, and I see if I can make progress with it. Today I might have projected a bit onto this feeling as I had a weird funk over me for part of the day, but that funk may have been my mind’s warning to me and I just didn’t listen. I sometimes only really listen to myself when talking out loud, something the world kinda looks down on, but it works dammit.
But today is was the realization that I am not what one would call happy, at least not fully, like I said 60% at most. I have many good things going for me in life, and I am truly grateful for them. I know the good in my life, and that’s why I don’t crumble when my truths are laid bare to myself. I am damn glad I don’t crumble, work would have been awkward walking around with that upon me.
So, what is keeping me from the other 40% of happiness? Fear
Fear of putting myself out there too much, not having it reflected back, and being hurt in the process.
Fear of trying to obtain my dreams and failing in the action.
Fear of changing my surroundings to what I think I want and finding that I don’t want that at all.
Fear of being my own biggest roadblock and never finding my way over or through it.
Fear of leaving a comfort zone and never finding comfort again.
It’s a big world out there, and fear can make it seem so much smaller. Fear hobbles the runner, fear dries the ink of the writers pen, fear is an evil thing, but an always present one.
I know I have made progress in my life, and that I am closer to where I should be and where I want to be, but I can’t help but feel that the progress is slower than it should be. I have to remind myself that in my life I have always done things in my own time, and this is just more of the same, but… But there are always things that seem like I should work harder at, there are always things that I think I should put more effort into, but another day moves past me and I am here doing what I did yesterday.
So…what do I do?
There are changes I will make, ideas I will pursue, but I know that this is not something I magically fix overnight. I have to believe in myself, stand up for myself, and be strong in the face of fear, if I do not do that, then I cannot blame anything or anyone for the fear I am looking upon.
It’s a bit rough around the edges as of yet, but I know there’s something lovely there in the smooth parts.
Writing this is something I realized I had to do, because I had to address it, and I had to get it out there just in case someone else could relate.
This realization made the day feel heavier, but when I got home I was greeted by a dog…that will always lighten the load you carry on your shoulders, always.
After lunch today I was walking through the roundhouse back to the material building that I work out of, and something dawned on me. At first I thought it was that I hate my job, but that’s not totally true. I hate aspects of my job, but it mainly comes down to the fact that it allows me to do what I want to do comfortably. That comfort is what plays into my realization… I am only 60% happy, at best.
This is something I hide from myself, an ability, I have learned in the last couple years, that I have. For the most part this ability works out for me as it allows me to keep on keeping on without too much of a struggle. The downside of it being that I never know when this ability will weaken and I will have knowledge thrust upon me. Awareness is good, but I like a little warning before I get it, but my mind plays dirty apparently.
So what do I do when I realize…well, I think, because that’s something I always do. I try to figure out what the feeling is, what it means, and what I should do with it. I think about why I feel that way, and I see if I can make progress with it. Today I might have projected a bit onto this feeling as I had a weird funk over me for part of the day, but that funk may have been my mind’s warning to me and I just didn’t listen. I sometimes only really listen to myself when talking out loud, something the world kinda looks down on, but it works dammit.
But today is was the realization that I am not what one would call happy, at least not fully, like I said 60% at most. I have many good things going for me in life, and I am truly grateful for them. I know the good in my life, and that’s why I don’t crumble when my truths are laid bare to myself. I am damn glad I don’t crumble, work would have been awkward walking around with that upon me.
So, what is keeping me from the other 40% of happiness? Fear
Fear of putting myself out there too much, not having it reflected back, and being hurt in the process.
Fear of trying to obtain my dreams and failing in the action.
Fear of changing my surroundings to what I think I want and finding that I don’t want that at all.
Fear of being my own biggest roadblock and never finding my way over or through it.
Fear of leaving a comfort zone and never finding comfort again.
It’s a big world out there, and fear can make it seem so much smaller. Fear hobbles the runner, fear dries the ink of the writers pen, fear is an evil thing, but an always present one.
I know I have made progress in my life, and that I am closer to where I should be and where I want to be, but I can’t help but feel that the progress is slower than it should be. I have to remind myself that in my life I have always done things in my own time, and this is just more of the same, but… But there are always things that seem like I should work harder at, there are always things that I think I should put more effort into, but another day moves past me and I am here doing what I did yesterday.
So…what do I do?
There are changes I will make, ideas I will pursue, but I know that this is not something I magically fix overnight. I have to believe in myself, stand up for myself, and be strong in the face of fear, if I do not do that, then I cannot blame anything or anyone for the fear I am looking upon.
It’s a bit rough around the edges as of yet, but I know there’s something lovely there in the smooth parts.
Writing this is something I realized I had to do, because I had to address it, and I had to get it out there just in case someone else could relate.
This realization made the day feel heavier, but when I got home I was greeted by a dog…that will always lighten the load you carry on your shoulders, always.
Why I Yam What I Yam.
Yesterday I drove 509 miles in 11 hours, there was a rest in there, but pretty much constantly on the road for that time. I drove mom’s car and she drove her cousins so that we could drop it off at his shared lake cabin. Once it was delivered we drove to Bismarck so mom could visit her cousin in the hospital, he’s a hell of a fighter, almost died a few weeks ago, but now he’s breathing on his own and getting better and better in the ICU. So that’s what sets up what I have rolling around in my head.
As I was driving across Eastern Montana to get to where we were headed, I started to see political signs dot the countryside. Unfortunately they are all Republican nominees, this is because I live in a red state. Never mind that our Governor is a Democrat and has done an excellent job keeping our state in the black throughout the economic downturn. Never mind that both our Senators are Democrats, and have done fine work in Washington D.C.. No these things don’t matter to people around here, and a lot of it is because they do not educate themselves or question things. That’s my opinion anyways, because I know I blindly followed before I got educated and questioned things.
See, being brought up Catholic, and just following along like I was told wasn’t so bad, as I learned things like compassion and empathy, but of course I was also told of the things that were wrong, that were not free of sin. I bought into it, I played along, and I didn’t question much. It’s interesting that I didn’t question things there as I was learning to use creative thinking and problem solving in school and things like that, so why did it take so long to move the questioning over? Perhaps the all knowing entity had something to do with it, maybe it was the Catholic guilt, or maybe it was just having decently religious parents. Whatever it was, it took a long time to question things in that realm of my life.
So that’s a basis for why I yam what I yam, cartoons factor in too apparently, and brings me to today. I went for a walk in town to get my new contacts, and when I saw a sign for the local state representative I thought about him walking through our neighborhood when he was up for election the first time. I thought of how I saw dad talk to him, but I didn’t myself, and I thought of what I would say to him. I would start by saying I am a Democrat, and if he asked me why, I would go into the rant that built in my mind. I would not vote for a Republican because I see that they value money over people, they value possible people over women, and they have blinders on when it comes to the problems in this world. They want to not tax people, they want to not spend money on libraries and education so that they can justify not taxing, they do not help the lower and middle classes. I don’t mind being taxed so that programs that help people can exist, I do not think that women should have a war waged against them because there is almost always a possibility of life beginning within them. I vote Democrat because they choose to educate people on their stances rather than use fear as a tactic to drum up support from those they are actually pushing down. I vote Democrat because I care.
I know neither party is perfect, and my arguments can be used against me, but I stand behind them regardless. I will enter into debate with someone that is willing to listen to my side of things, but if you argue and attack me, I will respect your point much less then I would have, even if you might be right. These are the things that I think of when I think of politics.
I love people, I love seeing their potential, I love trying to help them see what they have within them, I do this by listening and engaging them. I try to live as optimistically as possible, although it isn’t always possible, and sometimes I forget that I am doing it, but I try. I think my upbringing brought this into my world, and I think my constant reading and expanding of my mind helped me hone it.
I fall in love with the quirks of personalities, I love it when I randomly find something in common with someone, or find someone as passionate about something as me. I love meeting people that are open to new things and gladly take my recommendations on books, movies, music, and the like. There is always something about life and people in it that will fascinate me.
On the flip side of that, there are the things that make me dislike a person, or that will raise my blood pressure when talking to them. That’s life though, and that’s just another thing to love about it. I think that this also might be why serial killers fascinate me so much. The random spree killer isn’t as hard to understand, because it might be a mental problem, a bit of rage, or something that just snaps and causes the person to go and do that, but a serial killer is completely different. A serial killer puts thought into what they are doing, they plan it. This fascinates me because it is so far outside my realm of understanding the world. There has never been anything that has made me think like a person that does that, and because it is opposite of me, it fascinates me.
That was a bit of a tangent perhaps, and my thoughts are kind of muddled as I have been watching a hockey game while typing this out, but it is slightly shaped like it was in my brain.
So basically I yam what I yam because of my raising, even though I have moved past some of the things of my youth, I am me because of them. I will always hold onto some of those lessons learned, and I have vowed to always learn as I go as well. I turned my critical thinking and problem solving onto my world instead of just the scholastic one, and that opened up many new avenues to me. I learned that the world will never be black and white, and so I should never act like it will be. I know not to look back as much as I look forward, something I finally learned after years of struggles.
I like how I started out with politics and my stance with that and turned it onto myself as I went. My words might be a little less organized then I thought they would be, but that is what I love about just going with these and seeing where I wind up, much like I do periodically with life. Hopefully you can now get a glance at why I yam what I yam.
Yesterday I drove 509 miles in 11 hours, there was a rest in there, but pretty much constantly on the road for that time. I drove mom’s car and she drove her cousins so that we could drop it off at his shared lake cabin. Once it was delivered we drove to Bismarck so mom could visit her cousin in the hospital, he’s a hell of a fighter, almost died a few weeks ago, but now he’s breathing on his own and getting better and better in the ICU. So that’s what sets up what I have rolling around in my head.
As I was driving across Eastern Montana to get to where we were headed, I started to see political signs dot the countryside. Unfortunately they are all Republican nominees, this is because I live in a red state. Never mind that our Governor is a Democrat and has done an excellent job keeping our state in the black throughout the economic downturn. Never mind that both our Senators are Democrats, and have done fine work in Washington D.C.. No these things don’t matter to people around here, and a lot of it is because they do not educate themselves or question things. That’s my opinion anyways, because I know I blindly followed before I got educated and questioned things.
See, being brought up Catholic, and just following along like I was told wasn’t so bad, as I learned things like compassion and empathy, but of course I was also told of the things that were wrong, that were not free of sin. I bought into it, I played along, and I didn’t question much. It’s interesting that I didn’t question things there as I was learning to use creative thinking and problem solving in school and things like that, so why did it take so long to move the questioning over? Perhaps the all knowing entity had something to do with it, maybe it was the Catholic guilt, or maybe it was just having decently religious parents. Whatever it was, it took a long time to question things in that realm of my life.
So that’s a basis for why I yam what I yam, cartoons factor in too apparently, and brings me to today. I went for a walk in town to get my new contacts, and when I saw a sign for the local state representative I thought about him walking through our neighborhood when he was up for election the first time. I thought of how I saw dad talk to him, but I didn’t myself, and I thought of what I would say to him. I would start by saying I am a Democrat, and if he asked me why, I would go into the rant that built in my mind. I would not vote for a Republican because I see that they value money over people, they value possible people over women, and they have blinders on when it comes to the problems in this world. They want to not tax people, they want to not spend money on libraries and education so that they can justify not taxing, they do not help the lower and middle classes. I don’t mind being taxed so that programs that help people can exist, I do not think that women should have a war waged against them because there is almost always a possibility of life beginning within them. I vote Democrat because they choose to educate people on their stances rather than use fear as a tactic to drum up support from those they are actually pushing down. I vote Democrat because I care.
I know neither party is perfect, and my arguments can be used against me, but I stand behind them regardless. I will enter into debate with someone that is willing to listen to my side of things, but if you argue and attack me, I will respect your point much less then I would have, even if you might be right. These are the things that I think of when I think of politics.
I love people, I love seeing their potential, I love trying to help them see what they have within them, I do this by listening and engaging them. I try to live as optimistically as possible, although it isn’t always possible, and sometimes I forget that I am doing it, but I try. I think my upbringing brought this into my world, and I think my constant reading and expanding of my mind helped me hone it.
I fall in love with the quirks of personalities, I love it when I randomly find something in common with someone, or find someone as passionate about something as me. I love meeting people that are open to new things and gladly take my recommendations on books, movies, music, and the like. There is always something about life and people in it that will fascinate me.
On the flip side of that, there are the things that make me dislike a person, or that will raise my blood pressure when talking to them. That’s life though, and that’s just another thing to love about it. I think that this also might be why serial killers fascinate me so much. The random spree killer isn’t as hard to understand, because it might be a mental problem, a bit of rage, or something that just snaps and causes the person to go and do that, but a serial killer is completely different. A serial killer puts thought into what they are doing, they plan it. This fascinates me because it is so far outside my realm of understanding the world. There has never been anything that has made me think like a person that does that, and because it is opposite of me, it fascinates me.
That was a bit of a tangent perhaps, and my thoughts are kind of muddled as I have been watching a hockey game while typing this out, but it is slightly shaped like it was in my brain.
So basically I yam what I yam because of my raising, even though I have moved past some of the things of my youth, I am me because of them. I will always hold onto some of those lessons learned, and I have vowed to always learn as I go as well. I turned my critical thinking and problem solving onto my world instead of just the scholastic one, and that opened up many new avenues to me. I learned that the world will never be black and white, and so I should never act like it will be. I know not to look back as much as I look forward, something I finally learned after years of struggles.
I like how I started out with politics and my stance with that and turned it onto myself as I went. My words might be a little less organized then I thought they would be, but that is what I love about just going with these and seeing where I wind up, much like I do periodically with life. Hopefully you can now get a glance at why I yam what I yam.
Been Slacking...
I didn't think I knew what to write a blog about, and then I came up with a bunch of little things I had floating around in my grey matter, so I am gonna bullet point a blog. Lord knows it will probably turn into some long winded diatribes, and some briefly touched upon subjects. Either way, I hope it sates your appetite for my words, or maybe it will cause a hunger, that's okay too.
-Today is the fifth anniversary of my accident. Five years ago at roughly 6:20 I was hit by a locomotive, scariest thing ever. I was just reflecting on it a bit ago, and I was thinking about how during the whole thing I never stopped figuring a way of escape, I never quit moving until the locomotives did and I knew I was safe. I was dragging myself along with a shattered leg and a sprained ankle on the other one, and I never quit moving. I eyeballed a few different means of escape, and I was not going to disappear that day, wasn't an option. I can remember feeling my leg get struck, and I honestly can't remember it getting pinned in, but I remember the leap out of the way, and something weighing on it as I leaped. I now realize what it would have meant had I not leaped, and it was the smartest thing I have ever done in my life, honestly. I need to trust my leaping more often, the adrenaline rush alone is worth it.
-Rites of Passage... There are various things in life that we do that allow us to move forward in a way that shows us and others that we are growing. They vary as we go, graduations, religious rites, personal achievements, jobs, on and on, but they mean something at that moment, and they give your life a bit of a gleam it didn't have before then. Last week I had one of these moments, and I still kinda smile about it. Dad's birthday landed on my days off and I told him I would take him and mom out to eat for his birthday, hell bring grandma with, what's that, my cousin's family too? Sure! They can come along, but let them know I am buying, and I won't take no for an answer. So I took the old man out for supper, foot the bill for six adults and a child, and it was a nice night all around. Good food, good company, good shit! The thing about this being a rite of passage is that you're showing your parents that they raised you right, that you have taken what they gave you, and now you're able to repay them without having to jump through hoops. It's a subtle movement forward, but it's there, it is understated, but it shines forth, and I like it.
-Reactions to things said... Mom has a cousin that is dealing with some serious health issues, he's been in the ICU for a while and he's fighting, but it's still up in the air as far as whether he will pull through or not. He's a good dude, been around a while, but he's also a bit of a loner. I was a little surprised by how hard mom was taking it, because I never thought them that close, but family is important to her, so I get it, and appreciate it. As his prognosis got slightly better, we were talking about something, not sure I remember what exactly, but something. The talk turned to her saying that I didn't have to leave anytime soon because the folks are happy to have me here. I said something about that being fine, but it was time I should and I was ready too. That's when she dropped the bomb and said "You're right, I don't want you winding up like Dennis". That's when I realized one of the reasons why she was taking it so hard, and a mother's love and desire for her child to be happy came through. She would probably be fine with me staying in this town (probably not this house) but she knows I can't do that and be happy, as far as I am concerned. Funny how those random sentences will brand themselves on your psyche.
-The witchcraft of the gloves at work... I don't know what the hell it is, but the gloves at work sap the moisture from my hands. At first I only noticed it when I wore a new pair of leather gloves, and I figured the breaking in process had something to do with it. Now I notice that even the cloth ones, or knit kind do it. Once you make that realization, there is only one answer for what is going on...witchcraft. Those old crones want to look young again, and so they do not go with botox, but rather they magic up a shipment of gloves, and they sap the suppleness from my hands. There really is no other answer for this, so do not try to feed me one. No, I will fight it as best I can, but if you see me storming past you with a pitchfork, a bucket of water, a torch, and possibly a chicken foot, well you know I got fed up, and I am going after the glove witches. They can't be that hard to find.
-Books and the devouring of them... I love reading, and I thank my mother for instilling that in me early on. I try to read as much and as often as I can, which means that college was a blessing and a curse. I had to read a lot, but not that much of it was for pleasure, which might be another reason that I took so many English classes actually. I had a drunken revelation once that it was a hard decision for me to make picking Anthropology of English, and really, I hadn't realized that it was, but yeah, it was. From kindergarten on, I had thought that I would work in a museum. I had no idea what it took to work in one, and then one day I saw a thing that said curators had degrees in Anthropology, so I jumped in. Two feet, no looking...how deep is the water? Doesn't fucking matter, Anthro is my future, and it was, and still is, but I took as many English classes as I could along the way. When I found out I had to have a level 4 language proficiency or at least 20 credits in another discipline in order to get my B.A., well that was a no brainer, English was my at least 20 credits. Hell I already had at least 11 or so credits in it. I almost minored in it, but I let myself get distracted from that notion, but I am okay with that too. You see, I devour books. I feel accomplishments when I finish books. I love getting to the half way point, and even more I love getting to that last 100 pages and knowing it might be a sprint to the finish. I reflect on them and marvel at how much I soak up without knowing it. I have a dream of writing, and it's one I know is attainable on some level, one that causes me to look at the words in a different manner as well. I keep a notebook of quotes near my bed, and I add to it as I find lines, phrases, and paragraphs that sing to me, that call out to me, that just flat out draw attention to them. I take solace in their wonderful comfort, and inspiration from their construction. I try to read as many books in a year as possible, keeping track all the way. The good and bad of this is that I know what I read and when, but I can also get down on myself for taking too long with one book, or between books. There is just something about holding a book and being transported away, something I will always run too, and something I will impart on others in some form on some nearby future day.
-Deviations... I have deviated a bit from the list I wrote, and partly because the things I wrote on it have merged with others, and became the paragraphs above this one. But that's okay, I like deviations. Deviations are adventures that don't necessarily have to be far reaching. A deviation from a set course can lead to unchartered waters, and once there, you might find something you never knew you were looking for. Deviations in blogging often happen to me. The way I blog is that I get an idea in my noggin, and I kick it around for a while, let it get it's legs under it, see if it will walk, some do, some don't, but I let them tell me. If it walks, then it gets a gait all it's own, and once it has that mastered, well it's time for fingers to push keys. I stream of conscience these things as best I can, which I think is partly because my fingers crave freedom in writing that they never got while I was in school. I often start walking along the path that an idea's gait has worn into my brain, and just as often I get distracted by the pretty bird flying off to my right. The beauty is inescapable so I follow, just another deviation, but it allows me to address something I didn't necessarily even know I had an opinion on. I like my deviations, and I hope you do as well, chances are they are going to accompany me for many, many years. Acclimate yourself as you see fit, because I am running with this shit!
So, what do you think? Any ideas of what I can deviate on in the future?
I didn't think I knew what to write a blog about, and then I came up with a bunch of little things I had floating around in my grey matter, so I am gonna bullet point a blog. Lord knows it will probably turn into some long winded diatribes, and some briefly touched upon subjects. Either way, I hope it sates your appetite for my words, or maybe it will cause a hunger, that's okay too.
-Today is the fifth anniversary of my accident. Five years ago at roughly 6:20 I was hit by a locomotive, scariest thing ever. I was just reflecting on it a bit ago, and I was thinking about how during the whole thing I never stopped figuring a way of escape, I never quit moving until the locomotives did and I knew I was safe. I was dragging myself along with a shattered leg and a sprained ankle on the other one, and I never quit moving. I eyeballed a few different means of escape, and I was not going to disappear that day, wasn't an option. I can remember feeling my leg get struck, and I honestly can't remember it getting pinned in, but I remember the leap out of the way, and something weighing on it as I leaped. I now realize what it would have meant had I not leaped, and it was the smartest thing I have ever done in my life, honestly. I need to trust my leaping more often, the adrenaline rush alone is worth it.
-Rites of Passage... There are various things in life that we do that allow us to move forward in a way that shows us and others that we are growing. They vary as we go, graduations, religious rites, personal achievements, jobs, on and on, but they mean something at that moment, and they give your life a bit of a gleam it didn't have before then. Last week I had one of these moments, and I still kinda smile about it. Dad's birthday landed on my days off and I told him I would take him and mom out to eat for his birthday, hell bring grandma with, what's that, my cousin's family too? Sure! They can come along, but let them know I am buying, and I won't take no for an answer. So I took the old man out for supper, foot the bill for six adults and a child, and it was a nice night all around. Good food, good company, good shit! The thing about this being a rite of passage is that you're showing your parents that they raised you right, that you have taken what they gave you, and now you're able to repay them without having to jump through hoops. It's a subtle movement forward, but it's there, it is understated, but it shines forth, and I like it.
-Reactions to things said... Mom has a cousin that is dealing with some serious health issues, he's been in the ICU for a while and he's fighting, but it's still up in the air as far as whether he will pull through or not. He's a good dude, been around a while, but he's also a bit of a loner. I was a little surprised by how hard mom was taking it, because I never thought them that close, but family is important to her, so I get it, and appreciate it. As his prognosis got slightly better, we were talking about something, not sure I remember what exactly, but something. The talk turned to her saying that I didn't have to leave anytime soon because the folks are happy to have me here. I said something about that being fine, but it was time I should and I was ready too. That's when she dropped the bomb and said "You're right, I don't want you winding up like Dennis". That's when I realized one of the reasons why she was taking it so hard, and a mother's love and desire for her child to be happy came through. She would probably be fine with me staying in this town (probably not this house) but she knows I can't do that and be happy, as far as I am concerned. Funny how those random sentences will brand themselves on your psyche.
-The witchcraft of the gloves at work... I don't know what the hell it is, but the gloves at work sap the moisture from my hands. At first I only noticed it when I wore a new pair of leather gloves, and I figured the breaking in process had something to do with it. Now I notice that even the cloth ones, or knit kind do it. Once you make that realization, there is only one answer for what is going on...witchcraft. Those old crones want to look young again, and so they do not go with botox, but rather they magic up a shipment of gloves, and they sap the suppleness from my hands. There really is no other answer for this, so do not try to feed me one. No, I will fight it as best I can, but if you see me storming past you with a pitchfork, a bucket of water, a torch, and possibly a chicken foot, well you know I got fed up, and I am going after the glove witches. They can't be that hard to find.
-Books and the devouring of them... I love reading, and I thank my mother for instilling that in me early on. I try to read as much and as often as I can, which means that college was a blessing and a curse. I had to read a lot, but not that much of it was for pleasure, which might be another reason that I took so many English classes actually. I had a drunken revelation once that it was a hard decision for me to make picking Anthropology of English, and really, I hadn't realized that it was, but yeah, it was. From kindergarten on, I had thought that I would work in a museum. I had no idea what it took to work in one, and then one day I saw a thing that said curators had degrees in Anthropology, so I jumped in. Two feet, no looking...how deep is the water? Doesn't fucking matter, Anthro is my future, and it was, and still is, but I took as many English classes as I could along the way. When I found out I had to have a level 4 language proficiency or at least 20 credits in another discipline in order to get my B.A., well that was a no brainer, English was my at least 20 credits. Hell I already had at least 11 or so credits in it. I almost minored in it, but I let myself get distracted from that notion, but I am okay with that too. You see, I devour books. I feel accomplishments when I finish books. I love getting to the half way point, and even more I love getting to that last 100 pages and knowing it might be a sprint to the finish. I reflect on them and marvel at how much I soak up without knowing it. I have a dream of writing, and it's one I know is attainable on some level, one that causes me to look at the words in a different manner as well. I keep a notebook of quotes near my bed, and I add to it as I find lines, phrases, and paragraphs that sing to me, that call out to me, that just flat out draw attention to them. I take solace in their wonderful comfort, and inspiration from their construction. I try to read as many books in a year as possible, keeping track all the way. The good and bad of this is that I know what I read and when, but I can also get down on myself for taking too long with one book, or between books. There is just something about holding a book and being transported away, something I will always run too, and something I will impart on others in some form on some nearby future day.
-Deviations... I have deviated a bit from the list I wrote, and partly because the things I wrote on it have merged with others, and became the paragraphs above this one. But that's okay, I like deviations. Deviations are adventures that don't necessarily have to be far reaching. A deviation from a set course can lead to unchartered waters, and once there, you might find something you never knew you were looking for. Deviations in blogging often happen to me. The way I blog is that I get an idea in my noggin, and I kick it around for a while, let it get it's legs under it, see if it will walk, some do, some don't, but I let them tell me. If it walks, then it gets a gait all it's own, and once it has that mastered, well it's time for fingers to push keys. I stream of conscience these things as best I can, which I think is partly because my fingers crave freedom in writing that they never got while I was in school. I often start walking along the path that an idea's gait has worn into my brain, and just as often I get distracted by the pretty bird flying off to my right. The beauty is inescapable so I follow, just another deviation, but it allows me to address something I didn't necessarily even know I had an opinion on. I like my deviations, and I hope you do as well, chances are they are going to accompany me for many, many years. Acclimate yourself as you see fit, because I am running with this shit!
So, what do you think? Any ideas of what I can deviate on in the future?
Mortality...
Heavy topic I know, but one that has been kicking around in my brain for a bit now, and now is the time for me to put it down on paper, or this mechanical equivalent rather.
Of course with a subject like this, one must find the correct music to have playing in the background. I chose George Harrison's posthumous greatest hits album Let it Roll, because it's awesome, and it's apropos.
So, what made me think of mortality? Recently we had a co-worker die somewhat unexpectedly. He wasn't of the best health, but yet we didn't think he was knocking on death's doorstep either. Many of my co-workers are convinced that the stress work put on him, our supervisor's had been on a rules violation hunt with him, that pushed him over the edge. While I don't think they are exactly right about that, I would argue that it played a hand in it for sure. Arnie, the deceased, graduated high school with my parents.
A couple days later a 64 year old male passed away in town. Dad will be 60 in 13 days...
Since I have moved home I have seen three co-workers pass away from various forms of cancer. Two of these men went to school with my folks and the third was slightly younger.
Last week another co-worker in his later 40s had a heart attack and had to have surgery to aid his problems, I believe they said three stints but it might have been shunts.
These things swirl around in my head and I think of mortality.
When I was a child I lost my Grandma Doris pretty early on, I was 5 and she was 71. She had obviously lived a rather full and long life, but this is my first memory of death in the family, the first memory of trying to avoid funerals, the first memory of a loved one in a box. Now, at this age I did not fully grasp what was going on around me, but you pick up on emotions and reactions of others, and then you realize that, that person is no longer there.
In the 28 years since then, I have lost two other grandparents, some great aunts and uncles, heroes, pets, and friends, and along the way, the idea of mortality comes into your vocabulary, and the definition settles into your lexicon. My understanding of the word has evolved with me, shaped by discussions, by novels, by poems, by movies, by comic books as well. Death is a turning point for characters, and it is a turning point in life.
For me it started out with the fear of dying myself. I think this is understandable because early on in life we have a concept of self and we are getting to grips with how that fits into the world around us, so of course we fear the ending of I. Eventually we learn more about compassion, about empathy, about others, and then we begin to fear the loss of those we love just as much as we fear the loss of ourselves.
As my fear shifted, I began to realize more about the world around me, began to notice the loss of others more than I had. When I moved back home part way through grad school I thought maybe there were so many cancer diagnosis' because we are a small town and your odds of getting it are more evident in that type of setting. Now, that might just be because in a small town we know everyone and so the sufferers of cancer are known which makes it seem that more prevalent, when it probably really isn't.
I do have to commend my community for coming together for those that are diagnosed. The benefit suppers, the raffles, and the helping hands offered are rather inspiring. This inspiration lets one see the humanity that resides in mortality, the compassion that can be there to ease the minds of those dealing with it directly. This side of mortality will always make me smile and appreciate this crazy thing called life.
Currently my fears involved with mortality have shifted to losing my parents. Neither my mom nor my dad are in poor health, they are overweight, but they are more or less healthy. Seeing people their age pass away makes you look at that though. These people that have towered over you your whole life, first physically and then mentally, are suddenly people that won't be there forever. Helping your dad make sausage in the garage, and discussing the recently passed can cause him to utter the statement "I hope to hell I live a lot longer than that". I instantly knew and understood what he was saying, but it is mildly disconcerting to hear your dad say something like that.
I am at a point where I need to leave this town again, get out into the world and see what it has to offer me, but part of me doesn't want to leave because these are times I can spend with my parents, times when everything is still good, times when I can show my dad my Grad School transcript and hear him say that he is proud of me (he's not a vocal man so that was awesome to hear the other night).
I am selfish in wanting to stay here for those reasons though. I think it is selfish because I am only doing it for me, but in the long run it holds me back, and it might even hold them back. It is also selfish because they want me to live a full life, and perhaps I am limiting myself from this because I want to be around them now, in case I can't be later. Yes, even selfishness resides in mortality, but who knew it could do so in a way other than hoping for more time for yourself or a loved one.
Mortality is a big thing, encompassing so much, meaning so much, and yet it can be quickly snuffed out without anyone even realizing what happened. Perhaps that is why I have let it kick around in my head for a week before I wrote this, and perhaps I haven't even discussed what all I thought of during this time, but the beauty of mortality is rather simple. As long as you're alive and kicking, as long as you're moving forward, as long as you can find that ounce of good in the pound of fear, mortality isn't such a bad thing. It isn't a bad thing, because without mortality we don't have life, without life we don't have experience, and without experience we are empty.
Mortality is looked at as a symbol of an end, but it is also a symbol of an existence, embrace that my friends.
Heavy topic I know, but one that has been kicking around in my brain for a bit now, and now is the time for me to put it down on paper, or this mechanical equivalent rather.
Of course with a subject like this, one must find the correct music to have playing in the background. I chose George Harrison's posthumous greatest hits album Let it Roll, because it's awesome, and it's apropos.
So, what made me think of mortality? Recently we had a co-worker die somewhat unexpectedly. He wasn't of the best health, but yet we didn't think he was knocking on death's doorstep either. Many of my co-workers are convinced that the stress work put on him, our supervisor's had been on a rules violation hunt with him, that pushed him over the edge. While I don't think they are exactly right about that, I would argue that it played a hand in it for sure. Arnie, the deceased, graduated high school with my parents.
A couple days later a 64 year old male passed away in town. Dad will be 60 in 13 days...
Since I have moved home I have seen three co-workers pass away from various forms of cancer. Two of these men went to school with my folks and the third was slightly younger.
Last week another co-worker in his later 40s had a heart attack and had to have surgery to aid his problems, I believe they said three stints but it might have been shunts.
These things swirl around in my head and I think of mortality.
When I was a child I lost my Grandma Doris pretty early on, I was 5 and she was 71. She had obviously lived a rather full and long life, but this is my first memory of death in the family, the first memory of trying to avoid funerals, the first memory of a loved one in a box. Now, at this age I did not fully grasp what was going on around me, but you pick up on emotions and reactions of others, and then you realize that, that person is no longer there.
In the 28 years since then, I have lost two other grandparents, some great aunts and uncles, heroes, pets, and friends, and along the way, the idea of mortality comes into your vocabulary, and the definition settles into your lexicon. My understanding of the word has evolved with me, shaped by discussions, by novels, by poems, by movies, by comic books as well. Death is a turning point for characters, and it is a turning point in life.
For me it started out with the fear of dying myself. I think this is understandable because early on in life we have a concept of self and we are getting to grips with how that fits into the world around us, so of course we fear the ending of I. Eventually we learn more about compassion, about empathy, about others, and then we begin to fear the loss of those we love just as much as we fear the loss of ourselves.
As my fear shifted, I began to realize more about the world around me, began to notice the loss of others more than I had. When I moved back home part way through grad school I thought maybe there were so many cancer diagnosis' because we are a small town and your odds of getting it are more evident in that type of setting. Now, that might just be because in a small town we know everyone and so the sufferers of cancer are known which makes it seem that more prevalent, when it probably really isn't.
I do have to commend my community for coming together for those that are diagnosed. The benefit suppers, the raffles, and the helping hands offered are rather inspiring. This inspiration lets one see the humanity that resides in mortality, the compassion that can be there to ease the minds of those dealing with it directly. This side of mortality will always make me smile and appreciate this crazy thing called life.
Currently my fears involved with mortality have shifted to losing my parents. Neither my mom nor my dad are in poor health, they are overweight, but they are more or less healthy. Seeing people their age pass away makes you look at that though. These people that have towered over you your whole life, first physically and then mentally, are suddenly people that won't be there forever. Helping your dad make sausage in the garage, and discussing the recently passed can cause him to utter the statement "I hope to hell I live a lot longer than that". I instantly knew and understood what he was saying, but it is mildly disconcerting to hear your dad say something like that.
I am at a point where I need to leave this town again, get out into the world and see what it has to offer me, but part of me doesn't want to leave because these are times I can spend with my parents, times when everything is still good, times when I can show my dad my Grad School transcript and hear him say that he is proud of me (he's not a vocal man so that was awesome to hear the other night).
I am selfish in wanting to stay here for those reasons though. I think it is selfish because I am only doing it for me, but in the long run it holds me back, and it might even hold them back. It is also selfish because they want me to live a full life, and perhaps I am limiting myself from this because I want to be around them now, in case I can't be later. Yes, even selfishness resides in mortality, but who knew it could do so in a way other than hoping for more time for yourself or a loved one.
Mortality is a big thing, encompassing so much, meaning so much, and yet it can be quickly snuffed out without anyone even realizing what happened. Perhaps that is why I have let it kick around in my head for a week before I wrote this, and perhaps I haven't even discussed what all I thought of during this time, but the beauty of mortality is rather simple. As long as you're alive and kicking, as long as you're moving forward, as long as you can find that ounce of good in the pound of fear, mortality isn't such a bad thing. It isn't a bad thing, because without mortality we don't have life, without life we don't have experience, and without experience we are empty.
Mortality is looked at as a symbol of an end, but it is also a symbol of an existence, embrace that my friends.
Unblanking my Person
A couple years ago I went about joining the world of Twitter, mainly because my favorite late night host, TV's Craig Ferguson, was talking about it all the time, and I wanted to see what he had to say. Little did I know the impact it would actually have upon me, and my little world.
I started with Craig, and then I started following more and more people as I started to get the hang of things. I followed people from sites I belonged too, people who had entertained me through their words, their music, or their acting. Things can snowball quickly on a person if they let them, and it’s fun if you do, trust me on this.
One person that i started following was Alkaline heretofore known as Alk, I had talked to her through blog comments and the like before, and this was another avenue to BS a bit, and see how each other was doing. Little did I know the effect this follow would have upon me and, really, my life as it is. Alk is an amazing lady, my Mirror if you will, an Evil Top Hat as well, just a good person to have on your side, and to call a friend.
Through Alk I slowly met more and more people from the lovely city of Vancouver, and suddenly I had honorary Canadian status, and I also then had a favorite NHL team. See, I upped my Twittering when I got my first smart phone and could tweet constantly, before that it had only been on my computer, and when you work afternoons you miss some people that way.
Because of Alk, and all of those I have met and conversed with over the last year and change, I have booked a trip to Vancouver in July. I planned it around The Dark Knight being out so I could see it in IMAX, but there are so many other things I want to do and see when I get to Vancouver, and so many amazing people I cannot wait to meet when I arrive there.
I was offered many couches to surf upon, and that's something that will make you smile, because I will let my opinion of these people err on the side of non-serial killer. So the plane ticket is booked, and so I get to have that paid off before I get there. The passport has been applied for and will arrive with plenty of time to spare. Money will be saved up so that I can have me a good time while there, eating and drinking, and being merry!
One thing I decided to do while there is to get the tattoo that has been swirling about in my mind for the last 4 years or so. I am putting it in "print" like this so that I will have whoever reads this around to call me out if I don't get it. I like putting that kind of pressure upon myself, no backing out that way.
What made me decide to do it on this trip? Well, when I used to watch the various Ink shows on TV I always envisioned getting a tattoo on a trip. It felt like something that one did, but it also seemed like I would have better luck finding an artist with the talent and experience that I want in whoever is putting ink below my skin. So after random tattoo talk on Twitter the idea came back around in my head as something I would do rather than something I "should" do.
I am a guy that has a lot of things on my should list, and sometimes they move to my will do list, and sometimes they sit there and stare at me until I realize I have outgrown them, or I fear the level of importance they have taken in my mind. So, telling people I will do something, and putting it into something like this, flips a switch in my brain and I will in fact do it. I don't always get it done immediately, but if I say I will, then I will, that's me, that's what I do.
Anyways, the discussion on Twitter snowballed into a couple day random topic, and when I brought it up to Alk and @BretinVancouver, heretofore known as Bret, it became even more of a reality. These are two of my friends in Vancouver, two people that have interesting and well done tattoos, so obviously they are my experts on all things ink. (Another thing Twitter is good for, finding experts when you didn't know you were looking)
Alk and Bret have both gotten tattoos in Vancouver, so obviously I ask them for artist suggestions. Alk threw a website at me of an artist she used to work with, and after looking at his examples, I knew I was going to approach him about my idea, and see if he was available while I am there, and what he might be able to do for me if he is. I haven't sent that email off yet, but I will do so with ample time so that he can wrap his mind around my idea, and so he can come up with something to show me as well.
What is my idea?
Well, let's flash back to five years ago this April 4th, a day that I am rather lucky to have gotten through, a day that ended as well as it could with all things considered. That day was a rather uneventful day at work until around 6:20am. I was finishing up my shift at work, and after parking a locomotive on a track and moving the turn table to retrieve another one, I saw the first was rolling.
I thought "Oh fuck" and I began to move the turntable back around so that I might line up the tracks on it with the track the now rolling unit was on. It was cold that morning, and because of that the table didn’t turn as quickly as it could have. I came close to lining up the tracks, and once I realized I wasn't going to be able to, I started moving backwards to get out of the way. I moved backwards so as to see the unit coming at me, but I moved at a kind of an angle. I tripped a bit on the track, and it was then that the locomotive struck me and I made a sound I know I will never be able to duplicate, nor do I ever want to be in a position to do so. I was never really pinned down, but I had to really jump to my left to get out of the way of the moving locomotive. I eyed the drop into the pit, wondering if I was going to have to hurl myself down there, but I kept moving away from the locomotive. As I drug myself, the rolling locomotive struck our switch engine, and finally came to a stop. Once everything had quit moving and I knew I was safe, I relaxed and stopped dragging myself. I will tell you what, pain comes on fast when adrenalin wears off, boy howdy does it come on fast. I knew my right leg was messed up, but I also knew it didn't hurt as bad if I just stayed still.
The supervisors and all that came out to check on me and the accident once they had called 911. Luckily one of them is an EMT so that made me feel more relaxed about it all as he knew how to assess everything. I went to the ER, and at that time my town didn't have an ortho surgeon, so they had to find one to take me. I am glad they found the one they did, Dr. Isackson in Dickinson, ND. I really liked him, and his approach in all my dealings with him. Luckily I got hurt on a Tuesday and that’s one of his surgery days, so I was able to take an ambulance to Dickinson so that I could have a rod put into my shattered tibia, and have my broken fibula assessed as well. I was in the hospital until Thursday, I had a brace on my right leg, crutches, and one of those cushioned braces for my severely sprained left ankle. What can I say, when I get injured I do it right! Here's a picture to kinda show what went with it all.
That is the actual accident report from work, something that they figured out wasn't my fault due to the 7337 having a faulty handbrake modification. See the walkway by the green switch engine, that’s where I wound up, and that mangled part in the foreground, that’s where I was standing moving the controller that was there, and that's where I started getting out of the way.
So you can see why I say I got out of it in the best way possible, a broken leg is nothing compared to no leg, or no life, so I will take the scars I got and never say a bad thing about them.
I probably got the idea for the tattoo about the time I was getting the rod taken out of my bone a year after the accident. I had always kinda wanted a tattoo but never knew what to get, or what would mean something to me. Inspiration hit, and I knew what I wanted. I want a train tunnel with a light shining forth from it. I don't know if I want 7337 and 4-4-07 included or not, but I am definitely open to seeing what the artist might come up with on this.
So you can probably understand why I want this tattoo, but let me tell you what it means to me. I often hear about people going through traumatic situations and they get a new lease on life, a new outlook, and I didn't really get that. Sometimes I wonder if I am broken because I didn't, or if I just process things differently. I used humor to get over the trauma of it all, and I think that was good, but I also downplayed it when telling people about it. When faced with the statement "You got hit by a train?" I would always say "Well, one locomotive" and go on with the discussion.
I want to remind myself that things can go differently, that things may have a way of working out, but that doesn’t mean you let them be. I want to have something that catches my eye, something that speaks to me about something I have been through, something that reminds me of where I have been and where I am going. That is why I want what I want, and that is why I will get it.
Alk talked about her love of taking blank people to get their first ink, and after sometime towards the end of July, I will no longer be blank.
Think my leg will be pretty?
A couple years ago I went about joining the world of Twitter, mainly because my favorite late night host, TV's Craig Ferguson, was talking about it all the time, and I wanted to see what he had to say. Little did I know the impact it would actually have upon me, and my little world.
I started with Craig, and then I started following more and more people as I started to get the hang of things. I followed people from sites I belonged too, people who had entertained me through their words, their music, or their acting. Things can snowball quickly on a person if they let them, and it’s fun if you do, trust me on this.
One person that i started following was Alkaline heretofore known as Alk, I had talked to her through blog comments and the like before, and this was another avenue to BS a bit, and see how each other was doing. Little did I know the effect this follow would have upon me and, really, my life as it is. Alk is an amazing lady, my Mirror if you will, an Evil Top Hat as well, just a good person to have on your side, and to call a friend.
Through Alk I slowly met more and more people from the lovely city of Vancouver, and suddenly I had honorary Canadian status, and I also then had a favorite NHL team. See, I upped my Twittering when I got my first smart phone and could tweet constantly, before that it had only been on my computer, and when you work afternoons you miss some people that way.
Because of Alk, and all of those I have met and conversed with over the last year and change, I have booked a trip to Vancouver in July. I planned it around The Dark Knight being out so I could see it in IMAX, but there are so many other things I want to do and see when I get to Vancouver, and so many amazing people I cannot wait to meet when I arrive there.
I was offered many couches to surf upon, and that's something that will make you smile, because I will let my opinion of these people err on the side of non-serial killer. So the plane ticket is booked, and so I get to have that paid off before I get there. The passport has been applied for and will arrive with plenty of time to spare. Money will be saved up so that I can have me a good time while there, eating and drinking, and being merry!
One thing I decided to do while there is to get the tattoo that has been swirling about in my mind for the last 4 years or so. I am putting it in "print" like this so that I will have whoever reads this around to call me out if I don't get it. I like putting that kind of pressure upon myself, no backing out that way.
What made me decide to do it on this trip? Well, when I used to watch the various Ink shows on TV I always envisioned getting a tattoo on a trip. It felt like something that one did, but it also seemed like I would have better luck finding an artist with the talent and experience that I want in whoever is putting ink below my skin. So after random tattoo talk on Twitter the idea came back around in my head as something I would do rather than something I "should" do.
I am a guy that has a lot of things on my should list, and sometimes they move to my will do list, and sometimes they sit there and stare at me until I realize I have outgrown them, or I fear the level of importance they have taken in my mind. So, telling people I will do something, and putting it into something like this, flips a switch in my brain and I will in fact do it. I don't always get it done immediately, but if I say I will, then I will, that's me, that's what I do.
Anyways, the discussion on Twitter snowballed into a couple day random topic, and when I brought it up to Alk and @BretinVancouver, heretofore known as Bret, it became even more of a reality. These are two of my friends in Vancouver, two people that have interesting and well done tattoos, so obviously they are my experts on all things ink. (Another thing Twitter is good for, finding experts when you didn't know you were looking)
Alk and Bret have both gotten tattoos in Vancouver, so obviously I ask them for artist suggestions. Alk threw a website at me of an artist she used to work with, and after looking at his examples, I knew I was going to approach him about my idea, and see if he was available while I am there, and what he might be able to do for me if he is. I haven't sent that email off yet, but I will do so with ample time so that he can wrap his mind around my idea, and so he can come up with something to show me as well.
What is my idea?
Well, let's flash back to five years ago this April 4th, a day that I am rather lucky to have gotten through, a day that ended as well as it could with all things considered. That day was a rather uneventful day at work until around 6:20am. I was finishing up my shift at work, and after parking a locomotive on a track and moving the turn table to retrieve another one, I saw the first was rolling.
I thought "Oh fuck" and I began to move the turntable back around so that I might line up the tracks on it with the track the now rolling unit was on. It was cold that morning, and because of that the table didn’t turn as quickly as it could have. I came close to lining up the tracks, and once I realized I wasn't going to be able to, I started moving backwards to get out of the way. I moved backwards so as to see the unit coming at me, but I moved at a kind of an angle. I tripped a bit on the track, and it was then that the locomotive struck me and I made a sound I know I will never be able to duplicate, nor do I ever want to be in a position to do so. I was never really pinned down, but I had to really jump to my left to get out of the way of the moving locomotive. I eyed the drop into the pit, wondering if I was going to have to hurl myself down there, but I kept moving away from the locomotive. As I drug myself, the rolling locomotive struck our switch engine, and finally came to a stop. Once everything had quit moving and I knew I was safe, I relaxed and stopped dragging myself. I will tell you what, pain comes on fast when adrenalin wears off, boy howdy does it come on fast. I knew my right leg was messed up, but I also knew it didn't hurt as bad if I just stayed still.
The supervisors and all that came out to check on me and the accident once they had called 911. Luckily one of them is an EMT so that made me feel more relaxed about it all as he knew how to assess everything. I went to the ER, and at that time my town didn't have an ortho surgeon, so they had to find one to take me. I am glad they found the one they did, Dr. Isackson in Dickinson, ND. I really liked him, and his approach in all my dealings with him. Luckily I got hurt on a Tuesday and that’s one of his surgery days, so I was able to take an ambulance to Dickinson so that I could have a rod put into my shattered tibia, and have my broken fibula assessed as well. I was in the hospital until Thursday, I had a brace on my right leg, crutches, and one of those cushioned braces for my severely sprained left ankle. What can I say, when I get injured I do it right! Here's a picture to kinda show what went with it all.
That is the actual accident report from work, something that they figured out wasn't my fault due to the 7337 having a faulty handbrake modification. See the walkway by the green switch engine, that’s where I wound up, and that mangled part in the foreground, that’s where I was standing moving the controller that was there, and that's where I started getting out of the way.
So you can see why I say I got out of it in the best way possible, a broken leg is nothing compared to no leg, or no life, so I will take the scars I got and never say a bad thing about them.
I probably got the idea for the tattoo about the time I was getting the rod taken out of my bone a year after the accident. I had always kinda wanted a tattoo but never knew what to get, or what would mean something to me. Inspiration hit, and I knew what I wanted. I want a train tunnel with a light shining forth from it. I don't know if I want 7337 and 4-4-07 included or not, but I am definitely open to seeing what the artist might come up with on this.
So you can probably understand why I want this tattoo, but let me tell you what it means to me. I often hear about people going through traumatic situations and they get a new lease on life, a new outlook, and I didn't really get that. Sometimes I wonder if I am broken because I didn't, or if I just process things differently. I used humor to get over the trauma of it all, and I think that was good, but I also downplayed it when telling people about it. When faced with the statement "You got hit by a train?" I would always say "Well, one locomotive" and go on with the discussion.
I want to remind myself that things can go differently, that things may have a way of working out, but that doesn’t mean you let them be. I want to have something that catches my eye, something that speaks to me about something I have been through, something that reminds me of where I have been and where I am going. That is why I want what I want, and that is why I will get it.
Alk talked about her love of taking blank people to get their first ink, and after sometime towards the end of July, I will no longer be blank.
Think my leg will be pretty?
