When I was hired at this job, my soon-to-be boss told me during the interview that I was being hired specifically to work on one project, and that this project is scheduled to last through 2013. When I took the job, I was certainly not in any mood to turn down an offer... I had just gotten laid off from my previous job a month before and my savings were almost completely empty just from trying to survive on the rent I was paying.
The plan, as I had imagined it, was that my dog-training schooling would be complete in about January or February of 2011. Over the following two years, I would begin to see how much work I could drum up by doing dog-training stuff on the side. Once 2013 got closer, I would have a better idea if training full-time would be possible, or if I would need to begin seeking other employment.
The other day, I dropped something off for my boss, and she sat me down to "remind me" that my employment can't be guaranteed after the Christ-Light project is over. Like I said, this wasn't new information to me. However, she proceeded to tell me that they've done a lot of rearranging of who is doing what specific task over the next couple of years. Long story short, I could be out of a job as early as next August.
In addition, she also told me that she had to cut the hours for everybody else in the department, and was "informing me" that I can go a minimum of 32 hours without losing health insurance. She said that she's not really in the loop either, and so she just wants to keep me as informed as possible. There are, and I agree with her, way too many other factors to say anything for sure. The project that I'm working on, according to my boss, is the basket that the company is putting all their eggs in. If it flops, there will be serious consequences on the business end. I would be losing my job at the end either way, because it's a one-time project. There's no sustainability there for me.
If I get knocked down to 32 hours, I'll be losing 20% of my wages. That's pretty scary. Everything is still completely up in the air right now. My projects are still "scheduled" to 2013 so it's hard to say whether they're going to keep me doing them or not. And the hours thing may not even happen. It's way too soon to tell on either front, and I don't want to start look at other jobs until I have more information. I don't want to leave this job because of something that MAY happen. I probably won't know until next year. Though if I get knocked down to 32 hours, I will probably start seeking part-time employment somewhere else.
Also, I was sifting through my task list at work today, when I came across a Teacher's Guide that I have to put together. It takes about a month to complete and I haven't started it yet because it's not due til January. At least, I thought so. This morning I discovered that I must have written down the wrong due date, and this massive project is in fact due NEXT THURSDAY. It never ends around here.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
The Egg
I've been extremely busy this weekend and haven't had time to prepare my weekly babbling of pseudo-existential bullshit. Instead, I will provide you with this short story, brought to my attention by my dear friend Kim. It resonates with me. It's called "The Egg" by Andy Weir.
---
You were on your way home when you died.
It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.
And that’s when you met me.
“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”
“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.
“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”
“Yup,” I said.
“I… I died?”
“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.
You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”
“More or less,” I said.
“Are you god?” You asked.
“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”
“My kids… my wife,” you said.
“What about them?”
“Will they be all right?”
“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”
You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”
“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”
“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”
“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,”
“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”
You followed along as we strode through the void. “Where are we going?”
“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”
“So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”
“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”
I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.
“You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”
“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”
“Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”
“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”
“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”
“Where you come from?” You said.
“Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”
“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”
“So what’s the point of it all?”
“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”
“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.
I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”
“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”
“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”
“Just me? What about everyone else?”
“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”
You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”
“All you. Different incarnations of you.”
“Wait. I’m everyone!?”
“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.
“I’m every human being who ever lived?”
“Or who will ever live, yes.”
“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”
“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.
“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.
“And you’re the millions he killed.”
“I’m Jesus?”
“And you’re everyone who followed him.”
You fell silent.
“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”
You thought for a long time.
“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”
“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”
“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”
“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”
“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”
“An egg.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”
And I sent you on your way.
---
You were on your way home when you died.
It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.
And that’s when you met me.
“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”
“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.
“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”
“Yup,” I said.
“I… I died?”
“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.
You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”
“More or less,” I said.
“Are you god?” You asked.
“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”
“My kids… my wife,” you said.
“What about them?”
“Will they be all right?”
“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”
You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”
“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”
“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”
“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,”
“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”
You followed along as we strode through the void. “Where are we going?”
“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”
“So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”
“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”
I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.
“You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”
“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”
“Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”
“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”
“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”
“Where you come from?” You said.
“Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”
“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”
“So what’s the point of it all?”
“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”
“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.
I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”
“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”
“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”
“Just me? What about everyone else?”
“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”
You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”
“All you. Different incarnations of you.”
“Wait. I’m everyone!?”
“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.
“I’m every human being who ever lived?”
“Or who will ever live, yes.”
“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”
“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.
“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.
“And you’re the millions he killed.”
“I’m Jesus?”
“And you’re everyone who followed him.”
You fell silent.
“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”
You thought for a long time.
“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”
“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”
“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”
“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”
“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”
“An egg.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”
And I sent you on your way.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Out of Carrots. Out of Sticks.
Gambit is the most high-maintenance, and for lack of a better term, "emo" dog that I've ever dealt with. He has very severe separation anxiety. When my roommate's out, he is a complete emotional wreck. Every single time. He has no interest in food or treats. He has very limited interest in playing. He just mopes around the house, and he cries and whines at the door and at the windows, waiting for her to come home. Even if he's sitting right next to me or on my lap, all he does is whine and whine. He's started doing this thing where he "howls" at night if he has to sleep in my room. He doesn't sleep, he just cries all night. If I leave him out of the crate, he scratches at the door, or puts his face next to my bed and cries. I got 3 hours of sleep last night because he won't leave me alone unless I crate him, and even crated he doesn't stop.
During the day he's rarely more than a foot away. I tend to pace around the house when I'm on the phone with somebody, and even if I'm having an hour-long conversation where I'm slowly going in circles the whole time, he's still right next to me EVERY step of the way. If the dog and I are home alone, and I have to take the trash out, I may be gone for 1 minute tops. But when I come back inside, Gambit acts as though he hasn't seen me in a million years. He jumps from the floor up to shoulder level over and over and over. If I'm carrying things, he knocks them out of my hands. If I ignore him he starts whining loudly or standing right in my path or running between my legs, which is going to trip me someday. It's not just "I'm excited to see you!" It's more like "I thought I'd never see you again!"
This morning, I woke up to a note that Lia was calling in sick and that she just wants to sleep. I realized that I had to leash him and take him outside as soon as he left the crate, otherwise he'd cause a fuss. In the ten seconds it took me to walk from my room to grab the leash and come back, he started barking loudly at 6:30 in the morning, so I had to quick run back in so he would settle down. I took him out and then when I brought him in I realized I couldn't let him off the leash because he'd be loud and whimpery like he always is, and probably start whining outside her door and she'd wake up and I'd get yelled at. I also couldn't crate him because apparently he feels like barking today. So when I prepared his food, I had to hold him with me on the leash. When he was eating, I had to stand there with him leashed while he ate. When I showered, I had to bring him in the bathroom and tie him to the door knob (where he promptly started crying again.) Then I had to immediately bring him back into my room and crate him so I could go to work. He wouldn't get in of course, because he knows that the crate means he's going to be alone. So, I had to pick him up and put him in. Which led to more crying. We can't leave him uncrated or he'll destroy or pee on everything and he's not interested in any of his toys or chew things while we're gone because he's too depressed to satisfy his own boredom. This is what most days are like.
I was doing some research. This is the worst kind of separation anxiety, in which we should probably be taking him to the vet because he needs to be on a constant supply of anti-anxiety drugs (and may need to be for months or years.) I'm also learning that the worst thing for a dog like Gambit is to be faced with a full-blown version of what he's distressed about, like for example, every work day where he's alone all day. And from what I've been seeing, the only way that we can treat his problems with training is to do the thing where we gradually leave for longer and longer periods of time, and this process takes WEEKS. But that won't work in this case because every time we are both at work he reverts back to full-blown distress again. I think that's why he's been getting worse these last two weeks. He's even started to become aggressive towards other dogs, especially the landlord's dogs downstairs, and that obviously can't continue. He cannot handle a living in a home situation like this. He needs to be with someone who is ALWAYS home. At least until his problem goes away, which again could take months or years. So unless we find a daily dog-sitter or take him to doggy day-care (I assume that we wouldn't be able to afford either one) we're pretty much screwed.
I suspect that even if I worked with him on this problem every day, that it wouldn't fix it as long as he's still all alone during the work day. I can try to train him to stop jumping, or barking, or being dog aggressive, or "leave it." But those aren't the problems. Those are all symptoms of the separation anxiety and they won't go away until that's fixed. That's something that I can't cure unless one of us is home all day, every day. If a kid was his "dog-years" age and acting this way, he would be in extreme psychological counseling. I love the dog very much, but I don't feel as though we're equipped to handle this.
During the day he's rarely more than a foot away. I tend to pace around the house when I'm on the phone with somebody, and even if I'm having an hour-long conversation where I'm slowly going in circles the whole time, he's still right next to me EVERY step of the way. If the dog and I are home alone, and I have to take the trash out, I may be gone for 1 minute tops. But when I come back inside, Gambit acts as though he hasn't seen me in a million years. He jumps from the floor up to shoulder level over and over and over. If I'm carrying things, he knocks them out of my hands. If I ignore him he starts whining loudly or standing right in my path or running between my legs, which is going to trip me someday. It's not just "I'm excited to see you!" It's more like "I thought I'd never see you again!"
This morning, I woke up to a note that Lia was calling in sick and that she just wants to sleep. I realized that I had to leash him and take him outside as soon as he left the crate, otherwise he'd cause a fuss. In the ten seconds it took me to walk from my room to grab the leash and come back, he started barking loudly at 6:30 in the morning, so I had to quick run back in so he would settle down. I took him out and then when I brought him in I realized I couldn't let him off the leash because he'd be loud and whimpery like he always is, and probably start whining outside her door and she'd wake up and I'd get yelled at. I also couldn't crate him because apparently he feels like barking today. So when I prepared his food, I had to hold him with me on the leash. When he was eating, I had to stand there with him leashed while he ate. When I showered, I had to bring him in the bathroom and tie him to the door knob (where he promptly started crying again.) Then I had to immediately bring him back into my room and crate him so I could go to work. He wouldn't get in of course, because he knows that the crate means he's going to be alone. So, I had to pick him up and put him in. Which led to more crying. We can't leave him uncrated or he'll destroy or pee on everything and he's not interested in any of his toys or chew things while we're gone because he's too depressed to satisfy his own boredom. This is what most days are like.
I was doing some research. This is the worst kind of separation anxiety, in which we should probably be taking him to the vet because he needs to be on a constant supply of anti-anxiety drugs (and may need to be for months or years.) I'm also learning that the worst thing for a dog like Gambit is to be faced with a full-blown version of what he's distressed about, like for example, every work day where he's alone all day. And from what I've been seeing, the only way that we can treat his problems with training is to do the thing where we gradually leave for longer and longer periods of time, and this process takes WEEKS. But that won't work in this case because every time we are both at work he reverts back to full-blown distress again. I think that's why he's been getting worse these last two weeks. He's even started to become aggressive towards other dogs, especially the landlord's dogs downstairs, and that obviously can't continue. He cannot handle a living in a home situation like this. He needs to be with someone who is ALWAYS home. At least until his problem goes away, which again could take months or years. So unless we find a daily dog-sitter or take him to doggy day-care (I assume that we wouldn't be able to afford either one) we're pretty much screwed.
I suspect that even if I worked with him on this problem every day, that it wouldn't fix it as long as he's still all alone during the work day. I can try to train him to stop jumping, or barking, or being dog aggressive, or "leave it." But those aren't the problems. Those are all symptoms of the separation anxiety and they won't go away until that's fixed. That's something that I can't cure unless one of us is home all day, every day. If a kid was his "dog-years" age and acting this way, he would be in extreme psychological counseling. I love the dog very much, but I don't feel as though we're equipped to handle this.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Cauterizing the Wound
The sky was orange from the far-off city lights. I think that's what I'm going to remember the most. Clouds covered the sky as though they were large splatters of paint on a dark canvas. The two of us stood at the field on the top of the hill, letting the flames at our feet dwindle in the wind.
I suppose it goes without saying that we were both there for different reasons. He stood in silence watching the pages burn one after another, and as each one withered into ash and ember, I think it soothed his pain. But the hurt would stay hidden for the time-being. He was too stoic for that. He stared at the ground, watching the book slowly get eaten away. Instead, I focused on the sky. The clouds, the stars, the breeze, the temperature... It was all so very familiar and it brought me back to summers lost. One in particular.
But I didn't come there for closure or nostalgia. In fact, I didn't come there for me at all. But I realized that 12 AM looked exactly like 11:59 did the minute before. Different days, same moment. As such, the end of summer now looked exactly like the one I remember from years ago. The year may be different, but I was still locked in the same moment. People change. Times change. Friendships come and go. The power of human recognition never fails to amaze me. But standing in that moment again felt like being back in time, watching the future that I've lived in the meantime stretching out before me; except this time if felt like some distant future instead of a memory. It felt like everything between then and now peeled away, and for just a moment, I held a small piece of innocence again. I had been offered a glimpse back to those times when I was filled with youthful exuberance and optimism, believing that years in the future, I will have found my place and my freedom. I felt like I had a destiny, waiting for me out there somewhere.
It's a funny thing to have the weight of your memories crashing upon you all at once. It makes the rest of your life seem trite and inconsequential next to those halcyon days that you'll never truly get to live through again. If I ever had the opportunity to trade in everything I've accomplished to go back to those moments... Well, sometimes I can't promise I wouldn't do it.
He stomped out the last vestiges of the fire below, scattering a thousand tiny remnants into the wind. I took one last look at the world around me; a scene from a memory that I may not ever see again. But it was there, and I had to take stock of it. The cold night crept in again and I began to realize that it truly was turning into autumn, no matter how much I wanted to hang on. We turned and started to descend the hill, and though I came with nothing, I left behind another wasted summer.
I suppose it goes without saying that we were both there for different reasons. He stood in silence watching the pages burn one after another, and as each one withered into ash and ember, I think it soothed his pain. But the hurt would stay hidden for the time-being. He was too stoic for that. He stared at the ground, watching the book slowly get eaten away. Instead, I focused on the sky. The clouds, the stars, the breeze, the temperature... It was all so very familiar and it brought me back to summers lost. One in particular.
But I didn't come there for closure or nostalgia. In fact, I didn't come there for me at all. But I realized that 12 AM looked exactly like 11:59 did the minute before. Different days, same moment. As such, the end of summer now looked exactly like the one I remember from years ago. The year may be different, but I was still locked in the same moment. People change. Times change. Friendships come and go. The power of human recognition never fails to amaze me. But standing in that moment again felt like being back in time, watching the future that I've lived in the meantime stretching out before me; except this time if felt like some distant future instead of a memory. It felt like everything between then and now peeled away, and for just a moment, I held a small piece of innocence again. I had been offered a glimpse back to those times when I was filled with youthful exuberance and optimism, believing that years in the future, I will have found my place and my freedom. I felt like I had a destiny, waiting for me out there somewhere.
It's a funny thing to have the weight of your memories crashing upon you all at once. It makes the rest of your life seem trite and inconsequential next to those halcyon days that you'll never truly get to live through again. If I ever had the opportunity to trade in everything I've accomplished to go back to those moments... Well, sometimes I can't promise I wouldn't do it.
He stomped out the last vestiges of the fire below, scattering a thousand tiny remnants into the wind. I took one last look at the world around me; a scene from a memory that I may not ever see again. But it was there, and I had to take stock of it. The cold night crept in again and I began to realize that it truly was turning into autumn, no matter how much I wanted to hang on. We turned and started to descend the hill, and though I came with nothing, I left behind another wasted summer.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Once
Do you remember the time the power went out? I sat on the lawn watching the storms roll in and lightning streak across the sky. I kept hoping that you would call. I was going to give you a poem I had written for you by candlelight. But you never called. I threw it away.
Do you remember when we rode our bikes 20 miles just to go to Dairy Queen? I never felt like I had earned a meal as much as that afternoon. The worst part was riding them all the way back after just eating at Dairy Queen.
Do you remember the night you asked me if I had feelings for you? I lied to you, because you were with somebody else. I wish I had said "yes" anyway. I wonder if it would have changed anything.
Do you remember when we freed the raccoon that was stuck in the garbage can in the middle of the night? It was whimpering, and at first we had no idea where the noise was coming from. When we eventually peered into the garbage can, it was staring back with big mournful eyes. Together, we lifted the garbage can and tilted it to let the little guy go free. He ran off into the night and looked back just once, as if to say "thank you."
Do you remember the long walk home from your friend's house that cold night in January? We saw a shooting star, and you told me to make a wish. I still remember what I wished for. It never came true.
Do you remember when I picked you up so we could go to that birthday party? You and I had one of the craziest conversations I think I've ever had. (And that's saying something.) When we got there, you guys all decided it would be funny to smoosh leftover frosting and cake in my hair. It took me two days to get all the blue coloring out. But it was still fun.
Do you remember when our classmate made you cry after prom? I've still never completely forgiven him for making you feel that way.
Do you remember when the entire town flooded? We went to the park and decided that looking at the flood water wasn't enough. So we rolled up our jeans to our knees and walked two miles of the path on what used to be a nature trail through the forest, except in waist deep water. The water was dirty and we were concerned about leeches, but we didn't even care. One of my favorite adventures of all time.
Do you remember when we decided to drive up to the "best haunted house in the state?" We waited in line for probably 3 hours. When we finally got in, it actually kind of sucked. But I remember getting our tickets and sitting on the guardrail next to the ramp, waiting for them to call our numbers. Laughing and talking and quoting Family Guy to make the hours go by.
Do you remember when we went mini-golfing and you fell in the water trap? I don't think I've ever laughed so hard. We must have laughed uncontrollably for 10 minutes. The best part was when someone across the golf-course yelled "I got pictures!"
Do you remember when we stole a whole bunch of lunch trays from the MDR cafeteria to go sledding? Somebody's keys had come out of their pocket and gotten lost on the sled hill in the dark. The rest of us left to get flashlights, but instead got mozzarella sticks and hot-chocolate and decided "it's too cold, and he's an idiot."
Do you remember when you got a bunch of us together to drive out to the countryside? You wanted to take us to go see the fireflies because there were thousands of them lighting up the pitch black night. Then a park authority came by, and we all decided to hide... poorly. We had to take two cars full of people to get there, so I don't know how we thought we'd get away with that. He yelled at us for being in the park after closing time and made us leave.
Do you remember sitting at Denny's at midnight to come up with good prank ideas? We were there until 3 AM, and I had so many vanilla cokes that I didn't sleep the whole night.
Do you remember the time when we decided that it would be a good idea to walk to Culvers at 9:30 PM when they closed at 10? It never seemed that far away when we were driving past it, but actually walking just barely got us there in time. It was extremely humid and we had blisters on our feet because we were walking through fairly deep gravel in flip-flops.
Do you remember when you found out that your office was closing and you were getting laid off? We got the cheese sticks from Toppers and hung out in your office, which was severely lacking in furniture, complaining very vocally about the whole ordeal. You also tried convincing me to do a shot of straight garlic butter sauce. I promptly declined.
Do you remember when we used to try and get together during our lunch breaks? I only had a half hour, and with the driving time and the irregularity of your lunch schedule, we only ended up getting to sit and talk for three to five minutes. Somehow, it was still fun. And I miss it.
Do you remember when we rode our bikes 20 miles just to go to Dairy Queen? I never felt like I had earned a meal as much as that afternoon. The worst part was riding them all the way back after just eating at Dairy Queen.
Do you remember the night you asked me if I had feelings for you? I lied to you, because you were with somebody else. I wish I had said "yes" anyway. I wonder if it would have changed anything.
Do you remember when we freed the raccoon that was stuck in the garbage can in the middle of the night? It was whimpering, and at first we had no idea where the noise was coming from. When we eventually peered into the garbage can, it was staring back with big mournful eyes. Together, we lifted the garbage can and tilted it to let the little guy go free. He ran off into the night and looked back just once, as if to say "thank you."
Do you remember the long walk home from your friend's house that cold night in January? We saw a shooting star, and you told me to make a wish. I still remember what I wished for. It never came true.
Do you remember when I picked you up so we could go to that birthday party? You and I had one of the craziest conversations I think I've ever had. (And that's saying something.) When we got there, you guys all decided it would be funny to smoosh leftover frosting and cake in my hair. It took me two days to get all the blue coloring out. But it was still fun.
Do you remember when our classmate made you cry after prom? I've still never completely forgiven him for making you feel that way.
Do you remember when the entire town flooded? We went to the park and decided that looking at the flood water wasn't enough. So we rolled up our jeans to our knees and walked two miles of the path on what used to be a nature trail through the forest, except in waist deep water. The water was dirty and we were concerned about leeches, but we didn't even care. One of my favorite adventures of all time.
Do you remember when we decided to drive up to the "best haunted house in the state?" We waited in line for probably 3 hours. When we finally got in, it actually kind of sucked. But I remember getting our tickets and sitting on the guardrail next to the ramp, waiting for them to call our numbers. Laughing and talking and quoting Family Guy to make the hours go by.
Do you remember when we went mini-golfing and you fell in the water trap? I don't think I've ever laughed so hard. We must have laughed uncontrollably for 10 minutes. The best part was when someone across the golf-course yelled "I got pictures!"
Do you remember when we stole a whole bunch of lunch trays from the MDR cafeteria to go sledding? Somebody's keys had come out of their pocket and gotten lost on the sled hill in the dark. The rest of us left to get flashlights, but instead got mozzarella sticks and hot-chocolate and decided "it's too cold, and he's an idiot."
Do you remember when you got a bunch of us together to drive out to the countryside? You wanted to take us to go see the fireflies because there were thousands of them lighting up the pitch black night. Then a park authority came by, and we all decided to hide... poorly. We had to take two cars full of people to get there, so I don't know how we thought we'd get away with that. He yelled at us for being in the park after closing time and made us leave.
Do you remember sitting at Denny's at midnight to come up with good prank ideas? We were there until 3 AM, and I had so many vanilla cokes that I didn't sleep the whole night.
Do you remember the time when we decided that it would be a good idea to walk to Culvers at 9:30 PM when they closed at 10? It never seemed that far away when we were driving past it, but actually walking just barely got us there in time. It was extremely humid and we had blisters on our feet because we were walking through fairly deep gravel in flip-flops.
Do you remember when you found out that your office was closing and you were getting laid off? We got the cheese sticks from Toppers and hung out in your office, which was severely lacking in furniture, complaining very vocally about the whole ordeal. You also tried convincing me to do a shot of straight garlic butter sauce. I promptly declined.
Do you remember when we used to try and get together during our lunch breaks? I only had a half hour, and with the driving time and the irregularity of your lunch schedule, we only ended up getting to sit and talk for three to five minutes. Somehow, it was still fun. And I miss it.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Teeth
I have always placed a lot of emphasis on the science of dreaming. To me, it offers a glimpse into someone's subconscious without the burden of their conscious mind getting in the way and tainting what all the information means. Generally, the information is offered up in a way that's so veiled that the dreamer can't distinguish the meaning, and henceforth, won't leave out evidence of their feelings and emotions that they might otherwise hide. When you're analyzing somebody's dreams, I believe that the dream offers pure insight into the dreamer's mental state, and especially into the parts of it that the dreamer himself isn't even aware of. The whole system of mental faculties surrounding dreams fascinates me.
For my entire life, there have been a few particular themes that creep up in my dreams over and over depending on what's happening in waking life. Over the last year, I've been contending with a string of dreams that always end with all of my teeth falling out. Bizarre, huh? In those moments before you wake up and you think it's really happening, it's one of the most disturbing things you can imagine. In the dream, I'll become aware that my teeth feel loose, and then I'll pull or push on one with my finger and it'll just start bleeding and fall out. You know that scene from "Stir of Echoes" where Kevin Bacon is looking in the mirror and he starts pulling his teeth out? That's what it looks and "feels" like. I'll get so uncomfortable, it'll usually be enough to wake me up and double check to make sure my teeth are still there. The worst part is that after waking up, I can still remember the "feeling" of my teeth coming out, the taste of copious amounts of blood, and worst of all cradling the entire mess in my hands in complete hopelessness.
From the being a fairly regular occurrence, those dreams have stopped in the last month. I've been doing some internet research to try and find some explanation here, but we all know how legit most of the internet is. I have noticed some common themes that seem to make some sense, as well as the explanation that these dreams are actually pretty common among people, so I post them here as a guidepost for anyone having a similar experience.
The main explanation seems to be feelings of powerlessness, loss of control, and abandonment. When your teeth fall out, there is often very little you can do about it. If my subconscious is worried about those issues, or notices them happening when my conscious mind is still unaware, this is how it would most likely be expressed. In the last year, there are very few times where I've felt like I've had control over certain aspects of my life. I've expressed this many times in past posts, but I generally feel like the world is moving along without me and I'm just trying to catch up.
Tooth loss dreams are also a sign of significant fear of humiliation. When I was speaking with a therapist a few months ago, we determined that fear is the reigning negative factor in my life. I've been showered with constant worry since I was a child. I was always told repeatedly about every possible bad outcome of every situation, and this just served to reinforce any phobias or nervousness I had about the world around me. Fast forward to middle and high school, where I lived the social-life of an awkward outcast, and was often embarrassed for the enjoyment of the "other" crowd. Follow that with being on the receiving end of an emotionally abusive relationship in high school and early college where she would use my fear against me as a form of controlling me through humiliation. Together, these experiences create a cocktail of hesitance, weakness, and fear that I'm still trying to overcome. The point being, that missing teeth is something that is embarrassing, and with my strong negative association for humiliation, this could be a glimpse of that fear hanging out somewhere in my subconscious, preying on me in ways that I may never be entirely aware of.
Teeth fall out, under normal circumstances, during periods of significant growth. First, when we lose our baby teeth, and again once we get old. This shows me that my subconscious is focusing on aging and the fear of growing old. As most of you know, the last few months have led me through a lot of soul-searching about my future and the goals I've set for myself along the way. One of my primary goals was to have at least one kid by the time I was 30. I ideally would like to have a year or two of marriage without kids, and another year or two of "dating" before getting married. I'm 25 now, so that means my time is running much shorter if I'm going to make this goal. I realize that over 30 isn't going to be the end of the world, but it's still frustrating when you can't accomplish what you've set out to do. This has been on my mind a lot lately too.
But the last month, things have been better. I feel like I have more control over my life, and confidence in myself, and I'm starting to make peace with the uncertainty of my future. I feel as though I've come a long way, and it appears as though my subconscious is starting to believe the same thing.
For my entire life, there have been a few particular themes that creep up in my dreams over and over depending on what's happening in waking life. Over the last year, I've been contending with a string of dreams that always end with all of my teeth falling out. Bizarre, huh? In those moments before you wake up and you think it's really happening, it's one of the most disturbing things you can imagine. In the dream, I'll become aware that my teeth feel loose, and then I'll pull or push on one with my finger and it'll just start bleeding and fall out. You know that scene from "Stir of Echoes" where Kevin Bacon is looking in the mirror and he starts pulling his teeth out? That's what it looks and "feels" like. I'll get so uncomfortable, it'll usually be enough to wake me up and double check to make sure my teeth are still there. The worst part is that after waking up, I can still remember the "feeling" of my teeth coming out, the taste of copious amounts of blood, and worst of all cradling the entire mess in my hands in complete hopelessness.
From the being a fairly regular occurrence, those dreams have stopped in the last month. I've been doing some internet research to try and find some explanation here, but we all know how legit most of the internet is. I have noticed some common themes that seem to make some sense, as well as the explanation that these dreams are actually pretty common among people, so I post them here as a guidepost for anyone having a similar experience.
The main explanation seems to be feelings of powerlessness, loss of control, and abandonment. When your teeth fall out, there is often very little you can do about it. If my subconscious is worried about those issues, or notices them happening when my conscious mind is still unaware, this is how it would most likely be expressed. In the last year, there are very few times where I've felt like I've had control over certain aspects of my life. I've expressed this many times in past posts, but I generally feel like the world is moving along without me and I'm just trying to catch up.
Tooth loss dreams are also a sign of significant fear of humiliation. When I was speaking with a therapist a few months ago, we determined that fear is the reigning negative factor in my life. I've been showered with constant worry since I was a child. I was always told repeatedly about every possible bad outcome of every situation, and this just served to reinforce any phobias or nervousness I had about the world around me. Fast forward to middle and high school, where I lived the social-life of an awkward outcast, and was often embarrassed for the enjoyment of the "other" crowd. Follow that with being on the receiving end of an emotionally abusive relationship in high school and early college where she would use my fear against me as a form of controlling me through humiliation. Together, these experiences create a cocktail of hesitance, weakness, and fear that I'm still trying to overcome. The point being, that missing teeth is something that is embarrassing, and with my strong negative association for humiliation, this could be a glimpse of that fear hanging out somewhere in my subconscious, preying on me in ways that I may never be entirely aware of.
Teeth fall out, under normal circumstances, during periods of significant growth. First, when we lose our baby teeth, and again once we get old. This shows me that my subconscious is focusing on aging and the fear of growing old. As most of you know, the last few months have led me through a lot of soul-searching about my future and the goals I've set for myself along the way. One of my primary goals was to have at least one kid by the time I was 30. I ideally would like to have a year or two of marriage without kids, and another year or two of "dating" before getting married. I'm 25 now, so that means my time is running much shorter if I'm going to make this goal. I realize that over 30 isn't going to be the end of the world, but it's still frustrating when you can't accomplish what you've set out to do. This has been on my mind a lot lately too.
But the last month, things have been better. I feel like I have more control over my life, and confidence in myself, and I'm starting to make peace with the uncertainty of my future. I feel as though I've come a long way, and it appears as though my subconscious is starting to believe the same thing.
Monday, August 16, 2010
The Drawing Board
I wrote about this a couple of weeks back, but I've been using my recent life changes to bring about a "return to form," if you will. This may seem like a tangent, but stay with me.
Earlier this year, I went to see Demetri Martin perform stand-up, and after the show he came back out and talked with the audience for an hour. One of his stories was talking about how since he's such a geek and wanted to live his life to the fullest, he had actually devised a "point system" for his day-to-day life. He made a list of things he would like to do more, and things that made him happy, and assigned each one a point value. He would spend every day trying to acquire as many points as he could. Not because they were worth anything as far as the rest of the world is concerned, but because he could look back over his days with fulfillment.
That idea resonated very deeply with me. I function much better with anything in my life if there's some kind of system in place. I've also been very "play" motivated. I like to turn mundane things into little games for myself, otherwise I will not be inclined to do them. It's sort of a personal frailty. But I always find myself sitting at home after work, thinking "What should I do tonight?" Then by the time I have an idea, it's usually too late in the evening to act on it. So I'll swear at myself for wasting another day, and then end up doing it again the next day. I decided this type of behavior has to stop. I am always too fixated on the future and I forget to enjoy every day, because at the end when I'm looking back, that's all I'm really going to have is those memories.
A month or so ago I did something very similar to Demetri Martin. I took a personal inventory of all the things I like. Hobbies, people I like to spend time with, places I like to go, stuff I need to catch up on (reading/TV shows/games). I'm even talking about things I haven't done in years, like lap swimming or sketching or taking a bike trip. I put them all in an Excel table and wrote down the date (usually an approximate) for the last time I did that item. I also gave each one a timeframe, whether it was something I could do in a couple of hours (like after work), if it took all day, or if it took a full weekend.
I sorted it so that the thing I've done the longest ago is always at the top. Then I go down the list until I find one that corresponds with how much free time I have at that moment. Yesterday I noticed with the help of this chart that I haven't gone on a photography excursion for many months. So, I called my dad, and I set one up. And just like that, I had some adventure again. If left to my own devices, I probably would have just sat around all day. And yes, I realize I'm a nerd.
The last couple of years I've felt as though I've been losing my grip on who I am. I'm determined not to let that happen, and cheesy though it may sound, I hope this list is going to help me keep things in perspective and balance my life out again. Sometimes it's the simple things that make all the difference.
And by the way, the reason that I haven't written for a couple weeks is simple. Lia and I broke up, so I took some time off from the Blogosphere. (I hate that word.) There were a lot of reasons for it, but I don't really want to get into that. Unfortunately, we just signed that lease on our apartment, so we are stuck there until next June.
Earlier this year, I went to see Demetri Martin perform stand-up, and after the show he came back out and talked with the audience for an hour. One of his stories was talking about how since he's such a geek and wanted to live his life to the fullest, he had actually devised a "point system" for his day-to-day life. He made a list of things he would like to do more, and things that made him happy, and assigned each one a point value. He would spend every day trying to acquire as many points as he could. Not because they were worth anything as far as the rest of the world is concerned, but because he could look back over his days with fulfillment.
That idea resonated very deeply with me. I function much better with anything in my life if there's some kind of system in place. I've also been very "play" motivated. I like to turn mundane things into little games for myself, otherwise I will not be inclined to do them. It's sort of a personal frailty. But I always find myself sitting at home after work, thinking "What should I do tonight?" Then by the time I have an idea, it's usually too late in the evening to act on it. So I'll swear at myself for wasting another day, and then end up doing it again the next day. I decided this type of behavior has to stop. I am always too fixated on the future and I forget to enjoy every day, because at the end when I'm looking back, that's all I'm really going to have is those memories.
A month or so ago I did something very similar to Demetri Martin. I took a personal inventory of all the things I like. Hobbies, people I like to spend time with, places I like to go, stuff I need to catch up on (reading/TV shows/games). I'm even talking about things I haven't done in years, like lap swimming or sketching or taking a bike trip. I put them all in an Excel table and wrote down the date (usually an approximate) for the last time I did that item. I also gave each one a timeframe, whether it was something I could do in a couple of hours (like after work), if it took all day, or if it took a full weekend.
I sorted it so that the thing I've done the longest ago is always at the top. Then I go down the list until I find one that corresponds with how much free time I have at that moment. Yesterday I noticed with the help of this chart that I haven't gone on a photography excursion for many months. So, I called my dad, and I set one up. And just like that, I had some adventure again. If left to my own devices, I probably would have just sat around all day. And yes, I realize I'm a nerd.
The last couple of years I've felt as though I've been losing my grip on who I am. I'm determined not to let that happen, and cheesy though it may sound, I hope this list is going to help me keep things in perspective and balance my life out again. Sometimes it's the simple things that make all the difference.
And by the way, the reason that I haven't written for a couple weeks is simple. Lia and I broke up, so I took some time off from the Blogosphere. (I hate that word.) There were a lot of reasons for it, but I don't really want to get into that. Unfortunately, we just signed that lease on our apartment, so we are stuck there until next June.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Colorless
I'm not sure how we got on the subject, but last night, Lia and I spent a great deal of time talking about emotions. More specifically, my emotional health. It helped me to realize a few things that I don't think I ever realized before.
The last several months, I've noticed an tremendous growth in people asking me whether or not I'm okay. I always thought it was a bit odd. While we all have our moments from day-to-day, I haven't considered myself depressed. So whenever I inquire further, people just tell me that I seem down, or distant, or that I've got things on my mind. There's something about me the last few months that's been apparent to everyone about my emotional state, except me. And I honestly can't remember the last time I've felt truly honest-to-God "happy" for more than a day at a time. Not happy, but not sad either... I guess that leaves me somewhere in the middle.
I feel like I've spent every day of my life waiting for "the next step." When I was in High School, I was waiting for College. In College I was waiting for a career in graphic design, and now I'm waiting for whatever's after that (whether it's dog-training or stock trading or any of the other stuff I've considered.) When I'm dating, I'm waiting for a relationship, and then an engagement, and then marriage. I was waiting for a dog, which I now have, and kids eventually. Even going from dorm to apartment to a house eventually.
I've noticed that I find myself so consumed with the end-game of it all, that I'm missing the journey along the way. I had always heard that expressed over the years, but I never thought I'd be the person who'd actually have that problem. I used to appreciate the little things, and I don't anymore. I could sit in the grass under a tree and enjoy a nice day and be happy, or sit at my old aquarium and watch the fish swim around and feel tranquil. I can't do that anymore. I always feel like I "should be doing something." And again, I'd like to reiterate that I'm not sad, because everyone seems to think that I am when I write a blog like this. I just feel dull. I feel like the world around me, and life in general has lost its flavor. I feel like nothing is exciting anymore. Like I'm seeing the world around me in shades of gray. That sounds corny, but I can't think of any other way to describe it.
Lia is amazing. We have an awesome home that I'm very fond of. I have a stable job that pays me well that I don't mind going to everyday. I have a network of very close friends who I can go to about any topic. I have a wonderful family who's very good to me. We even have an extremely well behaved puppy that loves us very much. I have every reason in the world to BE happy. But somehow, I'm just not happy. Content, perhaps. Apathetic and jaded, but certainly not sad.
So we discussed my personality as though it were its own separate entity for a little while. I think that the type of personality that I have is that of an Explorer. And I think that what's happening to me is that I feel like there's nothing left for me to explore. Of course, I realize that's not true. But my next steps are getting a house, getting engaged, and getting my dog training certification. I've made a long journey, like all of us have, but I feel like house and marriage and kids is where it stops. Obviously, I know that it doesn't, but I just feel like there's no new territory after that point. Nothing left to explore.
I've become painfully aware in the last year and a half or so that I need more adventure in my life. I think that's really what it boils down to. I want to go places I've never been before. See things I've never seen before. I want to say to myself "yesterday I had no idea that I would be standing here in this place right now." I think that's one of the reasons that I've taken such a liking to geocaching. It puts me in places I never thought I'd be. I want to go to new restaurants. I want to travel. I want to go outside because nature is always changing. I want to go everywhere that it's possible to go. I want to learn new things and meet new people. But then that raises a couple more problems. First of all, money. Money is a big one. But secondly, and more importantly, is that I don't feel like having any of these experiences is anywhere near as fulfilling without having a companion along the way. I want to make more memories. I want to be able to share the things in my life that I find fascinating with another human being. And I can't ever fully express that feeling to another person without them being there too.
Maybe what it really comes down to is that I miss having other people at my side, no matter what I'm up to or how little time I have to hang out. I miss people just "dropping by." Or saying "Hey, we're all doing such-and-such tonight. Wanna come?" But in the absence of all that, I've gotta learn how to keep myself happy without other people. Every activity that I used to enjoy is difficult for me to find myself being happy about doing.
Even reaching the end of this writing, I'm not sure where it leaves me. I'm trying to devise a list of things that I would like to do more frequently. Something that will let me spend more time with people, and/or fulfill my thirst for adventure. Something that will make life seem a little less gray.
The last several months, I've noticed an tremendous growth in people asking me whether or not I'm okay. I always thought it was a bit odd. While we all have our moments from day-to-day, I haven't considered myself depressed. So whenever I inquire further, people just tell me that I seem down, or distant, or that I've got things on my mind. There's something about me the last few months that's been apparent to everyone about my emotional state, except me. And I honestly can't remember the last time I've felt truly honest-to-God "happy" for more than a day at a time. Not happy, but not sad either... I guess that leaves me somewhere in the middle.
I feel like I've spent every day of my life waiting for "the next step." When I was in High School, I was waiting for College. In College I was waiting for a career in graphic design, and now I'm waiting for whatever's after that (whether it's dog-training or stock trading or any of the other stuff I've considered.) When I'm dating, I'm waiting for a relationship, and then an engagement, and then marriage. I was waiting for a dog, which I now have, and kids eventually. Even going from dorm to apartment to a house eventually.
I've noticed that I find myself so consumed with the end-game of it all, that I'm missing the journey along the way. I had always heard that expressed over the years, but I never thought I'd be the person who'd actually have that problem. I used to appreciate the little things, and I don't anymore. I could sit in the grass under a tree and enjoy a nice day and be happy, or sit at my old aquarium and watch the fish swim around and feel tranquil. I can't do that anymore. I always feel like I "should be doing something." And again, I'd like to reiterate that I'm not sad, because everyone seems to think that I am when I write a blog like this. I just feel dull. I feel like the world around me, and life in general has lost its flavor. I feel like nothing is exciting anymore. Like I'm seeing the world around me in shades of gray. That sounds corny, but I can't think of any other way to describe it.
Lia is amazing. We have an awesome home that I'm very fond of. I have a stable job that pays me well that I don't mind going to everyday. I have a network of very close friends who I can go to about any topic. I have a wonderful family who's very good to me. We even have an extremely well behaved puppy that loves us very much. I have every reason in the world to BE happy. But somehow, I'm just not happy. Content, perhaps. Apathetic and jaded, but certainly not sad.
So we discussed my personality as though it were its own separate entity for a little while. I think that the type of personality that I have is that of an Explorer. And I think that what's happening to me is that I feel like there's nothing left for me to explore. Of course, I realize that's not true. But my next steps are getting a house, getting engaged, and getting my dog training certification. I've made a long journey, like all of us have, but I feel like house and marriage and kids is where it stops. Obviously, I know that it doesn't, but I just feel like there's no new territory after that point. Nothing left to explore.
I've become painfully aware in the last year and a half or so that I need more adventure in my life. I think that's really what it boils down to. I want to go places I've never been before. See things I've never seen before. I want to say to myself "yesterday I had no idea that I would be standing here in this place right now." I think that's one of the reasons that I've taken such a liking to geocaching. It puts me in places I never thought I'd be. I want to go to new restaurants. I want to travel. I want to go outside because nature is always changing. I want to go everywhere that it's possible to go. I want to learn new things and meet new people. But then that raises a couple more problems. First of all, money. Money is a big one. But secondly, and more importantly, is that I don't feel like having any of these experiences is anywhere near as fulfilling without having a companion along the way. I want to make more memories. I want to be able to share the things in my life that I find fascinating with another human being. And I can't ever fully express that feeling to another person without them being there too.
Maybe what it really comes down to is that I miss having other people at my side, no matter what I'm up to or how little time I have to hang out. I miss people just "dropping by." Or saying "Hey, we're all doing such-and-such tonight. Wanna come?" But in the absence of all that, I've gotta learn how to keep myself happy without other people. Every activity that I used to enjoy is difficult for me to find myself being happy about doing.
Even reaching the end of this writing, I'm not sure where it leaves me. I'm trying to devise a list of things that I would like to do more frequently. Something that will let me spend more time with people, and/or fulfill my thirst for adventure. Something that will make life seem a little less gray.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Dodging Bullets
Moving was an unbelievable pain. Of course, there are moving stories. Our lives are never complete without a few days worth of wondering "who else does this happen to?"
Saturday morning started with me pulling something in my back, which was fun to nurse all day while carrying heavy boxes. We were also out one car for the move because Lia's car suddenly wouldn't shift out of park, so she had to call AAA to get her to the mechanic, and that repair will cost her about $150. Cable install took about 3 hours and the cable guy had to call for backup and his supervisor said this was the most difficult assignment he's had in his 6 years on the job. Since our duplex is in a historical house that is over 100 years old, it was sided with some weird slate tile stuff that they don't make anymore. One of the cable guys accidentally drilled through an outside wall and it SHATTERED the siding in that area. So the landlords got into an altercation with them. (But the good news is that I don't think we have to pay our install fee.)
Then in the last HOUR we were cleaning out the old place, the kitchen sink started belching up icky black stuff and we can't get it to drain anymore. We plunged it, we used Draino, we tried everything. Still won’t drain. Of course, this would happen on our last hour.
And now comes the pinnacle of our stupid decisions. In fact, this might be one of the stupidest decisions we've EVER made. You ready for this?
Remember that duplex that we pulled out of at the beginning of the month? (Go back and read about it, if you don't.) We’re still waiting to get the other half of our security deposit back. So we called Wendi and she gave us a sob story about how nobody’s calling about the place, and she’s so poor because it’s not rented that they’re going to have to declare bankruptcy and that if it’s not rented by July 15th they’ll have to keep our deposit. She’s offered it to three people and they’ve all turned her down and was talking about how she’s computer illiterate so she's not trying to blow us off because she wouldn't be able to get Lia's number out of her phone if she tried. So then Lia looks at me after the phone call and says “I’ve got a crazy idea. Since she said she’s computer illiterate, why don’t we put it up on Craigslist with her phone number?” So I remarked that this is one of those situations where everybody wins. They’d get a lot more interest considering that they’ve got more advertising than the one sign outside. We’d get our security deposit back. They’re out of debt. Everybody wins. What on earth were we thinking?
So we made an ad. And it was a good ad. Pictures and everything. It was late at night by the time we decided to do this, and it sounds like a really stupid idea now, but it sounded great at 11 pm when our brains were mush from the stress of moving. We were going to call Wendi back in the morning and see if she wanted it edited or taken down or what-have-you. Well, then the next morning came. And we forgot, because we were too busy tripping over boxes and forgetting that it was trash day. Oopsies.
An email from Lia comes in at some point during the work day, saying that Wendi’s called her like 5 times without leaving a message. Lia called her back and Wendi told her that her niece found the ad online and thought it was horrible, and that she had been getting calls from “riff-raff” all day. Lia told her that we were just trying to help, and that she erased it. Wendi told her the police have been contacted.
I finally got in touch with Wendi after playing phone tag for a while. I told her that I was a little confused about what was going on because Lia wasn’t available to call since she was working. So Wendi told me her side of the story, which was basically just that she started getting a terrifying amount of calls, and people started stopping into the house when she was alone there and texting her and all that kind of stuff, and that people were just offering to take it over the phone without even seeing the place. Sounds like a lot of sketchy activity. She called Craigslist and they did some research and found out that Lia had posted the ad, and so Wendi filed a complaint. So then I told her OUR side of the story and how it sounded like a situation where everybody wins and we were just trying to help. I also apologized profusely.
I’ve noticed when talking to Wendi, it’s not a conversation as much as it is that she’s talking at you, so this whole bit is her just “talking at me.” She scolded me (seriously, like in a “mom voice” and everything) and said that the reason she doesn’t have anything posted online is because she’s very picky about who she rents to and the kind of people who just see it online are lazy because they aren’t putting forth the effort to drive around, and she doesn’t think that they will take care of the place like they did. She complained about how she’s really trying and she’s in a really rough spot because before this all happened they had just put their house up for sale, so they’re broke because they wouldn't have done that if they knew we weren't going to be renting and she doesn’t feel like we are appreciating all of her hard work trying to get this rented. She said again that she has a legal right to the security deposit money because they never gave us receipts so it’s our word against hers, though since we wrote “security deposit” on our checks, it could be implied in the court room as our intent to rent, and then it wouldn’t matter whether or not we signed the lease because that still counts as some kind of a verbal contract. She said most landlords wouldn’t even have given half of it back. Then she told me how she feels like she’s being very fair with this entire process and she’s pissed that we've brought up legal action about the security deposit on more than one occasion.
I told her that I know she’s been putting in the hard-work because this sucks for all of us. I reiterated that we were just trying to help and we came to the agreement that she won’t press charges for this as long as we stop bringing up the legality of whether or not she's entitled to our money without a signed lease. She said she’s still going to try and get us our money back if it’s rented by July 15th, but she can’t make any promises that that’ll happen. After that, it’ll depend what’s going on with their money situation because of the home sale and everything. I made a suggestion for a location for her to move the For Rent sign, because it was in a place that I don’t think it was able to be seen very well, and she said she would move it immediately. I thanked her for all her hard work, which she said she appreciates, and she said she’d be in touch if it gets rented or July 15th comes. At least it ended on a better note.
I do not think the "police" had really been contacted. I think she meant that the Craigslist people had been contacted.
Live and learn, kids. Whenever you have a important decision that needs to be made, sleep on it. Ask people's permission BEFORE trying to help them, not afterwards, because they might not appreciate it. The best of intentions have often led to worst results. And the best way to handle conflicts is with peaceful resolution, not shaking your fist over your head.
Saturday morning started with me pulling something in my back, which was fun to nurse all day while carrying heavy boxes. We were also out one car for the move because Lia's car suddenly wouldn't shift out of park, so she had to call AAA to get her to the mechanic, and that repair will cost her about $150. Cable install took about 3 hours and the cable guy had to call for backup and his supervisor said this was the most difficult assignment he's had in his 6 years on the job. Since our duplex is in a historical house that is over 100 years old, it was sided with some weird slate tile stuff that they don't make anymore. One of the cable guys accidentally drilled through an outside wall and it SHATTERED the siding in that area. So the landlords got into an altercation with them. (But the good news is that I don't think we have to pay our install fee.)
Then in the last HOUR we were cleaning out the old place, the kitchen sink started belching up icky black stuff and we can't get it to drain anymore. We plunged it, we used Draino, we tried everything. Still won’t drain. Of course, this would happen on our last hour.
And now comes the pinnacle of our stupid decisions. In fact, this might be one of the stupidest decisions we've EVER made. You ready for this?
Remember that duplex that we pulled out of at the beginning of the month? (Go back and read about it, if you don't.) We’re still waiting to get the other half of our security deposit back. So we called Wendi and she gave us a sob story about how nobody’s calling about the place, and she’s so poor because it’s not rented that they’re going to have to declare bankruptcy and that if it’s not rented by July 15th they’ll have to keep our deposit. She’s offered it to three people and they’ve all turned her down and was talking about how she’s computer illiterate so she's not trying to blow us off because she wouldn't be able to get Lia's number out of her phone if she tried. So then Lia looks at me after the phone call and says “I’ve got a crazy idea. Since she said she’s computer illiterate, why don’t we put it up on Craigslist with her phone number?” So I remarked that this is one of those situations where everybody wins. They’d get a lot more interest considering that they’ve got more advertising than the one sign outside. We’d get our security deposit back. They’re out of debt. Everybody wins. What on earth were we thinking?
So we made an ad. And it was a good ad. Pictures and everything. It was late at night by the time we decided to do this, and it sounds like a really stupid idea now, but it sounded great at 11 pm when our brains were mush from the stress of moving. We were going to call Wendi back in the morning and see if she wanted it edited or taken down or what-have-you. Well, then the next morning came. And we forgot, because we were too busy tripping over boxes and forgetting that it was trash day. Oopsies.
An email from Lia comes in at some point during the work day, saying that Wendi’s called her like 5 times without leaving a message. Lia called her back and Wendi told her that her niece found the ad online and thought it was horrible, and that she had been getting calls from “riff-raff” all day. Lia told her that we were just trying to help, and that she erased it. Wendi told her the police have been contacted.
I finally got in touch with Wendi after playing phone tag for a while. I told her that I was a little confused about what was going on because Lia wasn’t available to call since she was working. So Wendi told me her side of the story, which was basically just that she started getting a terrifying amount of calls, and people started stopping into the house when she was alone there and texting her and all that kind of stuff, and that people were just offering to take it over the phone without even seeing the place. Sounds like a lot of sketchy activity. She called Craigslist and they did some research and found out that Lia had posted the ad, and so Wendi filed a complaint. So then I told her OUR side of the story and how it sounded like a situation where everybody wins and we were just trying to help. I also apologized profusely.
I’ve noticed when talking to Wendi, it’s not a conversation as much as it is that she’s talking at you, so this whole bit is her just “talking at me.” She scolded me (seriously, like in a “mom voice” and everything) and said that the reason she doesn’t have anything posted online is because she’s very picky about who she rents to and the kind of people who just see it online are lazy because they aren’t putting forth the effort to drive around, and she doesn’t think that they will take care of the place like they did. She complained about how she’s really trying and she’s in a really rough spot because before this all happened they had just put their house up for sale, so they’re broke because they wouldn't have done that if they knew we weren't going to be renting and she doesn’t feel like we are appreciating all of her hard work trying to get this rented. She said again that she has a legal right to the security deposit money because they never gave us receipts so it’s our word against hers, though since we wrote “security deposit” on our checks, it could be implied in the court room as our intent to rent, and then it wouldn’t matter whether or not we signed the lease because that still counts as some kind of a verbal contract. She said most landlords wouldn’t even have given half of it back. Then she told me how she feels like she’s being very fair with this entire process and she’s pissed that we've brought up legal action about the security deposit on more than one occasion.
I told her that I know she’s been putting in the hard-work because this sucks for all of us. I reiterated that we were just trying to help and we came to the agreement that she won’t press charges for this as long as we stop bringing up the legality of whether or not she's entitled to our money without a signed lease. She said she’s still going to try and get us our money back if it’s rented by July 15th, but she can’t make any promises that that’ll happen. After that, it’ll depend what’s going on with their money situation because of the home sale and everything. I made a suggestion for a location for her to move the For Rent sign, because it was in a place that I don’t think it was able to be seen very well, and she said she would move it immediately. I thanked her for all her hard work, which she said she appreciates, and she said she’d be in touch if it gets rented or July 15th comes. At least it ended on a better note.
I do not think the "police" had really been contacted. I think she meant that the Craigslist people had been contacted.
Live and learn, kids. Whenever you have a important decision that needs to be made, sleep on it. Ask people's permission BEFORE trying to help them, not afterwards, because they might not appreciate it. The best of intentions have often led to worst results. And the best way to handle conflicts is with peaceful resolution, not shaking your fist over your head.
Monday, June 14, 2010
My Sunshine and Rain
I spent yesterday alone.
While not quite rainy, the world through my windows was overcast and gloomy. On days like that, I tend to find myself acting quite a bit different than I usually would. Everything seems so much more significant when there's nobody watching, because it feels like the burden falls on me to make things happen. I realize that's ridiculous, but my awareness ends on the outskirts of my field of vision. Without anyone else around within that sphere to have an impact on the world around me, the world around me doesn't change. I often find myself just getting up and walking from room to room, sitting quietly and watching the world go by outside the windows, sometimes intentionally tapping on walls or furniture so that my environment doesn't linger in silence for too long. When I read that sentence over again to myself, it makes me sound like a crazy person. I used to enjoy having some time to myself, but sometimes it's strange how things imprint on you.
There was a span of a couple of months where I lived in what felt like total solitude. My closest non-work friend lived forty-five minutes away and the landlord wouldn't let me out of the lease after my roommate moved out. With my horribly underpaid wages, paying for the entire lease by myself, and gas being $4 a gallon at the time, I couldn't even drive out to see anyone without having to forego something important, like food. As a result of some pretty sudden and significant life changes, I was overcome with constant feelings of depression, inadequacy, and the more than anything, neglect.
When I looked out my window there, you couldn't see any sign of human civilization, all the way to the horizon. Just nature. I woke up every morning and went to sleep every night feeling like there was nobody else in the entire world, but me. Try to imagine, for a moment, what that feels like. You look out your window in most other places and you see other buildings or cars or people. Even seeing other people going on with their lives would have been a comfort. Somehow, even a passerby making eye contact with your building is a good validation that you exist in some form, or somehow matter to somebody. But when I looked out, I knew for certain that no one was looking back. And nobody ever would be. It's one thing to experience this for a few days, but four months really begins to have an adverse affect. At some point, it starts playing tricks on you, and makes you think illogical things. It makes you feel like nothing you do matters to anybody, and in many ways it doesn't, in that situation. I could have gotten in my car and left for weeks at a time, and other than my coworkers, not a soul would have known I was gone. Even when explaining my feelings to people, I don't think they ever truly understand how devastating it felt. It rained a lot that year. That's what I remember the most.
Days like yesterday remind me of that time. It calls up all those odd phobias and neuroses that make me feel a little lonely again. At one point, they were techniques I developed for emotional survival; small steps I could take to keep the loneliness at bay. Maybe that does make me a little crazy, I don't know anymore. And really, it's not the point anyway. I guess at the end of the day, it all boils down to appreciation. I don't feel alone anymore. I have a supportive network of friends who are always there for me and who are well within immediate driving distance. Some of which would probably drop everything if they knew I wasn't doing anything. And most of all, I have Lia. She's been such a positive influence in my life these past thirteen months. I have so much now that I didn't have back then, and I'm so thankful to have it.
Eventually, it did start to rain yesterday evening. For me, a reminder of those dark times. I decided to go out and buy her favorite flowers, and when she called to let me know she was coming home, I sat on the stairs with them, waiting for her to come home so I could surprise her. It was the least I could do.
While not quite rainy, the world through my windows was overcast and gloomy. On days like that, I tend to find myself acting quite a bit different than I usually would. Everything seems so much more significant when there's nobody watching, because it feels like the burden falls on me to make things happen. I realize that's ridiculous, but my awareness ends on the outskirts of my field of vision. Without anyone else around within that sphere to have an impact on the world around me, the world around me doesn't change. I often find myself just getting up and walking from room to room, sitting quietly and watching the world go by outside the windows, sometimes intentionally tapping on walls or furniture so that my environment doesn't linger in silence for too long. When I read that sentence over again to myself, it makes me sound like a crazy person. I used to enjoy having some time to myself, but sometimes it's strange how things imprint on you.
There was a span of a couple of months where I lived in what felt like total solitude. My closest non-work friend lived forty-five minutes away and the landlord wouldn't let me out of the lease after my roommate moved out. With my horribly underpaid wages, paying for the entire lease by myself, and gas being $4 a gallon at the time, I couldn't even drive out to see anyone without having to forego something important, like food. As a result of some pretty sudden and significant life changes, I was overcome with constant feelings of depression, inadequacy, and the more than anything, neglect.
When I looked out my window there, you couldn't see any sign of human civilization, all the way to the horizon. Just nature. I woke up every morning and went to sleep every night feeling like there was nobody else in the entire world, but me. Try to imagine, for a moment, what that feels like. You look out your window in most other places and you see other buildings or cars or people. Even seeing other people going on with their lives would have been a comfort. Somehow, even a passerby making eye contact with your building is a good validation that you exist in some form, or somehow matter to somebody. But when I looked out, I knew for certain that no one was looking back. And nobody ever would be. It's one thing to experience this for a few days, but four months really begins to have an adverse affect. At some point, it starts playing tricks on you, and makes you think illogical things. It makes you feel like nothing you do matters to anybody, and in many ways it doesn't, in that situation. I could have gotten in my car and left for weeks at a time, and other than my coworkers, not a soul would have known I was gone. Even when explaining my feelings to people, I don't think they ever truly understand how devastating it felt. It rained a lot that year. That's what I remember the most.
Days like yesterday remind me of that time. It calls up all those odd phobias and neuroses that make me feel a little lonely again. At one point, they were techniques I developed for emotional survival; small steps I could take to keep the loneliness at bay. Maybe that does make me a little crazy, I don't know anymore. And really, it's not the point anyway. I guess at the end of the day, it all boils down to appreciation. I don't feel alone anymore. I have a supportive network of friends who are always there for me and who are well within immediate driving distance. Some of which would probably drop everything if they knew I wasn't doing anything. And most of all, I have Lia. She's been such a positive influence in my life these past thirteen months. I have so much now that I didn't have back then, and I'm so thankful to have it.
Eventually, it did start to rain yesterday evening. For me, a reminder of those dark times. I decided to go out and buy her favorite flowers, and when she called to let me know she was coming home, I sat on the stairs with them, waiting for her to come home so I could surprise her. It was the least I could do.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Detour
We stopped in at the new duplex last week to bring boxes over, only to find a HUGE puddle in the basement and lots of water damage on the basement ceiling. Lia and I made a list of a bunch of other stuff that needed to be fixed before we move in. The fridge was leaking, ceiling tiles in the basement were caved in, the tube that connects to the washer/dryer is apparently not up to code because it's one of those flexi-duct things instead of a solid pipe. The previous tenants left a whole bunch of crap there (including a full litterbox) and a bunch of other crap in the basement. A lot of the walls need to be completely repainted, which we didn't notice the first time through because the previous tenants still had all their decorations up. And there was still no evidence that they were planning on putting in a dishwasher, which was a dealbreaker for us.
So, after puttering around in there for a while and taking measurements, we walked out the front door and were looking around the yard. The neighbor who would be living next-door to us came out and we introduced ourselves. The FIRST THING she said to us, was asking if there was water in the basement. We told her that there was quite a bit, and she said that this had been an on-going problem for at least three months. She's called the landlords over, and over, and over, and they refuse to do anything about it. The landlord had hired a couple of "fly-by-nights" (her words) to come and fix the gutters a couple of months ago and they made the problem worse. The landlords won't get it fixed unless they can get the same guys to come back and fix it, which they won't. She described the water pouring into her basement as "a waterfall" and said this has been going on this entire time.
Back-up, now. When we first toured the place, they had responded to our phone calls almost immediately. The tour was set up quickly, their offer to give us the place was quick, and our response was also quick. They said our next step was to sign the lease and give them our security deposit. After not hearing anything for like a week, and leaving repeated phone calls to try and set up a meeting to do this, they called Lia back to have her bring our security deposit to Wendi (the wife's) workplace. My memory's a little fuzzy here, but if I recall, she had apologized because some family member is in the hospital so she's been really busy, and she forgot the forms. Lia gave her our security deposit because they said they need someone in there immediately or else they would have to find someone else.
We continued to call to get the lease signed because it had been freaking us out a little to not have it in writing that we're renting it. We didn't think that they were going to suddenly rent it to someone else, but it was still making us a little nervous because this whole process has been HIGHLY abnormal. One day, Wendi called to inform us that she was leaving the keys and the forms at the property, and that we'd have to stop in and pick them up from the current tenant before he moves. We each tried stopping in over and over and the current tenants were never home so we couldn't pick anything up. Lia finally managed to get in and get the keys, but the forms weren't a lease or anything, just a rental application.
After literally WEEKS of not receiving feedback from the new landlords, along with the testimonial of the woman next door, the whole thing was just very weird to us and we were quite concerned last friday. We left her a message with all the stuff that needs to be fixed or installed before we sign the lease. We gave them all a couple days to respond, and we hadn't heard anything.
No lease was signed, no applications were filled out, and popular consensus was that we should BAIL as soon as possible. The only real collateral is that we had keys to the place and she had our security deposit checks already cashed. We decided that's what we were going to do. We tried getting in touch with Wendi three times that night, and even left her a message saying that we were pulling the plug and wanted our security deposit back. It's just a very worrisome pattern of behavior and we don't think we should have to deal with that if we can still get out.
The next morning, Lia tried calling her again. Wendi claimed she never got any of our messages that were telling her to call us and that we were backing out. Lia reiterated that we want out. Then Wendi started screaming at Lia, yelling things like "I'm the best landlord ever! How dare you not trust me! I'm a Christian so you know you can trust me, because that's my identity, but I'm going to keep your security deposit anyway!" and all this crazy bullshit. It was on speaker, so I could hear too. It was pretty intense. So she got her husband on the phone, who was much more calm, and we talked them into giving us half the security deposit back (which we have in our possession right now.) If they can get a renter in the next two weeks, they'll give us the other half. We exchanged the first half of the rent for the keys. We're prepared to just eat the cost of the second half if we need to.
We looked at a couple of other places. Most of them were "meh." One of them really stood out to us, and we really liked it, and we are honestly having trouble finding any flaws with it. The only issue we had was that it was listed at our limit that we set for what we could afford, but she is willing to drop the rent by like $50 a month for us! That actually puts it at the BOTTOM of our price range! Newly repainted, nice floors, brand new energy efficient windows, awesome deck and yard, new appliances, has it's own washer and dryer and dishwasher, huge bathroom (with a blue toilet!), one balcony and an extensive upper porch, lots of square footage, lots of closet space, they allow dogs and have two quiet ones downstairs, lots of windows and natural light, etc. We put in our applications yesterday. It's vacant right now, so she said we would be able to move in as soon as we'd like to. The landlords live downstairs and it's a couple in probably their late 20's. It's actually a three-floor house. We would be on the second floor. They said they turned the 3rd floor into their own personal movie theater, so maybe if we become friends we would get to use it too.
Provided we take the place of course, but we both really like it a LOT. We're trying to not be over-zealous though, because apparently that gets us into trouble. We're going to take a second walk-through either way to make sure. I'm sure I'll have an update on this soon.
So, after puttering around in there for a while and taking measurements, we walked out the front door and were looking around the yard. The neighbor who would be living next-door to us came out and we introduced ourselves. The FIRST THING she said to us, was asking if there was water in the basement. We told her that there was quite a bit, and she said that this had been an on-going problem for at least three months. She's called the landlords over, and over, and over, and they refuse to do anything about it. The landlord had hired a couple of "fly-by-nights" (her words) to come and fix the gutters a couple of months ago and they made the problem worse. The landlords won't get it fixed unless they can get the same guys to come back and fix it, which they won't. She described the water pouring into her basement as "a waterfall" and said this has been going on this entire time.
Back-up, now. When we first toured the place, they had responded to our phone calls almost immediately. The tour was set up quickly, their offer to give us the place was quick, and our response was also quick. They said our next step was to sign the lease and give them our security deposit. After not hearing anything for like a week, and leaving repeated phone calls to try and set up a meeting to do this, they called Lia back to have her bring our security deposit to Wendi (the wife's) workplace. My memory's a little fuzzy here, but if I recall, she had apologized because some family member is in the hospital so she's been really busy, and she forgot the forms. Lia gave her our security deposit because they said they need someone in there immediately or else they would have to find someone else.
We continued to call to get the lease signed because it had been freaking us out a little to not have it in writing that we're renting it. We didn't think that they were going to suddenly rent it to someone else, but it was still making us a little nervous because this whole process has been HIGHLY abnormal. One day, Wendi called to inform us that she was leaving the keys and the forms at the property, and that we'd have to stop in and pick them up from the current tenant before he moves. We each tried stopping in over and over and the current tenants were never home so we couldn't pick anything up. Lia finally managed to get in and get the keys, but the forms weren't a lease or anything, just a rental application.
After literally WEEKS of not receiving feedback from the new landlords, along with the testimonial of the woman next door, the whole thing was just very weird to us and we were quite concerned last friday. We left her a message with all the stuff that needs to be fixed or installed before we sign the lease. We gave them all a couple days to respond, and we hadn't heard anything.
No lease was signed, no applications were filled out, and popular consensus was that we should BAIL as soon as possible. The only real collateral is that we had keys to the place and she had our security deposit checks already cashed. We decided that's what we were going to do. We tried getting in touch with Wendi three times that night, and even left her a message saying that we were pulling the plug and wanted our security deposit back. It's just a very worrisome pattern of behavior and we don't think we should have to deal with that if we can still get out.
The next morning, Lia tried calling her again. Wendi claimed she never got any of our messages that were telling her to call us and that we were backing out. Lia reiterated that we want out. Then Wendi started screaming at Lia, yelling things like "I'm the best landlord ever! How dare you not trust me! I'm a Christian so you know you can trust me, because that's my identity, but I'm going to keep your security deposit anyway!" and all this crazy bullshit. It was on speaker, so I could hear too. It was pretty intense. So she got her husband on the phone, who was much more calm, and we talked them into giving us half the security deposit back (which we have in our possession right now.) If they can get a renter in the next two weeks, they'll give us the other half. We exchanged the first half of the rent for the keys. We're prepared to just eat the cost of the second half if we need to.
We looked at a couple of other places. Most of them were "meh." One of them really stood out to us, and we really liked it, and we are honestly having trouble finding any flaws with it. The only issue we had was that it was listed at our limit that we set for what we could afford, but she is willing to drop the rent by like $50 a month for us! That actually puts it at the BOTTOM of our price range! Newly repainted, nice floors, brand new energy efficient windows, awesome deck and yard, new appliances, has it's own washer and dryer and dishwasher, huge bathroom (with a blue toilet!), one balcony and an extensive upper porch, lots of square footage, lots of closet space, they allow dogs and have two quiet ones downstairs, lots of windows and natural light, etc. We put in our applications yesterday. It's vacant right now, so she said we would be able to move in as soon as we'd like to. The landlords live downstairs and it's a couple in probably their late 20's. It's actually a three-floor house. We would be on the second floor. They said they turned the 3rd floor into their own personal movie theater, so maybe if we become friends we would get to use it too.
Provided we take the place of course, but we both really like it a LOT. We're trying to not be over-zealous though, because apparently that gets us into trouble. We're going to take a second walk-through either way to make sure. I'm sure I'll have an update on this soon.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Empty Spaces
Well, it’s official now. Yesterday at 4 pm, the duplex we’re living in was signed over to the new owner. Only a few short hours later, I could already smell the pungent aroma of cigarette smoke leaking upstairs. I still don’t know anything about this man, other than he’s a smoker and when he spoke to us seems to be kind of a loony. Hell, I don’t even remember his name, so I’ve just been referring to him as “Smoky.” There hasn’t been any moving of furniture going on between then and now, yet he clearly spent the night in the downstairs of the duplex. I don’t know on what furniture he spent it, so maybe he just curled up in a sleeping bag. It was easy to hear footsteps walking around downstairs, the droning mechanical noises of household items being turned on that hadn’t been turned on since February, and the more obvious yawns and laughs and smells that come along with having a downstairs neighbor.
I can’t exactly figure out why, but I’m having trouble convincing my instincts that this man is not an adversary. I feel very defensive about him having a key to our place and the ability to know when nobody’s home and I feel very anxious about having to communicate with him day-to-day. I keep telling myself it’s alright, but I just can’t shake that feeling that he’s an “opponent” somehow and I’m developing a kind of brooding contempt for him. It’s very unsettling, since this is an emotion I don’t feel very often.
My last few weeks at work have been a massive challenge for me. Each project involves me spending several weeks creating it, then it gets sent out to the other departments for a while, and then returns to me to put the finishing touches on it. I started almost two years ago and the projects are all supposed to be done with a little more than two years from now. So for the entire month of May, I’ve had the perfect blend of new stuff that I’m still building and old stuff that’s in the process of coming back to me to fix. It’s a very stressful feeling to finish one thing only to discover that three more have come back from out of nowhere. By the time I finish those, I have even more.
The good news, though, is that Lia and I have found a new place to live. Due to a conflict that arose when giving our notice, we find ourselves having the entire month of June as an overlap to move into the new place. I would like to get another look at the place before I go about describing it. Further details will be provided in the future.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Bad Juju
Lia has what she considers a Birthday Curse. Her birthdays are generally forgotten or filled instead with the selfish-intent of the provider, leading her to develop a lot of misgivings surrounding her special day. Being the first of her birthdays I have known her for, I have been determined to break this cycle. The weekend prior, I took her out for breakfast, planned on going to the Art Museum (though that was rescheduled), took her to see “Date Night” and have dinner at the cinema grill near Bayshore Mall, and capped the night off with tickets to see Demetri Martin, who has always been one of our favorite comedians. The day was a success.
We had both taken off on her actual birthday, a Wednesday, to head for the Art Museum like we had rescheduled. It was a fun, midweek adventure. Afterwards, we headed home and dealt with picking up my broken car from the mechanic, soon to be followed by dinner at the Olive Garden. We drove separate cars home, during which time she received a happy birthday message from my parents, ending with an ominous summons to have me call them. Meanwhile, I had neglected to answer their call to me, since I hate talking on the phone while I’m driving. The message waited until I arrived back at our residence. I returned their call shortly, only to learn from my father that our family dog, Blaze, had passed away while at the vet that day.
To quote my mother’s explanation: “He had been having heavy panting/breathing as part of his problems lately. It was one of the things we were getting the blood drawn for as a first step. Just that morning at home before we left, he had an episode of that weird breathing and then it settled down. When the tech was there to get blood that breathing started again and he then stopped breathing and collapsed and he was gone immediately. They tried to resuscitate him but it did not help. He never started breathing again.”
Farewell, Blaze. The family just doesn’t feel complete anymore. According to Lia, the Birthday Curse continues.
Two days later, on Friday, our landlord informed us that the duplex we’re living in has been sold! Our leases and security deposit will transfer to the new owner, who will be living downstairs once they close on the property at the end of May. The following Sunday, the new owner came by with the house assessor, while he was measuring our apartment. The new owner talked to Lia and I for about 20 minutes. Notice, I didn’t say that we had a conversation; he “talked at us” that entire time. Hardly stopped to take breaths in between, and every couple of sentences was a new topic about a few other members of his family tree that he just expected us to know somehow. The man was clearly out-of-his-mind. Most notably, though, is the fact that this man absolutely reeked of smoke. Being allergic to smoke, and knowing that we could smell the previous tenants’ cooking every single night, our apartment is going to turn into a 700 square foot smoke-box. Now we’ve got to put our noses to the grindstone in order to find a way out of the apartment before the new guy moves in. Plus, he was fairly creepy and I don’t know how I feel about Lia being there when I’m not home while he’s got keys to the apartment.
The following day was our anniversary. Our first year together! In the morning before I left for work, Lia could feel the first indications of an impending migraine. She insisted it was no big deal, and called in sick to work. A couple hours into my workday, I got an email from a friend that said Lia had been trying to contact me all day without success. Lo-and-behold, my phone was still on silent from the night before, and I now had several missed calls and text messages. I quickly ran outside and returned the phone calls. Lia was currently in the emergency room with her mother. Lia’s migraine had evolved into a numbness pervading large parts of her body, her vision started to recede, and confusion had set in, which made it difficult to even remember phone numbers that she’s known her whole life. Knowing that all of these are symptoms of a stroke, I started to panic, but she and her mom insisted that I don’t leave work to meet them at the hospital. The doctors gave her a CT scan of her head, a couple of IVs and a prescription for Codeine. They’ve determined that she hasn’t had a stroke, but have instead classified it as an “atypical migraine.” Usually, her migraines go away when she takes Benadryl or when she goes to sleep. Since we happened to be out of Benadryl that morning and she had just gotten up, she didn’t have any weapons to combat the migraine with. The hospital’s official conclusion is that this is what all of her migraines would turn into without immediate medication.
In the meantime, I’m considering the merits of chalking this up to a brand new Anniversary Curse. Time will tell.
We had both taken off on her actual birthday, a Wednesday, to head for the Art Museum like we had rescheduled. It was a fun, midweek adventure. Afterwards, we headed home and dealt with picking up my broken car from the mechanic, soon to be followed by dinner at the Olive Garden. We drove separate cars home, during which time she received a happy birthday message from my parents, ending with an ominous summons to have me call them. Meanwhile, I had neglected to answer their call to me, since I hate talking on the phone while I’m driving. The message waited until I arrived back at our residence. I returned their call shortly, only to learn from my father that our family dog, Blaze, had passed away while at the vet that day.
To quote my mother’s explanation: “He had been having heavy panting/breathing as part of his problems lately. It was one of the things we were getting the blood drawn for as a first step. Just that morning at home before we left, he had an episode of that weird breathing and then it settled down. When the tech was there to get blood that breathing started again and he then stopped breathing and collapsed and he was gone immediately. They tried to resuscitate him but it did not help. He never started breathing again.”
Farewell, Blaze. The family just doesn’t feel complete anymore. According to Lia, the Birthday Curse continues.
Two days later, on Friday, our landlord informed us that the duplex we’re living in has been sold! Our leases and security deposit will transfer to the new owner, who will be living downstairs once they close on the property at the end of May. The following Sunday, the new owner came by with the house assessor, while he was measuring our apartment. The new owner talked to Lia and I for about 20 minutes. Notice, I didn’t say that we had a conversation; he “talked at us” that entire time. Hardly stopped to take breaths in between, and every couple of sentences was a new topic about a few other members of his family tree that he just expected us to know somehow. The man was clearly out-of-his-mind. Most notably, though, is the fact that this man absolutely reeked of smoke. Being allergic to smoke, and knowing that we could smell the previous tenants’ cooking every single night, our apartment is going to turn into a 700 square foot smoke-box. Now we’ve got to put our noses to the grindstone in order to find a way out of the apartment before the new guy moves in. Plus, he was fairly creepy and I don’t know how I feel about Lia being there when I’m not home while he’s got keys to the apartment.
The following day was our anniversary. Our first year together! In the morning before I left for work, Lia could feel the first indications of an impending migraine. She insisted it was no big deal, and called in sick to work. A couple hours into my workday, I got an email from a friend that said Lia had been trying to contact me all day without success. Lo-and-behold, my phone was still on silent from the night before, and I now had several missed calls and text messages. I quickly ran outside and returned the phone calls. Lia was currently in the emergency room with her mother. Lia’s migraine had evolved into a numbness pervading large parts of her body, her vision started to recede, and confusion had set in, which made it difficult to even remember phone numbers that she’s known her whole life. Knowing that all of these are symptoms of a stroke, I started to panic, but she and her mom insisted that I don’t leave work to meet them at the hospital. The doctors gave her a CT scan of her head, a couple of IVs and a prescription for Codeine. They’ve determined that she hasn’t had a stroke, but have instead classified it as an “atypical migraine.” Usually, her migraines go away when she takes Benadryl or when she goes to sleep. Since we happened to be out of Benadryl that morning and she had just gotten up, she didn’t have any weapons to combat the migraine with. The hospital’s official conclusion is that this is what all of her migraines would turn into without immediate medication.
In the meantime, I’m considering the merits of chalking this up to a brand new Anniversary Curse. Time will tell.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Still Right Here
I found myself running errands alone a few nights ago. Car after car linked together on the main thoroughfare with the rush of post-workday traffic. Without hurry, I decided to take the winding side roads that lead through the suburbs. The sun barely touched the western horizon, on its inevitable path to recede from my field of vision.
The neighborhood I drove through spanned a few miles of well-kept middle-class homes. Looking out my windows I saw tiny slivers of life that seem to hold very little depth when taken at face-value. It’s like reading the end of a novel before you read the beginning, and being unable to watch the steps it takes for the characters to end up at the finality that the reader is left with. A black lab sitting in his driveway, sullen until he can go back inside. Three young siblings on bikes circling closer to the road with every pass. A younger couple unloading groceries from their jeep into the house. A pair of older men drinking beer on the porch, in the midst of a clearly hilarious conversation. Neighbors doing yard work, exchanging periodic small talk over imaginary divides. Like a stained-glass window, each of these multihued shards come together as bits of the same lifestyle being told many times over; congregating together without any of the players actually realizing it.
Other people’s lives just give me glimpses, but I seek my place in this as well. The most common theme of my life so far has been waiting for domesticity. I long for the moments when girlfriend becomes wife, apartment becomes home, and self becomes family. I want to have a place to call our permanent home and raise kids. I want to have hasty breakfasts together before we realize we’re all late, and leave work early to go to piano recitals. I want to play fetch with the dog and mow the lawn for the hundredth time. I want to sit under a tree with my wife on summer nights to watch the fireflies, and plan elaborate treasure hunts for my kids to find their birthday presents. I want to stand in the front yard watching the storms roll in, and put up the Christmas tree together while the snow covers the ground under the moonlight.
Life’s funny isn’t it? Despite our best-laid plans, it still never seems to turn out how we want. Ever feel like you’re just trapped in circumstance? As time goes on, all these temporary lifestyle changes I’ve been making have become more permanent. This week marks the first time since high school that I’ve lived in one place for a whole year, and soon I’ll be leaving here too. Though I’m not sure exactly where or when, yet. And even then, it’ll just be another temporary place until I can afford a house. I have my own blind faith that those dreams will be fulfilled in the distant future, but at what point do I stop racing against the hands of the clock? At what point do I acknowledge that every time the sun goes down, it feels like it’s beaten me somehow? There’s something to be said about being assertive, but it doesn't seem like assertiveness would fix this. I still need to wait for circumstance to let me be free. I can’t get a house until I know where it needs to be, which I won’t know until I know what’s happening with work, versus dog-training and the stock market, and where Lia will end up working once she graduates. Until then, the days pass, and I guess I just have to be patient.
The neighborhood I drove through spanned a few miles of well-kept middle-class homes. Looking out my windows I saw tiny slivers of life that seem to hold very little depth when taken at face-value. It’s like reading the end of a novel before you read the beginning, and being unable to watch the steps it takes for the characters to end up at the finality that the reader is left with. A black lab sitting in his driveway, sullen until he can go back inside. Three young siblings on bikes circling closer to the road with every pass. A younger couple unloading groceries from their jeep into the house. A pair of older men drinking beer on the porch, in the midst of a clearly hilarious conversation. Neighbors doing yard work, exchanging periodic small talk over imaginary divides. Like a stained-glass window, each of these multihued shards come together as bits of the same lifestyle being told many times over; congregating together without any of the players actually realizing it.
Other people’s lives just give me glimpses, but I seek my place in this as well. The most common theme of my life so far has been waiting for domesticity. I long for the moments when girlfriend becomes wife, apartment becomes home, and self becomes family. I want to have a place to call our permanent home and raise kids. I want to have hasty breakfasts together before we realize we’re all late, and leave work early to go to piano recitals. I want to play fetch with the dog and mow the lawn for the hundredth time. I want to sit under a tree with my wife on summer nights to watch the fireflies, and plan elaborate treasure hunts for my kids to find their birthday presents. I want to stand in the front yard watching the storms roll in, and put up the Christmas tree together while the snow covers the ground under the moonlight.
Life’s funny isn’t it? Despite our best-laid plans, it still never seems to turn out how we want. Ever feel like you’re just trapped in circumstance? As time goes on, all these temporary lifestyle changes I’ve been making have become more permanent. This week marks the first time since high school that I’ve lived in one place for a whole year, and soon I’ll be leaving here too. Though I’m not sure exactly where or when, yet. And even then, it’ll just be another temporary place until I can afford a house. I have my own blind faith that those dreams will be fulfilled in the distant future, but at what point do I stop racing against the hands of the clock? At what point do I acknowledge that every time the sun goes down, it feels like it’s beaten me somehow? There’s something to be said about being assertive, but it doesn't seem like assertiveness would fix this. I still need to wait for circumstance to let me be free. I can’t get a house until I know where it needs to be, which I won’t know until I know what’s happening with work, versus dog-training and the stock market, and where Lia will end up working once she graduates. Until then, the days pass, and I guess I just have to be patient.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Dog-Training Frustration
At this point, I am about half-way through my dog-training curriculum, and the further I get, the more I’m starting to realize that I think most of the learning is going to be the hands-on stuff at the end.
I’ve gone up to work with PJ’s dog twice now. The first session was an amazing success. The most important thing to teach at the outset of training is the food lure exercise, where you train the dog to follow a treat that’s concealed in your hand. All the other training from this point requires the trainer to food-lure the dog into the various positions needed (sit, heel, etc.) Maverick picked it up pretty quickly and within probably 15-20 minutes I could get him to keep his nose against my hand while I walked around PJ’s house. I taught the exercise to PJ as well so that he could keep up the practice while I was gone.
The second session was quite a bit more disappointing. When I arrived at PJ’s, we sat and chatted for a while before I actually began the training. During this time, Mav was at the back door, making it clear that he had to go out. PJ obliged, and after a couple minutes went back to let him in again. But Mav was gone! The metal part of his chain that attaches to his collar had bent, which let his collar unhook and he had bolted out into the countryside. We tracked him down after looking for about a half-hour, but once we got him back inside, all three of us were exhausted.
My lesson was teaching him the Focus cue, where I get him in the heel position (at my left side) and looking up into my eyes, presumably waiting for my next command. Once I have another command to give, at least. The heel position was near impossible to get him in. I could get him to circle around me and face me, but not sit at my side facing forward while looking up. Even with the food lure, no real progress. After trying that for a while with little success, I attempted to just teach him Focus from sitting in front of me and facing me. The way I was instructing this is as follows: I would get a treat, show it to Mav, and hold it next to my face. I say “focus” and I wait for him to look at my eyes instead of gazing longingly at the treat. As soon as he makes eye-contact with me, I give him the treat and praise him. In theory, he will learn that he gets rewarded only when he looks at my eyes, instead of at the treat, and at that point he will start associating the word “focus” with paying attention to me. However, he was just not picking it up. Looking back now, (after finishing the chapter) there were a few things wrong with the technique I used.
First of all, showing Mav the treat first constitutes a bribe, instead of a reward. The difference being that if I show him the treat first, once he figures out what a cue means he will ONLY give the cue if he knows he’s being rewarded, instead of letting it become natural to him.
Second, both Mav and I were absolutely exhausted after his little romp so he probably just wanted to sleep. He continued to the rest of the day.
Third, when you’re teaching a dog a new command, you are NEVER supposed to repeat it. If the dog doesn’t comply and you repeat the command, it gradually shows the dog that the command has no meaning, since they got away with not having to do anything. Eventually, they will just tune you out because you’re not following through. There were a couple of times when I ended up repeating the command.
Fourth, timing has to be PERFECT. Dogs associate whatever’s happening at the EXACT TIME the reward or punishment is given with a behavior. If he makes eye-contact and I go to reward him, he’s usually focused his attention back on the treat by the time my hand goes to feed him. This is also why dogs who get physical corrections (like getting hit or pushed) by their owners never seem to learn that what they’re doing is incorrect. Aside from the fact that it’s just cruel, instead of associating the fact that they peed on the floor four hours ago with the punishment, they associate the punishment with the approach of a person. In essence, they learn that people are bad and are threats to their safety, which makes the dog fearful and/or aggressive, which can pose a danger to anyone in the home. See how that links together? Anyway, that’s way off topic.
My other main concern is that PJ’s so far away. About an hour/hour and a half drive, meaning that I don’t always have the time or ability to travel that far for training. Dog training is one of those things where consistency and daily lessons are required and I can usually only get up there once a week at most. My worry here is that Mav is going to forget some of his training unless I keep teaching PJ how to do it every practice session.
I’m heading up there again tomorrow, so I’m hoping that this lesson runs a bit smoother.
I’ve gone up to work with PJ’s dog twice now. The first session was an amazing success. The most important thing to teach at the outset of training is the food lure exercise, where you train the dog to follow a treat that’s concealed in your hand. All the other training from this point requires the trainer to food-lure the dog into the various positions needed (sit, heel, etc.) Maverick picked it up pretty quickly and within probably 15-20 minutes I could get him to keep his nose against my hand while I walked around PJ’s house. I taught the exercise to PJ as well so that he could keep up the practice while I was gone.
The second session was quite a bit more disappointing. When I arrived at PJ’s, we sat and chatted for a while before I actually began the training. During this time, Mav was at the back door, making it clear that he had to go out. PJ obliged, and after a couple minutes went back to let him in again. But Mav was gone! The metal part of his chain that attaches to his collar had bent, which let his collar unhook and he had bolted out into the countryside. We tracked him down after looking for about a half-hour, but once we got him back inside, all three of us were exhausted.
My lesson was teaching him the Focus cue, where I get him in the heel position (at my left side) and looking up into my eyes, presumably waiting for my next command. Once I have another command to give, at least. The heel position was near impossible to get him in. I could get him to circle around me and face me, but not sit at my side facing forward while looking up. Even with the food lure, no real progress. After trying that for a while with little success, I attempted to just teach him Focus from sitting in front of me and facing me. The way I was instructing this is as follows: I would get a treat, show it to Mav, and hold it next to my face. I say “focus” and I wait for him to look at my eyes instead of gazing longingly at the treat. As soon as he makes eye-contact with me, I give him the treat and praise him. In theory, he will learn that he gets rewarded only when he looks at my eyes, instead of at the treat, and at that point he will start associating the word “focus” with paying attention to me. However, he was just not picking it up. Looking back now, (after finishing the chapter) there were a few things wrong with the technique I used.
First of all, showing Mav the treat first constitutes a bribe, instead of a reward. The difference being that if I show him the treat first, once he figures out what a cue means he will ONLY give the cue if he knows he’s being rewarded, instead of letting it become natural to him.
Second, both Mav and I were absolutely exhausted after his little romp so he probably just wanted to sleep. He continued to the rest of the day.
Third, when you’re teaching a dog a new command, you are NEVER supposed to repeat it. If the dog doesn’t comply and you repeat the command, it gradually shows the dog that the command has no meaning, since they got away with not having to do anything. Eventually, they will just tune you out because you’re not following through. There were a couple of times when I ended up repeating the command.
Fourth, timing has to be PERFECT. Dogs associate whatever’s happening at the EXACT TIME the reward or punishment is given with a behavior. If he makes eye-contact and I go to reward him, he’s usually focused his attention back on the treat by the time my hand goes to feed him. This is also why dogs who get physical corrections (like getting hit or pushed) by their owners never seem to learn that what they’re doing is incorrect. Aside from the fact that it’s just cruel, instead of associating the fact that they peed on the floor four hours ago with the punishment, they associate the punishment with the approach of a person. In essence, they learn that people are bad and are threats to their safety, which makes the dog fearful and/or aggressive, which can pose a danger to anyone in the home. See how that links together? Anyway, that’s way off topic.
My other main concern is that PJ’s so far away. About an hour/hour and a half drive, meaning that I don’t always have the time or ability to travel that far for training. Dog training is one of those things where consistency and daily lessons are required and I can usually only get up there once a week at most. My worry here is that Mav is going to forget some of his training unless I keep teaching PJ how to do it every practice session.
I’m heading up there again tomorrow, so I’m hoping that this lesson runs a bit smoother.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Memento Mori
I dreamed last night that I was dying. A morbid thought, I realize.
I was in a hospital with blue walls; sunny outside but I couldn't see through the windows. A ventilator next to the bed was breathing for me. Fully conscious I laid there, yet unable to move. My joints felt rusty and unused while I listened only to the sound of the machines in the room being drowned out by my new artificial lung.
One by one, people filed in. In the course of the day I saw everybody I have ever known. Even the ghosts of those lost to us stopped by for closure. Hundreds of people tying up the loose ends to hundreds of unresolved questions. They would sit in the cold metal chair next to my bed before they would open their mouths. Some to vent or scream at me. Some to reminisce and say their goodbyes. Some were unwilling to say anything at all, and just watched in silence. Then onward they walked, footfall after footfall, leaving only their memories behind. Within the coming hours, those would wither away with me as well.
As I felt the end drifting steadily closer, something called me out of sleep. I laid wide awake for the next hour or so, breathing the breaths I earned for myself and watching the snow fall drearily against the backdrop of gray sky. I was unfettered now, but remained in stasis, pondering the dream presented to me. Thinking back, I don't honestly remember any visitation in particular, or what was said; I just remember that everyone was there. Perhaps it's better that way.
I can't help but feel like it dredged something up inside of me, though I haven't been able to put my finger on what that might be. Perhaps this craving I've been having lately to revisit times lost, and look at them through the eyes I have now.
I wish that were possible.
I was in a hospital with blue walls; sunny outside but I couldn't see through the windows. A ventilator next to the bed was breathing for me. Fully conscious I laid there, yet unable to move. My joints felt rusty and unused while I listened only to the sound of the machines in the room being drowned out by my new artificial lung.
One by one, people filed in. In the course of the day I saw everybody I have ever known. Even the ghosts of those lost to us stopped by for closure. Hundreds of people tying up the loose ends to hundreds of unresolved questions. They would sit in the cold metal chair next to my bed before they would open their mouths. Some to vent or scream at me. Some to reminisce and say their goodbyes. Some were unwilling to say anything at all, and just watched in silence. Then onward they walked, footfall after footfall, leaving only their memories behind. Within the coming hours, those would wither away with me as well.
As I felt the end drifting steadily closer, something called me out of sleep. I laid wide awake for the next hour or so, breathing the breaths I earned for myself and watching the snow fall drearily against the backdrop of gray sky. I was unfettered now, but remained in stasis, pondering the dream presented to me. Thinking back, I don't honestly remember any visitation in particular, or what was said; I just remember that everyone was there. Perhaps it's better that way.
I can't help but feel like it dredged something up inside of me, though I haven't been able to put my finger on what that might be. Perhaps this craving I've been having lately to revisit times lost, and look at them through the eyes I have now.
I wish that were possible.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
1045 More Days
It was never my intention in the first place.
Nine years ago, my high school art teacher offered me a teacher's assistant position. One of the only times in my life in which I haven't been hesitant to undertake a new extracurricular, I think. Most of the work was simply doing bookkeeping and hanging up the artwork of students whose semester-long careers as artists had already come to a close. The following semester, I wouldn't have the proper study hall periods to continue. However, when the time came to renew or reject my position, he offered me an unusual compromise.
In the future, he had planned to teach a unit on Adobe Photoshop and Adobe Illustrator, the two most common programs in the graphic design industry. He knew of my fondness for computers, and informed me that if I signed up for a higher level art course, I wouldn't have to do any work and he would reward me with an automatic A. The exchange being that I would spend each class period teaching myself how to use Photoshop and Illustrator so that I might teach him at the end of the semester, presumably when I had figured it all out. So of course I did it. Free A, right?
I went to Carroll College for video game design. The exciting new major was promised by my admissions advisor. When I arrived my freshman year, my actual advisor informed me that this major wasn't being offered until the following year, and that in the meantime, I should just take software engineering classes, since most will overlap anyway. I had no interest in programming; my main focus was going to be on designing the games. When my second year arrived, the fledgling program barely took off, and I was told that the design aspect of the course was "something they were thinking about in the future." For now, they were concentrating on programming. Even being extremely dissatisfied with it, I stuck with it until the game design major was disbanded at the end of the year.
Suddenly I had to select another major out of the ones that were available at Carroll. Transferring wasn't something I wanted to deal with. I went over to graphic design. I had the experience of working with it in high school, and I knew it was something I could perform decently and I was intrigued enough to continue. The decision was rather rushed, and ultimately it felt like I was just putting a band-aid over the wound.
I stuck with it, and I graduated in pretty good time considering I had to start over mostly from scratch my junior year. I even had the time to double minor in art and theology. I immediately found work... and hated it. It was so psychologically demoralizing that my hatred for it was impossible to hide. While searching for a new job, I stumbled across an ad for MY job. So I quit, rather than get fired. I was offered my a job at a friend's place of employment afterwards. Despite the constant drama and poor management there, I didn't hate it quite so much. I stuck around for the better part of a year, until they laid me off essentially so they could hire their friend (I found out later.)
Then I found my current job. It's pretty easy, and I have a lot of freedom. I was hired to work exclusively on a project that is so gargantuan in its undertaking that when the project comes to a close it will be just short of 2013. In addition, two of the eight people in my department are planning on retiring at that point. As far as graphic design goes, I feel as though this job is best-case-scenario. Regardless, I still don't find myself terribly fond of it.
Now that I've begun my curriculum to get my dog-training certification, I've felt a tremendous sense of relief lately. The last item on my task list for this giant project has a due date of December 7th, 2012. After that point, my job isn't guaranteed. My certification should be done early next year. I can make significantly more money as a dog-trainer than as a graphic designer, even at the start. Depending how much I charge per hour and how much business I get, I could make up to about $170,000 a year, not even working 40 hours a week. But I could also make $0 if I get no business.
My immediate plan is to use that two years to hopefully build a client base and see how much interest there is in my services at that point. If I feel like I can live on dog-training alone, I would be glad to never touch graphic design ever again.
1045 more days until I get to start over again. I can't wait.
Nine years ago, my high school art teacher offered me a teacher's assistant position. One of the only times in my life in which I haven't been hesitant to undertake a new extracurricular, I think. Most of the work was simply doing bookkeeping and hanging up the artwork of students whose semester-long careers as artists had already come to a close. The following semester, I wouldn't have the proper study hall periods to continue. However, when the time came to renew or reject my position, he offered me an unusual compromise.
In the future, he had planned to teach a unit on Adobe Photoshop and Adobe Illustrator, the two most common programs in the graphic design industry. He knew of my fondness for computers, and informed me that if I signed up for a higher level art course, I wouldn't have to do any work and he would reward me with an automatic A. The exchange being that I would spend each class period teaching myself how to use Photoshop and Illustrator so that I might teach him at the end of the semester, presumably when I had figured it all out. So of course I did it. Free A, right?
I went to Carroll College for video game design. The exciting new major was promised by my admissions advisor. When I arrived my freshman year, my actual advisor informed me that this major wasn't being offered until the following year, and that in the meantime, I should just take software engineering classes, since most will overlap anyway. I had no interest in programming; my main focus was going to be on designing the games. When my second year arrived, the fledgling program barely took off, and I was told that the design aspect of the course was "something they were thinking about in the future." For now, they were concentrating on programming. Even being extremely dissatisfied with it, I stuck with it until the game design major was disbanded at the end of the year.
Suddenly I had to select another major out of the ones that were available at Carroll. Transferring wasn't something I wanted to deal with. I went over to graphic design. I had the experience of working with it in high school, and I knew it was something I could perform decently and I was intrigued enough to continue. The decision was rather rushed, and ultimately it felt like I was just putting a band-aid over the wound.
I stuck with it, and I graduated in pretty good time considering I had to start over mostly from scratch my junior year. I even had the time to double minor in art and theology. I immediately found work... and hated it. It was so psychologically demoralizing that my hatred for it was impossible to hide. While searching for a new job, I stumbled across an ad for MY job. So I quit, rather than get fired. I was offered my a job at a friend's place of employment afterwards. Despite the constant drama and poor management there, I didn't hate it quite so much. I stuck around for the better part of a year, until they laid me off essentially so they could hire their friend (I found out later.)
Then I found my current job. It's pretty easy, and I have a lot of freedom. I was hired to work exclusively on a project that is so gargantuan in its undertaking that when the project comes to a close it will be just short of 2013. In addition, two of the eight people in my department are planning on retiring at that point. As far as graphic design goes, I feel as though this job is best-case-scenario. Regardless, I still don't find myself terribly fond of it.
Now that I've begun my curriculum to get my dog-training certification, I've felt a tremendous sense of relief lately. The last item on my task list for this giant project has a due date of December 7th, 2012. After that point, my job isn't guaranteed. My certification should be done early next year. I can make significantly more money as a dog-trainer than as a graphic designer, even at the start. Depending how much I charge per hour and how much business I get, I could make up to about $170,000 a year, not even working 40 hours a week. But I could also make $0 if I get no business.
My immediate plan is to use that two years to hopefully build a client base and see how much interest there is in my services at that point. If I feel like I can live on dog-training alone, I would be glad to never touch graphic design ever again.
1045 more days until I get to start over again. I can't wait.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Recognition!
A while back I had been uploading the vast majority of my "good" photography to deviantArt. The problem I had been having was that I would upload a photo, and people would only take a gander at it during the 5 minutes or so it would appear on the "just uploaded" page. Then it would disappear into the abyss and no one would ever find it again. I backed off of uploading my work for a while, if for no other reason than it seemed inconsequential.
For some reason, this weekend marked a change for me. I don't really know what caused it, but something clicked in my head and I got this tremendous urge to work on uploading my photos again. I caught up to the point that I had intended to in the first place, and on deviantArt's navbar I discovered a wonderful little button called "Groups."
I hadn't honestly paid too much attention before, but one of the groups therein is called GetWatchers. I give them the link to one of my pieces of artwork, and they start to show me the artwork of all the other hundreds of people who have sent them links as well. For each of these pieces that I look at, they show my art to someone else. Meaning that if I look at the art of 200 people, I get 200 views in return.
The result has been a raging success! I've attracted more viewers to my deviantArt site than ever before, and I would highly recommend any fellow deviants out there to showcase any of your work that hasn't met with the light of day for a while. In the meantime, here are a couple of my photos for those of you who aren't familiar with my work.
And of course, the main link to my deviantArt page is here. I'm all lonely there, so friend me if you feel moved!
Powerlines at Sunset 4 by *sameyer716 on deviantART
Marsh Beneath Golden Sky 1 by *sameyer716 on deviantART
Fiery Sunset 2 by *sameyer716 on deviantART
For some reason, this weekend marked a change for me. I don't really know what caused it, but something clicked in my head and I got this tremendous urge to work on uploading my photos again. I caught up to the point that I had intended to in the first place, and on deviantArt's navbar I discovered a wonderful little button called "Groups."
I hadn't honestly paid too much attention before, but one of the groups therein is called GetWatchers. I give them the link to one of my pieces of artwork, and they start to show me the artwork of all the other hundreds of people who have sent them links as well. For each of these pieces that I look at, they show my art to someone else. Meaning that if I look at the art of 200 people, I get 200 views in return.
The result has been a raging success! I've attracted more viewers to my deviantArt site than ever before, and I would highly recommend any fellow deviants out there to showcase any of your work that hasn't met with the light of day for a while. In the meantime, here are a couple of my photos for those of you who aren't familiar with my work.
And of course, the main link to my deviantArt page is here. I'm all lonely there, so friend me if you feel moved!
Powerlines at Sunset 4 by *sameyer716 on deviantART
Marsh Beneath Golden Sky 1 by *sameyer716 on deviantART
Fiery Sunset 2 by *sameyer716 on deviantART
Monday, January 18, 2010
The First Major Hang-Up.
Prior to investing in my dog-training course, I took a mental inventory of any dogs that might be available for me to work with. I am holding off on purchasing a dog of my own until I have the money to properly take care of it. My parents' dog is getting very old, and I am sad to say that I can't even guaranty he'll still be with us by the end of the year. My good friend PJ is the only friend of mine who is a dog-owner, but unfortunately he lives about an hour and a half away. PJ's dog being my best option, I asked for permission to practice with his dog Maverick, and I can make the lengthy drive on a day that I may have free.
Upon receiving the paperwork for my coursework, I noticed that I should have paid better attention. Turns out, the last couple months of my dog-training certification require a mentorship. The mentorship portion of the course requires me to bring a dog along that I can practice with, and the mentor that will be chosen for me is going to be near MY home. Think about this for a moment.
That means on every day that I would need to bring the dog somewhere, I would have to drive to PJ's house, pick up his dog, drive back to my mentor, drive back up to PJ's to drop his dog off, and then come back home. This equates to an approximate of six hours of driving per day. Keeping the dog in my apartment overnight would cause undue stress to the dog by being kept in an environment he's not use to, and would make training difficult. I've asked my program advisor if it would be possible for them to choose my mentor based on being near PJ's home instead of my own, but she didn't really give me a clear answer.
Over this last weekend, my parents went to my cousin's college graduation party. His younger brother, evidently, is the owner of a 2 year old Beagle who is "sort-of" trained, and they offered to let me use him for this mentorship part. I will probably pursue this option, but I do have a couple of hang-ups with it.
First of all, the owner of the dog, my pre-teen cousin Michael, isn't somebody that I've had a tremendous amount of respect for. Michael, when he was a kid, was the type of kid whom you would consider a bully. He suffers from an extreme lack of discipline. Michael would pick on weaker kids, start fights, and get into tons of trouble at school. Evidently, when most adults, even school officials, tried to get him to behave, he threatened them with calling child protective services and would have lied about them hitting him. The last few family get-togethers have been peaceful, but for several years prior to that, he would spend every Christmas and Easter punching me repeatedly, trying to instigate fights.
Again, I think he's gotten all that kind of behavior out of his system now. He's been doing better in school and he's been a lot quieter the last couple times I've seen him. It's still a worry in my head though.
Upon receiving the paperwork for my coursework, I noticed that I should have paid better attention. Turns out, the last couple months of my dog-training certification require a mentorship. The mentorship portion of the course requires me to bring a dog along that I can practice with, and the mentor that will be chosen for me is going to be near MY home. Think about this for a moment.
That means on every day that I would need to bring the dog somewhere, I would have to drive to PJ's house, pick up his dog, drive back to my mentor, drive back up to PJ's to drop his dog off, and then come back home. This equates to an approximate of six hours of driving per day. Keeping the dog in my apartment overnight would cause undue stress to the dog by being kept in an environment he's not use to, and would make training difficult. I've asked my program advisor if it would be possible for them to choose my mentor based on being near PJ's home instead of my own, but she didn't really give me a clear answer.
Over this last weekend, my parents went to my cousin's college graduation party. His younger brother, evidently, is the owner of a 2 year old Beagle who is "sort-of" trained, and they offered to let me use him for this mentorship part. I will probably pursue this option, but I do have a couple of hang-ups with it.
First of all, the owner of the dog, my pre-teen cousin Michael, isn't somebody that I've had a tremendous amount of respect for. Michael, when he was a kid, was the type of kid whom you would consider a bully. He suffers from an extreme lack of discipline. Michael would pick on weaker kids, start fights, and get into tons of trouble at school. Evidently, when most adults, even school officials, tried to get him to behave, he threatened them with calling child protective services and would have lied about them hitting him. The last few family get-togethers have been peaceful, but for several years prior to that, he would spend every Christmas and Easter punching me repeatedly, trying to instigate fights.
Again, I think he's gotten all that kind of behavior out of his system now. He's been doing better in school and he's been a lot quieter the last couple times I've seen him. It's still a worry in my head though.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Poison Girl
She’s really starting to become a liability.
I don't know where we had our falling out, but I don't like it. I miss talking to you. I miss hanging out. It's so much harder for me when I have no clue what happened. Please talk to me Scott. Write me back. Let me know what I did so I can fix this cause my heart is very sad that we don't talk anymore :(
It’s come down to that I suppose. About a year ago, when I was single, I went out a couple times with a woman named Crystal that I went to high school with. She was the type of girl who terrifies my mother, riddled with facial piercings and obnoxious body tattoos, with the kind of emotional fangs that run venom straight to your heart. Simply put, she strung me along for almost two months, and when the dust had settled, all she had done is use me as a foil to get her physically abusive ex-fiancé to propose to her a third time.
So naturally I moved on. I’d like to believe the world is simple enough to let bygones be bygones and walk away without incident. Believe me. Things were quiet for a while. Since then, I’ve met the love of my life, Lia. Our relationship glistens like a jewel in a sea of stones. The eight months we’ve spent together has been healthy and strong and there is no doubt in my mind that she is the one.
Realizing her foolishness, Crystal soon broke up with her ex-fiancé (again.) And so, she’s picked from her mind a bouquet of messages that make me physically shake with anger. She lets me know that she’s dreaming about me, that she still wants to hang out, and assorted other snippets, prodding me to take notice of the fact that she made a mistake not choosing me. Most come across as though she’s pretending that we DO have a relationship; some rampant charade that apparently dwells within her subconscious.
I’ve done my best to cast it aside up until this message today. Allow her some sort of dignity of quitting on her own, dredged from my silence. Hopefully realizing how she used me and why I want no part of her drama any longer.
I hope my bite stings even worse.
I don't know where we had our falling out, but I don't like it. I miss talking to you. I miss hanging out. It's so much harder for me when I have no clue what happened. Please talk to me Scott. Write me back. Let me know what I did so I can fix this cause my heart is very sad that we don't talk anymore :(
It’s come down to that I suppose. About a year ago, when I was single, I went out a couple times with a woman named Crystal that I went to high school with. She was the type of girl who terrifies my mother, riddled with facial piercings and obnoxious body tattoos, with the kind of emotional fangs that run venom straight to your heart. Simply put, she strung me along for almost two months, and when the dust had settled, all she had done is use me as a foil to get her physically abusive ex-fiancé to propose to her a third time.
So naturally I moved on. I’d like to believe the world is simple enough to let bygones be bygones and walk away without incident. Believe me. Things were quiet for a while. Since then, I’ve met the love of my life, Lia. Our relationship glistens like a jewel in a sea of stones. The eight months we’ve spent together has been healthy and strong and there is no doubt in my mind that she is the one.
Realizing her foolishness, Crystal soon broke up with her ex-fiancé (again.) And so, she’s picked from her mind a bouquet of messages that make me physically shake with anger. She lets me know that she’s dreaming about me, that she still wants to hang out, and assorted other snippets, prodding me to take notice of the fact that she made a mistake not choosing me. Most come across as though she’s pretending that we DO have a relationship; some rampant charade that apparently dwells within her subconscious.
I’ve done my best to cast it aside up until this message today. Allow her some sort of dignity of quitting on her own, dredged from my silence. Hopefully realizing how she used me and why I want no part of her drama any longer.
I hope my bite stings even worse.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
About that time again.
I can't honestly say why I'm starting this again.
I've started blogs before. Quite a number in fact. Long, long ago I started an account with Xanga on a whim. It turned out to be nothing further than a few years worth of incessant rants from a sugar-addled high school student at 2 am. I abandoned it midway through college. Partly because of disinterest and partly because it attracted the ire of a vindictive ex-girlfriend.
At some point I picked it up again. This time trying to jump on the trend both feet first. I don't think that's a real expression, but I can live with that. I tried to double post (and sometimes even triple post) between Facebook, Myspace, and LiveJournal. This new generation of blogs cast a pall over the dissonant ramblings of their ancestors, favoring instead the angsty, profane and complacent writing style I used at the time. Admittedly, I feel like it was more of a bid to invite the curious into my world, where I might entrap some of the onlookers to gawk a bit longer. Few did.
As college ended, I funneled any desire to write into four girthy, bitter memoirs of each of the four years of my college experience, two broken relationships, times I wouldn't trade for all the world and times I never want to live through again. But as one can expect, wrestling a behemoth into submission takes a toll on a man. And so I quit writing for a while.
I've always wanted to return to this world, of fake words written on a fake page. But inspiration didn't truly hit me until a wise friend planted that urge to write back into my head. I recently signed myself up for classes to become certified in dog training, a dream of mine for years now, and he suggested I start a blog to document that process. I can't promise you that's what this blog is going to become. Hell, at first I didn't even think I was really going to do it. Something about opening back up to the world again has me hooked at the moment.
This time around, I suppose I'm not here to make friends, or burn off a moderate sugar rush, or shout a long-winded story from a dark room that nobody's listening to.
I guess, this time, I'm here for me.
I've started blogs before. Quite a number in fact. Long, long ago I started an account with Xanga on a whim. It turned out to be nothing further than a few years worth of incessant rants from a sugar-addled high school student at 2 am. I abandoned it midway through college. Partly because of disinterest and partly because it attracted the ire of a vindictive ex-girlfriend.
At some point I picked it up again. This time trying to jump on the trend both feet first. I don't think that's a real expression, but I can live with that. I tried to double post (and sometimes even triple post) between Facebook, Myspace, and LiveJournal. This new generation of blogs cast a pall over the dissonant ramblings of their ancestors, favoring instead the angsty, profane and complacent writing style I used at the time. Admittedly, I feel like it was more of a bid to invite the curious into my world, where I might entrap some of the onlookers to gawk a bit longer. Few did.
As college ended, I funneled any desire to write into four girthy, bitter memoirs of each of the four years of my college experience, two broken relationships, times I wouldn't trade for all the world and times I never want to live through again. But as one can expect, wrestling a behemoth into submission takes a toll on a man. And so I quit writing for a while.
I've always wanted to return to this world, of fake words written on a fake page. But inspiration didn't truly hit me until a wise friend planted that urge to write back into my head. I recently signed myself up for classes to become certified in dog training, a dream of mine for years now, and he suggested I start a blog to document that process. I can't promise you that's what this blog is going to become. Hell, at first I didn't even think I was really going to do it. Something about opening back up to the world again has me hooked at the moment.
This time around, I suppose I'm not here to make friends, or burn off a moderate sugar rush, or shout a long-winded story from a dark room that nobody's listening to.
I guess, this time, I'm here for me.
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