feeling quite... quiet.

I like to consider myself a champion for change; it is in the back of my mind on a daily basis that nothing ever really stays the same for long.  Change is a central theme in my books, all three of them..  When approached for advice I even preach about it to others.  I think of change as this constant, primal force that cannot REALLY be tamed, nor can it be understood.  That's why I'm always surprised when it kind of rears up and slaps me in the face.

This isn't going to be one of my longer blogs, because in fact I don't have that much to say.  I'm kind of sad right now.  Not for reasons that are directly influenced by other people, it is mostly because of me.  I handle change in a pretty good way, always learning from and then adapting to it.  It's a pretty healthy occurrence because it keeps me sane.  I will admit however that at times, too much change can feel like a bad thing.

In the last two weeks a lot has been changing for me; financial situations, buying a new car, whatever-the-hell is going on in my love life (still not much,) happiness/annoyance with work, etc.  I had been looking forward to the end of April because it was going to bring some fairly massive changes for me.  And not changes in a bad way, but more of a "set me free" way.  Doesn't look like those are going to be happening now and over the last few days as I started to realize it, something else started happening.

The funny thing about feeling sad (I don't want to say depressed because I think it is too strong of a word,) is how you can see the emotion approaching like a storm over the ocean horizon.  Sky is beautiful, birds are singing, but in the distance is this odd sort of haze that is building up.  The haze starts to turn into clouds, and you think "Yikes, what the hell is that all about?"  And then it starts getting closer and you find yourself slipping into old habits; thinking about an ex, listening to sappier music than normal, emotionally connecting to movies and/or tv shows WAY more than usual.  Eventually, that haze and conglomerate of clouds is upon you and you suddenly remember what it is.  How it feels.  And you simply say "oh."

I knew this feeling of being sad/boo-hooey was coming for a little while now.  A lot of shitty things seemed to be rolling down the ramp toward me one after the other and it was reaching a fever pitch the last couple days.  I've been really happy for quite some time now and as change has taught me, all good things must come to an end.  NOT to say that this is going to last, because it won't, but I know I will wallow in my own self-pity for a few days because of it.

What it all boils down to is this; I went to dinner tonight with @Markstyleme and his wonderful partner, Mr. M, and I suddenly realized that I'm sad because I'm single.  Not in the way of me wanting to get back together with the dreaded ex.  God no.  Watching them tonight I was able to look back on the best parts of my last relationship and I was able to really understand what it was about it that I loved.  What I loved was the "ease."  The natural ebb and flow that comes with working so well with another person.  You move, they move; you breathe in, they breathe out.

I know I'm not depressed because I'm happy for the people around me and don't want them to feel the way I do.  I think I also know I'm not depressed because I can freely admit that.

I am over the moon ecstatic for all of my friends and family that are in relationships, because I truly believe they are wonderful things.  I also think that sometimes it really sucks not being in one.  @klreynol called and left me a voicemail tonight (hey girl) because I was being mopey through text messages.  She touched on what I said about being sad that I am single by replying how it is the polar opposite when on the other side of the line.  When you are the only one in a relationship while out with a bunch of single friends, you think about how great it would be to be one of them again.

We all know full well that the grass is always greener on the other side.  This I know; she does too.  And this feeling will pass in quick time, which is why I'm not afraid of it.  I find it funny that I used to look forward to the fall season because with it came this odd sort of depression... which back then I welcomed with open arms because it was a comfortable feeling.  Now I look at being sad as nothing more than annoyance.  I spent a good two years being sad, mostly if not all the time, and I'm ready for this little 'bout to just... you know.  Just fuck off.

I'm off to enjoy some icecream and tv.  With my cats.  Because they love me unconditionally.  Holy shit I'm a loser.  G'night ya'll.

a fond farewell

There was something that I was bound and determined to do this year, hell or high water, because I knew that the time had finally come to do it.  While it may be construed as a cheap shot to use a single event as two of my 26 Golden Things, I feel that by splitting it down the middle I can effectively write a fairly massive blog for each side of the equation.  I suppose this could be called part one (and probably the bigger part,) but really it starts and ends here and doesn't move into the next blog too much.  So here it is, the latest in my list of things to do for my Golden Year.

#7 - A Fond Farewell; finally letting go of Bethel the Jeep.

Summer 2001

My family and I moved from Southern California to Wisconsin in March of 1997 because my dad was transferred here for work.  I remember we had a Suburban at the time that my mom was driving, without four-wheel drive of course because why the hell would you need that in the valley?  Regardless, my dad had to buy a new car and in April of that year he purchased a 1997 Jeep Cherokee 4x4 Sport.  She was navy blue with a gray interior, a CD PLAYER! and four-wheel drive, and above all else... she was fun.  I remember my excitement over the Jeep because we had never really had a "fun" car.  A mini-van, a couple sedans, my brother had an ugly white Mustang (sorry Josh,) and my mom had the Suburban.  But the Jeep was brand-spanking new and a beauty.

For the first year or so it was my dad's car, but then it became my sister Megan's once he got a company car.  My brother Josh at one point wanted to drive down to Milwaukee with a couple co-workers for some sort of convention I believe.  Weather was kind of shitty and he wanted to take the Jeep because it had four-wheel drive.  It was October of 1998 and the ONLY accident the Jeep would ever really be involved in.  At least, one that caused damage.  Josh hit a deer (could have happened to anybody) and that bitch CREAMED the Jeep.  (It will be referred to as "the Jeep" until I get to October of 2005, btw.)  These are a couple pictures from when it was at the impound lot.  I like the one on the right more because you can see the obvious blood from the deer, but also the hair stuck in the cracks of the fiberglass, lol.  The Jeep was patched up and ready to roll shortly after, good as new.  Megan was still pissed.

 October 1998

Time goes on and so did the Jeep, several years passing under the ownership of my sister.  She moved out of the house when I was a freshman in high school, taking the Jeep with her when she left; that would be the fall of 2000.  A few years later she and I went up to High Cliff State Park to take pictures and fart around for the day.  It was May of 2002.  Up at the observation deck, after taking in the views, Megan asked me if I wanted to drive the Jeep.  I was ALMOST in Driver's Ed (by which I was enrolled but had not yet taken a single class.)  So I drove the Jeep less than half a mile and then freaked out and pulled over.  I don't think I drove it over 10 miles and hours; really, I just coasted down the road.  Maybe a week later after seeing "Life or Something Like It," Megan let me drive again, this time down Midway Road in Appleton for a couple miles.  It was exhilarating; I still remember jerking the wheel wildly because I thought you had to do that in order to keep it on the road.

At the beginning of March in 2003, Megan got married and moved away to Hawaii which meant, miracle of miracles, that the Jeep was staying behind and my parents were giving it to me to drive.  She had 68,400 miles on her; I don't know why I still remember that.  I wish I had some pictures from those first couple months but I don't.  I only have a picture from the beginning of May 2003 when mom made me stand beside the Jeep for the obligatory "You're going to prom!" pictures.  I was on my way to pick up the lovely @roamingMo because she was taking me to prom (I was only a junior.)

 May 2003

Back then the Jeep was still a really nice car.  No dents or dings, no major problems under the hood (ignoring the deer incident, natch.)  God I look like such a prick in that picture.  Anyway.  So the Jeep was finally mine, I drove her everywhere, and picked anyone up who needed a ride and insisted on driving when in a group.  I LOVED driving her; windows down, blasting Michelle Branch with Kyle, gallivanting around Appleton.  A year later I made the first change to the car that would endure through the end.

 

The first bumper-sticker.  I actually had another one at the same time but eventually got rid of it after I came-out of the closet and put a Human Rights Campaign sticker in its place.  The sticker you see above I collected in New York in May of 2004.  The drama group from my high school took a semi-annual trip to the Big Apple and I was lucky enough to be able to go.  To this date it was the best time of my life... it was a trip that shaped me in a way I never would have anticipated and wouldn't change for anything in the world.  I started becoming comfortable in my skin.  I started realizing that high school was going to be over in a few weeks and that when it was... I would be free.  This sticker symbolizes to me the dawning of a new age.  Nearly every time I look at it, it reminds me of the person I was before school was over.  Because really, the summer of 2004 was the "shaping" summer and I obtained this riiiiiight at the beginning of it.

 August 2005

That summer did eventually come to an end and then I was (somewhat) the person I am now.  Kyle moved to Chicago for school so I went down to visit him a lot, the above picture being a return trip that brought him home with me.  This is one of the things that I take with me... one of the things that began to humanize the Jeep to me.  Memories.  And not just the memories of the people I drove with or the places we would wander to, but of the very existence of the car itself.  It was starting to become a character in the book of my life.

 September 2005

Washing the car with my nephew Brayden; he was about 14 months old.  In September of 2005 I started working at a call center named Convergys, specifically for United Health Group.  It was a miserable, thankless job that involved answering phone calls in regards to the new (at the time) prescription drug plan Medicare was rolling out with.  There were a lot of very angry old people calling, all the time, wanting to know why they were going to have to start paying more for meds and all that.  We didn't have cubicles, just these long rows of desks that had "walls" sitting on top of them.  On the opposite side of my wall was a co-worker who was very large, in her late 60's/early 70's, and had a fuckin' MOUTH on her.  In mid October when the phone lines went live, the following conversation occurred:

"No, I will NOT tell you my name, ma'am!"  

::customer on phone says something::  

"Because it's none of your damn business!  I'm answering your goddamn questions about medicine and that's it!" 

 ::customer on phone says something::  

"FINE!  My name is BETHEL!"

And thus, a star was born through my fits of silent laughter.  Enter stage left; Bethel the Jeep.

Almost in conjunction with Bethel being christened with a name was Edmund.  In October of 2005 our dog Gwyn, an English Mastiff and the sweetest thing in the world, was nearing the end of her run.  It happened too soon in all of our opinions but she ended up getting cancer and it was the only choice.  I was working at the call center and called my mom during my break to ask how Gwyn was doing, only to find out that she had been put down.  I went back to my desk in a bit of a daze and had an interaction with Terri.

Now, let me preface this by saying Terri was this crazy jackass who claimed she had a doctorate in child psychology.  She could also never explain why she was working for $9.10 an hour at a call center with said doctorate.  I digress.

Terri asks what's wrong and I'm trying to hold back my tears when I say that our family pet was put down.  She kinda gives this semi-smile and reaches into her desk and pulls out a rubber ducky.  It's one of those things you squeeze to relieve tension or stress.  Whatever.  Terri hands it over and says "Here Sean, you need this right now.  Just give it back when you're done."  And then she gets up and heads to lunch.  I proceeded without blinking to rip the head off.  I tossed the head on my desk and took a call, absentmindedly drawing red marker around the neck and then in the eyes, etc.  I took long pins from my cork-board and reattached the head.  Because I have a guilty conscience I started feeling like an asshole and realized I couldn't give the duck back to her, so I made up some story about how I would appreciate it if I could just have it.  She obliged, not seeing my handy work, and I ended up sticking him on the dashboard by the steering wheel.

I don't remember entirely why I named him Edmund... it just occurred.  Edmund became a good-luck omen for me because after I put him up I never received another ticket from a police officer.  Knock on wood.  Not that I am some CRAZY driver, but I was able to escape from every ticket or citation, whichever, in the years to follow.  He became the mascot of Bethel, allowing people to identify the Jeep in parking lots, at businesses, etc.  In my head we sort of formed a tri-fecta... not to say of course that I interact verbally with them.  

Okay, so that's a lie.  I tend to yell at Bethel when she makes ugly sounds.  True story.

 August 2006 

Bethel soon adopted a personality that matched my co-worker's.  (Former, actually, because I quit that shit-hole a couple weeks later to go back to Express full-time.)  Things started falling apart around then for the old girl.  The hoses needed to be completely replaced the summer of 2006 (when I went up to Jillybean's cabin and had the time of my life (again).)  That summer I was visiting Kyle in Chicago and someone at some point backed into the rear passenger side and smashed it in.  A rattle appeared in the dashboard that couldn't be fixed.  But I endured, because Bethel was my girl and I would stick with her through thick and thin.

 April 2008

Not much happened after 2006 though... my dating life kinda kicked off, sputtering and starting up again a few times before taking flight around the time the above picture was taken.  That was outside St. James Martini Bar, meeting some friends.  Good thing I was wearing a Rolling Stones t-shirt, didn't want people to think I was classy or anything.

 August 2008

I started taking "multiple" pictures that year, and this was one of the first finished products.  They look complex to make but they really aren't, you just need to have some finesse with Photoshop and the eraser tool.  Basically you set your camera up on a tri-pod (which I didn't have; my camera was taped down to a stack of books on top of the garbage can and set in the middle of the front yard.)  The sitting down pose is a no-brainer, as is the asshole drying the car off.  The one spraying the hose is doing just that... and then mom came in and got to spray me down.  As I said, clever eraser work.

 July 2009

I finally moved out on my own in 2009, buying Bethel from my parents for $1,000.  She was showing her age by that point and somewhat severely.  The entire brake system had to be replaced that spring, along with $900 of random work that fall.  The above picture was taken at the drive-in movie theater in Freedom, WI.  It's one of my favorite places.  The backdoor was having a problem staying open by itself, and on this day in particular we had shoved a piece of wood against the bumper to hold it up.  Kinda ghetto... but so were most people at the drive-in so that was OK.

January 2011

And then that happened.  Driving to work the day after a snow storm, Bethel did a couple 360's on the highway going about 60 mph and spun into the ditch.  I called work first to say I was going to be late, and then I called home and started crying.  In hindsight, I COULD say I was crying because it was the first sign that Bethel really was on her way out.  In reality I was crying because I was afraid it would cost too much to repair her, lol.  Luckily there was no damage, to the car or myself.  But it was the first sign of things to come.

Tires were replaced that summer.  Then the bolts holding the driver's seat down to the floor sheered off and I was forced to use plastic zip-ties and rope to hold it down.  The air-conditioning AND heater made mysterious noises when turned on.  Either it screamed like a strangled cat or rumbled and growled to the point where anytime I came to a stop, I had to turn the air off.  Embarrassing.  In the fall of 2011, she was dead and had to be towed out of the garage to be repaired.  Less than $100 to fix.  In the beginning of February 2012... she was dead and had to be towed out of the garage to be repaired again.  That one was $200.  Last week the driver's side window fell inside the door and to fix it would cost $200... and I decided that was it.

After nine fabulous years, countless memories, enough fits of laughter to fill a book and enough tears to last a  lifetime, it has come to the end.  Tomorrow, April 14th, 2012, Bethel the Jeep is getting traded in.  And it's actually kind of funny how sad I am about it.  I want to say that I'm heartbroken, but to do so seems melodramatic.  Still... it's my blog.  And I am heartbroken.

How do you say goodbye?  At first she started out as just another car, the first of many new things that came out of moving to Wisconsin.  Then she turned into the first car I ever drove, then the first car I ever owned.  Then the first car I traveled with, the first car I grew upset with, the first car I named, the first car I got frisky in (yeah, it happened, so what?)  At what point does a vehicle become more than the sum of its parts and turn into a friend?

Bethel has heard countless personal conversations; she's seen me cry so many times that I don't even want to think about it.  She's heard me sing in amazing key; she's heard me sing horribly FUCKING bad.  She's seen me laugh, lie, scream, joke, banter, flirt and give the silent treatment.  She's been the one thing over the past nine years that was constant for me, that one thing I knew I had that wasn't going to change.  So when the time comes to say goodbye, knowing full well she is going to be torn apart and sold off in pieces to the highest bidder... it is devastating.  I don't know any other word for it.  Tonight I peeled her stickers off, emptied the center console, and chucked most of the contents of the glove compartment.  There was an odd sense of finality about it all.

April 13th, 2012

I suppose I could have put on a black suit with a white shirt and a white tie, trying to mirror myself at age 17 when I first got Bethel.  But that would mean trying to show that I hadn't changed during the course of the near decade that passed between us.  Instead I chose to echo the colors and show myself at 26.  Comfortable in my own skin, pleased with my appearance and the condition of my body, and just... well, I guess just happy.  When I was in high school, I used to wonder what I would be like in five years... 10 years... 15 years.  I don't think I thought I would be the man I have become, for better or for worse.  I will admit, however, that if at 17 years old I saw the above picture I'd probably think "Ooof, shit... take your shirt off!"

I'm sure some of you reading this have memories in Bethel.  You might not remember them to the excruciating detail I do, but you have them.  I'd love for you to leave a comment below with some.  God, this is turning into a funeral!  But really, you don't need to be a member of a board or anything special to leave a comment, and I wish it would happen more often.  Leave your name, too, so I know who the hell you are.

In the end, Bethel wasn't a decent car.  She wasn't a good car.  She was a fantastic car.  She was everything I needed at anytime I needed it, and she drove me forward in life, both figuratively and literally.  Together we drove 111,000 miles, give or take the 20 I will be driving tomorrow to the dealership.  I'll always have a special place in my heart for this old bitch, warts and all.  She lived to be 15... let's see if I can do better next time (c:

#7 - A Fond Farewell; finally letting go of Bethel the Jeep.

I'll leave you with some Michelle Branch; 'ol blue would've wanted it that way.

minor course correction

Seems like there has been a re-design of the blog... can ya dig it?  Sorry, moving on.

I wonder if there was ever a person who did everything right the first time, never having to learn from a mistake he or she made.  Would that person have been wiser in the end to have fucked it up once, or would they have been as equally comfortable from a life of pure confidence?  If said confidence is key and we push ourselves daily to strive for excellence... I don't think I know the answer.

Earlier tonight I was talking to @klreynol about things I have learned lately.  Chief among them I said I learned to "trust my doubts."  She said it should be rephrased as "trust your instincts," and I must agree.  It sounds much less mopey and far more optimistic.  And I should add that over the last several weeks I was growing increasingly optimistic.  It was a nice change of pace... it was a return to form, if you will.  I used to be incredibly optimistic; one might say it was almost to a fault.

But things happen and then yadda-yadda, you get cheated on.  Optimism seems pointless at that moment in time.

I told the most important people in my life a month ago that there was a big change coming, not necessarily to me but from me.  A shift in direction.  There was a new wind blowing my sails and the exciting thing about it was that it was guiding me in a direction I felt I could watch with starry eyes.  That's the thing about meeting someone new, someone exciting and different from the rest... it inspires change within you.

The most exciting part of that change is what it causes you to do.  I had started my "minor" working out with the shake-weight, which I like to poke fun at while insisting it works to the non-believers (fact: it does work. Talk to my biceps (bam-BAM!))  I was randomly doing sit ups as well, but mostly because I felt like I should do something with my abs and they were easy.  But then I got a little more serious and went to town; started the ab-roller (guh, holy shit) and followed that by picking up running again.  I used to roll my eyes at people who worked out, mostly because I simply didn't understand how they could actually WANT to go to the gym.  Funny enough, it's probably because they feel better about themselves when they do it.  And wouldn't ya know it?  I started feeling better about myself too.  The amazing thing actually is that I started looking better too, and seeing any sort of result is worth its obvious weight in gold.

The other change is the ability to start believing in people again.  Being lied to for so long and SO successfully didn't do much for me other than to shatter my beliefs that people can be good.  Mainly, men I am interested in.  So in comes this new guy and it just feels... different.  I don't know what other word to use to describe it, he is just different.  And for every lie I thought he was whispering, he was in fact not.  Either by proving it himself or by me allowing that ugly paranoia to take control and find out for myself.  What's funny (not really) is how bad you feel when you THINK someone is lying, only to realize they aren't.  Because really, that disappointment you have building up in yourself towards the person when you catch them?  Yeah... when you end up being wrong, the only place it can go is to reflect back and smack you in the kisser.

Feeling like a jackass is not a favored quality, but god damnit I own it.

It's actually really hard to write all of this and keep quiet about the main issues at hand, but I have to.  I promised myself that I wouldn't air dirty laundry involving my relationship status (if you can even call it that (you can't)) this time, so I'll keep my big mouth shut.  Things are what they are and maybe they end up better and maybe they end up worse.  I think that's as vague as it gets.  Trust me, I hardly know more than you do at this point.

To get back to the beginning of this, it began as a topic of confidence.  We all have it to a certain degree, some more than others.  As time goes on I learn more about it and adapt myself to thrive on it, but there are still flaws and caveats I deal with.  I'm a prime case of someone who starts looking back on the past and analyzing it, almost to the point of exhaustion.  With my memory (which, if you know me, is razor-fucking-sharp,) I am able to look at entire conversations I have had and pinpoint a place in said conversations where I should have done something different.  If I could go back in time and erase a single line... if I could manifest myself in that past conversation and edit a small blurb with a magic marker, things would probably go better in every way imaginable.

Maybe that's why I write books?  Having the ability to dominate and control the outcome of every conversation contained within them gives me the ability to play god in some form.  I'll be the first to admit that sometimes I start writing a conversation and realize it is headed down a path that I'm not sure how I'll back out of.  Those of you who have read early versions of my manuscripts can attest to that.  The fun part is sitting back, looking at the words, and going "Ah, this part right here ::delete::"  But in real life it's obviously not that easy.  It's actually really hard.  And it's made even harder by staring at past words obsessively and figuring out the tiny pin-pricks of dialogue that ended up shaping things out of your favor, if they were ever in it to begin with.

But then... I got on Pinterest tonight, most wonderful of wonderful things, and started perusing my boards.  In "Thoughts" I found this gem:

And then I realized I needed to sit back from the situation, relax, and look forward.  Because not everything works out the way we want; it wouldn't be fair if it did.  Some of us may have more luck than others; some of us may have a better nack at reading a person and turning the "live" conversation in a direction that will only benefit them.  Sometimes I'm one of those people... and maybe this time I'm not.  And though I am not totally convinced of what I'm about to say... this time I'm okay with it.

Like I said, nothing is finished.  To me, nothing is ever finite until I feel I have engraved it in concrete and am satisfied it will stay that way.  Like I told @klreynol, I'm not typically one to let sleeping dogs lie.  Maybe I am confident after all?  We define confidence as belief in oneself and one's powers and abilities.  I'm confident in my words, 90% in real-time and 110% in rear-view-mirror time, and I suppose that accounts for something.

To the people I mentioned in paragraph one, the people who don't ever make mistakes (because they somehow and in someway MUST exist) I feel sorry.  I think of mistakes as a divine human gift.  We learn from them and grow greatly because of them, and to not make any at all is to never change in our ways.  If the last month has taught me anything it is that there really is a silver lining in every encounter, good or bad, that inspires us to change.

Maybe those changes are simple... they make us look at things in a slightly different light.  They make us do something just a little bit different than we did before.  They make us omit certain words from our conversations that show a weakness, such as "I hope I'm not annoying you."  Have the confidence you aren't annoying them, Sean... and maybe they really do like you.  Shit, I revealed something.  Maybe those changes build muscle, too.  And whatever the muscle that is built, in your arms or in your mind, take heed and notice it.  Changes are always a good thing.

I look now to a change in course... a slight correction in my navigation abilities.  Who knows what new opportunities they will bring?  The lesson learned here in the end, really, is that there are still good men (and women, whatevs,) and they don't all lie.  Which is cool by me.  I keep listening to the song below, partly because it's catchy and fun and partly because something about the lyrics resonate well with me.  

A picture paints a thousand words;

As one door closes, another doors opens, 

And two wrongs don't make a right.  

Now good things come to those who wait;

Take the highs with the lows dear,

You'll get what you're given and everything's gonna be alright.

Thanks, Lily Allen.  And thus I bid you all adieu (c: