moving away

"For what it's worth: it's never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be.

There's no time limit, stop whenever you want.  You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing.

We can make the best of the worst of it.  I hope you make the best of it.  And I hope you see things that startle you.

I hope you feel things you never felt before.  I hope you meet people with a different point of view.

I hope you live a life you're proud of.

If you find that you're not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again."

-Benjamin Button

When I saw The Curious Case of Benjamin Button in 2008 I knew within minutes it was going to be one of the more profound moments in my life that had to do with a movie.  You might scoff at that, I know I would if I was reading it coming from someone else, but I've always loved movies in a way people might find surprising.  They make me run through a whole range of emotions I don't get to experience on a daily basis.  Certainly not that I can experience at the drop of a hat, and there's something fantastic about that.  Benjamin Button made me cry a whole bunch (big surprise) and it made me think a lot about my life.  That quote directly above, in particular, made me think a lot about my life.

I wasn't proud of it in 2008.

I'm not proud of my life today seven years later.  I mean, I am... but I'm not.  A big part of me has always feared I'd never be content with the people and places and things I've met, seen and done.  That no home is ever going to scratch the hidden itch in my mind of a greater place, or that no friend is ever going to say the one perfect thing I've waited an eternity for a friend to say.  Maybe that's the thing about people like me?  The dreamers, that is.  We are always coming up with bigger and better scenarios than what we've already seen, and we look forward to them because they are going to satisfy us.  They are supposed to satisfy us.

I believe that's a large part of why I write books; I can change and bend the story to my every whim and desire.  What was once a great fight scene might not be so great in five years when I've seen countless movies with better fights.  Might as well rewrite it!  In the moment of a character's death, I write certain dialogue to invoke the sadness that is appropriate.  Come back a year later and that dialogue feels melodramatic.  Might as well rewrite it!  I am always improving the story but not having to suffer the consequences.

In real life, there are consequences when you change things.  Sometimes they are for the better and sometimes for the worse.  That's what has kept me here in Wisconsin with my feet firmly planted on the ground, for better or for worse.  What if I moved away and lost my job?  Ran out of money?  Got in a car accident?  Got robbed?  Lost all of my belongings?  Couldn't pay my bills?  Someone died right after I moved?  Someone got sick and I had to move back?  What if I just couldn't afford it?

What if?  What if?  WHAT IF?!

Not that I haven't wanted to leave.  I just... couldn't.  I have always had a reason as to why, also.  I didn't have enough money or I didn't have someone to go with me or someone backed out of moving or I got a new job.  Yadda yadda yadda.  I started to realize over the last few years that if you are waiting for the timing to be perfect, it never will be.  Eventually you just have to settle on an idea and commit yourself to it, planning the best you can and, just a little bit, hoping for the best.  Two years ago I decided while on a trip to Austin that I would move there before I turned 30.  And if you know me (as most of you do) and if you've ever read my "new resolution" blogs (as I assume you have), you know I fulfill my goals.

If there is one person I hate letting down it's myself, and I think that is a mentality everyone should hold themselves to.  It works wonders for your self-esteem.  In a world made of people trying to please everyone else, I've learned a valuable lesson in that you can't always please those around you, and wasting your time and energy on it is a fruitless mission.  Aim for yourself, and after that you can worry about everyone else.

When I met Derek, someone equally driven to move away, I met my match in a person.  I met my challenge.  Here was someone who could (and would) hold me accountable for my statement of fact that I'd be moving in 2015, if not to Austin then to somewhere else in the country.  He didn't want to be living in Appleton, and I feared that if I were to back out of moving away, I'd be backing out of a future with him.  That isn't to say I am moving because of him, that is entirely inaccurate.  This plan was in motion long before he entered the picture.  He just held me to my word.

Luckily after our visit in March, Austin worked out for us as a place to live.  Having someone like Derek at my side has been wonderful.  Someone that not necessarily combats all of my potential excuses, so much as someone who provides a workaround for them that helps me through.  Someone that holds my hand when the stress is overwhelming, someone that listens without having to give an opinion.  Someone to tell me it's going to be alright when I drive away and can hardly see through the tears as I do so.

I think there was always this misconception from people about why I'd choose to move away from here.  "Oh, Sean hates it here." "Sean just can't wait to get away from this place." "Sean thinks it's so miserable here."  It all boils down to pretty much the same sentiment, that being Wisconsin is a horrible, horrible place and I'll only find my happiness by moving away to see if the grass truly is greener on the other side.

That's not it.  That's not true now and it never was at all.

If anything, the grass is almost certainly never greener on the other side.  I've learned that lesson a few times by now and I'm sure I'll learn it several more times over the course of my life.   That's the thing about lessons: they're never over.

What people get wrong about me is thinking that I've been hating my life in Wisconsin.  That I've been chomping at the bit to get out of here.  It could not be farther from the truth.

I love my life here.

I have my friends and my family here... I have nearly 19 years worth of memories here.  I became a teenager in Appleton, followed closely by becoming a man.  This is where I fell in love for the first time... it's where I fell in love for a second time.  I lost all of my grandparents while living here, I lost pets, I lost friends.  No "place" is ever going to take the spot in my heart of where I was when certain events happened.  It just won't.

But to stay in one place solely because of the past that attaches you to it... that's just not fair.  It's not fair to me when I want to see what else there is in the world, consequences and all.  It's not fair to the people around me when I'd keep thinking about a bigger life with different, not necessarily more, but different opportunities for me.  It would be doing a disservice to my friends and family.

When my family and I moved to Wisconsin in March of 1997, I was torn from a world I knew.  The only one I'd ever really known.  Wisconsin was as different from Southern California as milk is from soda.  But together with my family I learned and adapted.  Now I am faced with another opportunity of the same magnitude and it is one I've been waiting a very long time for.

Toward the end of June I had a guest in Pottery Barn named Lois, a gal I'd never had the pleasure of helping before but one I'd seen in the store more than a few times.  We chatted for a few minutes while I was helping her return some items, and she let me know that she had just turned 82 the day before.  She'd never been married, hadn't had kids, just loved her friends and her siblings and her books.  Lois told me she loves to read more than anything else and her eyes absolutely lit up when I told her I was an author.  She was happy with her life from the bottom to the top.  When our short chat ended, she started walking away and turned to me and said "Getting old isn't so bad, Sean."  I asked her what the secret was and she paused and looked at the ceiling for a second.  Lois turned to me with a certain glint in her eye and said "Always stay excited for things to come.  Don't let yourself get bored."

It's funny how as the date to move got closer, it became harder and harder to talk about leaving.  With @klreynol moving to Arizona I was on the other end of the situation, so I could just block it out until it was right in front of me.  That's the side I have always been on... the one where I watch people leave.  The one where I write a letter of goodbye and watch them fade in the sunset.  But with this scenario I have to think about it.  The logistics, the cost, the time and all of that hoo-ha.  You can't put something out of your mind when you are the planner, thinker and executioner of said thing.  But all the same, you keep it safe towards the back of your mind until the magnetics of what is right in front of you draws it out.

Friends start stopping by work to say hello, knowing full-well it is going to be the last time you see them for a long time.  In driving past my old house, the one I moved to when we left California, I realize I'm finally putting my life, the one I felt had become stagnant, into motion.  Living by my own rules, or rather, a new set of rules.

I can't help but look back on all of the things I've done while I've lived in Wisconsin and reminisce on them.  There was so much great stuff that happened here.  There was so much sad stuff.  Bad stuff.  Thrilling stuff.  Emotional stuff.  Every feeling that could be felt... it happened.

When I got sick as a 12 year old and missed two months of school because of my bad gallbladder, and having to deal with the doctors that didn't believe me.  The fallout of that event and not having any friends by the time I came back to school, effectively being the "new kid" once more.  The first time I kissed a girl.

The first time I kissed a boy.

The first time I sat down to write a "serious" story, one that I never stopped writing.  When I came out to my parents and weathered a storm that was not as turbulent as I thought it'd be but not entirely as comfortable as I'd have preferred.  The first time I found out I was being cheated on in a relationship, and drove home through a snowstorm at night with so much hurt and anger that I started screaming at the tops of my lungs.  The first time I moved out of the house.  The first pets I ever owned, named, and raised in my babies Paolo and Sophia; two ridiculous cats I bottle fed and kept on a heating blanket until they could take care of themselves.

The time I realized I was a fool to hope my three-year relationship was going to work out and the only thing I could think of to do was scream at the tops of my lungs in my living room as the fractures in my world finally splintered and the walls came down.  When I realized the actual key to my happiness was to set a series of goals for myself, culminating in a year of 26 new and exciting things that would take me so far from where I started that I wouldn't recognize myself when it was all done.

The day I published my first book.

And then the day I walked into the same Starbucks I'd been going to for 10 years to write my said books and met the love of my life without any intention of doing so.

Ellen Johnson Sirleaf once wrote "if your dreams don't scare you then they aren't big enough."  My dreams were always a little too big... maybe just a little too grand for them to be applicable to a life like mine.  I think what I needed to do was scale them back a bit until they were just barely attainable, and then go for it full-force.  Never set a goal for yourself that you are going to reach with no problem.  Where's the fun in that?  Where's the sense of fulfillment that comes with that?

Do what I did.

Decide to move across the country and don't change your mind even when you are a month out with no job lined up, then three weeks out with no home lined up, then two weeks out with (yet again) no job lines up.  Trust, as I did, that everything that is supposed to fall into place will, and all you've got to do is have a little hope.

Believe, make the leap, and have faith.

I'll see you in Austin (c;

when someone bullies you

I've never before had someone in my life that hated me.  I'm not saying that with any sort of ego... I just never had that experience.  Maybe I have and just didn't know it, with ignorance being bliss and all that... but in this instance there is one sole person that feels this way toward me.  It's a weird feeling.  I don't consider myself the most charming person in the world but I've always felt charming enough to get people to at least feel neutral about me.  Ya don't love me, ya don't hate me.  And because I'm a trusting person, I tend to put that faith into everybody and it remains there until they have done me wrong so many times I finally learned my lesson.

I also feel that for people to hate you, with honestly and truly no good reason to do so, there is something inherently wrong with them.  Whatever issues they have with you are a direct reflection of whatever is going on inside their own mind.  It took a while for me to realize how that is nothing I can help, nothing I can fix.  Particularly because you can't fix something that doesn't want to be fixed... and maybe doesn't even know it needs to be fixed.  People would tell me "he's just jealous," but eventually I want to scream "JEALOUS OF WHAT!?"  I could spout out a few theories but they would be cruel and unnecessary.  So I shan't.

It sucks to always be ice-skating uphill with a person.  That for every kindness you show them there is an equally negative reaction they throw in your face.  It is an exhausting endeavour meant solely to tear you down as a human being and it's unfair.  They share something so you share something in turn, and they walk away without a reaction because anything you could possibly have to say bears no importance or meaning to them.  They take your response to a story ("Oh really?  That's neat.") as payment for sharing, yet do not return the same kindness.

There's something to be said about people like me.  The ones that like to laugh and make others laugh with them.  That wear their hearts on their sleeves.  The ones that can cry at the drop of a hat when they watch a sad movie or feel immense empathy when a dear friend is having a bad day.  Even if that bad day is just an anniversary of a bad day in their life.  Because people like me that show all of that on the outside are quite hard on the inside.  Strong, resilient, and mostly silent in their deepest feelings because, often, it is the deepest feelings that would cut the deepest if revealed.

Then there are the other people.  The ones who like to speak loudly and too often.  That don't share so much as scream their opinions in the faces of others, with an air of confidence that is both disgusting and entrancing with all of its flaws.  Noses so high in the air they'd drown if it rained.  They are the ones that know everything about everything, the right and the wrong way and how you are only ever doing it the wrong way.  People like that, who show such stubbornness and arrogance on the outside are quite soft on the inside.  Cowards... losers at their own game.  Unloved by anyone because who could love someone so thoroughly ugly in every aspect of life?

He knows who he is, and because I don't name names in my blogs, I won't reveal it.

But he knows who he is.

He's reading this right now.

He likes to read my blogs for anything juicy I might have to say so that he can spread it and try to get me in trouble with the powers that be.  And he might be thinking "I don't hate him... why would Sean say that?" but when actions speak louder than words, and the words he has shared behind my back extend for several years, it is the only logical explanation.

Right now, in this moment, I don't mind sharing this.  There wasn't a day that went by while knowing him when he didn't have something negative to say about me.  How wrong I was in my actions, how I was faking it when I was too sick to work.  How I was no good at my job, how I was going to get the store shut down, how much trouble I would be in if "only someone knew what Sean was doing here."  How I'm an "okay" person but the worst manager.  It was all unfounded, of course.  Never mind that he was the only person to feel this way, it sure as hell didn't stop him from trying to convince others that it was how they should feel as well.

Only come to find that people inherently know how big words from a small man rarely carry any clout.  They certainly didn't with me.

But what eventually became hysterical was that he had no clue I was aware of what he was saying the whole time.  The whole, entire, sweet time.  He was blinded by a false sense of invincibility, that no one would share with me his dirty thoughts about what kind of person I was.  And I'd see him, very often, and look him in the eye and listen to his stories and just bite my tongue on anything I wanted to share.  I knew how anything and everything I could say would immediately be twisted and turned into some god awful statement taken completely out of context and tone as it was shared with everyone else.

Bottom line, did his words hurt me?  Sure; I'm not so brazen as to claim they didn't.  Razors of any sharpness will hurt when slung often enough.  That being said, did I let it get to me?  Nope.

Yet bitches are gonna bitch.

Listen, I can absolutely tolerate not being liked by everyone.  That's the nature of life and I'll deal with it without any qualms.  You can't win all the time, I know this.  It confused me for the longest time as to how he could be so mean... so utterly and completely rotten.  And it took me a very long time to come to terms with the fact that I just wasn't going to win him over.  No matter how nice I was or how many opportunities I gave him to turn it around.  Some things are too lost from the start for there to be any hope.  The few times he was confronted he would default to the herd mentality of "I only said it because so-and-so said it first," which is such a spineless tactic bullies resort to in the hopes of justifying their shit behavior.

Eventually I knew I'd be moving away knowing I'd never have to deal with him again, leaving him behind with the leftover bits of trash and debris from my life in Wisconsin that I didn't care enough to pack up and take with me.  A subpar human being that did more talking than doing but somehow always felt I didn't know how to do my own job despite the numbers I produced to the contrary.  A gossiping, spiteful, vindictive, backstabbing curmudgeon that actually asked how much money I was going to be getting a couple days after my grandfather died.  A primadonna, borderline sociopath hell bent on hurting anyone around him that could be happy, only because he didn't understand how to attain it.

I don't think you know how to be happy... what's worse is that I don't think you care to be happy.

But maybe you already know that?  I just want to make sure.

Of course I also want to make sure you know that I've used my words to write you this letter.  My words, which to me are my most sacred and treasured possession.  I know you'll roll your eyes at that but I'm okay with it.  Until now my words have been used to write books that you no-doubt trash-talked up the wall, because hell, if you yourself didn't write it then it's obviously awful, right?  My words have been used to write my blogs in the hopes that maybe they would affect someone in a positive way, but any positive message I've ever penned obviously would have gone right over your head because you wouldn't be willing to absorb it.

Lastly, my words have been used to write letters to my closest friends.  The people that made a difference in my life, from friends to family to the people at the store that I loved seeing every day.  The people that made me who I am and that I will miss the most when I'm gone.

Decidedly, this letter is the first time I've written out of pity.  This letter oozes in pity, and I hope that was not lost on you.  Because I pity you; hating you would take too much effort and you just don't deserve it.  You don't deserve my time.  Not now, not ever.  To spend my time and effort on you would be like squeezing blood from a stone.

So go on with your life, try to humiliate more people to make yourself feel better, and keep looking at yourself in the mirror, knowing what lies behind your eyes.  Understand that everyone knows all about you and what makes you tick, and know that you weren't so clever as to get away with any of it.  Most of us have better things to do than worry about your opinion.  Most of us have people in our lives that love and adore us, every second spent with us, and they are the people that deserve our attention.  Not you.

To you I say good riddance.

As for the rest of you?  See you tomorrow with another blog.  Ciao (c:

 

leaving pottery barn

It was a very frustrating, aggravating day in April of 2012.  I was working at Express in Green Bay and things just weren't going well for me.  The store hadn't done well in the year I'd been there which meant I also hadn't done well on my review.  No raise for Sean.  I'd been with the company for 8 years and still wasn't making enough money to support living on my own, let alone to also pay for the brand new car I'd purchased.  I was walking to the food court for my lunch break and my phone started ringing with a number I didn't know, so I silenced it.  After about a minute or so the phone buzzed that I had a voicemail.

It was a woman named Courtney; she was the General Manager at Pottery Barn in the Fox River Mall.  She had heard from a coworker of hers that I knew (my former landlady and now great friend, Brenda) that I might be a good candidate for a position in the store as the Associate Store Manager.  No pressure, just wondering if I wanted to swing by sometime soon and have a chat about it.

I figured what the hell, I had nothing to lose, right?  It couldn't be any worse than my current situation.  So I called her back and set up a time to meet a few days later when she'd have her District Manager in town and I could sit down with the both of them.  And I did.  The best thing about talking (re: interviewing) when you already have a job is that the pressure is not really on you.  Despite how I felt about my performance at Express, I knew my stuff.  I knew all of the correct answers to questions, I knew how to interview properly without botching it.  I was in the middle of filming "26 Golden Things," which was a huge endeavour and one I used to promote myself as a go-getter, and I had also just finished writing The Onyxus Chronicles: Episode III.

I was pleasantly surprised, pleasantly shocked, a day or two later when Courtney called and said she wanted to move forward with checking references, and if I could please fill out an actual application.  Suddenly I felt like I had something to lose and the panic set in.  They actually wanted me for the job?  Oh shit... now what?

So the background check started and more interviews started.  I had the worst interview of my life when I had to talk on the phone to the Regional Vice President as she was driving down the Pacific Coast Highway with the TOP DOWN.  At one point I asked her to repeat the question five times, and that was plain humiliating.  And of course she told the District Manager she wasn't sure I'd be the right fit for the job (I agreed, based on that interview, yikes).  So a conference call or two later and a lot of convincing on Courtney's behalf, she gave me a call and asked if I could meet her at Starbucks by the mall.

It had been about three weeks at this point and I felt like maybe I was coming in for a second interview.  But no, Courtney had a folder on the table and we chatted for a bit and then she said they wanted to offer me the position.  So she opened the folder and turned it to me and showed me what my offer was for a salary and all of that.  And I can remember my eyes misting over because it was a very substantial increase over what Express paid me.  Same amount of vacation, more sick time, better benefits all around.  And I accepted.

I gave Express three weeks notice because I felt guilty, as if I owed them something.  In hindsight I wish I had just given a normal two weeks and said "see ya."  But that's not in my character and I would never be so bold as to burn a professional bridge.  You never know when you'll have to eat your words!  I started with Pottery Barn on June 3rd, 2012, and I still remember going in to work on that Monday (in a three-piece suit (first and last time that happened)) and thinking I had made a mistake.

This job was going to be about walking around with teapots and pillows, moving in circles through a slow store with nothing to do at all.  It was going to be boring, boring, boooooooooring.

I was very wrong.  And, truth be told, it did not take very long at all for Pottery Barn to become my favorite place.

Obviously my locker ::tosses hair::

At the end of the first week and after working 5 days in a row, I went home and fuckin' crashed.  I had never been so exhausted in my life from working.  Because it wasn't walking around with pillows and moving in circles through a slow store, it was work.  Unloading trucks in the morning full of 100 boxes of heavy shipment.  Boxes of candles, of chairs, of coffee tables.  Going up and down the stairs in the back several times a day.  Climbing ladders, filling shelves.  And that was just the operations side!  There was serious work involved in maintaining the Pottery Barn selling model, greeting every guest and actively uncovering what they came to the store for.

Of course the biggest part would be the actual sales.

I would be ecstatic at Express if I had a sale over $500.  That was big money when it came to clothing, particularly because everyone had a coupon.  But at Pottery Barn that's a somewhat average sale.  It's when you get it over a few thousand that you start to get excited.  I had the worst sticker shock when I started there, and even more so because people would buy this stuff without even flinching.  It was pretty fast that I bought in to the company and what it stood for and that was a wonderful feeling.  Liking where you worked, liking the people you worked with, all of it.

My first closing shift on a Sunday when Courtney was out of town.

The window exploded.  Neat.

It did take me a good month to totally understand the computer system.  It took a little longer to totally understand the way in which we get our merchandise from one of five different options.  But eventually I got the hang of it and things only got better from there.  We hired my best @klreynol as the visual manager that fall.  I won the "Catch the Spirit" award (kind of like employee of the month) for our store and then went on to win it for the District.  I actually got a bonus in my paycheck for the first time in my life (not because of Catch the Spirit though).

Pottery Barn was just a different form of life, one where going to work didn't actually feel like going to work.  I was going to hang out with people that I loved being around, that made me feel comfortable and happy and at ease.  Working at a job where they put the reigns in your hands and said "What do you need from us to make your job easier?  What can we do to help you grow your business?"  I'd never had that before.  The associates were not all 18 years old and drinking every night.  A large portion were moms (not necessarily old or young, just moms) and they always made me feel content.  They made my job easy in always being willing to help.

Working an "In-Home Trunk Show Party" with the always wonderful

(and one of my very favorite people in the world) Barb.

What surprised me about the store was the interaction with our guests (we choose not to call 'em customers).  At Express you had the regulars of course, and you'd remember the name only after you looked at their credit card.  But here you had regulars that actively wanted to talk to you.  To share with you.  You met each of the three Susan's that came in on a weekly basis, the Mary's and the Heather's.  I was writing my book one day at Starbucks and had one of my favorite guests come inside because she saw me through the window, call me out by name (despite no nametag), and tell me she "just wanted to say hi real quick, have a great day!"

It's the little things like that where you feel appreciated.  It means more than I can really describe, actually.

 At a Wedding Event thrown at Lawrence University with Courtney, Melissa and Barb.

When I interviewed for the job, I told them my goal was to move to Austin, TX in the next several years with an eye on West Elm, a sister company under the Williams Sonoma corporate umbrella.  While it was in my plan from the beginning, that didn't necessarily make it easier when the time came to act on those plans.

I'm leaving behind a store I've worked at for just over three years.  I've won CTS for the store and District three times, I've been an acting General Manager, and I've learned my paces.  I've sold more and more each consecutive year, I've met several amazing people along the way, and I've worked with the best boss a person could ask for.

The time I set this up for Courtney to discover in the morning when she opened the office door,

effectively scaring the shit out of her.  Best scare ever.

I knew I'd get along with Courtney from the first day I worked with her.  Outwardly proper and correct but sassy on the inside.  Something I saw often enough in private but that she managed to downplay with most of the staff.  For the most part, at least.  I like to think that with my foul mouth and dirty jokes I loosened her up a bit.  Courtney, a person who could diffuse a tough situation in the blink of an eye and a person that wanted me to be happy.  Always helpful, never angry, always understanding, never arrogant, and always sympathetic.

Courtney and I sittin' on Santa's lap.

She became one of my closest friends and allies, teaching me what a partnership between a General Manager and an Associate Store Manager really looked like.  What respect amongst peers meant, how to lead effectively, and how to enjoy your job.  A perfect partnership.  Looking back on three years, I feel like I'm leaving behind a friend more than anything else.  I think back on the heart to hearts, some of the tears, and a lot of the laughs.  The random songs we broke out into, the silly inside jokes and one-liners that we used on each other.  The side eyes, the knowing glances, and all of the exaggerated sighs.

I'm just really going to miss her a lot.

I'm going to miss the bulk of my staff a lot.

Most of the people I work with have been there since I started, some of them well before.  They are my friends.  They've laughed with me, some have cried with me.  A couple made my life miserable for a little while, the others outweighed their negativity.  They pushed me to new levels in my career, and they listened to me.  I know I am going to meet a whole new staff when I move to Austin and I know they are going to be as equally great as those at store #736, Fox River.  But they'll never be the same.  I leave knowing that I am not just leaving coworkers behind, but friends.

I'll be back to visit them and I will keep up with most of them through Facebook.  I'll even be able to enjoy the company of a few of them when they come down to visit me.  It's not the same, but it's not the end of the world.  I'm honored to have made the connections that I have through Pottery Barn and to have forged the relationships that I'll take with me.  It was the best job I've ever had and I will forever be indebted with gratitude for everyone and everything that made it so.

And at the end of the day, I'm not too far away.  Austin is, after all, just a little south by southwest.

I'll leave you with my favorite song from the Pottery Barn soundtrack.  The bulk of our music has stayed the same over the last three years (annoyingly), but this song never got old.

Ciao for now (c: