Rhys' Pieces

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2012-02-12T19:14:00.000-06:00

How am I doing?

That's a difficult question to answer. I have felt like I've fluctuated all over the board lately. It's like there are two completely different people inhabiting my body. There's Normal, Adjusted Rhys. The one that smiles, that does his job, that hangs out with friends. It's the public face. And it's not fake. It comes from the heart. My smile is genuine. My enjoyment is pure. Those are the times I try to hold on to. There's also Sullen, Lonely Rhys. That's the one that creeps across Twitter or Tumblr at odd hours of the night. It's the one that questions all of the decisions and keeps looking at the clock.

I have felt an increasing urgency around time. I feel like I'm running out. My logical brain tells me that's because of the sudden nature of my father's death and the very real knowledge that nobody knows the hour when their time will be up. I don't feel that it's impacting my decisions, but it is starting to weigh on my mind. One of the last pieces of advice that my father gave me revolved around my marriage. My wife and I had just separated. He told me that if there was anything I could do to keep things together, to do it. This advice came from a man utterly broken by divorce; he'd lost everything and everyone. This isn't the fault of my mother; Dad just simply couldn't restart. And when my marriage ended, I knew it was for good reason. That knowledge isn't as helpful in the cold dark of night when I hear his voice.

Thinking about it now, though, it's harder to hear his voice. I actually broke down today, completely unexpectedly. I was feeling a little down, but I chalked that up to the dreary, cloudy weather. It was at work; I was heading back to my desk after getting some water. I was walking through a room, totally by myself, and it just hit me. I had to hold myself up using a table. It was a sudden realization on how LONG it's been since Dad died. It's been over a year. From those I've talked to that have experienced this loss, it's normal for these geysers of grief to show up from time to time. It passed about as quickly as it emerged. But it recalled, again, that dread in my gut about my own time.

I've been thinking lately about seeing a professional. It's been almost a year since I talked to anyone about all this, and perhaps there's a root cause behind all this. Perhaps it's still normal. I can't help but feel like it's abnormal and I'm broken somehow. I keep pushing people away.

Weight

2012-02-10T17:51:00.000-06:00

I eat out. A lot. I eat out every day for lunch, and once in awhile I'll eat out before work or after. I have been feeling it lately, and not just in the way my clothes fit me; I've been getting increasingly sick of fast food. It's the same thing, over and over again. I've tried halving my portions. I've tried cutting out sides entirely. Nothing sticks; it's an addiction.

I went though my closet today and tried on all my t-shirts. I folded and stored seven of about 15 because they fit me too snugly around the middle. I don't want to look like a pear on legs. But that doesn't fix anything. Eating better and getting some for-real exercise will. My neighbor, Amanda, has been pestering me (in a good way) to start running again. Laziness is my biggest enemy, on all fronts.

I fixed a grilled cheese sandwich for dinner. It's the first time I've fixed one in YEARS. I simply didn't want to be bothered. A good friend suggested using Pam cooking spray on the griddle side (THANK YOU!) and it was fantastic. Easy, tasty, and loads better than dropping by Braum's or Whataburger. Add in a side of chips (put on a plate, not out of the bag) and it was a suitable meal. Not just me mindlessly eating because it's there in front of me. The next goal is figuring out a steady way to eat during the work week. Then comes... vegetables. And actually healthy meals. Just because dinner tonight was better than what I've been eating doesn't mean it will continue to be counted as a success.

I want to be able to wear those clothes again. I see pictures of myself before I left the country and know I'm halfway there from my returning weight. I can't do that. Not again.

One Year Later

2012-01-17T13:37:00.000-06:00

I started writing this on 10 November. Tonight I did what I do just about every Thursday, whichis watch a few episodes of The West Wing with my neighbor, Amanda. One of the episodes tonight revolved around amain character’s father battling Alzheimer’s and the feeling of loss that accompanies such a devastating illness. When these thoughts are finally posted to the world, it will have beenone year since my father passed on. Twelve months. Goodness. That’s hard to believe. The reason I started writing tonight isbecause tonight I realized that media (be it books, movies, what have you) thatdeals with father issues has a greater impact on me emotionally. I sit there and pretend it doesn’t affect meas much as it used to. I still haven’twatched Big Fish again. I know it willdestroy me. Field of Dreams is a no-gofor a while too, while we’re at it.

Now it’s 2 December. After hemming and hawing, I decided to buy a six foot Christmastree. I’ll be hosting a few gatheringshere for the holidays, and a Christmas party without a tree would be sad. We always had fake trees growing up; I didn’thave a real tree until Indi and I started dating. When she learned I’d never had a real tree,she went nuts and insisted. It was nicethe once, but too much of a mess to do on a regular basis for my taste. I set the tree up last night and decidedtoday would be good to ornament it. Ithought I had Grandma Gail’s old ornaments, but it turns out I had Dad’s. I filled with bittersweet memories as Ilooked through the box and the small packages of intense memory. Decorating the tree was always a Rhys ‘nTyler job at Christmas, and every piece of glass and grocery-related Season’sGreetings carried dense memory. I reallymiss Dad today, even though he wasn’t a big fan of Christmas. He wasn't a big holiday guy at all, in fact. When I stayed with him during Grandma’sfuneral, he sat at home watching old home movies of Christmas Past whenus boys were young. I got the impression that happened very frequently.

18 December. Took aroad trip yesterday with a friend. There’s an abandoned mining town in northeastern Oklahoma and I wantedto take my new camera out for a spin. Weworked in a bit of a road trip and found ourselves near Pawhuska. I decided to stop and see Dad’s marker forthe first time in person. Kneeling thereon the hillside of the cemetery, I looked at his name etched into the stonelaid in front of me. There’s somethingso final about that. Something thatdoesn’t really hit you with a picture. Imiss him so much. That won’t ever getbetter, I think. I just grow more usedto his absence. His contact is still inmy cell phone. I’m starting to entertainthoughts of removing it. Every time Iscroll past it, I want to stop. A dropof water on my forehead.

27 December. Put awaythe Christmas decorations today. It wasa good Christmas. Spent a day withfriends, a day with family. Nobodymentioned Dad, but we all felt his absence. The tree was decorated with sparse ornamentation; one of his oldCampbell’s Soup ornaments crashed and shattered on the floor as I was puttingit away. I saw it go. It slowly rolled out of my grip and descendedto the wood slats below. I waspowerless. I heard it shatter and myhand flew up to my mouth. I just staredat it, hand still covering my mouth, for a good minute. I held my breath. It was done. I apologized aloud to Dad as I went to the kitchen, got a broom, and cleanedit up. It was a resigned feeling. I know more things will go with time. Nothing lasts forever. Even my memories will fade and, eventually,break in some fashion. That’s a hardreality to face.

16 January. Two days. They weren't sure when Dad actually passed away and said it could have been as early as Sunday. I'm doing the same thing this year that I did last year on this day, which is march in the Martin Luther King Jr. Parade here in Tulsa. I have some pictures from the event. It was cold, but I enjoyed being a part of the festivities. It's strange to look back and think that my world was about to completely change; HAD changed already, I just didn't know it. I wish I could reach back and warn myself. Hey, why hasn't Dad called you back? Maybe you should have your aunt or uncle check on him. He always returns your calls and it's been about a day since you tried calling him. That nagging thought in your head should really be attended to; it's more important than you can ever imagine.

17 January. The calendar says tomorrow (as the 18th is one year) but I got the call the Tuesday after MLK Jr Day...so today feels more real. Wherever you are, Tony, know that your son is proud to have you as a father. As I've said before, I know how lucky I am that we were so close and we had a lot of good times together. Still, I fight anger and bitterness that many people get twice as much time with their Dad as I did. It's so damned unfair...but as you told me on multiple occasions there are only two kinds of fair: state and county. Every time I think of you, I try to smile and not dwell in sorrow. Every time I see my brother, I try to encourage him and help give him guidance, for he had even less time with you than I did. Every time I encounter a challenge at work, I ask myself how you would do it. Every time I hug Mom, I hug her for both of us.

I try to live up to the values that you instilled in me. I work to make you proud. I love you and miss you more than any word could express.

Support

2012-01-08T22:20:00.002-06:00

It's difficult for me to accept help.

When Dad died, I had an outpouring of sympathy and offers for assistance, but I don't recall taking anyone up on it. I remember a few phone calls, people asking how I was doing. Fine. I'm always fine. In the quiet moments of the night, when I let that wall down, I was inconsolable. The depths of my sorrow were so severe I didn't know how I would ever get past them. But who do you call at 3:00 in the morning? All I had was an empty house to hear me, so I figured writing this blog would be a good outlet; and it was. As the one year anniversary approaches, I can feel my emotions seeking that same stone wall I built last year. I don't want to be around anyone. I just want to go home and not think about it.

I don't want anybody to see me hurting.

But it's also what I want most.

It's a strange, crazy dichotomy. I feel like it's selfish to reach out when all that I want is a shoulder to cry on or someone to hear my sorrows. Even now, as I'm not doing as fine as I have been, when people ask I don't tell them. Because then they'll ask more, and then I'll have to TELL more, and the problem just gets worse. So I put on a happy face. The reclusive beast stays in the shadows. After all, it's been a year. I'm sure all of my friends have read my blogs or heard me talk about these emotions; why would they want to sit through them again? That's when I turn into a pest, 'that guy' that brings everyone down. At least, that's what the beast tells me.

I'm very much a talker. I prefer conversation in a coffee house than a night out at a bar, dancing or what-have-you. I like to communicate and share with others. It's damned unfair that I had become recently single when everything fell apart; I wanted someone I did feel like I could share with, unselfishly, and just look to for support. For some reason, I didn't look to my friends for that. I just did without. People still asked, and I still told them I was okay. I even made a list of names of the friends that expressly asked me to reach out to them if/when I wanted to talk. I never utilized that list. My desire for connection was trumped by my desire to burrow and share through electronic means.

I don't feel like I am 'crying out for help' or that I desperately need someone to talk to. I recognize I'm conflicted. In ten days, I have a monumental anniversary to get through and I don't know if I want to be surrounded by friends or isolated. I have strong feelings both ways. I just don't know.

Heroes

2012-01-07T21:19:00.000-06:00

Like many kids, I grew up thinking my parents knew it all. Any question I had could be answered. Any problem I had could be solved. No matter what was going on, I knew I could turn to them for support and assistance. And like many kids, I remember the moment when that curtain fell.

I was living in Topeka, so this would've been in 2000. It was wintertime, the roads covered in snow. Dad had taken my brother to school in the Explorer and had run over something in the road that shredded his tired. Mom got a call from my exasperated father, asking for help changing the tire. So Mom and I got into my car and drove the few miles out to the Walgreen's parking lot Dad had pulled into. There he was, in his long black winter coat, frustratingly fumbling about. The truck had already been jacked up and the front right tired was almost off. I helped take of the rest of the bolts and took the tire off the hub.

Something snapped. Evidently, Dad had placed the ridiculously-small jack under a plastic piece of the side board instead of the proper setting and the brittle molding broke away. The truck lurched downward on top of the tire, which was still standing next to the axle. Unfortunately, my hand was on top of the tire when this happened and my right hand was now pinned between the shredded tire and the wheel well. It was at that instant that my father morphed from the all-knowing strong man of the universe to a mortal being, a guy trying to do the best he could in a world he increasingly didn't understand. Here he was, angry and upset that he was late to work because of car trouble, and suddenly his oldest son may have just lost his hand. He panicked and tried to pull my hand free, but the truck had already settled. I calmly told my parents to just find the jack (it shot out from underneath the truck), get it lifted somewhere stable, and free me so I could get to an urgent care facility. After about five minutes, this was achieved and Mom drove me while Dad waited on a tow truck. Thankfully, I had no nerve damage and I regained full use of my hand after a few months.

The real damage (if you can call it that) was that after that I saw my folks as regular people, just trying to make their way. It's a natural thing, and my relationship with both of my parents grew stronger after that. Even though my understanding changed, I still found myself reaching out to them when I had questions. Sure, they didn't know everything, but they still had all the answers. I always took that for granted. So many of the figures I've looked up to in my life are tarnished or gone entirely. It's part of growing up. But no matter how human I see my parents to be, they are still Mom and Dad. And they always understand.

Routine

2012-01-02T12:58:00.002-06:00

I never quite understood the Auld Lang Syne traditional song. May old acquaintances be forgot? No. I thrive on my interactions with people. If I shed the people from my life I would be a miserable person. I rather think it should be 'may old acquaintances be remembered' as people tend to forget others in busy times. And that's a real shame.

I've found myself in a pretty standard routine as of late...and there's some comfort in that. I get up in the mornings, have my coffee. Check Facebook, the news, and a few other sites I keep up with. Maybe put on some music. It's a nice start to the day. It's at my own pace. At some point, I start getting ready for work. At about 1:00, I head to work to prep for my day. Work has also settled into a bit of a routine, for the most part. I am comfortable there and feel that, overall, I do a good job. I'm thankful for those constants in my life.

I have successfully navigated my first holiday season AD. The real test comes in a few weeks, when the one year anniversary of Dad's death hits. It's really unbelievable that it's been that long. Time is a funny thing, as I'm sure everyone knows. I find myself drifting in thought, losing focus and meandering through memory. I hope it doesn't get any worse as the day approaches, but I know it probably will. I took the 18th off, just in case. I don't want to show up at work and break down. I wonder what it is about anniversaries that has such an impact.

I have my mother and brother. I have my friends. I have people in my life that are so tremendously special to me. I know I have avenues should I feel like reaching out. My problem, as it always has been, is the actual reaching. I feel like folks don't really need me knocking on their door and dropping my repetitive problems at their feet. As I've mentioned before, sometimes people just asking how I am changes the answer. I look to those closest to me to check in and make sure I'm not siloing myself. That would be bad.

Anyway, it's about that time. Work time. Busy time. Good time. I hope everyone had a fantastic New Year's and the coming 365 treat you better than the last 365.

So This is Christmas

2011-12-24T22:24:00.002-06:00

I didn't have any Christmas Eve plans this year, so when one of my fellow managers at work asked if I could close for him (working 4-1 instead of my normal 2-11) I said it would be no problem. I put on a festive red shirt (a vest, too, to showcase my new Doctor Who pocket watch) and came into the office with a smile. The workload was steady; although it was Christmas Eve, people still needed assistance with their cell phones. It's just another night in the call center.

Later in the evening, an associate from another team came up to my desk. She is an older woman, in her sixties surely, and someone I have a casual, 'Hey, how's it going?' relationship with. She wished me a Merry Christmas and asked how I was doing, acknowledging that this was my first Christmas without my father. It took me a moment to respond; the shock of her question hit pretty hard. I knew that, of course. A year ago today, actually, we had our last meal together and he drove back to Pawhuska. I only saw him again briefly before he was gone.

No, the shock came from the remembrance. Someone who was only a passing acquaintance took a few moments to remember me and my loss. After searching my feelings for a moment, I smiled a genuine smile and said I was doing okay. Dad was never big into holidays, as I've mentioned before, so there aren't any big traditions that are suddenly absent. It's the little things I miss. The phone calls, the occasional email. I have moments where memories are so recent and thick that it nearly brings me to my knees, but those happen less and less often. They happen more often in grocery stores than anywhere else, which makes sense. But for the most part, Dad is someone who feels like he has been gone for a long time.

Tomorrow morning, I will get up. Prepare food. Make coffee. I will welcome my mother, my brother, and his fiance into my home and we will have Christmas together. Though Dad is gone, it feels normal. As much as my world came to a screeching halt this year, it is moving smoothly and has been for a while. My friend told me her father has been gone for seventeen years, and still has occasions where it hits as strong as it ever did. I imagine that's how it's going to be. I love my father, and cherish the good memories. Christmases past with him in his recliner, watching us open presents as he smiled a small, knowing smile.

Though my eyes well up a little, the smile that comes with them is deep and genuine. Merry Christmas, Dad.

Empty Picher

2011-12-18T17:02:00.001-06:00

After some schedule juggling at work this past week, I found myself with a Saturday off for the first time in a long while. Fatefully, this happened as I read an article about the abandoned mining town of Picher, Oklahoma and a random dinner engagement with my friends Leah and Darci. All of these happenings added up to a relatively impromptu Saturday on the road with my fellow photographer friend Darci and a great opportunity to take my new camera out for a spin.

Like my father before me, I wanted to get on the road as early as possible. I'm not used to dealing with delays like "I'm fixing my hair" but I'm a patient man. We set out north on the Will Rogers Turnpike at about 9:30 AM on Saturday, full of excitement and expectations. Due to massive amounts of mining, toxic lead contamination, and a kicker of a 2008 F4 tornado the town was evacuated and abandoned a few years ago. Many of the structures have been torn down, and there's still light traffic on the highway that runs through the old town center, but the grounds of Picher is an eerie sight. Roads to nowhere. Concrete pads overgrown with weeds, old tile peeling up in the sunlight. Post-apocalyptic spray-painted warnings like 'KEEP OUT' on buildings that seem in decent shape, as well as many dilapidated structures litter the old town footprint.

As you approach the town, you see tall mountains of gravel, or 'chat', left over from the mining operations. Some of these mounds sidle right up to previously residential neighborhoods. A water tower looms over the skeletal remains of the town, proudly proclaiming cityhood since 1918. In fact, due to the mining operations, Picher produced over half of the lead and zinc used in World War I and was also a big contributor to World War II ammunition manufacture. While walking the foundations of the old commercial district, I found an old Matchbox car, crushed and full of dirt. "How appropriate," I thought. How many hopes and dreams died here? I also came across a fire hydrant with a hose still attached, as if the call to evacuate came amidst an emergency and people had to pick up and go with haste.

Once Darci and I had sufficiently explored, we set out westward. Driving old Oklahoma and Kansas highways, we found ourselves in Sedan, KS...evidently the home of the World's Longest Yellow-Brick Road. We parked downtown and looked at the historic storefronts, enjoying the last bit of warmth of the afternoon sun. Due south of Sedan, not far across the state line, we drove to Pawhuska, my father's hometown. I hadn't been back since his grave marker had been completed and placed. I stopped to pay my respects. There's something so final about words etched in stone. The quiet time on the hillside was interrupted by a woman and several children with toys and Cheetos.

We cruised back into Tulsa at about 5:30. It was a fantastic day trip and reminded me how much I missed the open road. I need to do more research and find other close locations that I can stop by and capture.

Things Remembered

2011-12-11T18:42:00.001-06:00

It's crazy, the things we remember.

There was a minor water leak at the office a few days ago. I used to have a water cooler next to my desk that had been scheduled for removal months ago, but they just now got around to it. It was hooked up to the water line and everything. When it was taken out, the line wasn't drained properly and, during my off days, completely saturated the carpet around my desk. I came to work on Saturday to a squishy workstation. I called facilities and they took care of it pretty quick.

However, the area around my desk has this odd smell while it dries. I'm not sure exactly what it is, but it smells just like Grandpa Hardy's butcher shop used to smell like. Almost metallic. That smell brought back a WAVE of memories from Hardy and Gail's house out in the country. I remember the sound of the metal doorknob on the shop turning, the springs inside constricting. The sound of a car driving down the gravel road behind the house, heading towards the creek. The sound of Black Cats echoing off the countryside on the 4th of July. Grandma Gail's laugh. Their old dog, Tippy, barking as we pulled into the drive. The sound of their old turn-dial microwave dinging. The trash compactor. All sights, sounds, and smells that completely fill my memory.

It's two weeks to Christmas. I have a tree up, presents under the tree, and a stocking on the mantle. The cheer grows stronger, even while the clouds grow darker. The last time Dad and I spent time together was December 23rd and 24th last year. I helped him pick out a new phone at the U.S. Cellular store. We ate lunch at Brewburger, saw True Grit in the theater, watched Zombieland at home, and went to Blue Dome for breakfast the following day. He wanted waffles, but they only had pancakes. I almost ran a red light on the way home and that cracked him up when I panicked and slammed on the breaks. It wasn't the last time I saw him, but it might as well have been.

I still haven't made the drive to Pawhuska to see his grave marker with my own eyes. I'm off on Friday the 23rd and I might make the drive. Might not...I guess it depends on how I'm feeling. Plus I don't fancy taking that trip alone. I did that enough when I was taking care of his estate. Maybe I won't want to mar the holiday season with a day of somber sadness. Then again, maybe it'll be somber anyway. Grief is weird like that.

Thanksgiving

2011-12-03T20:00:00.001-06:00

Thanksgiving came and went without too much fanfare. At least, that's how it was on the surface. I went to Mom's on the day of for dinner. Last year, I took care of Thanksgiving dinner at my tiny efficiency apartment and had Mom and Tyler over. Dad never was big on holidays. Since Mom's oven has since been replaced, she was tremendously excited to be able to cook this year.

ThankTyler had to work, and due to some scheduling communication failures, Mom and I ended up eating our meal with just the two of us. It was peaceful, quiet. Perhaps a little too quiet. Make no mistake, the food was great and I love spending time with my mother. With both Tyler and Dad not being present, it was just a little too hard to ignore that it was different this year. After we ate, I got to see Tyler's new house. Tyler and his fiance rented a place in Broken Arrow. It's his first house. He was so proud when he was showing me around the place. I remember the feeling; I bought a house back in 2003 and couldn't be prouder as I sat in my own living room. I was less proud when it was time to mow the lawn, but I digress. It's nice to see my brother growing up. I try to fight the feeling that a complete implosion is around the corner.

Then I was home. It was odd; I realized that all day I was fighting to get back home, and now that I was back home I had nothing there. It was quiet, dark. The night did not go as well as the day. It'd been a long time since I had broken down with feelings of utter loss. Thanksgiving memories are filled with food, good spirits, and Dad feeding Lucy bits of turkey as he carved it. Hard to believe they are both gone now.

I wanted to call Dad and ask him questions. For some reason, I was stuck on wanting to ask him what he was doing at my age and what his priorities were. I don't feel aimless, I just want to know. I was fine once I got on the other side of it. I was talking about these feelings to a good friend of mine and she said, "Were you alive when your Dad was 30?" I was 3. "Then you know what his priority was." That was impactful and it was all I could do to keep from totally losing my composure.

Since then, I've been thinking about Dad pretty constantly. In this day and age, it's easy to backtrack a year and see what was important to me. Facebook posts, blog entries, bank activity. It's strange to look back and recall how different things were, even though they were almost the same. As Christmas draws closer, I focus on my friends and my family. Work is going well. I listen to upbeat music. Should I slip into sorrow, I let myself settle there for a little bit...and then get back up. I have too much good going on to focus on the bad.

To quote Andy Dufresne, Hope is a good thing. Perhaps the best of things. And no good thing ever dies.

Thirty Years of Thanks

2011-11-24T11:29:00.001-06:00

This year I celebrate my thirtieth Thanksgiving. I thought it appropriate to take a trip in the way-back machine and call out thirty specific things, from recent history and the distant past, to be thankful for on this holiday.

I am thankful for the doctors, nurses, and prayers that kept my heart beating on April 7, 1981 when I was born two months premature. The doctors told my folks not to even name me, as I had zero chance for survival. Yet, here I am.
I am thankful for being raised by two wonderful, loving parents whose own thankfulness translated into a lifetime of love and care. I am a true reflection of them, and knowing how many people care for me magnifies their success.
I am thankful for old music. I recall afternoons at home and trips to Grandma's full of Creedance, Harry Nilsson, Warren Zevon, Steppenwolf, and countless others. It brings me joy to play old albums or see the old 8-track under my television, as it brings back waves of emotion that can be instantly replicated by opening my ears to that identical sound.
I am thankful for Dad accepting the job to manage the first Price Mart grocery store in Tulsa, on Admiral just off Sheridan. Taking that job moved us to Broken Arrow and the stability I grew up around. Dad's subsequent promotions allowed us a comfortable living and many family vacations as well.
I am thankful for the faithful canine companions that I've lived with and loved. Sammy, Floyd, Lucy, Penny. I'm also thankful for my old cat, Atticus, who now enjoys a new family. There is nothing like the love of a pet.
I'm thankful for my childhood best friend, Jared, whose companionship was a constant in my formative years. Spending the night at each other's houses, Nintendo, Boy Scouts, weekends at the lake with a bag full of little powdered donuts.
I'm thankful for time at Grandpa Hardy and Grandma Gail's house in the country, near Pawhuska. They lived in a converted schoolhouse on a few acres. Fourth of July, Christmas, and other visits were so special to me. The sounds of the countryside, the joy of exploration, and the warmth of the fireplace.
I'm thankful for Saturday mornings at the office with Dad. I got a young view into the working life and have fond memories of walking the stores afterwards. For a while, they had a cooler with glass bottle Coke. That was awesome!
I'm thankful for being able to ride my bike all throughout my neighborhood without fear or concern. I had friends on my block, and could ride to Jared's house without much difficulty. Wolf Creek park wasn't far, either. I can close my eyes and see the entire route.
I'm thankful for my brother; without him, I would not have learned patience nearly as quickly or effectively.
I'm thankful for Mom's open ear and honesty; it was that same openness that gave me the courage to call her up and get me out of troubling situations when I wanted no part of them. She fielded my questions about religion and stoked my interest in reading.
I'm thankful for Steve Ojas visiting my sixth grade class with his electronic flute and other musical gear; it was then I realized that electronic music had a strong appeal for me. I remember nights of listening to MIDI music on my 60 mHz computer, feeling fulfilled when I found new files that were exceptionally well made.
I'm thankful for Jared inviting me over one night to play this new PC game called Warcraft. We built villages, fought orcs, and spent hours in front of that VGA screen. Those sessions eventually gave way to Warcraft II, III, and eventually got me into World of Warcraft, which has given me so many hours of enjoyment, bonding, and even brought me face-to-face with new and cherished friends.
I'm thankful for my first car, which I still miss. Dad sold me his 1988 Merkur Scorpio for $1, a great deal at the time, but I sure made up for it in repairs over the years. Leather seats, power moonroof, plentiful space, and it handled like a dream. I wept when I drove it to the dealership to trade it in, even though it hadn't treated me super well.
I'm thankful for open campus lunch when attending Tulsa Technology Center in 11th and 12th grade. That core group of friends still exists, mostly intact, and when we get together it's just like old times. The vibe cannot be replicated.
I'm thankful for my first job at Price Mart, where I realized that the industry that put food on the table (literally) for my father and his father before him wasn't for me. I learned a tremendous amount and it still affects the way I shop and treat employees at current stores. I sure don't miss running carts, though.
I'm thankful for my first trip to Italy in tenth grade with classmates. Although I felt lonely and isolated at the time, the experience of being in another country lit a pilot light that would grow tremendously in a little over a decade's time.
I'm thankful for my first girlfriend, Aubrey, for I learned a great deal. We went to prom together, graduated together, and got our first apartment together. Although things didn't end on the best note, the experience started to build a confidence in me that I had never had before.
I'm thankful for Dad calling me into the living room at night, when I was doing something way more important like SimCity or building Lego constructions, and showing me his favorite scenes from The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly or Escape from New York, sharing his love for movies that I soon embodied and took to the next level. Although at the time I impatiently watched whatever he wanted to show me, they reside in my memory with great fondness.
I'm thankful for my time in Topeka, KS and the poor treatment at the Blockbuster Video stores there. It was that treatment that got me looking into other employment, finding Teletech, and earning enough money in a call center job to move back home to Broken Arrow.
I'm thankful for Carla and her friend (whose name still escapes me) in Topeka, coworkers for a time, who called out that I wearing clothes based on grocery products was lame and I needed to find my own style. That call-out helped me grow into my own person in that regard and I think of that conversation often.
I'm thankful for Cingular Wireless, the job that morphed into a seven year pillar of my life and through which I met so many of my friends. I grew into a leader in that organization and learned a lot about organizing and planning, which makes me successful in my job today. I also got to experience the wireless industry and it stood up and came into it's own as the powerhouse it is today.
I'm thankful for my ex-wife, Indi. Our time together brought me into adulthood as I know it. She taught me so much about independence and individuality. We shared everything together for seven years and, though it wasn't meant to be forever, I don't regret our time together in the slightest. She even got me to try a few vegetables.
I'm thankful for the strength and emotional stability to be a source of strength when my parents divorced. It was wholly unexpected and I was glad that I could be there for my parents when they'd been there for me through so much.
I'm thankful for midnight movies. There's nothing like sitting in a crowded theater with dozens and dozens of fellow uber-fans: cheering, laughing, and crying together. The conversations after-the-fact with those that came with and the bond of social enjoyment.
I'm thankful for the process of writing. I've kept a blog or journal or SOMETHING for many years now and it's helped me shape the way I communicate. It's how I deal with emotion and give a picture into my mind. I think a thoughtful and well-written letter can be one of the greatest gifts you can give someone.
I am thankful for the inspiration to pick up a camera and consciously find my creative vision. I get more enjoyment out of photography than any other hobby I've ever had and I have pictures on my walls that always fill me with pride and vivid memory. Sharing my work with others is deeply fulfilling.
I am thankful for the courage and inspiration to sell my world and set off to experience the world of others. My trip abroad was so monumentally enriching that it's impossible to dilute down to a bullet point. Suffice to say it helped me understand myself better and get a better view of my fellow man.
I am thankful for the strength and discipline to get through the process of my father's untimely death and relative chaos afterwards. It fell to me to settle everything, and though it was stressful it got me through some of the rough times. Without the strong foundation that Dad himself helped build for me, I would've just completely fallen apart.
I am thankful for my rich network of friends and family. Without you all, I could not have weathered the past year of loss and reflection with as much grace or vulnerability. I am the most blessed guy in the world and all I have to do is look at the contact list in my phone to see why.

The Value of Friendship

2011-11-13T18:26:00.001-06:00

I was driving to get lunch tonight and a Beatles song shuffled on my iPod that I hadn't heard before. Actually, that's not true; last year, my best friends Nikki and Brad bought me The Beatles Stereo Box Set. When I got all that music loaded onto my computer, I listened through the entire Beatles catalog for the first time. I feel like that needs a little backstory.

Some time ago (not a long time ago; three years maybe?) I was driving and one of the local radio stations was doing a B-Side playlist; playing an uninterrupted B-Side of an old album. I could tell it was the Beatles, but I didn't recognize the song. I picked up my cell and called Nikki. She is a big time Beatlemaniac and it never occurred to me to call anyone else. I told her I wanted to know the name of a song because I hadn't heard it before; she was incredulous to discover it was 'Golden Slumbers' from the back of Abbey Road. "You haven't heard all of ABBEY ROAD?! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?" she immediately chastised me. A sit-down listen through (on vinyl, as would be expected) was scheduled soon after. This gift was the cap on that tale. So, to bring us back to the beginning, a Beatles song came on my iPod I didn't remember. It got me to thinking about my friends.

I met Nikki first, back when I was working at Cingular Wireless as a Technical Support representative. We had a floor walking program at the time where I answered questions from Customer Service representatives. We hit it off pretty quickly, having similar interests and senses of humor. She schooled me in music, helped me with my sense of style, introduced me to the world of Harry Potter, encouraged me to be more confident, and has been there to listen to me at my whiniest. She joined us in Japan during the world trip, too.

Brad was on tour at the time I met Nikki; when I finally got to meet him he had dreadlocks if you can believe it. I wish I had a picture of that. Brad played keyboards and backing vocals in a local band called 'All Too Familiar' and I followed him as he moved to The Commission and, finally, his own band Baron Von Swagger. We have spent many nights playing video games and drinking beer long into the wee hours of the night. Brad has introduced me to multiple bands that I'd never have heard of otherwise and introduced me to The West Wing. We can sit and have nerdy Star Trek conversations or talk about the nature of God. Brad is happiest when he is serving others, and takes pride in taking care of his friends. We've road tripped to California, Atlanta, and Chicago together.

They are the kind of people that give before thinking of themselves. I know I can call at any time, day or night, and if I say I need them they'll be there. I sat on the tailgate of my truck outside their apartment as I realized my marriage was over. When Dad passed, they were there for me too. We laugh, we joke, we cry, we challenge each other, we turn to each other for comfort. There is a strong bond of trust that comes with friendships of this caliber. I don't know if they know how highly I think of them. Well, they will now.

Life gets full quickly. There are times when we get busy and I'll go weeks without seeing them; Nikki especially with her school/work schedule. But like Beatles tunes, when they turn back up, there isn't a missed beat. There's a feeling of synchronicity and enjoyment that is just built-in. I hope everyone has a friend or friends that they are on this wavelength with. They've gotten me through some pretty dark times.

Love you guys.

As Of Late

2011-11-06T18:40:00.003-06:00

It's been a while since I've written. I have felt the dull tendrils of grief slowly rising and wrapping around me, preparing me for an inevitable night of catharsis. Until then, it seems little things set me off and put me into sad type moods. It hasn't been anything overwhelming, just slight tugs at my normally constant smile. It's not like things have been blah. Far from it, actually.

I had a wonderful time in California with my friends last month. I went out for Blizzcon in Anaheim and even stuck around to visit Disneyland. It had been fifteen years or so since I last visited a Disney park and the nostalgia was palpable. Visiting as an adult was quite different, and I was even talked into riding the Matterhorn and Space Mountain. I'm not a roller coaster fan. It's a testament to the persuasiveness of my companions that I buckled. It wasn't too bad, to their credit.

It's hard to believe that we're already about a week into November. I predict the next few months will be difficult to navigate, emotionally. Just one year ago Indi and I split for good. December 7 will be one year since my grandmother passed, and of course January is the big one. The holiday season, and winter in general, is traditionally worse on depression and that kind of thing. As I noticed the leaves changing and grass going dormant, I was reminded of the many trips I took to Pawhuska last winter to settle Dad's estate. Highway 11 holds many pleasant memories of going to Grandma's house and visiting family, but now it also holds the memories of funerals and lawyers. Such is life.

My camera took its last picture at Disney. The lens mechanism failed and it's pretty expensive to repair. I've been looking at getting a new one and I can't see any reason not to get the newest version of my old Canon G10. It took great pictures and was very good to me in many countries. Taking pictures is a therapeutic activity for me and I need to get back out and capture moments. It brings me peace. The newest incarnation of the Canon has an easier time with indoor pictures, too. Thank goodness for that; it was my biggest complaint on the old model. So much noise!

How strange is it that my brother is moving into a house with his fiance? When did that kid grow up? I think it's a ruse.

Still

2011-10-13T01:13:00.001-05:00

It's been eight months and 25 days. It's not like this is new.

Why is it when I tucked myself into bed tonight, expecting sleep and having not much else on my mind, that my thoughts turn to my father, and before I know it I'm crying out to him, wishing he were here.

I haven't cried in a while. I suppose you could say it was time. But it happened strangely. Last night, my brother sent me a text trying to remember the name of a song. After a little back and forth, I helped him remember 'Gimme Some Lovin' by Steve Winwood, one of Dad's favorites and one that I picked for his service. I'm not sure why Tyler was trying to remember the song. It wasn't any big deal. I slept fine afterwards.

Tonight, when I laid down, I thought of that song. I thought of Dad's picture up front in the church next to the urn. I thought of last Christmas and my last time with him. I'd say the emotions came flooding back, but that's not accurate in my mind; when I think of that phrase, I think of a sudden, overwhelming force. It was actually much more like a real flood, where the water is low and slowly rises, it just keeps rising. I wasn't suddenly in tears or anything, but one thing added to another added to another and suddenly I was just a mess.

It's nights like tonight that the silence of this house really gets to me. Not that I'd know what to say, should a warm body be lying next to me. Probably the same things, over and over again. I might also not emote as much, afraid to disturb my partner. Who knows? Even though I have felt a ton of support from my friends and family, part of me still feels very alone. I don't know what could change that.

I'm not really writing with purpose tonight. No story or anecdote, no great learning. Just writing. I leave for Blizzcon in a week; a welcome vacation. It's been more stressful at work lately with my project getting close to launch (Customer Service Week). I feel as good as I probably can about it; perhaps that additional workload is wearing me thin where these emotions can easily surface.

It's nights like tonight I look out my window at the moon and wonder. I speak to the night air, hoping it is heard.

Magic Hour

2011-09-26T21:10:00.001-05:00

Magic Hour is the term for the first and last hour of sunlight in any given day. Everything is washed in golden light and there is an ethereal quality to the atmosphere. The orange and blue transitions to darkness as your eyes move from one side of the sky to the other. It's a great time to take pictures. It's also a time where I feel like anything is possible.

I've had a really good couple of weeks. I have moments, of course, but overall September has been the best month I've had in nearly a year. It feels very much like a sunrise; the cold and dark stillness of grief and loss is giving way to the warmth and brightness of life. I smile. I laugh. I don't feel like I'm running on reserves anymore. The river is flowing again and it's a very welcome feeling.

This afternoon, I went to lunch (so to speak) and drove the mile and a half to Taco Bueno. It was about 7:15 PM and right at the tail end of Magic Hour; the sun had disappeared behind the westernmost buildings and I was left with the diffuse glow. I got my food and pulled into a parking space to eat. I was eating my quesadilla when I suddenly wondered how many times Dad sat in the same car, doing the same thing. I know he ate out a lot, and would often eat in his car at the local Sonic. I could imagine him sitting there, eating his food. Radio on, probably, listening to one of the same 5 CDs he always had in his changer the last year of his life. Nobody to talk to. Just sitting there, going through a routine.

I didn't get sad. I actually took comfort in the simplistic symmetry of the situation. As I contemplated this, a minivan pulled up beside me. A small child hopped out with his mother. He looked over at the car and said, "Wow, what a cool Mustang!" The mother agreed that, yes, it was indeed a cool Mustang, and followed that up by confirming that the boy wanted two burritos and a taco as they walked inside. When I heard the kid exclaim his approval, I turned my head, met his eyes, and smiled. He smiled back. I have to believe that when Dad found himself sitting in his car, eating by himself, that he had the same run-ins. It's Magic Hour, after all. He was so proud of that car.

I miss him. A whole hell of a lot. I feel that his legacy is able to live on in his boys. Every time I make a bad joke, every time I gun the accelerator in his car, every time Steppenwolf plays on the stereo. Every time I call Tyler and ask how his car's running without thinking about it. Every time I'm hanging out with my brother, we look at each other, and say, "Well...I don't know." and smile knowingly. So many little things. So many big things. He'll never be completely gone, and that makes me smile.

Relations

2011-09-24T18:31:00.001-05:00

Family is important.

When I was younger, we would spend the 4th of July and Christmas at my Dad's folks' place. They lived in an old converted schoolhouse about fifteen miles north of Pawhuska, OK. It sat on two acres and the only traffic that old gravel road ever saw were from few-and-far-between neighbors. Dad was raised out there, as were my aunt and uncle. We visited at other times, of course, and I also visited my Mom's folks in Barnsdall, OK semi-regularly. At some point, those visits started waning.

I was somewhat close to most of my cousins. Nobody ever fought or anything. In the mid-nineties, we didn't go to my Mom's folks much anymore after some heavy family drama, but visits to Hardy and Gail (Dad's parents) continued. In 1997, my aunt Kim passed away from cancer. It was hard on the family (as would be expected) and it happened right around the time us kids were getting to an age where family gatherings started to lose their luster. Factor in the age of my grandparents and a few other things and it wasn't long before the normal gatherings dwindled and then turned into visits too shamefully rare to mention. It's nobody's fault, it just happened. Now it's uncommon that I ever get up to Pawhuska and see the rest of my family there. I keep telling myself I'll do better, but I haven't yet.

I remember seeing Grandpa Hardy in the hospital not long before he passed. He was sitting up and had several tubes attached to his face. He smiled when I came into the room; a smile that assured me there was still lucidity and understanding. He couldn't really talk, but he reached out to shake my hand. I know he wanted to show me how strong his grip was. I shook his hand and smiled generously. He had no strength left. This was a man that I'd always known could crush every bone in my hand if he ever decided to. He had whittled down to this. That's one thing I'm thankful for with my father; he didn't have to go through that process of withering. He just went.

I look now and my Grandma Mary, on Mom's side, is the only grandparent left. We have scares pretty regularly and I know it's not going to be long before she's gone, too. I haven't seen her since before Dad passed. I'm afraid if I go visit I'll be greeted with a version of her I don't want committed to memory. I'm not close to that side of the family at all anymore, and that's a sad thing.

Every time Mom and I get together, she says, "Don't be a stranger!" as we part. I know she wants to see me more. She doesn't live that far away, only twenty minutes. It's not a big deal. But I don't see her but once every few weeks. I feel guilty about it often. I love my mother very much. We get along great. I don't know why I am not putting in a greater effort, or why I even need to put in an effort at all. It vexes me, because I don't have many relations left. "Life gets busy" is not a valid excuse.

Smiles

2011-09-23T11:33:00.002-05:00

It's a new day.

As predicted, I woke up this morning in much better spirits. Last night, I found myself in a place where I didn't want cheering up, but I did, and amidst the confusion I decided to reach out. I spent a little over an hour with my good friends Leah and Darci, having a beer and just talking. I came back home tired and vented; I awoke this morning with a smile.

Though I had no energy; I didn't run today. I only went once this week. Yipe.

When I'm feeling good, it's all smiles. I launched one of my streaming electronic music channels, turned it up, piped it through the kitchen, and danced about. I fixed tea and a quick breakfast. I took a shower. I started my chores. I've been interacting with people all morning and it feels great. Ever since I came home from Dragon*Con, I feel like I've been waking up. Getting back to where I once belonged. Bumps along the road are still expected, but I tell you they are so much fewer and far between. Even my nightmares have reduced in quantity.

I write when moved. The strongest emotions I've felt overall in the last year have been grief and sadness; I need an outlet for that emotion and writing has been my primary tool for that. Things right now are terrific. I write, but it's not public consumption writing. It's been wonderful to be full of emotion on the other side of the spectrum. An unexpected pleasure, to be sure.

Life is good!

Direction

2011-09-22T23:26:00.000-05:00

It's going to be October soon. Hard to believe the year is this far along already. The weather has cooled and our highs are in the mid-to-low eighties most days. We've had some rain. Pretty soon the leaves will start to turn and summer will be a distant memory.

I've had a lot of really 'up' days lately. I've been in good spirits and smiled even more than usual. There are several reasons behind that, but I won't delve into those here. It's the still moments that I want to talk about. My phone stops alerting me, the porch light is out, and the house is silent. My mind isn't on tomorrow, or an hour from now. It's right here with me. I want to talk, so I look at the keyboard. I wonder what I will have to say as my fingers seek out the letters. Perhaps unsurprisingly, I start to think about Dad. This may be related to the fact that I got unexpectedly sad in the kitchen a few minutes ago.

It feels like he's always been gone. Seeing the words typed makes my eyes water. I still check his email once a week or so and unsubscribe from any junk mail he happens to still get, clear Facebook notifications for the account I created for him. I haven't posted on his wall in a while, even though I have thought about him. His contact is still in my phone. I have pictures of him in various places. But they have dust on them now. It's a strange mixture of acceptance and fresh pain. I remember writing that it felt like he was just here. They say that time heals all wounds; I think it heals some, and others just morph into different wounds.

I've had a few windfalls as of late. I found a cache of webchats that Google saved from when I was traveling the world. Mom found a collection of pictures that I didn't know still existed. My conversations about him are happy, and my memories of him are fond. I know he would be proud of the successes I've had at work this year. Still, like a spouse saying 'I love you' ... it's still good to hear it.

My religious views have shifted since coming home. Where once a conservative non-denominational Christian stood, now stands an agnostic. I really don't feel like I'll see him again. While that's not a new realization for me, it's something I've only recently really looked inward at.

Eh, I dunno. This post is kind've directionless. I had some allergy meds earlier and I'm a bit spacey. I think it's tremendously sad to sit and cry in the silent dark without letting someone know about it. So, here it is, world. I'll be okay. Tomorrow is a new day.

Dragon*Con 2011

2011-09-06T14:52:00.001-05:00

Boy howdy. Dragon*Con. What a whirlwind of amazing times!

The group of us (Brad, Nikki, Niki, Zack, and me) left Tulsa on Wednesday night thirteen minutes ahead of schedule. We arrived in Atlanta twelve hours later at 11:00 AM, tired and ready to be out of the van. I checked into my room at the Sheraton (to a lobby blaring Star Wars music) and immediately went down to registration. They did a new thing this year where they scanned barcodes on postcards; aside from a computer outage for awhile it wasn't too awful getting registered and getting my badge. Thursday isn't an official Con day, but people start going out in costume anyway. I enjoyed walking around the hotels and seeing people, including some familiar faces.

Friday is when things got real. The only panel I really wanted to attend this year was the Back to the Future Panel with Christopher Lloyd, Lea Thompson, and James Tolkan. I put on my Marty costume and set out to do a little wandering first. Over the course of the weekend, I'd say my costume was a 3 or 4 out of 10 in regards to demand for pictures, but everyone that took a picture was tremendously excited. I also got a lot of compliments for accuracy, which made my geek heart swell. When I made my way over to the Westin Hotel for the BTTF panel I ran into my first other Marty costume. Although I was concerned about what it would do to the space-time continuum, I talked with him a bit and got some great pictures. He had an accurate JVC camcorder and the right Aiwa tape player. I was jealous!

The panel was good, many expected questions. Christopher Lloyd is a lot like his characters IRL, a little disjointed, but fun. Afterwards, I did a lot more wandering. Three of the hotels are joined by sky bridges; since I was wearing many layers, I decided to avoid the outdoors when at all possible. There were a lot of really amazing costumes this year. I took way more pictures this time around. I felt like I was able to tap into the vibe a bit more, too, especially in costume. There's an unspoken bond between folks cosplaying.

There were several very popular folks. Of course, scantily clad women are always popular. There were a few Rufio's from 'Hook' that got chants wherever they went. There was a Macho Man running around taking credit for stopping the Rapture. I saw a Ryu and Ken from Street Fighter give a Star Wars rebel pilot crap for Porkins' demise in 'A New Hope' only to have the pilot berate the fighters and speak honorably of Porkins' sacrifice. I saw Lando Calrissian and Captain Sisko get into a duel while the crowd chanted the classic Star Trek battle music. Cobra Commander raged at Zack's Doctor Doom shirt. There was a whole group of Yip Yip Muppet aliens very in character (though they did surround a Captain America at one point and chanted 'USA!' instead.) Jesus took Professor X's wheelchair. But probably the most elaborate group was the Pee Wee's Playhouse folks:

Oh, and a drunken Gryffindor student complimented my costume. When she went for a high five, I said, 'Ten points to Gryffindor!' and got a kiss for my nerd knowledge. That was pretty awesome. This blog doesn't cover everything that happened...that would be impossible. I hung out with my friends, met up with old friends, rekindled connections, made new ones, learned a lot, taught a little bit, and had the time of my life. 'Til next year, Atlanta.

Bad Dreams

2011-08-27T16:44:00.000-05:00

I have bad dreams.

I don't have any recollection of pleasant dreams at any point in my life. When I was young, I rarely remembered my dreams at all. When I did, it was a nightmare or a jumbled mess of confusion. Some of the nightmares were so vivid I remember them to this day. There were also a handful that unfolded in an interesting way. At the end of the nightmare, something terrifying would happen. I woke up, crying/screaming from the fright, and my mother was there. She comforted me and calmed me down. Then I woke up for real.

The comfort mini-dream only lasted a few seconds. It was enough for me to get my wits about me. When I really woke up, I was still distraught but not nearly at the level I probably would've been had I just straight woken up. As I mentioned before, this only happened a few times --- and when I was real young, like 10 or 11. I still had bad dreams, but nothing unfolded like those few dreams. As I grew up, I remembered my dreams more often but the content didn't get any better.

Today, I had one of those dreams-within-dreams for the first time in twenty years. I was somewhere with my family, and Dad was there. It was a confusing jumble, mostly, though at one point we clasped hands and danced down a hallway in a manner reminiscent of Jake and Elwood near the end of The Blues Brothers. We were both laughing. At the end of that dream, he began to fade like Marty in Back to the Future. I woke up, realized he was gone, and scream/cried. Mom was not there to console me. I just lay there. Then I woke up for real. I had a moment of shock as I realized the familiar pattern, and then finished dealing with the wave of grief that came from the original dream.

This has been a strange journey of emotion. I feel like I'm dealing with the majority of them well, but then I run into walls like this. The same thing happens when I am at home alone and The Iron Curtain of Divorce drapes across my shoulders and makes itself known. Are these setbacks? I don't really think so. It feels like a pressure release once I'm out of the other side of it. When I'm in the middle of the storm, though, it feels like it'll last forever.

I listened to Sweet Home Chicago on the way to work today. It helped me get past the hurdle and appreciate the dream for what it truly was. A few more moments with Dad.

Old Boxes

2011-08-19T09:17:00.000-05:00

In less than two weeks, I'll be in Atlanta, GA for Dragon*Con. For those that are unaware, it's a 40,000+ member multi-genre fan convention that is spread out over five hotels in the downtown Atlanta area. Went last year for the first time and had a total blast. On the last day of August, I pile into a van with my friend Nikki, Brad, Niki, and Heather and road trip out there. I assembled the best Marty McFly costume possible and will even spend a day wandering around in costume this year! I get a little more excited every day.

In preparation for that road trip, I went to Mom's yesterday to sort through an old box of Dad's hats. Dad collected them for awhile and had a ton to choose from. Most of them were related to various grocery products or golf tournaments he attended. Many memories flooded back as I sorted through them. I laughed, smiled, talked to Mom about them. It was good. As I drove home with a paper grocery sack full of my favorites, I had a strange moment. I almost turned to the sack of hats and said something, like I was about to tell Dad something. Or tell a friend something about Dad. It's hard to explain. For a very brief moment, I completely forgot where and when I was. I didn't get upset or anything at the time. It was just odd.

Later in the day, I was watching an episode of The West Wing with my friend Amanda. There's a moment where one of the characters is celebrating a political victory in a primary election when he suddenly gets a phone call that his father died, which obviously stops him in his tracks. As soon as it happened in the show, I had another moment, where my head tilted slightly. I'd seen the show before, but it's been awhile. The moment was very similar to the phone call I received, ironically, precisely seven months prior to watching the episode. I didn't realize what day it was.

After the show was over, I sat in my room for a bit and, well, just sat there. I wasn't weeping or anything, or even overly sad. I just felt a little disoriented. It's like that moment of realization where you say, "...oh."

I feel like I'm moving forward alright, but the setbacks are disappointing. For example, last week I had a dream where I re-married Indi. I woke up and was angry at myself for feeling that way. I went for a run to get past it and pushed myself a bit too hard. Also last week, my team had a little meeting where we talked about how things were going and one piece of feedback they had for me was that I expect too much of myself.

But if I don't expect a lot out of me, who will?

Marked

2011-08-05T20:17:00.000-05:00

Today has been unexpectedly full of Dad stuff.

I was searching my Gmail account this morning for some information I'd sent awhile back and found an old chat log between Dad and me back when I was in Indonesia. It brought a smile to my face and I suddenly thought, "Hey, wait. If this was saved, are there others?" A quick search later and I was face to face with about a dozen conversations with my father, frozen in time and waiting for me to find them.

I can hear his voice when I read the words. We talked about food and Dad's experiences in France and Portugal. We talked about his job and how he was scraping by trying to divert product. We talked about Grandma and how she was doing with her cancer treatments. We talked about Lucy (our family dog) being put down. He gave me advice on taking care of my house and the renters that had left it in poor shape. He was genuinely happy to chat, even though I know he would've greatly preferred a phone call.

Dad was never a skilled typist; some of his messages suddenly become ALL CAPS and later return to normal without explanation. He wasn't the greatest speller in the world. He tried to explain to me what Pineapple Upside Down Pie was ("it's like cake, but it's pie") Some excerpts:

7:29 AM me: It's 9:30 PM

7:30 AM Dad: Wow, it's 7:30, Ijust milked the chickens.

me: Early!

7:31 AM Dad: I HAVEN'T HAD MY COFFEE

11:39 AM Dad: I have already packed and am ready to go

Gail says Hi.

me: Tell her hi back! How is she doing?

Dad: She loved your card

8:46 PM me: just getting up for breakfast. It's cooler here than it is there - I hear ya'll are having quite the heat wave.

8:47 PM Dad: Yep, 100 today

me: That's rough.

8:48 PM Dad: no, 140 is rough

me: Well, that's true.

Any diverting luck?

8:49 PM Dad: IT'S 140 IN IRAQ

9:11 PM Dad: SHE IS TAKING PILLS, PILLS . she can'teat garlic or get out in the sun

9:12 PM Was that too tough for you to understand

9:13 PM She doesn't eat steak, steaks scare her

9:14 PM me: ...

Dad: She has to quit smoking, because of her cofin

me: Well, that would be a blessing.

9:15 PM Dad: Dont say Blessing or holy water

me: because of the garlic, right?

Dad: THAT'S THE TICKET

me: I'm caught up now

Some of it makes me laugh. Some of it makes me tear up. All of it reminds me that I miss him. But it is getting easier. Finds like this helps. I also got the call that Dad's grave marker was finished and placed. Since his last 'story' that I heard every time we talked was about someone at Reasor's asking him if he was THE Tony Martin, Tyler and I found it only fitting to mark his final resting place.

Dad closed all of his IM conversations with 'Love ya, Nuff Said'. It was nice to hear your voice again, Dad. I love you.

Nuff said.

2011-08-02T19:10:00.000-05:00

I walked into a courtroom for the second time this year and talked to a judge about a recent loss. After six years, four months, and eight days of marriage it's officially and legally done for. Yeah, it's been coming for a long time and has essentially been over since November...but getting the documents signed and filed means it's truly over and done with. I have looked inwards and discovered a strange sense of uncertainty.

Not about myself. I feel more sure of myself now than I ever have in my life. But I've been dealing with death and divorce for so long there will truly be a gap that I'm not used to having. My hope is to recharge the ol' emotional Duracell's and return to a place of understanding and stability. I no longer have to organize and plan around the legal system and that's definitely going to be a de-stresser. The last of the related bills are paid or scheduled in a way that I shouldn't have any additional craziness over and above the typical day-to-day random expenditures that crop up.

I've done all this and maintained relationships with my friends. Thank you all for sticking with me during these ups and downs. It's not over, but the worst has definitely passed. I've started exercising regularly and feel good about it. I am doing well at my job and am seeing some doors open thanks to my hard work. I feel cared for and know that I have a network of people to lean on when the night is unfriendly.

Time to move forward.

Coffee

2011-07-27T09:46:00.000-05:00

I used to abhor mornings. I'd sign up for the late shift at work and feel accomplished when I slept past noon. I'd stay up and out late and repeat the process. Mornings were for school, and school's out. Even when I worked 8-5 at my old job I despised getting up and about that early. When I traveled, I found that my internal clock changed. When I got home, I tried to get back to a lazy bones schedule but my body wouldn't have it.

I've been on a late shift (2-11) since December and will most likely be on it for awhile longer. I've slowly been slipping into a later and later sleep schedule. Last week, I decided I would start running a few mornings a week and get into better shape. I have been getting up at 7:00 every other day or so to get out and beat the heat. I always tell myself I'm going to go home and go back to sleep, but that never works. When I sit and look at myself, I see that I really enjoy having my whole morning. My days feel fuller.

If I think about it long enough, mornings remind me of Dad. He would take me to school some mornings and we'd always stop for breakfast. I'd go to the office with him occasionally on Saturdays and wander the halls of Horner Foods while he worked on price books. Maybe we'd go check a few stores. Early mornings remind me of Disney World and getting to the park at opening. I remember fixing Dad a tall glass of Diet Coke and a cup of coffee while he was in the shower. I remember getting up to the smell of my favorite meal and helping Dad scramble the eggs. I laugh as I write this as I remember his insane energy in the mornings while I would grumble. We called it Narca-wakey; the affliction of being suddenly totally awake. That laughter hitches when I realize those memories are all I have now. I suppose that's all we have anyway. That's how life works.

I get a strange pleasure out of sitting in my house (or on my porch, should the weather not be molten outside) with a cup of coffee and knowing the world is spinning up. It's not hurried yet. It's not stressful yet. The day is new and there are no expectations. By the time I go into the office, I've lived a whole day. Work's just a piece of the larger picture, not the overwhelming task.

Six Months Later

2011-07-18T00:13:00.000-05:00

I went to work yesterday like normal. Nothing out of the ordinary. It's been dreadfully hot in the heartland and I've had a real focus on getting from air-conditioned-place to air-conditioned-place as quickly as possible. I got to work, booted up my computer, and looked over at a picture on my desk. Since Christmas, I've had a picture of my family right next to my desk phone. It's probably my favorite picture of the four of us together. For no real reason that I was aware of, the picture of my father made me tear up and I had to quickly busy myself with work stuff. I told a friend of mine about it and she asked if any important dates were coming up. After thinking for a minute, I realized that today, July 18th, marks six months since The Call.

As I've mentioned before, it simultaneously feels like it's been years and like this all happened yesterday. I've also noticed that Dad's voice in my head is now at a lower volume than it used to be. I know the day will come eventually when I will have to struggle to truly hear him. It breaks my heart, but that's life. About a week ago, I took his picture down from the shelf and cried while holding it. I thought that only happened in the movies. Guess not. Aside from that moment, it's been a good month since I've had any kind of emotional breakdown over this. I've been more focused on finalizing my divorce.

Dad's contact is still in my phone. Every time I scroll by it, I think about removing it...and decide not to. It's not like I need the space in my phone. And there's a tiny bit of comfort having it in there; I remember when I could call him and it reminds me to still talk to him. I just don't have to press 'Talk' anymore. I still think about him all the time. It's almost annoying. I relive the same memories over and over again. I remember how sad he was the last few years of his life. I don't feel regret. Just sadness.

I finally ordered a custom plate for Dad's Mustang. I've wanted to for as long as I've had it. I thought about a lot of things, and finally settled on something that meant a lot to both of us. Dad's favorite actor was John Wayne. When I was little, I'd watch movies with him all the time...but I couldn't pronounce John Wayne. The closest I got was 'jah vee, daddy!' So that's what I got. Jah Vee. People will ask and it will give me the opportunity to share.

Miss you Dad. I know it'll be okay. I just wish it was already.

Measuring Time

2011-06-25T11:33:00.000-05:00

I have an odd work schedule. I'm off on Thursdays and Fridays and work from 2:00 PM to 11:00 PM on the other days of the week. I measure my weeks on this schedule; the weeks start on Saturday and end on Friday. It's interesting to look at that very conventional system and see how easy it is to adapt to whatever I need; I lay out my week differently than just about everyone else I know but it's what I gotta do.

I take that information and look at my past eight months. I've lost three important people in my life and the impact has been tremendous. I see Indi dropping me off at the airport to go to BlizzCon last October and see a very different person getting on that flight. I look forward and see myself helping Indi move out. Then I see myself watching old home movies on VHS with Dad the night before Grandma's funeral. Then I hear my uncle's voice and see myself embracing my mother after I learned that Dad was gone. It's been over five months since that day and time has been measured differently.

There are days that it feels like I'm on vacation from myself. It doesn't feel like a short period of time anymore, but there's still a lingering feeling that everything will return to normal someday. Objectively, I know this isn't true. Other days I feel like I've been on my own forever and I don't remember what it was like to curl up at night and be happily in the arms of another, though that honestly isn't that long ago. To fully appreciate the strangeness of time, all I really have to do is look at my work and realize that this time last year I was just completing my training for an entry level position and now I'm responsible for a team and well known throughout the center.

My point with all of this is that we all feel time differently. This isn't just a you vs. me observation, but a me vs. me observation too. I feel time differently, sometimes moment by moment. It's honestly like I'm time traveling within myself. I'm broken. I'm fixed. I'm ready to move on. I'm not. I think of Dad and laugh. I think of Dad and cry. I pick up my phone to text something funny to Indi. I remember that it's not the same. I've been here forever. I only just got here.

There's progress in that realization. I do remember a few months ago when I felt broken ALL of the time. That's not the case anymore. There is a method to this madness...at least, there'd better be.

Confusion

2011-05-28T11:42:00.000-05:00

Historically, I do not have pleasant dreams. Before I met Indi, I often didn’t remember them; maybe one or two a month. They were always a jumbled mess or a nightmare. When we started sharing the same bed, I started remembering my dreams nightly. Still a mixture of confused/bad dreams, but I remembered them regularly. After we split, I expected to go back to my rare remembrance state of being. So far, that hasn’t happened.

In addition to recalling my dreams every morning, they are getting progressively more wrenching. After Dad passed, I had a series of dreams about him that caused me to awake and re-experience the pain of loss. Lately I’ve been dreaming a lot about Indi and waking up still thinking she would be lying next to me. It’s frustrating and confusing. I miss her a lot, obviously…but it’s been six months. Why do I feel like I’ve regressed to a state where if she called today and asked to move back in, I’d say yes? Is it meant to be? Am I just lonely?

Stupid brain. I feel like I’m never destined to be happy again.

Mother's Day

2011-05-08T02:09:00.000-05:00

Some of you have the pleasure of knowing my mother. She comes out to Baron von Swagger shows and hangs out at my place sometimes. She's a cool lady and has been as long as I've been around. She's been doing this job for thirty years; twenty-six of those years have been double time. I was a pretty good kid, but I wasn't perfect. She has the patience of a saint. Those of you who know my brother know she must!

Mom was always the one helping me with my homework, or walking the aisles of Hobby Lobby while we planned the next school project. She was the one that encouraged me to read. Whenever I awoke from a bad dream, she comforted me. She let me know she was religious while leaving me open to make my own choices. She taught me how to drive, knowing my father's temper wasn't the best learning tool. She held me when I cried from the agony of my first heartbreak. She believed in me and told me I could be anybody I wanted to be.

When Dad passed away, they had been divorced for over six years. Yet she was there for me and my brother immediately and entirely. In the dark silence of my uncle's house, I knelt next to the couch where she slept and woke her. Once again, she held me as I experienced sorrow the depths of which I'd never experienced. She gave me words of comfort and as much reassurance that any mortal could. She held my hand and smiled.

In good times and bad, Mom has always been just a phone call away. I know I can reach out to her at any time and she will be there gladly. When I talk to her, I hear the joy in her voice. I know she is proud of me. I don't have a little picture frame that says, 'WORLDS BEST MOM'. I don't need to advertise. The smile on my face says everything. Anyone that knows her knows that's true. I love her dearly and wish her the happiest of Mother's Days.

To my Father

2011-04-18T16:58:00.000-05:00

Hey Dad!

Been thinking about you a lot today, so I figured I'd write to you and let you know how my day is going. I had to get up early (for me, anyway) and drive to Pawhuska today. I was nervous, because I had to appear before a judge and possibly testify. I remember you telling me about testifying when you had that car accident back in the mid-nineties. Didn't you get t-boned by a Jenks driving instructor? I remember it being ridiculous on some level. Anyway, this wasn't for any kind of accident; it was to settle your estate. Still, it was a courtroom and I'd never been in one before.

I accidentally turned my alarm off this morning, but ended up being okay; I woke up three minutes after my 'final snooze' deadline all on my own. Thanks for that. I had set out a nice shirt, one of your ties, and a jacket to wear. I understand you're supposed to dress up for court. I grabbed your tie bar, too; the one with the embossed 'M' on it. I felt it would be a subtle yet sharp way to let the world know I am your son. I left the house a little before 8:30 and hit the road.

They've opened the Quicktrip at Highway 75 and Highway 20. I know how often you made this drive, and know that you would've appreciated having it out here. I stopped and got coffee. When I arrived in Pawhuska, I noted the new Mcdonald's was open, too. You had always complained about the lack of food options in P-town, and I'm sorry you weren't there to take advantage of it. No matter; I wasn't hungry. Before long I found myself sitting with my lawyer, going over last minute details and possible questions the judge may ask me. I remember remarking fondly about the fact that he used a lot of Big Chief tablets to take notes, however it now wore on me, as he wasn't well organized. I helped him with some math to take care of our final creditors and we went to the courthouse on time.

At the Osage County Courthouse, if you didn't know, the Probate Court time takes place right after domestic dispute cases, stuff like restraining orders. I sat in the courtroom and listened to a few cases before it was my turn and tried to avoid eye contact. I felt like I'd tapped into personal phone conversations, and emotions were high. Before I knew it, it was time for our case. My palms were sweaty but I walked tall to the front and sat in front of the judge. He and my lawyer (a former judge himself) had a friendly banter regarding the required information, the judge asked me if everything was in order, and signed off. Way easier than I expected, and I was relieved.

As I walked out of the court house, the sun came out for a little bit. Thanks for that, too. It's been a rough 24 hours as I prepared to lay this last task to rest before moving on in earnest. I still hear your laugh and still look at my phone, hoping you will call me, though I know that time is now long past. It's been three months since my world changed, but I'm managing okay. I have a lot of friends and family that have helped me. I also have you to talk to, anytime, and for that I am thankful.

Miss you, Dad. Love you. I've enclosed a picture of myself and the Mustang; I want you to know I'm taking extra special care of it for you.

Eve

2011-04-17T10:41:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow morning, I drive to Pawhuska and appear before a judge. Dad's estate gets finalized, and the legal side of my father's passing will be completed. All his bills will be paid, and I will be free to move on from the paperwork, signatures, haggling with creditors, and stresses of fairly splitting what's left between me and my brother.

I got the oil changed in the Mustang last week. One of the guys at Jiffy Lube asked some questions about the car's history and I mentioned that I wasn't sure, as it belonged to my father and he passed in January. The guy said, "Oh, that just happened. I'm sorry to hear that."

What do you mean, it just happened? Tomorrow marks three months since Dad was found. It feels like an eternity. It's like he's been gone for years. It's something I feel like I've always lived with. Some mornings I wake up and just sit, not thinking about anything specific except how little I want to interact with the outside world. I want to run away to some exotic place where I can focus on new experiences and get to know new people so I don't have to dwell on the old familiar aches.

I'm a very empathetic person. I consider it one of my greatest traits. In the last three months, I've felt that reservoir deplete and there are times when I don't feel anything for others. It's not a callous thing; it's like going to take a drink from a glass that is empty. I don't break down very much any more, but I feel so emotionally lethargic. I'm dating an awesome girl, and we have great times together, yet there are times I just shut off. I'm happy when Mom or my brother calls me, but I don't always want to see them, though my heart aches for their company more now that I've been touched by absence. As I've mentioned before, I feel like I live in a world of contradiction.

At least tomorrow will bring some closure. I can stop pouring energy into that aspect of the long goodbye and maybe save some of it up again. Dad's birthday is on May 3rd, Lord knows I'm going to need it then.

Thirty Years

2011-04-03T17:43:00.000-05:00

April 7th, 1981. The Soviet Union was the big scare in the newspapers. Ronald Reagan was still in the hospital from his assassination attempt. "Rapture" by Blondie was #1 on the radio. The Tulsa World spoke about a new downtown renovation project for the Brady district.

At 11:45 AM, I was born. I was only 2 lbs 10 oz and 16 inches long. Before I entered the world, the doctor told my folks not to even name me due to how early I was, seeing as how I wasn't supposed to be here until early June. A few hours after I had entered the world at St. Francis Hospital, Dad excused himself from the room and came back a few minutes later, telling Mom that I would be okay; he had a talk with God and had straightened everything out.

I was definitely okay. When I was six, we moved from Claremore to Broken Arrow, Oklahoma to follow Dad's promotion at work. I celebrated my seventh birthday at McDonald's among new friends, though my mother tells me I was concerned that they would sing Happy Birthday to me. For as long as I can remember, I've had this deep dislike for the traditional 'Happy Birthday' song and avoided it at all costs, including skipping a few friend's parties.

When I was ten, we were in Springfield, MO at a Food Show. In the grocery industry, distributors used to have big annual conventions where companies could showcase their newest products and deals could be negotiated in person between grocery operators and suppliers. 1991 lined up with my birthday and we went out to Hemingway's Restaurant at the Bass Pro Shop. They sang Happy Birthday to me and I was mortified. I made my parents promise to never do that to me again, though Dad greatly enjoyed teasing me about it every year thereafter.

When I turned sixteen, Dad sold me my first car, his 1988 Merkur Scorpio, for $1. I absolutely loved that car and drove it until it became too expensive to fix. There are dozens places along Highway 75 between Tulsa and Topeka, KS that hold memories of me pulling over for various reasons. When I finally sold it in 2003, I wept.

Most of my birthdays at home were celebrated with going out to dinner (to a place of my choosing, seems like it was always Goldie's) and a movie. One year we went to Disney World in Orlando. Once I left home and lived on my own, I kept up that tradition for the most part, now accompanied by a phone call from my brother and parents, and a card from my grandparents. When I turned 23, Indi organized a surprise birthday party at Hideway Pizza on Cherry Street with my family and friends. My 28th birthday coincided with our Farewell Party at the VFW on Peoria, as we would shortly be setting out to travel the world.

Looking back, I've had a really good run so far. I wouldn't change a thing about myself. I love my family and my friends very much, and everyone has had a hand in shaping me into the man I am now. I try not to think about the fact that I'm only going to hear from Mom this year, but as I get closer it gets harder. It's been a long while since I've had 'family celebrations' for my birthday but there's usually still been dinner involved. Last year, Dad bought mine even though he couldn't afford it and it went straight on his credit card. I never in a million years thought it would be our last one together. That's the way it works, though.

I don't work on Thursday, and I think celebrating with dinner and a movie (even if the movie is at my house) is in order. I have a party planned this coming Saturday, too. I'm really looking forward to that.

Debt

2011-03-31T17:39:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow is April. It's my 30th birthday month. I'm not overly concerned with thirty years; just another year, really. I am happy at my job. I love my family. I have many wonderful friends. I love the house I live in. So much has gone my way in the last year, though as anyone is aware I've had a lot to struggle with as well. It's occurred to me several times that I won't be getting a certain phone call this year.

Today I woke up to a call from the lawyer. Evidently a collections agency has been blowing up his office with calls to settle Dad's biggest debt. I took the reigns and called them to get things taken care of. The last year of Dad's life was spent living on one of his credit cards, as he didn't have much income coming in. The lady on the other end of the phone expressed her cardboard condolences and we set to haggling. I was able to talk her down a quarter of the debt owed and took it. After all, it was all true debt. Dad paid for our last meal together on that card. I gave the lady the appropriate information and washed my hands of it.

My second task today was to head to the IRS office over off of Highway 169 to get the particulars on the taxes Dad owed for 2009. I'd never been there before, and I was surprised at how high security the office was. Guard kiosks, metal detectors, the whole nine yards. The whole process there was much easier than I expected, as I walked out with the information I needed in about twenty minutes. Once again, a stranger offered their half-hearted condolences as I wrapped up. They didn't know my father. The don't know me. I remember being irked that a coworker of Dad's was so callous when I was returning some of his work supplies, days after his passing. Now it seems I've turned a corner, and strangers offering condolences just make me sigh.

Every day brings the final date of closure a bit closer. I have held onto the administration duties as a duty to my father's memory and have carried out what needs to be done with respect and patience. Once it's over, I don't know what's going to happen. Maybe I'll be just fine. Maybe I'll try to find something to fill that void of responsibility. I'll be relieved that it's over. I'll also wish I had something else I could do for Dad.

When my brother and I get together, he's all we talk about. The good memories, the stories we've heard a hundred times. There is plenty of laughter. I still have other people that ask how I'm doing once in awhile. I'm doing well most of the time, and certainly I'm doing well at work. It's not the place for such things. It's still in the emptiness of home when I am abducted by sorrow. I miss him so much. And it sucks that new people in my life will never get a chance to meet him.

Baby Steps

2011-03-19T12:24:00.000-05:00

I've gone to two grief counselor sessions and I think I'm done.

I got out of them what I wanted. I talked about Dad, I talked about my marriage, and was told I'm healing, moving along at a good pace and that I'm reacting normally. I'll have good days and bad days, but otherwise I check out okay. Good.

Thursday my brother and I drove up to Pawhuska to try and get the rest of Dad's stuff stored at my uncle's place. We sorted through a wall of boxes and retrieved a few errant pieces of furniture and was able to get out of there lacking maybe half a truck full of misc items. It was a beautiful day and we worked well together. When we got home, Mom came over and we had one more unpacking/sorting/nostalgia fest before they went home and I went out for St. Patrick's Day. It was good times with good friends; that kind of environment energizes me and brings me joy, but like anything else the quiet times afterward seem a little more quiet.

Saturday is the start of my work week, having Thurs/Fri off. Since I don't go in 'til 2, it gives me plenty of time to get up and around, perhaps get a few things done before going into the office. This morning has seen me spend my time in front of the computer, catching up on the news of my friends, checking weather, and my usual list of websites. I've had wells of tears in my eyes for no discernible reason. I occasionally sigh heavily and my lip turns downward, so I grab my cup of coffee and drown whatever unfocused sorrow seems to be weighing on me today.

That's probably the most frustrating thing about grief. For me, it's rarely, "Oh, Dad gave me this knife when I graduated high school..." and a breakdown occurs. It's a cloak of sadness and loss that has no specific. I can't, say, put the knife away and make sure I don't see it all the time. Most of the time it's nothing in particular, and I have no way of avoiding the mental ghost of my father. Again, my counselor said that was normal...so that's a good thing I suppose.

After all, yesterday marked two months since I received the phone call. Two months. Hard to believe it's only been two months. I know I'm too hard on myself, but I'm used to being the Strong One. I don't know what to do on the days I don't even want to try to hide it.

Possession

2011-03-12T23:53:00.000-06:00

"Nice car!"

I have lost count of the amount of times someone on the street has looked at Dad's Mustang and make some kind of positive remark about it. It's six years old but it still turns heads. I always respond with a thank you and often tag a, "It was my father's" which gets no response. That's fine. I don't know why I do it. It's not like I want strangers to pry into my personal life. It's not any of their business. But I thought to myself, what would I say if someone actually asked?

When I looked at the house I live in, the guy showing it to me asked about my moving situation. I told him that, among other hassles at my old apartment, I needed more space due to some items I'm inheriting from my late father. He said he was sorry to hear that. Really, was it necessary for me to mention that my father had just passed away?

There is a trend here.

I have a typed list of people. Friends, acquaintances, family. All people that have stepped outside the normal "So sorry to hear about your Dad" and offered their ear or stepped out in some other way to show their support. I have ways to contact all of them. But I don't. Part of me feels like I should be able to maintain now, and not be the hum drum guy. Part of me also says, "Hey, chump, it hasn't even been two months yet." It's that battle that grapples with me most of the time.

I was driving home tonight, mostly on autopilot. The speedometer has some issues, and I made a mental note to get Dad's instrument cluster repaired. I just had a moment, like a cast had cracked and fallen off of a limb. I realized this isn't Dad's car anymore. It's my car. Dad's not going to call and say, "Alright, I need it back now." Of course I know that. But part of me doesn't buy it, still. I don't cry as much as I used to; it's replaced with a feeling like the light bulb burned out suddenly and I can't see to replace it...I just gotta wait for the sunrise.

I have identified this aching need to tell people about my father, and how I'm feeling, and just an overall desire to reach out to people...but I feel paralyzed. I feel like SUCH a burden and I don't know why. I have another appointment with my grief counselor next week and I can address that.

Until then, though, I can roll the windows down, blast Deep Purple and Steppenwolf, and remember the face of my father.

Restart

2011-03-10T21:52:00.000-06:00

Time is funny.

As I've mentioned before, there are moments when it feels like Dad's been gone a really long time and there are moments where I feel like I just got the phone call. It's changed a bit. Instead of fluctuating to where I feel like I just got the news, it's more of a feeling of deep realization that, yeah, he's gone. I am still working through the legal stuff and that is slowly turning into frustration. It's not that I don't want to get things accomplished...it's just that I feel like my world stops entirely when I'm dealing with a piece of it. I still need to get up to Pawhuska and start bringing the rest of his things to Tulsa, too.

Indi and I have settled into a friendship. It's not weird, though occasionally my heart sighs with what-could-have-beens. We had such adventures together and that, too, is hard to really digest that it's over. I've put a lot of thought, consideration, and a bit of action behind entering the dating scene, but it's been difficult. I am acutely aware that I am still broken and amidst multiple grievings. The last thing I want is to place someone in the middle of all this, or worse...use them as a crutch or stepping stone. I wish I could just move on already. Yeah, I know, it's only been a few months. Still. My grief counselor said I was lonely. Glad that session was free.

I am greatly looking forward to my birthday party next month. I've been fortunate to have plans on my last few days off, but for some reason it still feels like I don't get out and do anything. Not sure why that is. Maybe it's like I wrote earlier, where I'm looking to these friends and events to fill this emptiness, when the only thing that'll fill it is time.

Acquainted

2011-03-06T23:32:00.000-06:00

I had a conversation today about returning to the dating scene. I've been on the fence about the subject. On one hand, Indi and I have been separated since early November. That's four months. It feels like mourning a relationship that I had for seven years should work differently. I remind myself that, in my heart, things hadn't been in a good place for six months prior to that, and from that perspective that's almost a year. Still. It's a hard decision to come to.

I have always been a 'Plan' guy. I never dated anyone I couldn't see myself marrying someday. I figured, why bother. Waste of time and energy. I've changed a lot since then. I've learned not to live so rigidly and be more spontaneous. Once things were truly over in my marriage, though, I now recognize that my mind has been wandering back into that old rut. I have such a mix of emotions from my failed marriage and my father's death that I don't know much for sure these days. This includes the condition of my heart. But after thinking, I realized that this is exactly where I need to be. My current emotional turmoil has me to where I CANNOT return to my old rut, or else I face a very sad and lonely life.

I realized I can date like other people date. Without preconception. Without some grand plan. Just dating. If it blossoms further, great. If not, hey, whatever. I learn about myself, and others, and begin to rebuild.

It's like I've been sitting on the title screen for a long while and someone finally pressed start.

Testing

2011-03-04T00:12:00.001-06:00

1.2.3.

Malaise

2011-02-25T16:39:00.000-06:00

Malaise: noun - a vague or unfocused feeling of mental uneasiness, lethargy, or discomfort.

You know, I'm starting to wonder if this cold and cloudy weather has something to do with my mood. I've never been one of those 'aw, shucks' kind of cloudy day guy; in fact, I love rain and thunderstorms. But I'm so tired of the cold. It's supposed to warm up a bit this week and I cannot articulate how pleasing that is to me.

I went out last night. One of my best friends sent me a text letting me know he was playing a local music show and I replied with my usual, "I may show up" non-committal response. I didn't want to go anywhere. I just wanted to stay in my house and wander aimlessly. But, no, that's not right. That's depressing. I didn't want to do that either. What DID I want to do? I then realized I didn't want to be ANYWHERE. This realization led me to the decision that I'd rather be around friends than just myself, and went to the show. It was a local battle of the bands competition with several poor acts and a few decent ones. I spent most of the time standing around on my own, as concerts lend themselves to. I was beginning to think I'd made the wrong decision.

However, once the last band wrapped, a plan formed to grab a bite to eat with my friends. I happily drove us to a local eatery and enjoyed an exceedingly normal late night meal, talking about random stuff and experiencing life as it used to be. Afterwards, I thanked them for their time and returned home. I felt better.

Bad dreams.

I awoke this morning to the familiar feeling of unease and general lethargy. I felt the return of unfounded paranoia into my thinking and lack of satisfaction out of the state of things; I made another decision. I'm seeing a grief counselor on Monday morning. I have no frame of reference to this; maybe I'm doing well, maybe I'm not. A friend at work lost their spouse last year and spoke very highly of their experience with my workplace's employee assistance program. I am thankful to have it, and am looking forward to my first appointment.

Settling

2011-02-22T00:26:00.002-06:00

As I sat in my living room this morning, listening to old Creedence Clearwater Revival records, drinking coffee, and awaiting the cable company to come hook up my internet, I smiled in the contentedness of the moment. It was early. The coffee was good. The music drifted through the air, having been trapped in a box for the last few years. I missed my father, but it wasn’t a wrenching grief type of miss. I was filled with nostalgia for times past, a place where Tony Martin is now a resident.

I don’t wish to give the impression that my entire life is a ball of sadness and despair. It isn’t. I just tend to write when I’m the most grief stricken. It helps me cope. I think it’s equally important to write when I’m not going through such a swing of emotion, though; when I look back on this chapter of my life, I want a true representation, not a one-sided misrepresentation. After all, why else do I write if not for a true accounting of myself?

Now that I’m firmly out of my one room efficiency apartment and into this classic 1920s era two bedroom house, there are a few things I didn’t realize I missed. I have a table. I have a living room big enough to have friends over for a movie night or a card game. I can hear music drifting from one room to another, bouncing off the hardwood floors and curling around the door frames. Although mowing is not my favorite activity in the world, once spring hits I’ll be able to sit on my porch and enjoy a job well done.

Atticus has a lot more room to run around. As a matter of fact, at the moment he is running from room to room, meowing and playing an invisible cat game that brings him satisfaction. Life goes on. My brother came over the other night and we sat and talked awhile. It was good to spend some time with him; hadn’t really seen him much since Dad’s passing. Haven’t seen a lot of anyone, actually. I’m ready to rejoin the world as an intact person today. I feel good.

Contradiction

2011-02-20T15:10:00.000-06:00

I was in the middle of a conversation with a good friend last night when I came to a realization. Over the last few months, there have been several emotionally traumatic events in my life: the failure of my marriage, the death of my grandmother, and the death of my father. I've had this nagging feeling of exhaustion but I've not been able to really nail down what it is. Part of it, I discovered last night, is a sense of emotional wandering and instability that has me spinning in circles.

Growing up, I was not a very confident fellow. I didn't go out for any sports, spent a lot of time playing video games, and kept mostly to myself and my small circle of friends. After high school, college never came together for me and I focused on work. Dating Indi was the first time I'd felt like I really stepped out and took a risk, thus increasing my confidence. Throughout my marriage, I had an ebb and flow of confidence and self respect, culminating in our trip around the world. Once I got home, I felt like a new man. Sure of myself. My own man. When things fell apart in November, I had this creeping fear that I would revert to my old hermit self but have not been able to deal with those feelings. They've been buried underneath everything else that's happened.

Yesterday I completed the majority of my move into my new home. Among other things, I kept seeing Dad shuffle out the door the last time we spent time together. I was eager to get myself in new surroundings. What I failed to account for is the other side of that equation. Although I became sad when I was reminded of Dad's worn down gait as he returned to Pawhuska, it is also one of the last connections I had with him. I stood in a doorway in my new house and wept. It's not fair that the memories that cause me such anguish are also the memories I desperately don't want to lose. Good, bad, or indifferent; they are all I have left.

Which brings me to last night. As I talked about my emotional state and what my mental life has been like, I realized that I am at a point where I don't know what I want. Out of myself, out of my work, out of my friends, out of my family. I feel simultaneously angry and relieved that some people have distanced themselves from me. I'm standing on shifting sand; I don't want anyone to get too close or I'll instinctively grab onto them and drag them down with me...but I don't want to go down alone either.

Hidden

2011-02-16T12:06:00.000-06:00

Have you ever felt you know something about somebody, but later find out that you didn't know the true depth of knowledge that you thought you did? Dad was really good at hiding things. If he didn't want you to know something, he would really pull out all the stops to keep things under control, his way. Among the little things about the man I didn't know, as time is progressing there are other things that I knew of, somewhat, but not nearly in the way that I thought I did.

For the last few years, Dad had two episodes that I knew of where he'd passed out inexplicably. He chalked it up to blood sugar or some such thing. I also knew that his kidneys were nearly in failure and he had a strict diet to keep them working as long as possible. What I was unaware of was the fact that he was passing out more often and was having memory issues. My aunt would walk in his apartment and find him in his chair in a bit of a daze. He collapsed at the car wash the week before he died. He had several instances of traveling to a place and then just sitting there for hours because he completely lost track of everything. There was even a time he went out to his car, but once he was in it he was looking at his key in such a way that he didn't understand it's purpose. I had no idea that Dad was having such severe problems. Most people didn't. He played it off as if he'd just fallen asleep watching TV, or had been on the phone, or was tired. He didn't let anyone into his problems that he didn't want into them. And he didn't want a single person to worry about him.

I think about all of this, but I do not think, "If only someone had said something!" Dad was quite the stubborn man. It didn't matter what anyone else thought. If he didn't want to go to the doctor, he just didn't go. He waved off any concerns about his health and kept on trucking. I know I never saw it. I never talked to Dad on the phone or spent time with him in person and saw him have any kind of memory or cognizance issue. He kept it together for me.

Part of me is thankful that he didn't continue to deteriorate. The last memory I have of my grandfather (Dad's dad) is in the hospital, hooked up to countless tubes. He smiled at me and reached out to shake my hand. Here was a man that had an iron grip his whole life and could tear apples into two pieces with his bare hands, and he was shaking my hand to show me he still had it. Only he didn't. His illnesses had made him weak and frail. I loved my grandpa very much, and it hurt me to see him in such a state.

Before I left Pawhuska today, I stopped out at the cemetery to visit his grave. His marker isn't there yet, but the Martin Family one is. I stood there in the fog and just stared at the ground. I knew his urn was down there, and figured it would be no big deal. I told Dad I loved him and went back to the car before I totally lost my mind again. I've always been sensitive, but I've never felt so emotionally vulnerable in my life. It's like vomiting sadness. Although my day to day life is more or less back to normal, those moments still hit as hard as they did on day one.

It gets better, and it will. There is still so much to do.

Timing

2011-02-12T19:05:00.000-06:00

It's strange how I can have the exact same thought or say the exact same words and get entirely different reactions. For example: I have a picture on my desk at work of my family. Mom, Dad, Tyler, and I at Grandma's funeral service this past December. I'll look over at it occasionally, and sometimes I'll say, "Miss you, Dad." I'm okay. It's just a fact.

I went out for my lunch hour at six and was greeted by a beautiful sunset. The heavy snows are well into melting mode and the beautiful orange and blues of the dusk were reflected in the dark parking lot puddles. I got in Dad's car and sat there for a few minutes. "Miss you, Dad" and it hurt a lot more. As far as I'm aware, Dad wasn't particularly bowled over by a pretty sunset, but I certainly appreciate them. I'm not sure why it was one of those moments that had such an effect.

Given the transitional nature of my last month, I'm continuing the trend by preparing to move into a new home. The one-room efficiency has treated me well, but for a variety of reasons (some new, some old) I need to get a slightly bigger place. It'll be nice to have a place for Dad's things as well as a safer place to park his car. I like having company and this will allow all of those things to happen. Same neighborhood, too. A promotion at work has helped make this move a reality. Timing is everything, and I still believe everything happens for a reason.

I've been making a concerted effort to NOT just stay at home. Though the past week was spent at Indi's apartment due to the snowstorm (I still had to get to work and the neighborhood street was AWFUL) the time previous and since I've caught myself just wanting to go home and turtle, but I've worked to avoid that. Thank you to the friends that have helped keep me afloat. I think I'm doing fine most of the time, but when the time comes and I need you most, I always have someone to reach out to.

Stuck

2011-02-03T19:23:00.000-06:00

I've spent the last several days stuck in my apartment. This horrible blizzard has cut me off from the rest of the world, it seems.

My apartment is behind a house in a residential area in the middle of Tulsa. Typically, I park on the street, take a sidewalk around the back of a small house, go through a chain-link gate, and enter a doorway into a concrete breezeway that separates my apartment from the front house. It's about 500 sq ft, one main room separated by a half-wall with a small kitchen, bathroom, and closet. Not bad, eh? Except I had to carve a path through the 14" of snow we were blessed with just to get to the front of the house. My front neighbor was gracious enough to allow me the use of her car port on Monday night as this awfulness started. I haven't been anywhere since. I tried to get out today, but made it as far as the bottom of the driveway before high centering and taking an hour and a half to get BACK up in the driveway.

Yesterday, as I partially cleared the driveway out of cabin fever boredom, I was struck with a sudden urge to call Dad to ask his advice for driving on these severely snowy roads. Maybe ask him what he would do in this situation to assure safety. Of course, I knew I did not have that luxury. But it's the first time since his passing that I felt not only the loss of a parent, but the loss of a friend. Sitting in my apartment the last few days, my mind settled on thoughts of Dad in his own efficiency-style apartment. He didn't have anyone that came to visit or places he needed to go, even when the roads were perfectly fine. Is this how my Dad spent the last part of his life? Watching movies and hoping his phone would ring? I have Atticus, at least, even if all he does is curl up next to the wall heater.

Those that know me best know I rarely have good dreams. They are mostly either confusing jumbles or bad dreams. Last night I had several dreams, all involving Dad. In them, he had either just died or was about to. In one of them, he was even driving away, waving at me as he left. I woke up each time, extremely sad and sometimes already crying. I'd have a brief moment of, "Oh, thank goodness, that was only a dream" only to remember that, no, it's not a dream. I cannot reassure myself with, "Whew, at least Dad's still here." Those are really rough moments and do not help my low spirits.

I think tomorrow I'll make the half mile walk to the grocery store and pick over what's left. I still have a little food, but I need more and it'll be good to feel like I've accomplished something. I'm supposed to go back to work on Saturday and I am not really sure how that's going to happen, either.

Moved

2011-01-29T22:01:00.000-06:00

Today was the last 'big' step in the aftermath of my father's untimely demise. It was moving day.

Thanks to my night schedule at work, early mornings are once again a struggle for my brain to acknowledge. And, yes, 7 am is early. Thankfully, I got up with enough time to fix myself a cup of coffee and check the web. Last time Dad was down to visit, I made him a cup of coffee. I use Taster's Choice, as it's much easier for Single Me to fix one cup instead of brewing a whole pot. He remarked on how good a cup of coffee it was, which was unsurprising. I am sure to a father that any cup of coffee fixed by his son is good. However, one of the first things I saw when visiting his apartment last week was a new canister of Taster's Choice, used a handful of times. It still makes me tear up a bit. I'm glad he enjoyed it so much. Anyway, that's not what I sat down to write. Tangents.

I set out at about 7:30 to get to the U-Haul place and got it sorted without issue. I took the truck and waited at the Rendezvous Point (always wanted to say that) for my helpers. Mom, Tyler, and two of my good friends arrived shortly and we set out for Pawhuska. The drive from Tulsa to Pawhuska is a mostly unremarkable country highway that passes through a few small towns. For me, though, that drive represents Christmas at Grandma's. It represents the Martin Family 4th of July parties. I remember passing my first car. I grin and speed up a bit too fast to zoom through the S-Curve just outside of Skiatook. It is filled with positive memories. Today, those memories surfaced like they always do, but underlined the fact that the drive would never be the same again.

The move itself went rather smoothly. We had plenty of help and it felt like old times. I've moved this furniture several times over the past few years. Everything was fine and good until we were finished. The others left first, I did a final round to make sure things were set before I dropped the keys off. I stood there in the empty living room of my Dad's last home and suddenly wept. Seeing the bare walls and empty rooms underlined the last week and a half.

"Rhys, I'm sorry. Your father has passed away."

I can still hear my uncle's voice. I wonder if it will ever go away. It's not his fault, of course. In fact, it was a minor miracle that he got in touch with me. But it is what it is. I'm fortunate, you might say, in that Dad was a separate world for me. He lived out of town. We didn't have any set routines or schedules. I saw him when I saw him. I can live my daily life, for the most part, and it's nearly identical to the time before. I can move the grief to the side for a little bit and come back to it later. It usually hits hard when it does, though. Perhaps I need to find a better balance. Perhaps it's just going to take time.

Speech

2011-01-27T11:24:00.002-06:00

Thank you all so very much for coming. As I’ve talked to some of you this past week, I’ve come to realize that everyone thought as highly of my father as I did.

I love my Dad very much, and I know he loved me. I was proud of the things he did in his life, just as I know he was proud of the man I had become. Many people do not get that luxury. I have countless moments in my life I can visit to remember the greatest man I’ve ever known. A Tarzan yell from the living room. I steady hand on the seat as I learned to ride my bicycle. The sound of his voice on the micro-cassette recorder as he sat at the kitchen table on the weekends, comparing the prices on the price sheet in front of him to the ones he had spoken to himself while walking the competitor’s stores. The gleam in his eye when he made a joke, often followed by a self-acknowledging, “Oh” and a sly grin. The sense of comfort of knowing if I called him, he would answer or call right back. Every time.

Tony taught me everything I know about being a good, honest man. He taught me loyalty. He taught me to respect people. He told me that a man never breaks his word, and that a handshake is more than a formality. He taught me generosity and strength. He taught me the value of a hard day’s work. He taught me how to laugh, even if the joke was on me. He pointed to John Wayne on the television and showed me the importance of heroes. Dad was my hero; I still want to be him when I grow up.

I want to share a particular experience with you. When I was in Cub Scouts, we took part in the annual Father Son Cake Bake. Neither of us was particularly skilled at baking, and we had to come up with something we could bake to fit the theme, which was, ‘New Frontiers’ this particular year. I was getting frustrated, and Dad finally said, “I have an idea.” We baked two round chocolate cakes, one a bit smaller than the other. We made a chocolate icing with copious amounts of green food coloring and various nuts. We assembled the cake in a lopsided fashion and Dad took a ceramic cowboy boot and made an imprint. We titled it, ‘Watch your Step’ and took it to the competition. All of the judges would stop, look at it a moment, and laugh. However, there were other cakes that had taken HOURS. Space Shuttles, forts, underwater scenes…so they couldn’t give our little cow pattie one of the top awards; however, they made a ‘Nice Try’ award for us that year to show us how much they loved the idea. That was my Dad.

My final memories of my father take place just before Christmas. He came to Tulsa, we had lunch, and went to see the remake of ‘True Grit’. As we were leaving the movie, I asked him, “So, what did you think?” He looked at me and said, “It was okay…” Then he got that sly smile on his face and finished, “…but it wasn’t The Duke.” I know how he felt, because there will also never be another Tony Martin.

Thank You.

Today

2011-01-27T03:19:00.000-06:00

Can't sleep.

In about nine hours, I drive out of town and to the town where my father was raised. He helped at his father's grocery store. He graduated high school. He raced cars at the Pawhuska Municipal Airport. He moved back to care for his ailing mother. Tomorrow, he completes his journey and we all say farewell.

My apartment is in more disarray than usual. I'm typically very tidy; not quite a neat freak, but the last week has seen me really slack off on picking up clothes, making my bed, generally straightening up. I haven't felt up to it. I've talked to people, told them I'm okay. I am, really, considering. What I said the other day is also true. This is going to be a good year and I have several positive goals in front of me. But right now I only have one goal.

Bury my father.

I always thought the scenes in movies where people saw lost loved ones were hokey. I have visualized my Dad countless times this past week. In fact, there are several things that have replayed in my mind time and time again this past week. One of the visuals I have most often is him leaving my apartment. We would hug, and he would walk uncertainly towards the front yard and his car. He never wanted to go. I hear the voice of my uncle on the telephone, regretfully telling me that my father passed away. The embrace of my mother as she chokes out the words, 'I'm so sorry' as I told her Dad was gone. The tortured anguish that erupted out of my brother as he crumpled to the floor. It's all too much.

I feel like I am made entirely out of sadness. But, as I said before...things will be okay again. They just aren't right now.

My 2011 Starts Friday

2011-01-27T03:04:00.002-06:00

2010 was a hell of a year. In February, I returned home from my travels abroad as a better refined and defined version of myself. I spent the next few months reconnecting with family, friends, and adjusting to being home again. In May, my marriage took a big hit and it seemed to be finished. I started a new career. My brother in law attempted suicide in my home. June brought me to the realization that I could no longer afford the house I purchased five years ago and entered into the short sale process, which brought me to my apartment near Cherry Street. My marriage got a surprise second chance.

In August, I took a road trip to Atlanta with my best friends to experience the awe that is Dragon*Con. October saw a solo adventure to California for BlizzCon. In November, my marriage fell apart. I got promoted at work. December saw my grandmother succumb to lymphoma. Last week, my father passed away with no warning.

In two days, I will attend my father’s funeral service. I will quite literally bury a huge part of my life and prepare to embark on life with a new set of rules. 2010 had many ups and downs, and although my Dad was still around when I celebrated the New Year, I’m making an executive decision to put this event under the 2010 umbrella. It’s up to me to carry on and continue making BOTH of my parents proud. This is the year I become debt free. This is the year I see more of America. This is the year I come into my own in the workplace and make a difference. This is the year I take all that I learned of myself on foreign soil and continue to be a force for good for my family and my friends.

Thank you all for sticking with me. It’ll all be okay.

Adrift

2011-01-25T02:21:00.000-06:00

Went back to work today. It was mostly good to get my mind on something else for a little bit. I had several people come up to me throughout the day and offer their support. It means the world to me. I just wish I knew what I needed.

I felt like a ghost, haunting my old life. I was in familiar places doing familiar things. I was interacting with people in the same way I did before (for the most part). I, however, was in an entirely different place mentally. I have a photo on my desk of the four of us at Grandma's service. I'd look over, feel the familiar warmth of love and family, but then remember one is gone. It's like starting a car, it almost turns over, then doesn't. Oh. Right. That thing happened. Last week. Was it that long ago? Didn't I just get that call a few minutes ago? My world seems to be fighting against itself.

I was told by a dear friend that life will never be normal again. In time, I'll just have a new definition of normal. I don't know how long it'll be before this bubble that separates me from the rest of my life will go away. I hope it's soon. I smile and laugh in the normal way. I make jokes, chat about trivial things, do my job. But the in-between times...I'm not a depressed, useless husk...but I don't idle nearly as well as I used to. I just sigh and think, almost nonchalantly, 'Gee, I sure miss my Dad.' I'm hoping I'll at least stabilize somewhat after the funeral on Thursday.

Grandma Gail had this habit when she was on the phone. While we were talking, she'd put in this filler phrase. Sometimes it'd be appropriate, sometimes not. "Well...I don't know..." in kind of a 'what can you do?' type of usage. I noticed that Dad had started using that same phrase throughout our conversations. Not nearly as much, but it was still there. Same tone, same inflection, same filler placement.

Well...I don't know either.

Grocery

2011-01-24T10:30:00.000-06:00

I awoke at the crack of 8 AM today to drive out to the Reasor's Foods store just north of Owasso. I'm not used to getting up early anymore, and it took some doing. Factor in that my apartment was roughly 57 degrees and you have an unhappy camper.

The day I found out about my Dad's passing, I contacted his employer and let them know. His boss in Kansas City was very sorry, enjoyed working with my father, and asked if there was anything he could do. Like most people, no, there wasn't, but I appreciated the offer. He told me that Dad had a few things in his possession that would need to be gathered. No problems, that is to be expected. Dad's last job was traveling around the Tulsa area for Acosta, Inc. building displays and checking product layouts for certain General Merchandise products in area grocery stores. He had a small AT&T HTC phone used as a mobile computer, part of a Colgate display, and a red binder of corporate information.

I got a call from a lady on Thursday. She was in charge of actually getting the items that were in Dad's possession. She asked when she could get them. When I told her I'd be in Pawhuska until the weekend, she was audibly disappointed. She begrudgingly asked if I could meet her at the north Reasor's at 9 AM on Monday. When I went up there this morning, I met her in the HBC section. She was pleased to get the items back, and said, "Where are the services? They're going to ask me so I better write it down." I gave her the day, time, church. She said, "Well, okay, that should do it. It was a shock to hear about Tony. Have a good day." And walked off.

I just wanted to punch her. I understand that she didn't really know my father. Honestly, sympathies from a stranger are the least of my concerns at this point in my life. I went back out to the car and cried. It's tough being in any kind of grocery store because they remind me so much of him. They were his life. To be dealt with so curtly by one of his coworkers was a stunner, for sure. But it showed me that the rest of the world keeps rotating. My father is gone. Life moves forward. I'm caught in a whirlwind, but everyone else continues BAU. That's okay. That's how it is designed. Today I go back to work and try to apply that same concept to my work day and hope I don't break down too much.

Pieces

2011-01-23T17:49:00.000-06:00

My life this past week has been a strange mix of tremendous sadness, fond reflection, and detached organization. This post is a bit scatterbrained, but so am I.

As I mentioned before, I've been working at getting things straightened out for the services and getting the legal part of his estate settled. We settled on having his funeral next Thursday at 4:00 PM in his hometown of Pawhuska. I spent some time with a lawyer there in town, establishing myself as the overseer of his estate and amassing all of his debts to ensure nothing gets missed. Mom, Tyler, and I spent Wed-Fri going through Dad's place; sorting, tossing, and saving things as needed. When I returned home, I wrote my speech for Dad's service. Practiced it. Went through our picture box and extracted every photo that featured my father. Today, the three of us went through them, selected the ones we wanted for the presentation, and I assembled it onto a DVD.

Going through his place and his photos weren't as hard as I expected. It allowed me to access memories and past times, placing myself there instead of here. I've talked to many people that I hadn't talked to in years, most expressing condolences and shock. A lot of interactions are awkward. What do you say to a son that just lost his father? How do I go on and pretend my entire life hasn't just changed? I hate being the guy that just talks about his sadness and breaks down at random times. I understand it's necessary, but I don't like it.

I created a Facebook account for my father. It will allow me to post to his wall when I think about him & visit pictures of him any time I want to. Right now I'm very day-to-day as it is. I tell myself, "Dad's busy, I don't get to talk to him today." or "I'm just borrowing his car. He'll need it back soon." I look over at his cowboy hat, and although it's my size, I know it will always be too big for me.

I can't go ten minutes with "The Living Years" or "Cats in the Cradle" trying to pry into my brain and turn on the waterworks. Sometimes I scream. I have all of these emotions going through me and am learning how to deal with them on the fly. But not once have I felt angry. I have not felt that life is unfair, regardless of how events have turned out. I am very thankful for the time I spent with my father, and know that my grief takes the place of his peace.

The last time my Dad called me was on January 5th at 4:13 PM. We talked for six and a half minutes as I helped him get to my workplace to drop off a copy of the truck's insurance verification, which had been stolen a few days prior. I was so angry the truck got broken into. But, now, those vandals are the source of the last time I saw him. We talked for maybe two minutes as he dropped that off and a framed picture for mother. He complained about driving at night. We hugged and he left.

I've learned a few things about Tony Martin in the last few days. He loved Altoids. He spent his nights at home watching old home movies. He liked James Taylor. He kept photos of his kids in drawers and on shelves where only he could see them. He loved working in grocery stores; not just for them but actually IN the store, interacting with people. He meant a lot to a lot of people.

Missing

2011-01-19T08:59:00.003-06:00

I woke up this morning hoping the last twenty hours weren't true. I hoped that I'd be able to turn over, grab my cell phone, and call my Dad. I could hear his, "Yellow?" as he answered his phone. I'd sit and listen about his day, hear the same two or three stories I heard last time I talked to him, and tell him how my life was going. I'd laugh at his bad jokes and mentally file them away to use them later.

Instead, I now live in a world where my father is no longer here. I've held my mother as she cried and been there for my brother has he crumpled to the floor in a mixture of anger and bottomless sorrow. I've talked to family friends that I haven't talked to in years for the sole purpose of passing on tragedy. I've stood in my Dad's apartment, listening to the emptiness and expecting to see him around every corner. I hear him sneeze. I hear him laugh. It's just not real.

Today I get to finalize details for the services, which will take place sometime next week. Due to circumstances and Dad's general feelings ("Do whatever you like, I won't be there.") he will spend his eternal rest inside an urn. He had no signatories or a will, so my next steps are getting the ball rolling on the legal front and figuring out how to deal with his cluttered apartment, which needs to be cleared in a matter of days.

This sucks. I loved my father very much. I know he loved me. The last time we got together it was two days before Christmas. We got a hamburger and saw True Grit. It is a fine final memory and I just hold on to that when I break down. Thank you all for the sympathy, thoughts, and prayers. I have been reading and re-reading them to help keep my head above water. I am truly blessed.

Rage

2010-07-19T12:50:00.000-05:00

Throughout the majority of my adult life, I've been known for my patience and easy-going demeanor. I smile easily and often and am always happy to talk to my friends. I listen when people have problems and offer advice if it is needed. I have noticed in the last few months that I am having more moments when I lose my cool...never in front of anybody, but I lose it nonetheless.

I'll be in the car and get stuck behind a slow person. I submit for time off and get denied due to a system error. I get a food order that has something wrong. A call I make doesn't get returned. These things didn't bother me much, but for some reason now I just get angry. I'm not talking frowny-face and grumble angry. If I'm in the car, I yell at the top of my lungs. I get SO IRRATIONALLY ANGRY and upset. Sometimes I feel like crying. What has happened to me?

I swear a lot more. I take things personally. I'll get sad. Sometimes I just scream. But never at anyone, or with anyone. Always by myself. It's like my fuse, which was once plentiful, has grown painfully short. And it's not all the time. I just get set off and feel like my entire world is collapsing. I don't want pity, or feel like the world owes me something. It just happens so quickly and is not a reaction I am accustomed to dealing with.

Tired

2010-07-08T09:29:00.002-05:00

One thing I’ve noticed since being home is my tendency to be tired more often. At first I likened it to ‘having’ to be awake via an alarm rather than just waking up on my own…and I do think that has SOMETHING to do with it…but as I examine how my life has changed and what my daily routine looks like, I know there is more to it.

I am working an 8-5 schedule right now. Getting up at 6:00 AM has never come naturally to me, and it probably never will. I drink coffee all day at work (I loves it so) and I’m sure the lack of caffeine in my system by the time I wake up drags me down. My diet has gotten worse, and although it’s not where it was when I left last year…it’s definitely not where it was when I first got home, either. I am not exercising at all, not even taking walks in the evening. You have to spend energy to have energy, right?

My lethargy and daily morning disappointment in life in general has to be coming from these things. My daily grind has to be altered; I’m setting myself up for failure out of convenience and habit. There’s a walking path RIGHT HERE NEXT TO THE OFFICE that I’ve never truly used. I can bring shorts/tank in a backpack daily so I don’t get my normal clothes all terrible. I can stop drinking coffee (at least cut myself off, not drink 4-5 cups a day) and substitute it with some good ol’ WATER. I can stop eating such heavy foods and re-focus my efforts on controlling my portion sizes. I also gotta stop eating so FAST.

I live in a great part of town now. I can walk to many places, but still I hop in the truck. STOP. Go for a walk. Take your camera. Enjoy things instead of passing by them in a hurry to accomplish your tasks. Be patient with your time. Force yourself up early enough to take a stroll before preparing for work, that way it’s not a race.

Back to the Future Timeline

2010-07-07T08:32:00.002-05:00

Alright, I’m tired of this. Someone(s) on the internet is wrong!

There’s an online twitter/Facebook/Blog broadcast going out that yesterday was the day that Marty traveled into the future. It’s totally inaccurate. In BTTF II, Marty Doc and Jennifer traveled to Oct 21st, 2015 in order to prevent Marty’s son from getting in deep with Griff and his goons in some kind of bank robbery scheme. There’s no question; they even show the time circuits. The confusion has to be coming from a single place in the first film.

Before Doc is shot by Libyans, he mentions going “25 years into the future”. The date that early morning (in the parking lot of the Twin Pines Mall) was October 26th. If he meant PRECISELY 25 years, it would be Oct 26 2010. Not any time in July. He never mentions a specific date, and at the end of the film he answers Marty’s question of “How far are you going?” with “about thirty years.” I doubt he has an exact date in mind.

The confusion must be coming from the movie’s release date. BTTF I was released on July 3, 1985. Twenty-five years later would be July 3, 2010. But that doesn’t jive either, because this whole “MARTY TRAVELED TO TODAY LOL” movement was on the 6th. It just doesn’t fit into ANYTHING.

ARGH! LET IT DIE ALREADY!

The Oatmeal Squares Thing

2010-05-21T15:58:00.000-05:00

Some of you may have seen errant posts on my Facebook or random posts elsewhere (including an infamous Youtube video sent to me while I was in Japan) in regards to my friend Billy and the breakfast cereal, 'Oatmeal Squares'. You probably don't understand. That's okay. I'm going to type it all out for you and you STILL won't understand. At least this way I have a resource I can update and point people to. An Oatmeal Squares wiki, if you will.

This all started over a year ago when my friend Billy and I were newly acquainted and were both trying to get to know one another. I am a big fan of breakfast cereal and posed the question, "I say, good sir, among the vast array of choice, which breakfast cereal do you prefer?" Now, I grew up around the grocery industry and I have a long history of product knowledge. I was prepared for a great number of cereals, both available and discontinued, yet his answer astounded me. "Oatmeal Squares," he replied nonchalantly. I blinked. Oatmeal Squares? Really? Out of all of the tasty cereals on the market, he goes with the OLD MAN cereal? Perhaps he didn't understand the question. When I asked again and received the same reply, I knew that something was wrong.

I pondered this for a few minutes. Was there some redeeming quality in this part of a balanced breakfast that I was overlooking? Just because it has the word 'OATMEAL' in it doesn't mean that it's some lacquered attempt for old people to look cool amongst the breakfast crowd. But, alas...it is. I could not accept this. I called Billy on his love for a clearly inferior product, but he would not relent. What was a simple conversation between friends turned into a quest for truth and justice. If I was truly a friend, I would not allow this man to continue this delusion.

I started taking every opportunity I could to bring Oatmeal Squares into conversation. Too tired to come out for a drink? Those Oatmeal Squares are aging you prematurely. Is the queso too hot? Well, your poor choice of breakfast cereal has obviously blanded your tastebuds. Cough got you down? That's because Oatmeal Squares rot your soul. You know, that kind of thing. Soon, though, it was time for Indi and I to leave the country. So we did. I thought the battle was done. But it was not to be.

Many months later, in Japan, I receive a message. It's from Billy. I am overjoyed to hear from my friend, but what awaits me is heartache and misery. He went out and bought a burger from my favorite local establishment and relished in a mockery presentation that ended up with the burger in the trash and his sinister enjoyment of Oatmeal Squares.

Son of a bitch must pay.

This doesn't cover all of the other things we've subjected one another to, but the Youtube Video is just the latest volley in a war of words and images. It won't be the last, either.

The Iron Giant

2010-05-08T18:03:00.000-05:00

One of my favorite films of all time is, 'The Iron Giant'. It's an animated film released by Warner Bros. in 1999. It flew in under the radar and 'bombed' at the box office by only pulling in $23 Million but well internationally. I didn't know about it until it had been on video for some time. I was told it was something special. It's one of the very few DVD's I kept when I sold everything because it IS truly special.

'The Iron Giant' is set in 1957 and revolves around a young boy named Hogarth and his friendship with a giant alien robot that he befriends in the forest outside his hometown. It's well animated and voice acted, but the thing that makes this film such a gem is the story. It's a story about changing your destiny and living up to your potential. It's an animated movie, sure, but it's not a children's movie. There are so many nods, references, and themes that puts this up with Shawshank Redemption for me as a favorite film. Now, when I say 'nods and references' I'm not talking about in a Shrek kind of way. This movie is now eleven years old and NOTHING falls flat. It's not pop culture. It's a slice of America.

First off, the main character is not a stupid kid. He's intelligent. He has an imagination, but he's not an exaggeration. Also, the other characters are well realized. The villain is a pompous government nobody that wants to be a somebody. He's a threat because he is desperate. In his bid to convince others that the Giant exists, you believe that he would do anything. There is a beatnik character named Dean that is a local to the small town but obviously doesn't fit in well, mirroring Hogarth's existence...but in a real way. There is a sense of realism that permeates the entire movie, actually. At one point, Hogarth runs into a tree branch and it gives him a small nosebleed. That's what happens.

There are so many small things that make me smile in this film. The horrible, stilted acting in the B/W horror film that Hogarth watches on late-night TV. The cheesy duck-and-cover Nuclear Holocaust film at the school. The picture of Hogarth's absent father (getting into a military jet) on his nightstand. The 'Red Scare' comic book on the porch. The mention of alcohol as a contributing factor to a sailor's incredible story about a giant robot in the sea. And then there's Superman.

The main theme of the film is that you can choose who you want to be. Superman is used as a parallel to the Giant's disposition and abilities, and done well. I've talked about how I'm more of a Batman than Superman kinda guy, but in the 1950s Superman was the idealized nature of humanity. Although the Giant may have been designed for more sinister purposes, he has the option to choose to be a good guy, just as Supes could've ruled the world like Zod. There are a lot of parallels to other media in this film, but it's all from the time. Lots of communism and us-vs-them conversation too.

Finally, I want to mention love. Near the end of the movie, Hogarth looks up to the Giant and says, "I love you." It's a heartbreaking moment and a rare use of the word 'love' to deal with emotions that don't involve romance. A lot of films try to communicate love in it's raw form and few succeed. I freely admit I weep like a baby at the end of this movie, and often throughout it. I highly recommend it.

Also, there's no singing. Thank God for that.

Cash Flow

2010-04-27T14:49:00.000-05:00

I start my new job at U.S. Cellular next Monday. I am excited to get back into a routine and hopefully shed the 'useless' feeling that blossoms with unemployment. I'm also keen to see some income. After some scary touch-and-go, looks like we'll be able to make the mortgage payment for May, but we won't have much money to live on. We'll make it, but just barely. And I mean barely.

I don't remember ever living with this high level of financial concern before. I remember having to watch the money I spent, but I don't ever remember being this stressed about it. Indi and I have done a good job at shoring up our expenditures and have done great at stretching our budget. I have had no problems adjusting, save for one aspect: fast food.

Before we left last year, we ate out a LOT. Five or six times a week easy. As we traveled, the vast majority of our meals were eaten out; after all, we normally didn't have a kitchen at our disposal to cook our own meals. Now that we're home, we're eating in, and that's good for money and health. But I long for the unhealth. I can't pass by a drive-thru without wondering what I could do to get a little money so I could get a burger. It's ludicrous; I mean, it's not an addiction. Is it? Sometimes I get downright DEPRESSED.

Is it because I desperately need some pizza or fried chicken? Do I have this unnatural requirement for grease and preservatives? After some thought (and a homemade ham sandwich), I don't think that's it. After all, it's never a good idea to go grocery shopping on an empty stomach; the roads are nearly paved with temptation around here. I think it is more of a problem with choice.

See, previously in life, if I wanted to eat unhealthily or get something fast it was no problem. I was free to make that choice, even if I didn't. Now I have to buckle down and simply CANNOT stop to get something or make a trip to try out a new restaurant. I will have to wait. And I hate the fact that I am crippled by the last few months of unemployment. I am thankful that this period is almost over. I think I will have a new appreciation for the money I spend. After all, of what worth was my world-wide trip if I returned to my old ways so quickly?

The Wonders of Forgotten Technology

2010-04-26T12:59:00.000-05:00

I loved my history classes in High School. I was blessed with a few really good teachers, with a keen interest in the subject they were teaching, and that kind of excitement is infectious. I've always leaned towards American History rather than old-world history (see what I did with capital letters there?) but once in awhile something comes along and piques my interest again.

Historical inaccuracy fascinates me. What do we 'know for sure' that really didn't happen? Or perhaps happened differently? The current 'Tea Party' movement in American politics is a great example of current values being projected backwards in history and applied to situations that were vastly different. My recent deep questioning of my religious beliefs also falls into this category. But there's another side to the whole 'certainty' aspect that I don't see much of and read an article today on Cracked.com, of all places, regarding forgotten technology. Simply put, technology and advancement that was forgotten for ages and would've made a REAL difference in historical development. Here are the examples from that list and a few more I've looked up. SCIENCE!

Steam Engine

Common knowledge states the steam engine was invented in the 1700s and was the catalyst for the Industrial Revolution. However, the first steam engine that actually designed in Alexandria in the first century. Nobody knew what to do with it, as they couldn't properly translate it into a useful purpose, so it was considered a novelty.

Gold Statue of Buddha

This isn't really 'technology' but it was on the Cracked.com list. A 10-foot-tall solid gold Buddha statue in Thailand was forgotten and misplaced for centuries. How does this happen? Well, in the 1700s the Burmese (lovely chaps) were invading Thailand and the Thai gov't covered the statue in plaster and placed in a nondescript temple to prevent it from being plundered. Well, one thing led to another and they forgot where they put it. It was found in the 1950s by accident when it was dropped during transit and chipped.

Cure for Scurvy

Scurvy happens when you don't get enough vitamin C, and was quite common with sailors as they'd spend months at sea. The British Empire discovered that lemons kept the scurvy away, but hadn't quite caught on that citrus fruits had different properties, and after awhile replaced lemons with limes (as they were more plentiful) and replaced actual limes with juice for ease of use. Limes don't have as much Vit-C. Re-enter scurvy until science proved that, yes, limes and lemons were DIFFERENT.

Ligature

Ligature is the process of tying up a bleeding artery to prevent catastrophic blood loss. It was first discovered as a useful surgical method in the second century and was regaled as a breakthrough in prolonging life, but then the Dark Ages came. Ligature was forgotten in favor of cauterization by burning tar. What's that, got a gash in your knee? Pour some ol' burning tar in it. That'll fix it up. Ligature wasn't re-discovered until the late 1500s.

The Great Hedge

This sounds silly. A hedge, really? Hear me out. Back in olden days, salt was king. It was used as currency in some places and seen as the driving force behind most commerce. Think Dune. However, anyone could get salt if they knew how to mine it from evaporated ocean beds in places like India. The British East Indian Trading Company didn't like their colony finding a workaround for their steep salt tax, so they planted a big hedge. It was 2,000 miles long. There were NO mentions in ANY history books until some random guy found passing mention to it in a footnote. Makes me wonder what else existed that we don't know about because no one thought to write it down.

Concrete

Did you know Romans discovered concrete in about 300 BC? Makes sense, considering the architecture of Rome, the aqueducts, the invention of the arch, etc. However, one of the prime ingredients in Roman Concrete was volcanic ash, and when other Europeans tried to replicate their success, they failed...so, here come the Dark Ages again, and people just abandon it. It wasn't re-discovered until the 1750s. That's a long time.

Antikythera Mechanism

This really gets my brain buzzing. In the early 1900s a small geared device was found in a wreck off the coast of Greece that dates to about 150 BC. This device was as complicated as astronomical clocks built in the 1800s and was used as a sort of 'astronomical calculator' similar to a sextant. It calculated the position of the Sun, Moon, stars, other known planets, and was designed with Earth being the center of the solar system, as that was the knowledge of the day. And it's miniaturized.

Baghdad Battery

Not just clever alliteration. Archeologists discovered that folks back in Mesopotamian days had designed a system for electricity. It consists of a jar with a rolled-up copper sheet wrapped around an iron rod inside it. The jar was filled with a sort of acid for conduction. They didn't produce much in the way of electrical charge, and there's many theories as to what they were actually used for, but that fact that a form of electricity was discovered that long ago staggers me.

If you know of any others, please comment with them. I love this stuff.

How did this happen?

2010-03-20T21:08:00.001-05:00

Before I go into a recently discovered travesty, let me tell you about my friend Nikki.

I met Nikki at Cingular Wireless...I think it was early 2003. One of the first things I learned about this person was her deep, entrenched love (and obsession) with all things Beatles. It is a rare occasion indeed when I see bits of her collection, and I can tell you it awes me. There is no other person I know that even comes close in terms of Beatles knowledge. She is eager to share her opinion on current projects and still cannot talk about George's passing. Oh, and if you tell you that the original 'Let It Be' is better...I pray for your soul.

I was driving to the grocery store the other day and tuned my radio to 94.1, a local classic rock station. They were playing a Beatles song that I'd never heard before. I listened, made sure I didn't recognize it, and rang her up.

"Hey, what song is this? I don't recognize it," I asked with confidence.

...

"That is 'Golden Slumbers'," she answered definitely.

"Huh. I've never heard it before."

"That can't be true. It's on Abbey Road."

She sounded rather dismissive of my claim.

"No, I'm positive. It segued in from this other Beatles song I'd never heard either."

"'She Came In Through The Bathroom Window?' This is not possible. How is it you've never heard Abbey Road?!!?!"

Now she was starting to sound incredulously angry.

"Well, I don't know! I know all their radio hits, but I guess I just never sat down and listened to all of Abbey Road."

In a suddenly refreshed and upbeat tone, she advised me that we MUST get together and listen to it on vinyl. I agreed and the conversation ended. This was a week or so ago. Today, I start listening to a streaming broadcast of 'A Hard Day's Night' as I watch the snow fall outside.

I realize quickly I've never listened to this album either.

Scanning Wikipedia, I don't think there's a single Beatles album I know all the way through. I've never seen any of their films. Hell, I'd have a hard time picking George out of a lineup.

Nikki is going to kill me. How in the world did I get here? How have I not heard these songs?

Food Moods

2010-02-15T12:37:00.000-06:00

I am continually amazed at how my mood changes depending on the food I am eating or have just eaten.

Tonight, Indi fixed tacos. I love tacos. Granted, my version of 'tacos' is little more than a tortilla, beef, and cheese, but whatever. The point is I eat a lot of it. And now I feel miserable. The food was good, don't get me wrong; Indi is a fantastic cook. She has helped me appreciate foods I wouldn't come within a 10 yard radius otherwise. No, my problem is when I like a food, I eat too much of it.

I'm sitting on the couch, a heavy stone in my gut and a slight feeling of nausea playing at my throat. I only had two. But after ten months on the road, eating smaller portions of much healthier food...I can't do this anymore. I recall the Before Times when after every meal I felt lethargic and mentally dull. Food comas were a way of life. I just spent the last half hour going through old pictures on friends' MySpace pages and seeing what that had done to my body. And I was happy. I do not EVER want to be happy like that again.

As the time fast approaches when life tries to return to "normal" I must not let myself fall into this chasm of calories. Do I want to be ridiculous about it, entering my culinary choices into a mathematical equation @ lunchtime? No. But I do need to be more careful about what I eat, and the amounts I eat. The profound feeling of regret I hold now is enough to remind me that life is about more than a tasty meal.

Friendship

2010-02-12T06:54:00.000-06:00

Making friends has always been something that has come fairly natural to me. I'm easygoing, flexible, and nearly always in a good mood. I interest myself in the passions of others and have often found that just simply listening is often key to maintaining relationships. I am usually the peacemaker and, even if I feel I am in the right, often back down in order to prevent fracture.

I had a conversation with a friend last night about my forthcoming re-entry into the world of the gainfully employed and the trepidation that comes with my uncertain future. She said I was one of the most well respected and well liked people she knows, and that my worries are fruitless. Which all worries are, actually, but that's not the point. The point is that my nature and outlook on life reflects positively most of the time. I truly am rich with friends.

But that's not what I want to write about. The thing that bubbles in my mind most often are those friendships and relationships that have NOT gone well. Some have mended over time; others not. When I'm alone in my mind with nothing to keep me busy, it seems I always return to these soured friendships. What went wrong? What could I have done differently? Is there any way to patch things now, even if I don't want to remain a friend? I don't like thinking I have 'enemies' out there or folks who think ill of me.

I now consider that a weakness. Why should I care if someone doesn't think I'm all wine and roses? People are different and that's life. If I dedicate myself to just making others happy, I myself won't be happy. One of the things I've gained in my travels is a greater sense of self worth and identity. I see myself approaching relationships in a different light, but not in a bad way. Just in a more assertive way. This is fine and good. I call it progress. But I do still find myself returning to the collapsed friendships of years past.

So, what's the deal? Does this mean I haven't moved on? Does this mean I'm a perfectionist and not wired to just let sleeping dogs lie? As a famous Captain said, 'As a doctor, you of all people should be aware of the dangers of reopening old wounds.'

It's just hard to forget the good times, I guess.

'Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close' by Jonathan Safran Maier

2010-01-09T19:54:00.000-06:00

First off, thanks to my cousin Amanda for constantly recommending this book to me since it's release and to my wife for finally whacking me over the head to actually read it. You were both instrumental to my resignation to read this book. I'm ever-so-glad that you did.

This was a devastating book. It's very good, don't get me wrong; just the first of it's kind for me. The story deals with a nine year old boy who lost his father in the September 11th, 2001 attacks and his subsequent quest to unravel a mystery that he feels is the 'key' to staying close to the memories of his father. It also deals with similarities and parallels his grandparents faced during World War II.

This is the first piece of fiction I've read or seen that uses 9/11 as a backdrop. It's not tacky, it's not politicized. It's something that happened, and it changed things. For everyone. It brought back memories of those first unbelievable moments as I watched the horror unfold live on television. It reminded me of the endless walls of 'Missing' posters in New York and the outpouring of grief, sadness, and support from the rest of the nation. It also reminded me of the innocence of childhood and how an event of this magnitude must have ripped so many children from that innocence prematurely.

The passages in this book about the young boy's memories of his father tore me to pieces. Granted, I'm a sucker for Father/Son relationships in media (especially movies, like Field of Dreams or Big Fish) and I fully expected some personal emotional instability. It's the little things that reminded me of my childhood and the details of my father.

The stubble of his beard. The sound of his briefcase latches opening. My careful footsteps upstairs to bring him his coffee and tea in the morning. His Tarzan yell from the living room. Watching him practice his golf swing in the back yard. Going with him to store inventories late at night. The smell of the leather of his chair at the office. The iron grip of his handshake.

After I finished the book, I sat for a long time and considered. The book deals a lot with themes about losing loved ones; some to death, others to separation. I was reminded of the ever-popular theme in Hollywood of the "Life Changing Event" and how characters responded and become 'better' people. I thought to myself, "Why can't we appreciation people when they are STILL HERE? Where is it written that we have to learn life's lessons when it is Too Late(tm)?" Fact is, we don't have to.

It's very easy to take life for granted. My time abroad has taught me many lessons, but the ones I learned the hardest are the ones I cannot do anything about, like conversations I would like to have with my grandfathers, who have both passed on. Not to some sudden disaster or unexpected circumstance, but to long standing medical issues. I had plenty of time to grow closer to them. I failed.

I heartily recommend the book, as it has some fantastic life lessons and is written EXTREMELY well. It'll break your heart, but in a way that will get you to re-evaluate your relationships and take stock of what is important. It will also transport you to a time of uncertainty and nationwide attention, albeit through much younger eyes.

Overlay?!

2010-01-04T12:00:00.000-06:00

Did you know that Oklahoma is experiencing a rapid population growth in the East/Northeast area? So much so, in fact, that the State has been weighing options to prevent them from running out of 918 area code phone numbers. There have been two options on the table:

New Area Code: Split the 918 into two areas, one 918, one a new code. Some numbers would change.
Overlay: Newly issued numbers in the 918 area would be given a new area code, but no maps would be redrawn.

((CUE SCENE FROM SUPERMAN: THE MOVIE [1978]))

Lex Luthor: [pointing to a map of Oklahoma] Right now, this state has two area codes: 918 and 405. Since the state of Oklahoma has less than four million people in it, this has not been a problem. However, a certain area of the state has seen a rapid jump in population

[Whaps Otis with his pointer]

Otis: Uhhh... Northeast Oklahoma. Tulsa area.

Lex Luthor: Now, call me foolish, call me irresponsible, it occurs to me that a total exhaustion of phone numbers in a huge segment of the state, uh...

Superman: Would cause chaos and panic. No one could get a new phone number. And the ease in which we talk to one another-...

Lex Luthor: Falls into the history books. [Gives a little wave with his hand] Bye-bye, landlines. Hello, US Postal Service. But I have an idea!.

[Otis overlays map with new map]

Lex Luthor: Split the 918 area code! Some keep their old area code, some get a new one. It takes a little getting used to, but it’s organized! It makes sense! Just like the map here. I’ve written what I feel are fair boundary lines for a new area code division and, uh.. Overlay [hand-written by Otis, with backwards 'Y']... Overlay?

[Lex looks at Otis with a narrow and darkening gaze]

Otis: Other states, they went with an Overlay.

Lex Luthor: Overlay?

Otis: It’s just a small change, old people wouldn't have to learn something new.

Lex Luthor: [Angrily] OVERLAY?!

Otis: Okay, I'll just wipe it off, that's all. It's just a little town. [Erases Overlay]

Oklahoma is going with the overlay. WHAT?! This is the most ridiculous item of the day. So you are telling me, if I have a 918 number in my home, and I want a second line...it may have a DIFFERENT area code? If I have a personal cell and a work cell, they might look like they are from ENTIRELY different areas? This is preposterous.

The Oklahoma Corporation Commission decided to go this route due to the fact that people having to learn new area codes could "hurt small businesses" and cause confusion for older people. Call me crazy, but it's WAY more confusing to have the SAME geographic area with TWO different area codes, the only differentiation between the two being some invisible time line.

Oh, but they are warning people that they will start to have to use ten digit dialing. Naturally. Because if you want to call your neighbor, it's an entirely different area code...but only that neighbor, the other one has a number just like yours. It's EASY, SEE? Surely easier than just dividing the map differently and providing an easy A B C area code solution. Oh, wait, no, that's NOT easy, because some people will have to LEARN. This way the good ol' boys can do things the way they always have.

It is this kind of compromise and "we don't want to change the way things are" that REALLY puts me in Yosemite-Sam-Shoot-The-Floor mode and want to find another place to settle. This. Decision. Makes. No. Sense. Cotton-pickin' varmints!

If anyone has any way to make me see this in a better light, please...I'm all ears. And rage. Ears and rage.

Double Review: Laputa - Castle in the Sky and Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind

2009-11-26T03:05:00.000-06:00

In final preparation for going to the Studio Ghibli Museum in Tokyo yesterday, I loaded my iPhone up with these two films to view in the bullet train to/from various points in Japan, hoping to get them viewed in time. And I did!

Laputa - Castle in the Sky

I'll start this off by saying this is my favorite Miyazaki so far. Yep, even better than Howl's Moving Castle. This film is also set in a steampunk universe but flows MUCH smoother than Howl's. The basic premise revolves around a girl (surprise!) with a mysterious and powerful crystal. She escapes pirates and military captors before being befriended by a young mining boy and what soon follows is a fun-tastic chase film and one that harnesses Miyazaki's environmental message quite well.

There are many characters to like/dislike in the movie and overall it gave me a bit of a 'Goonies' vibe. This is one of Miyazaki's earlier films and the vibrant colors he used were really refreshing. The kids weren't dumbed down, and the adults acted appropriately...sometimes overly so, as I audibly gasped when a henchman shot a gun at one of the kids. Whatever it takes to harness all-powerful technology, eh? I loved the last robot in the garden of Laputa, and equally enjoyed the enormous statue at the Museum.

I liked the synthesized score, the animation style, the story, the characters...really, a wonderful film that I WILL own when I get home.

Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind

This is based on a manga work that Miyazaki is involved in, and I had high expectations coming in. Would it trump Laputa as that film had trumped Howl's? Nikki had also let me know that she'd seen this film and enjoyed it...not only that, but it was one of Brad's favorites as well. Who knew? I settled in for a great film. And while it WAS great, it wasn't as good for me as Laputa was.

As most of Miyazaki's films do, this film has a strong environmental message and features a strong/central female personality. It tells the story of a long distant future, where technology increased to the point of humanity's annihilation. The few surviving rebuilt kingdoms dedicated to the Earth, but as time passed a poisonous forest threatens to strangle those who remain. Not only that, but several of the kingdoms have tried to re-harness the old buried technologies in order to achieve domination. It was a good story, and had quite the English dub cast (Capt. Jean-Luc Picard as a swordsman? Sweet!) but I felt it was REALLY similar to Princess Mononoke. Admittedly, this movie had a much clearer beginning-middle-end structure. Things actually got resolved! And I enjoyed the fate of the Giant Machine.

So, thus ends my lightning tour of Miyazaki and Studio Ghibli animation. There are a few films I missed, but I think I'll take a break for now. I am a big fan and ALL of these films would be a welcome revisit in the future.

Double Review: Kiki's Delivery Service / Howl's Moving Castle

2009-11-15T16:09:00.000-06:00

Kiki's Delivery Service

Another one of Indi's favorites. I sat down prepared for a cute animated film and was not disappointed. I don't think it carried near the heft that Totoro did as far as the story is concerned, as it felt like a more traditional fish-out-of-water coming-of-age story, just in a slightly fantastical reality. It was thoroughly enjoyable, though, if nothing terrifically specially. I enjoyed the cat quite a bit. Not a lot more I can say here, though, except that I felt the adults were well written and I always relish a slightly alternate near-modern universe.

Howl's Moving Castle

This one sits at the top of the pile so far; absolutely mesmerizing! At the beginning of the movie, when the titular moving castle literally walks into the frame, I stared at the screen open mouthed. Is that really animated? It was so intricate and complex! It was so ugly, yet beautiful. Once the world started to materialize and I was introduced to characters, I was immediately drawn in. Steampunk for the win!

It became obvious to be here that Miyazaki prefers female leads. Sophie is a fine addition to the roster but oh man. She is cursed early on in the film into being an old woman. It was inexplicably SHATTERINGLY SAD to me and I had to laugh at verbal tics and mannerisms of the Old Sophie in order to not cry. She was not just like, 'WTF I'm old!' it was like she woke up and had GROWN old, i.e. her mind worked like an old person, she had the ailments and seeming familiarity one would have if they'd lived a much longer life...as if she'd woken up from a dream in which she had been young. And mid-way through the movie, when she storms out of the castle...I can't handle old folks crying. It's too much!

Howl is dubbed by Christian Bale, while his fire demon companion is dubbed by the brilliant Billy Crystal. It definitely helped the film for my ears and endeared me to the characters instantly. The story arc of maturity, patience, and endurance were well done. My favorite character, by FAR, is the scarecrow Turnip Head. Much like Wall-E, he says a lot without saying anything at all.

RAW is WAR

2009-10-04T07:11:00.000-05:00

I've discovered something interesting in Cambodia. There is a channel dedicated to professional wrestling. At first, I thought it was a sponsored WWE channel, but after a few disjointed cuts between episodes, I realized it's a guy with a recorded-from-TV DVD collection that would make my brother jealous. I know this because occasionally the channel changes to a DVD manufacturer screen saver with a 'stop' icon in the corner, followed by 'play' and more WWE action. Some of the episodes are of questionable quality up-to-and-including DVD artifacting. It's hilarious.

24 hours a day, this channel broadcasts random episodes of RAW and Smackdown in one hour increments...it's frustrating to watch the first half of a RAW only to have it rudely interrupted by some other random first-or-second half of RAW or Smackdown. I've seen matches as far back as 2002 and as recent as a few weeks ago. I just listened to Stephanie McMahon (not Helmsley) berate Stone Cold for stunning her whole family on RAW after seeing Jeff Hardy defend his championship against CM Punk on Smackdown.

Given such a snapshot of weekly wrestling history, I've realized several things.

1. I may never stop enjoying professional wrestling.
2. WWE has produced some really terrible shows over the years.
3. The current WWE product is rather amazing.

I don't know who all out there still watches on a regular or semi-regular basis, but I haven't watched for years. I was extremely surprised to see that Jeff Hardy held the World Heavyweight Championship, and he seems to defend it regularly and competes well. There is a host of new names on both rosters and everyone has put together some really fantastic matches, some of even PPV quality. There seems to be a greater focus on in-ring psychology and clean finishes and I haven't seen any scuzzy ratings-grab type storylines or gimmicks. It has just been quality sports entertainment.

Last night this channel pulled a dirty trick: it aired the first half of the Eddie Guererro tribute RAW episode. Brought back many memories. Also, it was REALLY WEIRD to see Chris Benoit wrestling. For those who don't know, this is a guy that later killed his wife, kids, and himself at his home. I don't quite know how to feel about it. On one hand, this guy is a murderer and a coward for offing himself afterwards. But it was in the future and from all accounts he was a decent guy before this roid rage thing happened; is it wrong for me to appreciate his wrestling ability before this incident occurred?

From (R) to (D). What Happened?

2009-08-12T05:33:00.003-05:00

I was born and raised in Oklahoma, one of the most conservative of the United States. My parents are Republican, as is just about everyone else. Growing up, I was raised to believe in the basic Republican tenets:

1) Fiscal Conservative
2) Smaller Government
3) Strict Constitutional Interpretation
4) Environmental Awareness

Ronald Reagan was the Prez during my early youth, and he was a joy to watch at my young age. When Bush Sr. took office, I was still very young and honestly don't recall much from that time except the feeling that he took us to war after a Bad Man invaded a country and we won. However, he raised taxes when he said he shouldn't so this Clinton guy got elected.

Even though Clinton was Prez during most of my teen years, I didn't pay a whole lot of attention. I remember Whitewater and the Lewinsky scandal, of course, and I was appalled. I don't remember health care and I don't remember welfare reform or NAFTA. I do remember paying a good deal of attention to the 2000 election, as that would be the first I could vote in.

I was taken by George W. Bush and his style of speaking. He sounded like someone I could meet down the street. Al Gore, on the other hand, struck me as a stuck-up college professor, a stiff robot that I couldn't relate to. I remember watching the debates and feeling good about my choice. I cast my vote with pride.

When the election results started dragging due to the Florida debacle, I followed with great interest. What surprised me more was Gore throwing in the towel when EVERYONE was saying to hang in there. He said that he wanted the country to move on. This made me happy. My guy won, and Gore was classy about it. Good on him.

When September 11th happened, I was once again happy with my choice. I thought for sure that major happenings were moments away, but we seemed to stay calm and search with precision. This is good, I told myself. At least we're not just going to war with some random country.

When we first went into Iraq, I was happy with my choice. I was told that Saddam Hussein was not only a bad man (I already knew that) but he was conspiring against by building destructive weapons and had given an assist to Bin Laden and his cohorts. Go get 'im, I thought.

However, soon after my happiness faded. The links between Saddam and the terrorists dried up. Dick Cheney, whom I never liked, double-faced and said that no one ever linked the two, when video footage exists of he himself asserting that as fact. Bush looked more and more like an uneducated buffoon at press events, fumbling his words and being belligerent with reporters. The country as a whole took the 'if you're not with us, you're against us' approach and many of our international allies turned their backs. The war in Iraq started to look like a mission built on revenge.

Guantanamo Bay was opened. What were we going to do with suspected terrorists? Good question...but torture? Really? I'm fairly naive when it comes to war and what is required of men in such conditions, but that kind of behavior is against INTERNATIONAL LAW for a reason. Further distortions from the top brass of the Republican Party didn't help matters.

As the 2004 election approached, I looked more evenly at the playing field. No longer satisfied with Bush, I checked out his opponent, John Kerry. He wasn't anything special either, but I looked at his war record and felt, 'Surely a soldier, especially a Vietnam soldier, would make the best decisions for our troops overseas.' Plus, the basic Democrat tenet of Regulation/Oversight should help with the burgeoning problem of issues in Iraq like the Blackwater incidents. Also, the (surprising) lack of support for environmental issues from the red side of the house helped turn my '04 decision to the Blue ticket; helping out oil companies is not important to me. Not only that, but I thought Kerry handled himself very well in the debates. The fates did not see it that way, however, and another four years went in the books.

The 2008 election is when I started thinking of myself as a Democrat instead of a Republican. Sure, I still believe in the basic tenets of Republicanism, but do they? The election season was marred by horrible attacks from the right and unfathomable support for names like Limbaugh, Hannity, Beck. Freedom of speech is a right, but why do people have to be so ugly to one another? When Obama won the election, I thought it would settle down and we could move on to fixing the broken parts of the country.

So far, I'm wrong. The other day, Sarah Palin said Obama's health care proposal could have her baby with Down's Syndrome killed.

This is the huge problem. People are already upset because Obama is black. People are upset because they think he is a Muslim. People are upset because they think they/their parents aren't going to have proper medical care with the current debates about health care reform. Palin comes in and says this statement, with no base in reality, and adds kerosene to a fire.

All the Republicans seem to be about these days is attack and tearing down others. Health Care is a problem we ALL need to solve. Don't like the opposing solution? Fine. Present an alternative. Don't go out and make statements that have no basis in reality. People are already up in arms about health care; I read a story today about a guy who took a GUN to a town hall meeting that Obama was supposed to show up to and a sign that spoke of watering the tree of liberty. COME ON!

Complaints about his birth certificate. Asserting he is Muslim. Blocking legislation important to the American People. Getting on a soapbox and telling everyone the President wants what is Worst for the country and that we should do something about it. This isn't the America I grew up in. There doesn't seem to be any debate anymore. Just mud slinging and name calling. Vague threats. Even John McCain, a politician I respect, fell to these devices.

I don't want any part of that. That, in a very large nutshell, is the logic and story behind my switch from firm Republican to centrist Democrat. There's more, but this post is a book already.

Casio: In Mourning

2009-08-08T09:17:00.002-05:00

I've worn a Casio watch for the majority of the time since my father got one for me back in middle school. I wrote about the death of that watch (after a decade of faithful service) on Livejournal:

Casio NL-11
1993 - 2006

My Casio was a good, nay, a great watch. It stuck with me through middle school, high school, and beyond. It went to Italy with me. It went to Disney World with me. I went on my first date and got married to Indi with it. It came with me when I bought my first, then my second house. It rode with me in the mythical Scorpio and was on me when Dad's Explorer fell off the tire jack and crushed my hand.

Through thick and thin, the watch kept on keeping the time. I replaced the band more often than the battery. I spent the better part of an hour just last month taking it apart and meticulously fixing the bent contacts the Wal-Mart employees had carelessly damaged. Unfortunately, at 4:12 PM on January 5th the watch broke for good. One of the pin-holding catches crumbled, never to allow a band to be attached again.

I will miss my old Casio watch, and will give it a ceremonial burial in the backyard. Maybe on those quiet summer nights when I'm enjoying a refreshing beverage on my porch I will still hear it beep. Rest in peace, friend.

I had a Fossil watch for a while afterwards, but I finally found another Casio, similar to my old one, in April of '08. I wrote about THAT on Blogger:

On Thursday, January 5th of 2006 my wonderful Casio NF-11 watch broke. I had replaced the strap three times (battery twice) in its 10+ years of service but the watch itself had broken and would no longer fit a pin for the wrist strap. With a heavy heart, I placed it in a drawer and sought out a new timepiece.

I wanted the same functionality, but I had a hard time finding a simple watch that told me the time, day, and date. I settled for a nice Fossil watch and moved on. Yesterday, I finally told myself I'd had enough. The watch I purchased was nice, sure, but it was hard to read. It was TOO dark and the light was dim at best. I decided to try to find a suitable replacement for my old watch.

Behold. The Fossil mistake cost me $75(!) but the Casio cost me $16. All Hail the Return of the Magnificent Casio! (The old face is in the background on the mousepad...still ticking away.)

Just before I left home this past April, I carelessly broke the band. It was my fault, I caught it on a door and forced it. It had been working flawlessly. Since it was a $16 watch, I just bought another at Wal-Mart. Indi gave me much trouble about it being a 'crappy watch' and I regaled her (again) with the tales of Casio greatness that I have known in my lifetime.

After four blissful months, the battery died today.

I was heartbroken. Indi, vindicated in her claims that the watch was horrible, barely contained her glee and "I told you so"-itis. It was with much sadness that I bought a cheap knock-off watch from a street vendor in Malaysia today. A great legacy of watches sleeps forever tonight. I will miss my friend.

(Note: the first Casio was STILL WORKING in a drawer when we had our estate sale. I buried it in the backyard.)

Michael Jackson Memory

2009-06-27T09:30:00.001-05:00

Most that know me know I'm a child of the 80's. I love 80's memorabilia and especially music. When news broke that Michael Jackson was dead, I was as shocked as everyone else. Seeing it on Indonesian TV was a little surreal.

I'm not going to talk about "omg he was innocent" or "he molested children and nobody should care" or get into any of that. I liked his heyday music and that's that. I have one particular memory I want to share.

I was riding down to Houston in late March of 2001 with Mark Moreland, on the way to Wrestlemania 17. We were in Mom's old Explorer (RIP) and 'Billie Jean' came on the CD player. Like always, I bopped my head to the music, Mark seemed light-years away as he did school work in the passenger seat. The song played on.

People always told me, be careful of what you do...don't go around breaking young girl's hearts.

EE-HEE

When the 'EE-HEE' hit, Mark and I both sang it aloud, completely unaware that the other was going to do it. We had a good laugh about it, but I think about that from time to time. His music tied a generation together. May he find the peace in death he could not find in life.

Less Epic than it Sounds

2009-04-02T13:17:00.001-05:00

Surrounded by Kitteh

2009-03-31T17:14:00.000-05:00

Four Year Wedding Anniversary

2009-03-26T12:06:00.002-05:00

It was four years ago today that I stood before friends and family and confessed my love and lifelong devotion to my beloved wife.

We've been together for a bit over five years (I wrote about our first date here). Although we are about to go on a fantastical journey, she has already taken me far beyond the borders I had when we first got together.

Today I am more comfortable in my own skin and more confident in who I am. She has challenged me to think and analyze where before I might not have. She has opened up so many doors for me. [Figuratively, of course :)] Thank you. I love you. I hope I have been able to bless you as much as you've blessed me.

Don't Don't Don't Don't You

2009-03-24T07:42:00.001-05:00

Best Part of Wakin Up

2009-03-24T06:03:00.000-05:00

Praise for Otterbox

2009-03-15T18:40:00.002-05:00

When I got my iPhone, I invested in an Otterbox Defender case. My customers had been telling me it was the best in the biz, and reviews around the net generally said the same. It added a little bulk, but it was more stylish than I expected. Today it stood the test.

I haven't ridden my motorcycle in a few weeks due to some clutch adjustments I needed to make. The weather was nice enough today so I went out and did some work. I figured I had it right so I hopped on and rode it around the block. It rode perfectly. I was so happy!

My happiness went away when I realized my phone was no longer in it's holster. I panicked. This phone was a gift and I had already squandered it. I hopped on the scooter (easier to multi-task) and rode out. I drove around for a few minutes until I saw a black speck on the road ahead of me. My stomach developed a black hole. I knew that was my phone. In the middle. Of the road. It had to be toast. I was so ANGRY at myself. How could I be so stupid?

I rode up and picked it up. Miraculously, it had a small scratch on the shell where it had hit the road, but the screen is fine and the rest of the case looks brand new. Unless I point it out, I doubt anyone would notice. The phone works fine.

This case was definitely worth the $50.

Happy Birthday Indi!

2009-03-15T00:32:00.001-05:00

Die Hard

2009-03-12T13:25:00.003-05:00

Cinematical did a posting today about a fan video that someone put together of all the Die Hard movies, showcasing every scene that had fire in it. I got about a minute in and realized it had been too long since I've seen the original film and rented it from iTunes.

Die Hard is probably the first R-Rated movie that I saw. It has only a brief snippet of nudity in it, no sex, just language and violence. My folks were okay with that when I was 12 or so; at least, I think I was that old. Anyway, this film was a watershed film for me. It introduced me to the Action Film(tm). Oh, and quotable movie lines. Do I sound like I'm ordering a pizza? Come out to the coast, we'll get together, have a few laughs.

For the uninitiated, Die Hard was released in 1988 and starred Bruce Willis as a celluloid newcomer. Most folks knew him from the hit TV show Moonlighting and there were questions whether or not he would be able to pull off a convincing action hero, a la Kurt Russell with Escape from New York. It seems silly now that you see Bruno's resume since this movie but at the time it was a moderate gamble. Nevertheless, it was a smash hit and has become a landmark movie. There are countless clones and several sequels. To this day, people refer to new films as, "Die Hard on a [insert situational location here]." But enough history. On to the movie itself.

John McClane (Willis) is a New York cop who travels to Los Angeles for a Christmas Party that his estranged wife's (Holly, played by Bonnie Bedelia) company is having. Midway through the party, some terrorists show up and man-against-many ensues. Stand out moments for me are:

- The Score. Michael Kamen's score is one of my all time favorites and is one of the first that I took notice of. Mixed with Beethoven's Ninth and full of the Kamen trademarks, I can listen to it any time. As soon as the movie starts, it fills me with nostalgia and admiration.

- Meeting Takagi. Early into the film, McClane is introduced to the CEO of the Nakatomi Corporation. He is pleasant, respectful, humorous, and confident. He doesn't back down from his responsibilities and gives his life (literally) for his employees. This is a guy that I wanted to work for...and still do. I love it when McClane says, "I didn't realize they celebrated Christmas in Japan," he replies, "Hey, Pearl Harbor didn't work, so we got you with tape decks." Classic.

- Hans Gruber. The terrorist leader played by Alan Rickman. The gentleman terrorist, if you will. Watching McClane terrorize (ha) him with his antics and intteruptions still provides me with unmitigated glee. Rickman is a masterful actor and I still see him as the villain because of this role. "Mr. Takagi did not see it that way, so he won't be joining us for the rest of his life." Hahaha!

- Richard Thornburg, TV Reporter. William Atherton plays such a dick. He was also the EPA guy that shut down the Ghostbusters containment grid. He still has the bar set for me on annoying supporting characters. His face flattening at the end was extremely gratifying.

- Great Stunt Work. There are a lot of good action pieces in this film, from the gunplay to the explosions. McClane jumping from the roof while it explodes is an iconic 80's image. We're gonna need a few more FBI guys.

- Technology. This isn't really a moment, but it's interesting to see how much things have changed in recent history. Tape decks are standard, mobile phones are an ultra-luxury, computers are extraordinarily basic, and most cars are very boxy; however, I don't think of this film as outdated. Except maybe with Ellis says, "It's a Rolex." That doesn't mean as much as it used to. LOL @ portable TV. Also, $.77/gal gas for unleaded and $.74 for regular. I imagine there are multitudes of people now that are all like, "What's regular gas?"

This movie doesn't get old. It has all the ingredients that it needs and ranks up with The Fugitive as a movie I'll watch any time I see it on.

lulz

2009-03-03T09:38:00.002-06:00

Possibly?!

2009-02-19T20:19:00.000-06:00

Maybe we see you. Maybe we don't!
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Beware

2009-02-15T16:31:00.000-06:00

Evidently this guy wrecks wheelchair-bound folks.
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Toys

2009-02-14T22:18:00.002-06:00

The 1992 film, 'Toys' by Barry Levinson is an unappreciated gem of a film.

I noticed it was available on Hulu and watched it for the first time since VHS was king. I didn't appreciate the art direction; it is beautiful. The movie is very surreal and looks amazing. It has many stars of today (Robin Wright-Penn, Joan Cusack, Robin Williams, and MICHAEL GAMBON! Dumbledore is in this movie!

It has a great score and a fantastically also-surreal soundtrack. If you watched this back in the day and dismissed it as ridiculous...give it another try.

You may still find it ridiculous, but you just may find an amazing experience.

The Downfall of America

2009-02-08T17:21:00.000-06:00

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Full Scale of-fence-ive

2009-02-04T14:42:00.000-06:00

Woo! Look at what I helped build!
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IMG00005.jpg

2009-01-26T15:53:00.000-06:00

I hate ice
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It's been Real...

2009-01-20T13:00:00.002-06:00

Good. Bye.

Historic

2009-01-20T10:20:00.002-06:00

I turned on the TV to watch the inauguration, made myself a peanut butter sandwich, and grabbed an RC cola. I sat down to watch and after about 10 seconds the CNN camera panned back to show the enormity of the crowd.

I burst into tears. I am proud of my country and so hopeful for our future.

Breakfast in Beggs

2009-01-16T09:36:00.000-06:00

Mood Swings

2009-01-07T22:18:00.002-06:00

I'm sitting here tonight, not really into playing WoW, not really wanting to watch a movie, not really wanting to do much of anything.

It could be the Baconator I had for dinner.

I've grown increasingly upset about the food I eat. It has to change. I went to Pei Wei the other night with Indi and had mongolian beef and rice. That was good. Flavorful meat, but not a ton of it, and some nice steamed white rice. I left still feeling mostly mobile and able to function as a person. My normal diet (fried foods, stuffed to the gills) does not afford that luxury.

So, tonight, I make a pledge. No more junk. If I want meat, get something grilled and less than what I would normally order. Force myself to eat more veggies, as I may come to like them. Dig in deeper with my daily walks and shape my body into an ally instead of an enemy.

Also, it has been pointed out to me lately that my confidence isn't what it used to be. I've let myself backslide into the unsure, withdrawn kid that I was back in high school. As with most things in life, inattention breeds dilapidation. We move on Friday and that will be a good 'shake up' to get things moving.

I've also started reading again. 1984. I think I'll pick that back up now and disconnect for a bit.

Cheers!

I'm a kid again!

2009-01-07T13:44:00.000-06:00

Especially in Large Numbers

2009-01-05T14:52:00.000-06:00

About Last Night

2009-01-01T16:23:00.003-06:00

Gratz to Baron von Swagger for putting on a terrific show last night @ the Flytrap Music Hall. It was a great time!

On that note, I had a bit too good of a time. See, I don't drink that often and I have realized that I haven't a clue where my limits are. I had about 12 beers and got sick. I hadn't really drank since LAST new years, and the same thing happened then...just on liquor instead.

I was told that I'm more fun sober. I'm not really sure that I understand that; when I'm tipsy/drunk, I feel that I talk more, am funnier, smile more, and am more friendly. I don't know if people are comparing my soberness to my "omg sick" phase or if I'm not seeing something. Anyone who has anything to add on this I'd like to know if you feel the same way or if you can shed some light on that. I'm perplexed.

In any case, it'll prolly be a long while before I drink again.

Bentley in Broken Arrow

2008-12-31T10:33:00.000-06:00

2008-12-26T00:22:00.002-06:00

This is Atticus. He is an awesome cat and we miss him a lot. He's currently staying with Indi's brother but we're looking for someone else to care for him during our travels, due to some issues. He's well tempered and very loving, and also won't aggravate allergy issues due to his non-dander nature.

I'm normally a dog person and I love this cat. He's so mellow and laid back...and he's soft. All good qualities in a household pet!

Lucy Wants Some Ham

2008-12-25T17:00:00.000-06:00

Dino Roll Loves You

2008-12-19T20:16:00.000-06:00

Sequestered

2008-12-14T02:11:00.002-06:00

When I was in Fifth Grade, our class put together a little 'yearbook' type deal to commemorate our 'graduation' from Elementary to Middle school. Among other things, there was section where we were to put down a nickname if we had one. I did not. However, I made one up ("Golfer" as I'd played golf once or twice at that age, and Dad played it often.) When the book came out, people poked fun at me because A) it wasn't true and B) it was lame. I desperately wanted to be accepted.

In Middle school, I added signatures from fictional movie and literary characters to the blank pages in my yearbooks so that there weren't the huge gaping holes between the various "Have a Great Summer" signatures.

I didn't have a girlfriend until I was 17. Aubrey was a nice girl, and I still remember our first kiss. She didn't have a great home life, and I personally feel those eight months were more of an escape for her than any real attachment. I, of course, latched on quickly since I hadn't received that kind of attention before. Prom was unmemorable.

When I moved to Topeka, I was often ridiculed by my co-workers. Whether it be my poor sense of style or generally conservative viewpoints, I made an easy target. My manager(s) normally picked me for the lesser duties knowing I wouldn't complain or raise any issues.

I have spent the majority of my years on this planet feeling out of place and that I have nothing to contribute. I haven't felt that I have the adequate skill to create anything of value, nor provide an irreplaceable value to someone else's life. I don't make friends easy (acquaintances, sure, but that's because I'm so amiable...it's nearly impossible for me to be difficult).

When I met Indi, it was the first time that I really felt like someone special. Our marriage has been the greatest blessing I've ever known. She makes me into a better person by challenging who I am (and why) and opening my mind to endless possibilities.

I still don't think I have a lot of value to add, but my upcoming trip is a big question mark for me. I've tried many times to break out of my shell and try to figure out who I really am. I don't know my place here. I feel like a drag on people and I need that to stop.

What do I provide or create that makes me different? What can I do that both makes me happy and makes others say, "That's why he is my friend."? I don't know right now. But I hope to soon.

Favorite Band

2008-12-06T16:05:00.003-06:00

I have a hard time nailing down favorites. Music, Movies, Foods...I love so much that it's hard for me to really sit and say, "Hey, I like that better than the rest."

However, upon some additional reflection today, I have to say that I have a favorite band. And that band is Mute Math. Their mix of electronic and rock influences, as well as a dose of uplifting Christian influence, rocks my socks off every time.

I first saw them live @ Oneighty, the youth group for Church on the Move. I didn't expect much, as I'd never heard of them, but a good friend of mine @ work (shout out to the Wofford) highly recommended them. So I went. I was moved to tears.

This was back when the only source for their music was at live performances. The Reset EP CD was mine as soon as the show was over. When I learned a full length CD was coming, I was stoked. I was even MORE excited when I purchased my tickets for their first Cain's Ballroom gig.

I rarely go nuts at concerts. I'm much more of a stand-there-and-nod kind of music listener. I out-and-out DANCE to this stuff. Their music is so complicated, yet so beautiful and seamless. Their drummer is off the CHAIN ridiculous, the only performer I've seen rival Brad's level of energy on the stage. Their lead singer is also very energetic, riffing on a Keytar and jumping on top of his old school organ during part of the show.

It's encouraging to see them slowly move into the mainstream. They have songs that are played fairly regularly on the Edge now and had a song featured on the Twilight soundtrack.

If you've not heard their stuff, please do yourself a favor and do so. They are on iTunes.

Scarlet Abbot

2008-12-05T16:31:00.004-06:00

Worst truck ever

2008-12-01T13:47:00.000-06:00

Day After Thanksgiving

2008-11-28T16:02:00.002-06:00

Ah, yes. Black Friday. Retail Environment. Hilarity does not ensue.

I read today that a Wal-Mart worker in NY got trampled to death in the open door rush. That is beyond ludicrous. What is wrong with people?

We haven't seen anything THAT drastic by a long shot. We opened an hour early today and had two customers in that first hour. Whee. It has picked up a little bit since noon, though. I've had a really good day with activations and upgrades, not so much on features and accessories. People just aren't going for the extras this year. Let's give another cheer to the economy!

Our boss was nice enough to supply foods for us. I had me some KFC and am pleased. I've also been testing out an iPhone again, really wishing I owned one. Free Pac-Man? C'mon, there's nothing that says value like that!