Merry Christmas

It's been the best Christmas I've had in quite a long time.

I am largely a social creature; I am happiest when among others.  My giving season started on Friday the 14th.  I love to host, and I invited my closest friends over for a fancy-dressed party to celebrate the holidays.  We laughed, drank, exchanged gifts...and had a fantastic time.  The gifts I gave were well received, and my friends were generous.  We sat around and played the Wii U as well.  I looked around at one point, saw my friends enjoying themselves, and was filled with a gladness of heart that would've sustained me for the entire Christmas season.  But a week later, I had another gathering.  I met my weekly board game crew for another gift exchange and a game of 7 Wonders.  Once again, it was a group of friends sitting around and enjoying each other's company in the spirit of giving.  In the last two weeks, I not only had these two gatherings but hung out pretty regularly with other friends, too.  

This brings me to this past extended weekend.  I made a quick decision to head up to Pawhuska early and get some extra visiting time with my family.  I took my camera, too, and took my time driving up Highway 11 to reach the city of my father's family.  The next two-and-a-half days were full of the kind of family time that had only existed in distant memory.  We hadn't all been together as such since Grandma passed in late 2010.  Since that terrible winter of death and divorce, I've felt somewhat estranged from my family.  And my friends, really.  As happy and busy as I've been, I have not been able to shake this feeling that I don't fit anywhere.  Do not misunderstand me; this is not the fault of anyone but myself.  I've just felt out of step with everyone in my life, and it has cost me relationships and left me with many sleepless nights.

After a wonderful few days with the Martin clan, I came home and spent today with my family here.  Mom 'n the Gang.  Once again, it was an environment I hadn't felt I'd fit into for a very long time.  But today felt good.  We were laughing, enjoying each other's company, and there was no rush.  I felt normal, for the first time in a long time.  I wasn't trying to think of an exit strategy so I could get back home and sulk in the dark.  Everything was fine.

At the end of this busy season, I sit at home listening to music by myself and I feel FULL.  I can close my eyes, smile, and the smile is deep.  I know I still have a long way to go; the high that comes with these gatherings will wear off sooner than I expect.  But this Christmas was a big win.  I have my friends and family to thank for that.  You are all wonderful people and I am so very thankful for you.

A New Store

Steven Chbosky wrote, “I am both happy and sad at the same time, and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be.”  There are words in the English language we use to define such an emotional place.  Ambivalence.  Bittersweet.  They hardly do justice to the actual emotion; I think those moments are some of the most important we can experience on our journey through this world.

I found myself in Bixby this evening, after having a nice visit with my friends Billy and Joy.  Next to their apartment complex stood a brand-new Reasor's grocery store.  I left the Carr's apartment tired and ready to go home, but the allure of a sparkling, pristine supermarket was too much for me.  I pulled in and looked up at the fresh neon.  The glow against the night sky, positioned above the flourescent light pouring from the glass storefront, called to me as a porch light calls to a moth.  I feel the same way about a new grocery store that a lot of folks feel about new cars.  As it was, it was late and I pretty much had the store to myself.

I walked inside and was hit with something unexpected; the smell.  Growing up, I visited grand openings of grocery stores with my father many times.  There's a smell that can't be narrowed to any one thing...it's a mixture of the new product, the new fixtures, the paint, everything.  It triggered a flood of non-specific memory from childhood.  I smiled as I wandered through the produce section and took in the layout.  I will never know even half of what my Dad did about the why's behind grocery store layouts.  I know there is purpose behind everything, and some of it is rather logical.  But just because I don't fully understand something doesn't mean it I don't appreciate it.  

Walking up and down the aisles of the store, I could hear my father's voice speaking softly into a micro-cassette recorder.  He used to walk the competition and speak products and prices; afterwards, he would go home, replay his tape, and compare it to the giant green-and-white spreadsheet that represented his prices.  The shelves were full of perfectly faced product.  The freezer cases were untarnished and clear.  The lights were bright and even.  It was a gorgeous store, and I smiled genuinely as I explored.  That elation mixed with the melancholy tendrils of loss, my memories of Dad all those years ago muddying with the more recent memory of an etched stone on a hill in Pawhuska.

There's something beautiful that happens when such strong emotions come into contact.  It breathes life into those old memories, bringing appreciation for those old times to a point where, for a moment, reality takes a back seat.  I wandered those aisles not in grief, but in service.  I could've been checking the place out as a favor for him.  Maybe it was his store, and he was in the back somewhere helping the stock boys.  In any case, Dad felt alive within me.  The same thing happens when I watch an old film he loved or I experience something new I just know he would have.

Although it's not that strong on regular trips, grocery shopping always brings him back for me.  I think of the things he'd say, the teachings I've almost forgotten about the business, and the times I spent in stores with him.  I think of the way he treated people, with respect, and how much he really loved it.  I wouldn't be surprised if I found myself in one again someday, perhaps with a head of silver hair, smiling and helping strangers with a task many people consider rote and a chore.  My smile would be genuine, because I would not only be myself, but I would be my father and his father before him.  There's something so deeply comforting about that.

Rejection

Well, I didn't get the promotion that I interviewed for on Oct 5.  I'd like to say it was a complete surprise, but alas, it was not.  In the last week or so, I've become increasingly skeptical of my chances of success...although I can't really point to a specific reason or event that brought me to that conclusion.  As I sat in the Director's office and was given my feedback, I saw this in a long line of successive losses and setbacks.

In the last year and a half or so: I've divorced, lost two grandparents, lost my father, had several relationships fail pretty quickly, had to distance myself from people I care about deeply, and my friends in Denver turned on me severely after I got home for reasons beyond my comprehension.  It feels like anything I'm really interested in is just beyond my grasp.  My heart feels calloused, yet I feel like weeping on a regular basis.  I am a man of mixed emotion.

One of the pieces of feedback I was given was that I build great professional relationships, but I don't have much of a personal relationship with leaders at the center.  That surprised me at first, but the more I think about it the more it makes sense.  At home, I struggle with sadness and the quietness that often surrounds me.  I don't want to drag that to work with me.  Work is the place I go to be among people that care about me and a place I am appreciated.  Coupled with the fact I work late and am off for two days during the week and, well, I guess folks don't have a sense of who I am.  The Director called me a 'best kept secret'.  My shift changes to 6-3 Monday thru Friday in December, so that dilemma will solve itself partially.

Sorry to whoever reads this.  I feel like it's one long complaining session.  I'm healthy.  I have family.  I have friends.  I have a stable job.  I have a lot to be thankful for.  My reaction to this is just as important as anything else, and I'm not going to do anyone any favors by crossing my arms and grousing about it.

Plane Ride

It seems like I hardly sit down to write about my world anymore unless I’m either A) someplace new or B) stuck with nothing else to do.  I am sitting in a chair in the sky en route to Chicago for my employer’s annual Culture Survey meeting.  Every leader in the company flies up to learn how we’re doing and what our game plan is for the next year.  It’s a great time to reconnect with people I don’t see that often.

I thrive in a social environment.  Well, that’s not entirely true.  I can feel very alone and isolated in a crowd, but if I know at least one person I am usually able to use that to catapult myself to a level of comfort and outgoingness and I have a wonderful time.  An event like this is highly enjoyable for me.  I have no problem approaching someone like the CEO of our company and talking for a few minutes.  Even on this flight, Senator Tom Coburn is sitting two seats in front of me.  If I wasn’t surrounded by coworkers (and a few folks above me) I’d really enjoy talking to him and gaining a greater understanding of the political system from his perspective, knowing how vastly different he views many social policies.  But, rather than stir up anything, I just sit quietly and type.

It’s places like this I’m once again struck by the American idea that mass transit means not talking.  One of the little cultural things I picked up on when I returned home from traveling was that people on planes, trains, and buses rarely talk to one another here.  Even on this flight, where the vast majority of the passengers are U.S. Cellular peers, people aren’t talking.  Silence is contagious.

Although I don’t think I’m going to have the time to see downtown, it’ll be nice to be traveling again.  Even on business, I am always excited to board a plane and set down in a new place.  This will be my second time in Chicago for this event and I expect it to be no less exciting than last year.  Though I did catch myself saying ‘at the Con’ when referring to this trip to a friend.  It won’t be nearly THAT exciting.

The drink cart is coming; time for my ritualistic ginger ale.  Maybe I’ll try to strike up a conversation with my neighbor again.  The airline magazine can’t be THAT interesting, after all…

Titanic

It's popular to hate the Titanic.  Not the ship itself or the historical account of the disaster on April 14, 1912...but the 1997 Hollywood epic motion picture.  So popular, in fact, that it's not a film I often quote when talking about my favorite movies because I know it's inviting a conversation of defense.  However, I am indeed a big fan of the picture, and there are many reasons why.

Whenever folks think about Titanic, most people think of the romantic story between Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet.  It's a familiar construct that recalls the star-crossed story of Romeo and Juliet.  I'm not a big romantic movie fan; although I do enjoy many aspects of that piece of the film, it's not the big draw for me.  The big draw for me are all of the supporting characters, the ones that really existed in history, and the character of the ship itself.

I became fascinated by the Titanic maritime disaster when I first learned about it, which had to be around 1995.  I wrote papers and did my own studying before the Internet existed as it does today.  An adventure game was released for the computer in '96 and I devoured it.  I loved seeing the settings I'd read about and seen in the classic '50s films in fully-realized computer graphics.  I got to interact with the environment and have a part in a story that carried the foreshadowing of knowing how the story ended, but not how we got there.

The film, of course, took those emotions and my sense of wonderment to a completely new level.  I knew how historically accurate the sets were because I knew what the ship had looked like.  I knew the names of the players and, of course, I knew the ship sank.  But that's not the point of this movie.  It's knowing the ship is going to sink and having that color the story beforehand.  It's also a commentary on the social class structure of the time and a look at the world before the horrors of the first World War reached out and changed everything.

I understand why some folks don't like the movie.  That's perfectly fine; I totally get it.  But right now, I'm curled up on my couch with a cup of coffee while the new Blu-Ray plays in the background.  It's a great way to spend a cold Saturday morning.  Even if my eyes water a little just at the special features...

The Passage of Time

Last time I sat down and shared my thoughts, I was on the high that only Dragon*Con can provide.  Walking in the parade and enjoying 50k+ passionate fans of all sides of pop culture.  It was a good time this year, as it has been the last two years.  Less than a week after I got home, my grandmother Mary-Ann passed away.

Grandma had been ill for a long time.  I don't know how many calls or messages I've received in the past two years that have been some variation of 'This might be it.'  When the message came in on Monday the 10th of September, something about it was different.  You can't send inflection over a text message, but it read differently somehow.  I drove up to Bartlesville after work to support my Mom and brother.  I hadn't seen anyone from that side of my family in a long time, aside from brief visits with Mom.

Truth be told, I don't feel like I have a lot in common with that side of the family.  The Grim clan is a family of blue collar workers; mechanics, welders, and such.  They enjoy hunting and fishing.  And there exists drama that I want no part of.  But they are still family, and seeing my relatives after such a long hiatus did carry some nostalgia.  I stayed up there for a few hours, visiting and doing what I could for Mom.  Grandma had slipped into a coma and we were all just essentially waiting.  She passed a little after midnight.

Mary was ready.  She let me know in our last conversation that she was ready and didn't know why she was still here.  I don't know if I can think of something more wrenching.  As often happens when faced with mortality, I thought of my own life.  What am I doing?  Where am I going?  Time doesn't last forever.  It passes by whether or not we're happy, or productive, or cognizant of it.  It's easy for me to reflect and think on past mistakes or injustices and dwell on things I cannot change.  But that's not doing anyone any favors.

I didn't expect to sit down and share in this direction but I suppose that's what I get when I wake up all grumbly.  I went out to a movie last night with friends and had a great time...the flip side to a fun and eventful evening is awakening the next morning to quiet and calm.  It tends to depress me a little these days.  But I just had breakfast, and I have my coffee, and the weekend is free to make my own choices.  So I'll put my shoes on and see what I can find.

Dragon*Con 2012 - Walking the Parade

One of the things that excited me most about Dragon*Con this year was the fact that I was going to be in the parade.  It happened in a rather slapdash fashion:  someone on Reddit posted they had a Back to the Future group that had dropped out and his DeLorean needed some company.  I make a yelping noise at my keyboard and immediately messaged the guy to say I was interested.  A few week later, I found myself walking towards Woodruff Park in downtown Atlanta for setup.



After wandering the grounds for a few minutes, snapping a few pictures of the other cars in the parade, I found the DeLorean and met up with the owner, Buddy, and his girlfriend Courtney.  He proudly showed me his car and I eagerly took some pictures.  Admittedly, Buddy's DeLorean is the very definition of a project car.  He bought it for a few thousand dollars and was building it a piece at a time.  I tried not to feel spoiled by my friend Gary's perfect car and appreciated the car for what it was: a lovingly crafted fan recreation of the greatest car in film history.

Three more parade walkers arrived shortly after I did.  Brandon, another Marty with a hoverboard, was actually my inspiration for my costume.  He's been Marty every year I've been to D*C and my friend DeeDee even snapped a pic of him in the same getup at ComicCon this year.  Two other Redditors were in the middle of their first Con and came in last-minute George McFly and Biff costumes.  They also brought candy to give out to kids, which was a wonderful touch.  Great people, all around, and soon it was time to get going.

Buddy told us shortly before the go sign that the car almost overheated on the way to the parade route.  He said it should be fine and someone cracked a joke about having to push it like last year.  I worried for a moment about what would happen of the DeLorean broke down in notorious fashion in the middle of the parade, but then realized A) it's not my car and B) we would all have a great time anyway.  The group in front of us moved forward and Buddy went to start the car.  It wouldn't start.

Buddy immediately hopped up and popped the hood; evidently, there was a cable that would come loose pretty regularly.  D*C Parade Management started yelling at us that we had to move NOW or we were out.  More scrambling and Buddy went to start;  still no joy.  We decided to give it a push, assisted by an Admiral Adama, and the car finally turned over.  The parade attendees nearby let out a raucous cheer for our success as we rolled forward.  The officials were very clear that we needed to leave the parade if the car wasn't up to it; Buddy ensured them everything was fine now.

As we turned the corner onto the main road, I was floored by the sheer amount of people.  I was walking to the front-right of the car and everyone else was behind the vehicle.  I had a birds-eye view of folks and heard their cries of 'Marty!' 'Wow, Back to the Future!' 'Is that a real DeLorean?' 'Hey McFly!' and so on.  Pictures were constantly being snapped;  I smiled, waved, and showed what a wonderful time I was having.  Every so often, I'd turn back and check on everyone else.  The radiator was dripping a little, but the car seemed to be doing okay.  Halfway through the parade, that changed.

Suddenly, the entire radiator dumped on the street and the engine started to smoke; Buddy turned off the motor.  Thankfully, we were on a downhill and coasted rather effortlessly.  Still, there were a few moments where Buddy had to restart the car to get some momentum.  When that happened, the starter screeched and it was obvious the car was having problems.  However, in true D*C fashion, as soon as it turned over, the whole crowd cheered in celebration.  As we got to the end of the route, Buddy sped off down the street to get the car someplace safe.  I laughed with my new friends and proceeded to enjoy a busy day at the Con.

It was a wonderful experience.  I hope I get to do it again next year!