Let's talk about Texas.
Texas is not the south. Yes, it is in the southern part of the United States, but it is not the south. South is Georgia, South Carolina, Alabama, Mississippi: places with strong surviving factions of the klan, white towns next to black towns. Yes, I admit, in Texas there are more pick-up trucks than one man can count, and a meth addict can be spotted outside your local grocery store asking for gas money (I didn't know, but wouldn't be surprised, that gasoline is an ingredient in meth). And there are probably a good amount of klan members in Texas. But shit, man, it's a big state! There's bound to be a couple klansmen. It's not GD Atlantis!
The point is, Texas is not the south. Texas is more like the west, but not even that. Much like Chicago is not Illinois, Texas is not the United States. The people here don't wear overly tight pants and shop at boutiques. If they do, they belong somewhere else (see "Dallas is not Texas," yet to be written). People here wear shirts in public, and if they wear wife-beaters, they are of a lighter color than their skin (see "Die Hard"). Texas is something big and beautiful. Smart, and not GD backward! It is unfair to group this state in with the south. Texas screams "Fuck you!" just the way I like.
To the point, ignoring that nonsensical rant above, we found out today that Texas will be our home for the next 3 or however many years. Fort Hood. Right in the middle. Just far away from every big city that a trip is not out of the question. It will be amazing.
We are already planning the move and looking at places to stay if we can't find a place on base. Something beautiful is settling into place. Our married life in a single home. A real first home together. I can't express how excited I am.
25 May 2010
23 May 2010
driving versus arriving
I am thinking tonight of that first night I spent on the road, heading to Texas. The drive that day was wonderful. No stress or fatigue. Just the excitement of getting a mile closer to my wife every minute.
She called me around 6 or 7 to check on my progress. I was somewhere in Oklahoma, deciding that I would drive farther than expected. The progress I made that day, along with the news that I would be able to see Colleen Friday night, caused me to make the decision to turn a three-day trip into two days.
It meant that instead of spending the evening in the Dallas area with old friends, I would end up driving through Dallas in the A.M. and arriving in San Antonio at 3.
There was that moment on Thursday night though, where GPs took me off the interstate and onto a 60mph road. I told myself that I would stop at the next Days Inn I saw. Then I saw one and passed it. I was too excited. I passed two Days Inns, listening to David Sedaris audiobooks, thinking about how every mile driven at night is one less to drive in the morning. One mile closer to a new home, my wife, the new life we have started.
And now it's been three weeks. Our new life involves a lot of cooking and eating. Our amazing chemistry in the kitchen seems to mirror our life together. Planning meals, preparing, completing them. Still, though, the eating is never as fun as the cooking. And maybe it's because that's where we are right now. We are cooking, preparing, working on some great meal not yet fully enjoyed. Still in training.
Don't get me wrong, the meals are delicious. We are excellent cooks. But the meals might not taste as good as when we make them in our own home, eat them on our own dishes, then digest them in our own living room.
The excitement that kept me going that first night of driving has not gone away. Every day is more exciting. We're still working towards some destination, but, you know, I love road trips.
She called me around 6 or 7 to check on my progress. I was somewhere in Oklahoma, deciding that I would drive farther than expected. The progress I made that day, along with the news that I would be able to see Colleen Friday night, caused me to make the decision to turn a three-day trip into two days.
It meant that instead of spending the evening in the Dallas area with old friends, I would end up driving through Dallas in the A.M. and arriving in San Antonio at 3.
There was that moment on Thursday night though, where GPs took me off the interstate and onto a 60mph road. I told myself that I would stop at the next Days Inn I saw. Then I saw one and passed it. I was too excited. I passed two Days Inns, listening to David Sedaris audiobooks, thinking about how every mile driven at night is one less to drive in the morning. One mile closer to a new home, my wife, the new life we have started.
And now it's been three weeks. Our new life involves a lot of cooking and eating. Our amazing chemistry in the kitchen seems to mirror our life together. Planning meals, preparing, completing them. Still, though, the eating is never as fun as the cooking. And maybe it's because that's where we are right now. We are cooking, preparing, working on some great meal not yet fully enjoyed. Still in training.
Don't get me wrong, the meals are delicious. We are excellent cooks. But the meals might not taste as good as when we make them in our own home, eat them on our own dishes, then digest them in our own living room.
The excitement that kept me going that first night of driving has not gone away. Every day is more exciting. We're still working towards some destination, but, you know, I love road trips.
21 May 2010
Fucking no smoking restaurant
Apparently I love to cook. It's all I do lately.
Today I made chicken satay with grilled vegetables and an amazing peanut sauce. Yesterday I butter-fried strip steak and twice-baked potatoes. I have grand ideas for the weekend. The food itself is impressive without being difficult to prepare. But most of all, I love being in the kitchen, chopping, zesting, stirring, etc.
It's something fun.
This has been a great week. I get to see Colleen every night for a couple hours. It's just enough time for me to quickly finish whatever meal I spent the day preparing, us to eat said meal, and a bit more time to lie around and catch a moment of laziness. Those two hours are the only bit of the day worth writing about. The rest of the day has a lot of grocery shopping and mariokart.
In other news, I hate waking up in the morning and not just lighting a cigarette. I hate getting out of the shower and not just lighting a cigarette. Meal after meal, I hate not just lighting a cigarette. And now, about to get to bed, I hate not lighting a GD cigarette.
Good night.
Today I made chicken satay with grilled vegetables and an amazing peanut sauce. Yesterday I butter-fried strip steak and twice-baked potatoes. I have grand ideas for the weekend. The food itself is impressive without being difficult to prepare. But most of all, I love being in the kitchen, chopping, zesting, stirring, etc.
It's something fun.
This has been a great week. I get to see Colleen every night for a couple hours. It's just enough time for me to quickly finish whatever meal I spent the day preparing, us to eat said meal, and a bit more time to lie around and catch a moment of laziness. Those two hours are the only bit of the day worth writing about. The rest of the day has a lot of grocery shopping and mariokart.
In other news, I hate waking up in the morning and not just lighting a cigarette. I hate getting out of the shower and not just lighting a cigarette. Meal after meal, I hate not just lighting a cigarette. And now, about to get to bed, I hate not lighting a GD cigarette.
Good night.
18 May 2010
mondays with barbasol
i did something.
i'll get to that.
i've decided now to revert to my old style and not capitalize the beginning of sentences. just take note of the periods. i hope they will suffice.
before i get to it, the thing that i've done, let me tell you about my week.
it has been a bit of time since i last wrote. i told you about applying for jobs and fixing the car(Frank, from here on out), and such. Frank is running like a dream. well, like a chevy dream. you know.
this weekend was the most amazing few days i have had in a good long while. i picked my wife up on saturday morning at 7:30AM, and we spent the entire day together. we were lazy, we went so many places, we watched tv. we did so much. you don't know how great a day it was. let me explain.
the normal day with Colleen is a weekday. she is released at 6pm and i meet her at 6:15 or so. we race to my home and spend some quality time, have some fast food dinner, and i take her back by 8:30. we take some time to lie in bed and pretend we aren't counting the minutes. but those few moments themselves are amazing anyway.
so a full day. over 12 hours, is a gift from the heavens.
we had a great time, saturday, driving into the actual heart of san antonio to find a chick fil-a. it wasn't there. fucking shitty gps. but on the way we noticed a thai place, so we went there. it was very decent.
so much else happened on saturday that i won't say because, come on, you blood suckers, some shit is just for us. big shit though. shit you wish you could know about. truly amazing stuff.
sunday, we prepared food. we did other stuff too, but all i can remember is being in the kitchen with my wife. she prepared guacamole and fruit salad as i chopped veggies and cooked meat for fajitas. i remember the preparation of food more than the meal. only with my wonderful wife, colleen, can the cooking be more satisfying than the eating.
and i think of the metaphor of the dance. the song. if the object was to get to the end, then the fastest player would be the winner. but the object of the song, the dance, is not to finish. it is the dance itself that is the point.
so yeah, i love my wife. she is a great dancer.
getting to the news. i did something.
i shaved. all of it. the soup strainer and all.
12 May 2010
Stand by.
I'm losing my pale.
I spent yesterday getting work done on the car. There is a Firestone on base, and I made a noon appointment to replace the serpentine belt and get new brakes. The car was done at 6:30. I brought a book along, expecting having to wait a couple hours. Trouble is, I left it in the car, then gave the keys to Firestone, so it served no purpose.
There were no chairs in the Firestone for me to use, so I sat outside at a picnic table under a tree. I got lunch, sat, went to pee, sat, sat, sat. Colleen got released at 6pm, so I walked over to see her and get dinner. Her foot is injured, so walking is not exactly fun. We caught a cab to get dinner at the bowling alley on base. Did you know, by the way, that every Army base seems to have a bowling alley? Anyway, we ate dinner, got the car, and paid very close to 500 for the whole deal.
Apparently, the brakes were fucked. Needed new rotors and all that jazz. The belt, with labor, cost 100. But there's no more squealing. So the money was well spent, but it still sort of takes the air from your lungs for a minute as you hand it over.
The sitting and waiting wasn't as horrible as one might imagine. The only downside is that I apparently got brutally sunburned. The face is pink and all, but my neck resembles a radish covered in blood . . . and other really deep red stuff. I'm having trouble with the similes today.
Until next time.
I spent yesterday getting work done on the car. There is a Firestone on base, and I made a noon appointment to replace the serpentine belt and get new brakes. The car was done at 6:30. I brought a book along, expecting having to wait a couple hours. Trouble is, I left it in the car, then gave the keys to Firestone, so it served no purpose.
There were no chairs in the Firestone for me to use, so I sat outside at a picnic table under a tree. I got lunch, sat, went to pee, sat, sat, sat. Colleen got released at 6pm, so I walked over to see her and get dinner. Her foot is injured, so walking is not exactly fun. We caught a cab to get dinner at the bowling alley on base. Did you know, by the way, that every Army base seems to have a bowling alley? Anyway, we ate dinner, got the car, and paid very close to 500 for the whole deal.
Apparently, the brakes were fucked. Needed new rotors and all that jazz. The belt, with labor, cost 100. But there's no more squealing. So the money was well spent, but it still sort of takes the air from your lungs for a minute as you hand it over.
The sitting and waiting wasn't as horrible as one might imagine. The only downside is that I apparently got brutally sunburned. The face is pink and all, but my neck resembles a radish covered in blood . . . and other really deep red stuff. I'm having trouble with the similes today.
Until next time.
10 May 2010
good thing i brought my four-color pens.
someone's got a case of the mondays. i missed glenn beck today due to the extended post-pizza nap i took, and it just threw everything off.
but seriously folks. i applied for two jobs today. a local community college is looking for writing tutors for the summer. it's the perfect job for me. works with my resume, which i have to update. let me say this. updating a resume is the least fun activity known to me-man. it's level with hot-poker sodomy. i hate it. and my last resume was saved on my old computer, which crashed, so i need to create one anew. it blows. but the college job required an online application, and no resume is required. i will bring one if i get an interview, though. probably a good idea.
the second job i applied for is at Bill Miller BBQ. it's a small bbq joint about 2 blocks from my house. if both jobs pay similar, i would rather work at the bbq joint. for one obvious reason. i know how to get depressed at the poor grammar of America's youth and the future of our nation. i do not, though, know how to make good brisket.
so, we will see what happens.
there is this new flavor changing gum i have to try. science never ceases to amaze me. i mean, it's one flavor, then it changes to another flavor? are there computer chips in there or what? makes me want to put my hand over my heart as the national anthem plays in my head. similar to the feeling i got when i learned that kfc was replacing its buns with pieces of fried chicken.
goodnight, fellows.
but seriously folks. i applied for two jobs today. a local community college is looking for writing tutors for the summer. it's the perfect job for me. works with my resume, which i have to update. let me say this. updating a resume is the least fun activity known to me-man. it's level with hot-poker sodomy. i hate it. and my last resume was saved on my old computer, which crashed, so i need to create one anew. it blows. but the college job required an online application, and no resume is required. i will bring one if i get an interview, though. probably a good idea.
the second job i applied for is at Bill Miller BBQ. it's a small bbq joint about 2 blocks from my house. if both jobs pay similar, i would rather work at the bbq joint. for one obvious reason. i know how to get depressed at the poor grammar of America's youth and the future of our nation. i do not, though, know how to make good brisket.
so, we will see what happens.
there is this new flavor changing gum i have to try. science never ceases to amaze me. i mean, it's one flavor, then it changes to another flavor? are there computer chips in there or what? makes me want to put my hand over my heart as the national anthem plays in my head. similar to the feeling i got when i learned that kfc was replacing its buns with pieces of fried chicken.
goodnight, fellows.
09 May 2010
Bugs, Bruises, and Big Bob.
Apparently, screened windows are for yankee faggots.
The weather is inordinately cool today in San Antonio. Currently 70 degrees. It's a perfect day to open every window in the house and get a good breeze running through. Some fresh air. But there's something about Southern Texas not everyone may know: the bugs are big--and great enough in number to fill out their own census forms. Flies cause bruises.
So yes. No screens. There is not a single screen on a window in this house. Birds could just hop right in. A curious squirrel perhaps. It seems bizarre to me.
Okay, nothing else to say really.
Okay, one thing. If you're ever in the San Antonio area, Check out Big Bob's Burgers on Harry Wurzbach Rd. It's a fascinating place. Now, I have been to Radio Shack, but it's not really a shack. More of a traditional store. Recently, in fact, they've taken to shortening the title to The Shack, as if it were some local hang out for the teens. I'm not even sure they sell radios anymore. Who buys radios? Anyway, I attribute Radio Shack's lack of ability to expand in size from shack to, say, a Circuit City, to its poor name choice. But I am way off point.
Yes, there are places with shack in the name, but they rarely resemble shacks. Joe's Crab Shack is simply a large restaurant. Shack's don't have tablecloths.
But Big Bob's Burgers does not have shack in it's name, and it is the argument of this writer that such a label would never be more appropriate. Big Bob's Burger Shack also has a bit of a ring to it.
The roof of this "restaurant is made of corrugated steel. It is lit almost entirely by christmas lights wrapped around the support beams holding up said roof. The walls used to be white, but a thick layer of grease and dirt give the atmosphere a certain indefinable charm. You order your food in an area similar to a small town pawn shop, but instead of old golf clubs, wedding dresses, and the occasional live grenade, behind the glass is a filthy kitchen with filthy people cooking filthy food.
But the food. Good gravedigging christ, the food is something else. Fries are arguably the best ever. The burgers are large and have a confidence to them that suggests, "I could give a shit if you like me. I know I'm the shit." And that's the ultimate feeling one is left with after dining with Big Bob. There is so little about the place to impress the customer. There is aquite a bit that would frighten a customer. And that's the sort of attitude I enjoy in my burgers.
I can imagine a super low budget commercial. Paying by the second, Big Bob would have a 5 second commercial. It would be him, standing in front of the shack, wearing a loose, stained t-shirt that he got in the mail from Marlboro, and he would simply say: "Big Bob's Burger Shack. Parsley is for queers."
The weather is inordinately cool today in San Antonio. Currently 70 degrees. It's a perfect day to open every window in the house and get a good breeze running through. Some fresh air. But there's something about Southern Texas not everyone may know: the bugs are big--and great enough in number to fill out their own census forms. Flies cause bruises.
So yes. No screens. There is not a single screen on a window in this house. Birds could just hop right in. A curious squirrel perhaps. It seems bizarre to me.
Okay, nothing else to say really.
Okay, one thing. If you're ever in the San Antonio area, Check out Big Bob's Burgers on Harry Wurzbach Rd. It's a fascinating place. Now, I have been to Radio Shack, but it's not really a shack. More of a traditional store. Recently, in fact, they've taken to shortening the title to The Shack, as if it were some local hang out for the teens. I'm not even sure they sell radios anymore. Who buys radios? Anyway, I attribute Radio Shack's lack of ability to expand in size from shack to, say, a Circuit City, to its poor name choice. But I am way off point.
Yes, there are places with shack in the name, but they rarely resemble shacks. Joe's Crab Shack is simply a large restaurant. Shack's don't have tablecloths.
But Big Bob's Burgers does not have shack in it's name, and it is the argument of this writer that such a label would never be more appropriate. Big Bob's Burger Shack also has a bit of a ring to it.
The roof of this "restaurant is made of corrugated steel. It is lit almost entirely by christmas lights wrapped around the support beams holding up said roof. The walls used to be white, but a thick layer of grease and dirt give the atmosphere a certain indefinable charm. You order your food in an area similar to a small town pawn shop, but instead of old golf clubs, wedding dresses, and the occasional live grenade, behind the glass is a filthy kitchen with filthy people cooking filthy food.
But the food. Good gravedigging christ, the food is something else. Fries are arguably the best ever. The burgers are large and have a confidence to them that suggests, "I could give a shit if you like me. I know I'm the shit." And that's the ultimate feeling one is left with after dining with Big Bob. There is so little about the place to impress the customer. There is aquite a bit that would frighten a customer. And that's the sort of attitude I enjoy in my burgers.
I can imagine a super low budget commercial. Paying by the second, Big Bob would have a 5 second commercial. It would be him, standing in front of the shack, wearing a loose, stained t-shirt that he got in the mail from Marlboro, and he would simply say: "Big Bob's Burger Shack. Parsley is for queers."
07 May 2010
one great week down.
It's been a week since I arrived in San Antonio to be with my wife. I can't accurately express how great the week has been. Nothing incredible has happened. We've done no exciting things. But I am here, and close to Colleen, and happy.
Colleen likes Whataburger. This makes me happy. Sonic has yet to win her over, but it will, maybe.
I have gotten to see Colleen five out of the seven days I've been here. Tonight will make it six for eight. Before this, the number was two out of some three months. Still, we have spent more days apart than together since we were married, but the disparity is surely shrinking. By the end of our first year of marriage, we will be on the good side of the ratio.
As for sleeping in the same bed, well that might take a bit longer to even out.
There is a cleaning woman at my house right now. Apparently we have a cleaning woman.
A new guy is moving in some time in the next week.
So yeah. One week down, 11 or so to go. Enjoy your National Prayer Day. That was today, right? or yesterday? Well anyway, pray your knees off.
Colleen likes Whataburger. This makes me happy. Sonic has yet to win her over, but it will, maybe.
I have gotten to see Colleen five out of the seven days I've been here. Tonight will make it six for eight. Before this, the number was two out of some three months. Still, we have spent more days apart than together since we were married, but the disparity is surely shrinking. By the end of our first year of marriage, we will be on the good side of the ratio.
As for sleeping in the same bed, well that might take a bit longer to even out.
There is a cleaning woman at my house right now. Apparently we have a cleaning woman.
A new guy is moving in some time in the next week.
So yeah. One week down, 11 or so to go. Enjoy your National Prayer Day. That was today, right? or yesterday? Well anyway, pray your knees off.
05 May 2010
It's funny cooking for yourself. I have cooked, yes, but always with the limited tastes of my dad in mind. Now, I can make whatever I want, and I can experiment, because I am the only one to have to suffer through it if it doesn't turn out.
Monday, I marinated a skirt steak in sriracha, garlic, and olive oil. I then butter fried it and put it on corn tortillas with homemade guacamole and fresh spinach. Tonight I fried catfish and slapped it on some flour tortillas with a homemade corn salsa(fucking amazing corn salsa) and sweet potato home fries. Something about Texas makes me want to eat everything on tortillas.
Last time i was in Texas I lost a lot of weight. Maybe the drugs had something to do with it. Maybe the priority of cigarettes and beer over food had something to do with it. But maybe it was just the opportunity to be on my own. I was 146 lbs when I left TX in 2005. I remember the number.
Right now I'm in the high 180s. But right now I'm in Texas, I am relatively on my own. I have all the time in the world, and all I do is sets of push-ups and sit ups and prepare elaborate meals for one. I have yet to go out and run because the heat is like hell and balls. Plus, I don't wish to get a tan.
I need a GD cigarette. I sometimes punch the air. I sometimes walk in a tight circle in my room. I sometimes squeeze my head with my palms and laugh in a very insane way. I don't smoke though. And it fucking sucks.
Until the next post, go fuck yourself, you fucks.
Monday, I marinated a skirt steak in sriracha, garlic, and olive oil. I then butter fried it and put it on corn tortillas with homemade guacamole and fresh spinach. Tonight I fried catfish and slapped it on some flour tortillas with a homemade corn salsa(fucking amazing corn salsa) and sweet potato home fries. Something about Texas makes me want to eat everything on tortillas.
Last time i was in Texas I lost a lot of weight. Maybe the drugs had something to do with it. Maybe the priority of cigarettes and beer over food had something to do with it. But maybe it was just the opportunity to be on my own. I was 146 lbs when I left TX in 2005. I remember the number.
Right now I'm in the high 180s. But right now I'm in Texas, I am relatively on my own. I have all the time in the world, and all I do is sets of push-ups and sit ups and prepare elaborate meals for one. I have yet to go out and run because the heat is like hell and balls. Plus, I don't wish to get a tan.
I need a GD cigarette. I sometimes punch the air. I sometimes walk in a tight circle in my room. I sometimes squeeze my head with my palms and laugh in a very insane way. I don't smoke though. And it fucking sucks.
Until the next post, go fuck yourself, you fucks.
03 May 2010
No smoking within 15 feet of a grumpy bastard.
I'm in San Antonio, sitting in the room I will be inhabiting for the next few months, and I need a cigarette. I stopped smoking on Saturday, and I am in a bad fucking mood.
This will be a quick update.
I had a great weekend with Colleen. We ate delicious, unhealthy food, watched tv, unpacked a bit, did laundry. It was the best weekend I've had in months.
My roommate Dan seems nice enough. He is a project manager for some construction company, so he is rarely home. When he is, he is pleasant enough. Although on Saturday night, I might have overheard him taking advantage of an extremely drunk girl. I am not entirely sure. Well, all I know is there was an extremely drunk girl over, and what happened I don't know. Maybe he gave her a cup of coffee and a ride home.
The other roommate is moving out today. His wife graduated from AIT this morning and they are packing. I never caught his name, so I just call him Bro. He's from California, and he acts like it. He has this Bill & Ted laugh that he employs after every sentence. It's precious.
I have nothing of great import to impart. Later.
This will be a quick update.
I had a great weekend with Colleen. We ate delicious, unhealthy food, watched tv, unpacked a bit, did laundry. It was the best weekend I've had in months.
My roommate Dan seems nice enough. He is a project manager for some construction company, so he is rarely home. When he is, he is pleasant enough. Although on Saturday night, I might have overheard him taking advantage of an extremely drunk girl. I am not entirely sure. Well, all I know is there was an extremely drunk girl over, and what happened I don't know. Maybe he gave her a cup of coffee and a ride home.
The other roommate is moving out today. His wife graduated from AIT this morning and they are packing. I never caught his name, so I just call him Bro. He's from California, and he acts like it. He has this Bill & Ted laugh that he employs after every sentence. It's precious.
I have nothing of great import to impart. Later.
01 May 2010
Written from La Quinta Inns and Suites, San Antonio, TX.
When I started on my trip to Fort Jackson, South Carolina to watch my wife graduate from Basic Combat Training, I happened upon an accident that must have occurred less than a minute before I passed. It was 3 AM (I got an early start on a long drive), and I was less than a half hour into my journey, just about to pass into Indiana. There was construction on the road, so two cramped, uneven lanes were surrounded tightly on either side with large concrete barricades. The left lane had a shoulder about four feet wide. I have no idea how it happened, but around a sharp corner I saw an SUV facing perpendicular across the left lane, its front end smashed against the barricade, and smoke was just beginning to rise from the crumpled hood, like Snoop Dogg slowly letting bluntsmoke pour from his mouth. The point is, timing and random circumstance can sort of fuck your mind a little.
I could have been in the left lane and turned the corner, smashing unavoidably into the driver's side of the vehicle. I could have arrived a few moments earlier and been involved in the initial crash. Most importantly, I could have taken the smoky, ominous sight as some sort of, well, omen, and interpreted it as a reason to turn back. Those who know me well enough can trace a clear pattern of promptly justifying inaction, or at least limited action (see: all major life decisions -- or lack thereof -- 2000-2009). The funny thing about the accident is that I viewed it in a wholly different light than I would have guessed. I didn't even realize it until I reflected on it weeks later.
This, me, I, is, am the person who decided to drop a college speech class because I had run out of xanax. The one who allowed a flat bike tire to go unfixed, although I had a new innertube in my closet, so I would have an excuse to turn down a friendly invitation to a miles-long ride for which I had long since lost the shape. I would wake up 40 minutes later than normal and call in sick because "It's going to be one of those days." Any excuse. I mean ANY.
There was a car stopped in front of the SUV and the driver was just stepping out as I passed. I guessed he was more likely part of the cause of the accident than a simple good Samaritan. I arrived in Columbia, SC at 8:30 that evening, driving roughly 18 hours. I didn't think about the accident except to recant it dryly as an interesting tidbit on my journey. But weeks later I thought back. Weeks later means last week, as I was packing and preparing for another long drive, this time to the west, where god calls us. I thought about the accident that started the trip. It was something empowering. This last sentence sounds ridiculous. Maybe not empowering. Affirming. Re-affirming? Something. The opposite of discouraging and frightening. Yes, something like that.
I felt, as I passed luckily, a little more invincible than the moment before. I had barely avoided tragedy, had zoomed passed like a golf ball through an impossibly dense grouping of tree trunks toward the green. A real momentum changer. (Golf is the best I can do when pressed for a sports metaphor.)
This trend of invincibility did not start on the Skyway. And I don't mean to suggest I think I am impervious to harm. I just feel less vulnerable, less afraid, than I used to. This constant fear of failure, pain, death -- heavily informed my decisions for a long, long time.
Drinking at home is safer and less embarrassing than drinking in a bar or at a party. Drinking itself is much easier than facing any social anxiety or . . . emotions that haven't been addressed for years. Criticizing others' work is much more comfy than putting my own up for scrutiny.
But something new has been occurring in my life. Most noticeably in the past 8 months or so. It started with one decision that was totally against my character. I asked someone out on a date. It was, I think, the first time ever. I am not one to scam for pussy or troll for tail or other gross ways to describe trying to get someone to agree to see you in a more intimate social setting. Never asked for a number, never gave one out. I always just sort of reluctantly fell into relationships. Mostly, I just avoided the issue altogether, finding self-loathing and blackouts way more advantageous.
And it was that one decision, the first move in a new direction, that has spurned something all new in my character: a slight diminuition of crippling fear. Since then, making decisions has slowly turned into a more participatory process, rather than having chosen the easy way out and just trying to come up with a good excuse for it. Now, fear is simply a variable, growing smaller with each choice I make for the better.
Now, one may think a good decision would have been to stop and help the passengers in the freshly crumpled SUV, but I'm not Jesus, people. I'm going one day at a time. I need to work up to shit like that. Right now, I'm focused on making people I know happy. Strangers are quite a few good decisions ahead of me.
But why did the car accident add to this feeling? Why does some random circumstance that I had no control over remind me of this new trend of taking control of my life? I guess it's because it made clear to me the change in my thought process. Old me would have at least pulled to the nearest ditch to stop and have a good cry, wondering if I should turn around. But new me didn't even blink. New me had already made the choice long before it arose.
I was on my way to see my wife, the one I asked out on a date. My first good decision. A real momentum changer.
I could have been in the left lane and turned the corner, smashing unavoidably into the driver's side of the vehicle. I could have arrived a few moments earlier and been involved in the initial crash. Most importantly, I could have taken the smoky, ominous sight as some sort of, well, omen, and interpreted it as a reason to turn back. Those who know me well enough can trace a clear pattern of promptly justifying inaction, or at least limited action (see: all major life decisions -- or lack thereof -- 2000-2009). The funny thing about the accident is that I viewed it in a wholly different light than I would have guessed. I didn't even realize it until I reflected on it weeks later.
This, me, I, is, am the person who decided to drop a college speech class because I had run out of xanax. The one who allowed a flat bike tire to go unfixed, although I had a new innertube in my closet, so I would have an excuse to turn down a friendly invitation to a miles-long ride for which I had long since lost the shape. I would wake up 40 minutes later than normal and call in sick because "It's going to be one of those days." Any excuse. I mean ANY.
There was a car stopped in front of the SUV and the driver was just stepping out as I passed. I guessed he was more likely part of the cause of the accident than a simple good Samaritan. I arrived in Columbia, SC at 8:30 that evening, driving roughly 18 hours. I didn't think about the accident except to recant it dryly as an interesting tidbit on my journey. But weeks later I thought back. Weeks later means last week, as I was packing and preparing for another long drive, this time to the west, where god calls us. I thought about the accident that started the trip. It was something empowering. This last sentence sounds ridiculous. Maybe not empowering. Affirming. Re-affirming? Something. The opposite of discouraging and frightening. Yes, something like that.
I felt, as I passed luckily, a little more invincible than the moment before. I had barely avoided tragedy, had zoomed passed like a golf ball through an impossibly dense grouping of tree trunks toward the green. A real momentum changer. (Golf is the best I can do when pressed for a sports metaphor.)
This trend of invincibility did not start on the Skyway. And I don't mean to suggest I think I am impervious to harm. I just feel less vulnerable, less afraid, than I used to. This constant fear of failure, pain, death -- heavily informed my decisions for a long, long time.
Drinking at home is safer and less embarrassing than drinking in a bar or at a party. Drinking itself is much easier than facing any social anxiety or . . . emotions that haven't been addressed for years. Criticizing others' work is much more comfy than putting my own up for scrutiny.
But something new has been occurring in my life. Most noticeably in the past 8 months or so. It started with one decision that was totally against my character. I asked someone out on a date. It was, I think, the first time ever. I am not one to scam for pussy or troll for tail or other gross ways to describe trying to get someone to agree to see you in a more intimate social setting. Never asked for a number, never gave one out. I always just sort of reluctantly fell into relationships. Mostly, I just avoided the issue altogether, finding self-loathing and blackouts way more advantageous.
And it was that one decision, the first move in a new direction, that has spurned something all new in my character: a slight diminuition of crippling fear. Since then, making decisions has slowly turned into a more participatory process, rather than having chosen the easy way out and just trying to come up with a good excuse for it. Now, fear is simply a variable, growing smaller with each choice I make for the better.
Now, one may think a good decision would have been to stop and help the passengers in the freshly crumpled SUV, but I'm not Jesus, people. I'm going one day at a time. I need to work up to shit like that. Right now, I'm focused on making people I know happy. Strangers are quite a few good decisions ahead of me.
But why did the car accident add to this feeling? Why does some random circumstance that I had no control over remind me of this new trend of taking control of my life? I guess it's because it made clear to me the change in my thought process. Old me would have at least pulled to the nearest ditch to stop and have a good cry, wondering if I should turn around. But new me didn't even blink. New me had already made the choice long before it arose.
I was on my way to see my wife, the one I asked out on a date. My first good decision. A real momentum changer.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
