Tribute Post NYC

Thanks to Facebook I'm going to end up spending the whole day reading little blurbs about where people were and what they were doing when the planes hit the towers. It's emotionally draining. I think the one that hit me hardest today was from a friend who said nothing but posted a photo of his smiling father. His father, a firefighter, who died that day. That friend reached out to me just two days ago. He was more affectionate than usual and I knew why but I didn't say anything. I didn't know how.

I don't have a story for 9/11. My grandmother called to wake me up after the first plane hit. I was in Illinois. My friends started calling to see if I was okay. They didn't realize I wasn't supposed to move to New York for another month. It wasn't my city yet. It was my future that was attacked. Not me. Luckily my family, although somewhat terrified, still let me leave them and move here a month later. That's when I started to find out what people who were here watching it unfold went through. I've met people that lost family and friends. I've met people that were there working. Firefighters, cops, nurses, and volunteers. I can tell you, New Yorkers are strong. Damn strong. They pulled together and I'm proud to say after living here eleven years I'm now one of them. I take pride in this crazy city. I love this place.

At this point I'm going to repost what I wrote in 2008. It fully applies today in the exact same way. 

New York City is the greatest city in the world. It's a perfect mix of every type of person with contrasting opinions, religions, races, and dreams. You can find anything you want hidden somewhere in this tiny island no matter who you are or how crazy your ideas. There is beauty everywhere in every form and plenty of people to appreciate it. I love this place. When I feel the energy radiating from it I am filled with hope and I see infinite possibilities. This place is a part of me. An extension of myself in some form. I don't know how many people can understand that type of feeling but it is powerful. All I want to do on a day like today, a tragic anniversary, is express my love of this place. I will remember- and move on, because we have to.

Just... Blank.

People, Work, Opportunities, and Dreams. They all come and go throughout life. Unfortunately I personally have a huge fear of change. So much so that I keep myself from trying for higher goals. Perhaps it’s a fear of failure? Obviously it’s a fear of failure. No sense in denying it. I worry constantly about friendships and where I stand with people I haven’t seen in a while. I worry that if I don’t accept when an offer is extended that they will give up on me. I worry about that because I start to give up on people that turn down my invitations. Perhaps out of fear of rejection? We get older, our lives change, and we move in the different directions that are best for us as an individual. This separates us from the people and things we love in the now. I have a really hard time with this concept. My whole identity is wrapped up in the things I love now. Yet, when I start to think about my future, I can’t imagine one. I don’t see anything at all. Just…. Blank.

If I’m going to eventually lose or move past all that I have now but I have no future in site, what am I trying so hard for? Why do I bother at all? Everything seems like such a huge all-consuming waste of time. Why do I emotionally invest so much in something that won’t last? Clearly I’ve found my way back into depression. I’m scared of everything. I’m scared of what a waste it all is and what a waste I’ve become. If I listened to myself I would run away from it all. Yes, all of it. Even the things that seem solid and good, they don’t last so there is no use in setting yourself up for failure and rejection, right? No, that doesn’t make sense. Just wait for these feelings to pass. They will pass. They will pass. 

What do you want to do?

I want to learn how to surf.

I don't know why I wrote that. I don't know where it came from. It wasn't an actual thought of something I NEED to do until a few minutes ago. It doesn't have anything to do with anything. I suddenly think it's really important that within five years I have the opportunity to surf. I don't want to be a surfer or live in the surf community. I just want to try it. To do it. To experience it. I don't know how to make that happen.

I think perhaps there are several things I feel that way about. I would like to do a lot of things within the next five years. Just the other day I found myself feeling pretty shitty because I don't imagine I'll have the opportunity to visit Paris... ever. I don't have a particular fondness for Paris. It was probably someone else bragging... and by bragging I of course mean speaking three words in French that I didn't understand and therefor caused me to fill with jealous rage. Seriously though, who isn't curious to travel to amazing place outside of the bubble you have built around yourself?

I've been writing this blog for well over five years. Damn.

What has changed? What have I gained? There has to be something, right?

Oh God the overwhelming pressure of having a life!

Self Diagnosing

Yesterday I decided to diagnose myself with dyslexia.  I had been curious about some issues I have with concentration and words moving around on the screen/page when I'm trying to read.  After much online research I decided I most definitely must be dyslexic. I also probably have skin cancer, male pattern baldness, and vampire syndrome.  The internet is very helpful with discovering these things. Incidentally, after diagnosing myself I noticed that my coworker keeps changing around the numbers when saying addresses and my boss keeps typing words out of order. Everyone has dyslexia!

Or maybe it's side effects from my seizure meds. That makes a lot more sense.

Ode to Joy

A peculiar and fascinating thing happened to me yesterday. Now, you all might think I'm crazy and trust me, I thought more than twice about if I should share this but I figure what the hell. It's my blog. I'll share what I want. On with the story.

Yesterday I was reading one of the various blogs I skim on occasion. This particular blog has several writers and posts random things they find interesting. I often skip most of it. For some reason yesterday I hit play on a video that said Flash Mob. The ever so familiar tune of Ode to Joy started to play. For some reason, I became overwhelmed with, well, Joy as the song suggests and thoughts of my Uncle Tom. You see, this was my Uncle's favorite song. I don't know why I remember that. He died tragically in 1994 when I was ten years old. Unfortunately that is still pretty young and although I remember bits and pieces about his house, work, personality, it's not a whole lot. Yet I remember it's his favorite song.

Ode to Joy is not an uncommon song. You all know the tune. It's the first song I learned to play on any instrument. I know I hear it frequently. Why this particular time I was flooded with thoughts of my uncle made me a little curious. They were all happy thoughts and I was glad to be thinking of him, but it surprised me a little. I started to wonder, wouldn't it be strange if I found out today somehow related to him? I figured I could probably find his name in an old news article being that he was prominent in the community. His obituary has to be somewhere. I didn't think of the fact that my last name plus obituary is sort of flooding the news at the moment with the movie massacre and all. I didn't get anywhere. I let it go.

Later in the day I found myself on the phone with my father. When I asked him when Tom's birthday was he was genuinely shocked. He knows there was no way I had any clue what day of the year it was. I don't consider myself a religious person or anything along those lines but it's times like this when I think maybe the universe is trying to tell me something. Today is the day. Happy Birthday Uncle Tom! I have a feeling you would have enjoyed this video. Love you.

Liquid Break

Today is day one.

I've decided to stop consuming alcohol for a little while.
Why would you do such a thing? One might ask. Well, for several reasons.  First of all, I'm not feeling all that great and I think considering my health over social acceptance would be the obviously responsible thing to do.  I can't imagine removing alcohol from my system for a couple weeks will harm me. Although, I've been wrong before. Plus, I want to do a liver cleanse and it's probably best to try that on a slightly healthy liver.

Another reason that this sounds like a super awesome idea right about now is because I think it will save me a ton of money. I spend way too much at the bar month to month. Having that extra cash in pocket could pay for so many fun things, like a visit to the gynecologist!

I'm betting after a good amount of time passes and the liver cleanse is complete, I will be one hell of a lightweight. One drink will do me just fine. Oh yeah, I imagine I might actually lose some weight as well. That would be nice.

So, good luck body. This will be weird but we can do it.


(Picture of me passed out in the woods with beer in hand. Obviously missing all the fun.)

Lunchroom Anxiety

Earlier today I saw an advertisement for lunch meat. I hardly ever pay attention to commercials and I honestly don’t remember the brand or anything that could help me link it here. Obviously this wasn’t a very effective commercial in that sense but it did move me enough within ten seconds to remember it.  Basically it shows a school cafeteria and a little girl sitting by herself wondering if anyone is going to sit with her. Within seconds all my childhood lunchroom anxiety was back.

You would think something like that would leave your mind as an adult but apparently it still bothers me on some level. Maybe because I don’t think I’ve ever talked about it before.  See it’s crap like this that reminds me I need to get back into therapy. In lieu of speaking with a therapist I’ll just talk to myself here.

In the commercial the girl was probably around eight years old or something like that.  In my first through six grade school lunches of life I don’t recall having much lunch anxiety. We were a small school with a big lunchroom and I think I was only pretending to eat my mushed up sandwich in my lunchbox.  We ate as fast as possible so we could go outside to enjoy recess. Life was hard in those days. So many slides. So little time.

The two most awkward years of life were most certainly in Junior High. All the girls are bitches and all the boys are horny little dirtbags. When lunch time came around we were all crammed into a lunchroom over-packed with kids. They had different lunch shifts that eased some of the crowding but it was still horrible. There were cliques and if you weren’t in one you sat alone but being over crowded, there was no place to sit alone. I remember spending more than a few lunch periods hiding in the bathroom.

When high school began it wasn’t any better. Now there are even more kids. My graduating class was 650 so I assume that puts about 2,600 kids all locked in the building and eating lunch in different shifts. Again, too many to fit. They had big circular tables to ensure that you were sitting with whatever clique you were allowed into. If your friends didn’t have the same lunch hour as you, well, you are going to have an awkward time. I spent a lot of time wandering around searching for someone I knew and hoping they might have a seat available at the table. By the end of each semester you would usually have things worked out but all that anxiety came back as soon as they changed it again.

It’s not like I was really unpopular or anything. I was a nice kid. I had friends. The problem was that in my youth I didn’t have the self-confidence to approach strangers or the softball clique and ask to join them. These days I wouldn’t think twice. In retrospect I don’t understand why they had the lunchrooms set up in such a horrible way. I know I wasn’t the only kid who loathed lunch hour. It’s torture. It is forced social time with snotty judgmental kids. I just wanted to eat my Taco Bell in peace.

It’s a wonder I turned out so well adjusted.