Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Upcoming.... Counseling appt.
It has been a while since I have posted. I got swept in the facebook wave and really doesn't do much for me except depress me. I am an attention addict who is sometimes very disappointed that not one of my almost 700 facebook friends has paid any attention to me at any given log in. I feel worse when I get off of it than I was before I got on. In addition, the amount of trivia outweighs anything important. I really don't care that my friends went to McDonald's or bought a new guitar for the 10th time. It is definitely overload. I don't need anymore pressure. I am looking for a full time job, feel inadequate as a provider, dealing with the consequences of my previous decisions which I have learned a lot of valuable lessons from and still haven't recovered, the loss of several close relatives including my little brother's suicide in January and recently found out that some close relatives are splitting up. While they seem happy about the decision, I don't think it has to be that way if they would have gotten some help. But, I can't judge. Speaking of counseling, I am going to my appt. in a few weeks. It is time. I have reached the end of my ability to fix myself and use all the counseling techniques I know. I feel like I have given up, but for me to try to be my own counselor is like a hairstylist cutting their own hair. It really is silly. I am almost 40, time to be functional.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Almost done.
Almost done with my second master's degree. I hope I find a job in a related field this time. : )
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Paw Paw Died
It is no surprise to me. But, it is a deep loss. This morning at 5:00, I got the call that my grandfather died. Most of this week, I have been okay between spurts of crying. Writing out what I planned on saying was extremely helpful for me in the mean time. Life will be surely different. Having many doubts about supernatural things and in the middle of questioning all things religious, the best we I can say what I am thinking is... Wherever he may be
I hope he will look on me happily.
I miss you Paw Paw.
I hope he will look on me happily.
I miss you Paw Paw.
Wednesday, October 07, 2009
Paw Paw Charley
My Grandfather, who recently turned 82 is on the verge of dying. I have been asked to say a few words at his funeral. I decided I might as well make a blog out of it and pay tribute to him. If my mind was not so busy thinking of how to honor this important man, I would be asleep. So, I figured I might as well get to work...
First of all, I just want to say that I would not be here if it weren't for my Paw Paw Charlie. He introduced my parents to each other many years ago. I also want to say that I don't think I would be the person I am today without him and I am pretty happy with how I am turning out.
Who is Charley Radley? I know that in his 82 years he has been many things to many people. Son, brother, high school football star, sports fan, paratrooper, boxer (whose boxing gloves I happily played with as a child), husband, father, dedicated employee. He was a hero who would never want to be described as such. I remember hearing the news that he had pulled someone away from an overturned truck while others looked on with fear. He did it because it was the right thing to do. He was a comedian with a great smile, even recently. When he would get frustrated over a hand of cards and say, "damn" or "damn, damn damn." I had to giggle. I am sure he was talking about the dam down the road form their house : ) ). More than that, my mom, who worked with him at the City for a handful of years described him as her biggest cheerleader, but don't tell his old football buddies about that.
For me, I have to agree with my mom. He believed in me and never held back from showing it. He never spared on opportunity to share some wisdom. Even before his memory started fading, I would hear that wisdom over and over again (some of you here probably know what I am talking about). But, by the time I was an older teen, I had the sense to realize that was one of the ways my grandfather told me he loved me. During my younger years, I remember feeling privileged that he would let me work in the garden and even use the motorized tilling machine. When I was older and visiting at the Lake, I was privileged to spend some early dark mornings with him hoping to get a bite on a hook (I also felt privileged to get back to the house and climb back in bed). He was a motivating factor in me going to college and saw that helping me through my first year was a worthy investment. Whatever direction I have gone in, he has been full of love and understanding. Besides being my Paw Paw Charley, I always felt like he was my biggest fan. He has always been there to cheer me on.
As a result of his unwavering support, the thought of disappointing him was something that I always feared. At almost every visit, he would say something like 'I'm proud of you, boy' even into my early thirties.
Recently and even more so in the last few days, I had the unfortunate realization about how self-centered I have been in our relationship. How can you not want to be around someone that makes you feel so important? I just hope he knew how important he was to me.
Because of these thoughts, on one of my last visits , when he told me how proud he was of me, I made sure that I told him that I was proud of him too.
And today, I want to tell my Paw Paw, an example for me of responsibility and stability the last 34 years of my life, someone who I can definitely call my hero, that I am proud of him.
"I am proud of you Paw Paw Charlie."
First of all, I just want to say that I would not be here if it weren't for my Paw Paw Charlie. He introduced my parents to each other many years ago. I also want to say that I don't think I would be the person I am today without him and I am pretty happy with how I am turning out.
Who is Charley Radley? I know that in his 82 years he has been many things to many people. Son, brother, high school football star, sports fan, paratrooper, boxer (whose boxing gloves I happily played with as a child), husband, father, dedicated employee. He was a hero who would never want to be described as such. I remember hearing the news that he had pulled someone away from an overturned truck while others looked on with fear. He did it because it was the right thing to do. He was a comedian with a great smile, even recently. When he would get frustrated over a hand of cards and say, "damn" or "damn, damn damn." I had to giggle. I am sure he was talking about the dam down the road form their house : ) ). More than that, my mom, who worked with him at the City for a handful of years described him as her biggest cheerleader, but don't tell his old football buddies about that.
For me, I have to agree with my mom. He believed in me and never held back from showing it. He never spared on opportunity to share some wisdom. Even before his memory started fading, I would hear that wisdom over and over again (some of you here probably know what I am talking about). But, by the time I was an older teen, I had the sense to realize that was one of the ways my grandfather told me he loved me. During my younger years, I remember feeling privileged that he would let me work in the garden and even use the motorized tilling machine. When I was older and visiting at the Lake, I was privileged to spend some early dark mornings with him hoping to get a bite on a hook (I also felt privileged to get back to the house and climb back in bed). He was a motivating factor in me going to college and saw that helping me through my first year was a worthy investment. Whatever direction I have gone in, he has been full of love and understanding. Besides being my Paw Paw Charley, I always felt like he was my biggest fan. He has always been there to cheer me on.
As a result of his unwavering support, the thought of disappointing him was something that I always feared. At almost every visit, he would say something like 'I'm proud of you, boy' even into my early thirties.
Recently and even more so in the last few days, I had the unfortunate realization about how self-centered I have been in our relationship. How can you not want to be around someone that makes you feel so important? I just hope he knew how important he was to me.
Because of these thoughts, on one of my last visits , when he told me how proud he was of me, I made sure that I told him that I was proud of him too.
And today, I want to tell my Paw Paw, an example for me of responsibility and stability the last 34 years of my life, someone who I can definitely call my hero, that I am proud of him.
"I am proud of you Paw Paw Charlie."
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Shark!
They say that woman value nurture while men value independence. It is often played out in our media's stereotypes. The loving caring mother who cooks and the adventurous father who likes fishing and hunting. Men are logical and women are emotional, etc.
Well, I have a neighbor who fits that manly profile, unlike myself. I am into academia and have several degrees on my hands and he is into the security business. I am young he is old. Over the last few years, we have gradually become good friends. Our wives are in book club together. My son loves to go across the street to play with their dog and the chickens (don't tell the HOA). We talk and I realize, he is a free spirit and one of the funniest guys I have ever met. If I could write and sell a movie about him, I would. He has been extremely helpful when I need to borrow a tool or figure out its name (say it with me.... "screw driver"..... "Oh yeah, I knew that"). He likes to hunt and fish and I recently discovered he picked up a new hobby in that arena.....
Shark Fishing from the shore! Though I was shocked, I was not surprised (is that an oxymoron). When I enquired as to why I had not benefited from a bounty of shark steaks, the tale got even more twisted. He did not kill them. He measures them, tags them, sends them back into the water after taking an assortment of photographs to prove that he actually did it. He fishes for bragging rights. (Nothing like telling the friends around the water cooler or at the bar after a couple of shots about the shark you wrangled that past weekend. I am sure it is more believable at the bar.) In fact, he does not even like to eat fish of any sort. Hmm, a man of mystery.
Well, after describing this whacked adventure and showing me his scab from a scaly shark abrasion, he asked me to go along. I gladly accepted and began to think of a time that I could go. That time was two days ago.
Never mind that I woke up with a big fever earlier that day, I was not missing out! (I called and got permission first, didn't want to make them sick).
He loaded up his equipment which included a variety of poles, pvc pipes, other fishing gear, salted shrimp for bait, and a kayak. His other crazy friend came up and we began the drive to the beach. We got out, started cutting up the shrimp which was used to catch small fish to use as shark bait.
Is that right to manipulate the food chain like that? Wonder what kind of bait would be used to catch bait to catch me? Hmmm. If anyone wants to catch me, use some money and go to the Mini dealership and purchase a Mini Cooper convertible. Put that car in my front yard with the keys inside and then you have me. That will work... Money = Cooper = Catching me. I dare you to try it... C'mon, be a sport.
Anyway, after we caught some bait, we hooked it onto a rod and reel which was placed in the pvc pipe standing in the sand. Then we took the bait and hook out 300 or so yards out into the water and dropped it. Then, all we had to do was sit and wait.
Sure enough, they took the bait. It was all fine and dandy until that shark started heading down the shore a few yards toward a nearby family fishing with their kids. We kept running after it, reeling it in while yelling to those innocently standing by, "Shark!" After much effort, it finally hit land. We drug it on shore (I say we. I let them do it. I declared myself the cameraman). Everyone was looking at us like we were heroes (or a bunch of dumb asses). He got measured, tagged, and photographed (If I was the shark, I would consider myself screwed too). This guy drew a crowd like a celebrity. The innocent family running for their lives earlier decided they wanted to gather around it and pose for a picture with the shark. They did. After we pushed the shark back in, it wasn't too long that the family got right back in with it. Smart?
A while later, a little after dark, the second reel started moving and this was going to be my time to shine. I jumped at the chance to get this one, having already been part of the rest of the process, I didn't feel like I was cheating or anything. I jumped up and started cranking. In the meantime I was getting outfitted with various belts to keep the shark from taking the pole and to keep me from jabbing the pole into my nuts and started working it, only to discover that the shark caught on to the game. He left the bait. So, back in the kayak to take the bait out.
A little later, there was some more action on the rod. This time it was for real! On with the belts! On with the crank action! It seemed like it took for ever, me cranking while at the same time declaring that there was no way I was going to touch it! No Freakin Way!
It got closer and I got more tired only to eventually meet him face to face. They pulled him on shore, screwed him like they did the other one, and somehow convinced me it was okay to kneel by him and hold him by the tail while they took a picture. He flipped and wiggled a bit. I screamed like a school girl. They told me the picture didn't come out good and wanted me to touch him again. I compromised with just kneeling beside him. We pushed him back in. Okay, they did and I watched the shark try to give my friend a nibble. And then he swam away.
I caught a shark and grabbed him by the tail. He was 5'8" long. The effects of that day are lasting even two days later. I got a boost of self-confidence and my anxiety has diminished. Hey, I can do anything if I can reel in a big ass shark! No worries.
Well, I have a neighbor who fits that manly profile, unlike myself. I am into academia and have several degrees on my hands and he is into the security business. I am young he is old. Over the last few years, we have gradually become good friends. Our wives are in book club together. My son loves to go across the street to play with their dog and the chickens (don't tell the HOA). We talk and I realize, he is a free spirit and one of the funniest guys I have ever met. If I could write and sell a movie about him, I would. He has been extremely helpful when I need to borrow a tool or figure out its name (say it with me.... "screw driver"..... "Oh yeah, I knew that"). He likes to hunt and fish and I recently discovered he picked up a new hobby in that arena.....
Shark Fishing from the shore! Though I was shocked, I was not surprised (is that an oxymoron). When I enquired as to why I had not benefited from a bounty of shark steaks, the tale got even more twisted. He did not kill them. He measures them, tags them, sends them back into the water after taking an assortment of photographs to prove that he actually did it. He fishes for bragging rights. (Nothing like telling the friends around the water cooler or at the bar after a couple of shots about the shark you wrangled that past weekend. I am sure it is more believable at the bar.) In fact, he does not even like to eat fish of any sort. Hmm, a man of mystery.
Well, after describing this whacked adventure and showing me his scab from a scaly shark abrasion, he asked me to go along. I gladly accepted and began to think of a time that I could go. That time was two days ago.
Never mind that I woke up with a big fever earlier that day, I was not missing out! (I called and got permission first, didn't want to make them sick).
He loaded up his equipment which included a variety of poles, pvc pipes, other fishing gear, salted shrimp for bait, and a kayak. His other crazy friend came up and we began the drive to the beach. We got out, started cutting up the shrimp which was used to catch small fish to use as shark bait.
Is that right to manipulate the food chain like that? Wonder what kind of bait would be used to catch bait to catch me? Hmmm. If anyone wants to catch me, use some money and go to the Mini dealership and purchase a Mini Cooper convertible. Put that car in my front yard with the keys inside and then you have me. That will work... Money = Cooper = Catching me. I dare you to try it... C'mon, be a sport.
Anyway, after we caught some bait, we hooked it onto a rod and reel which was placed in the pvc pipe standing in the sand. Then we took the bait and hook out 300 or so yards out into the water and dropped it. Then, all we had to do was sit and wait.
Sure enough, they took the bait. It was all fine and dandy until that shark started heading down the shore a few yards toward a nearby family fishing with their kids. We kept running after it, reeling it in while yelling to those innocently standing by, "Shark!" After much effort, it finally hit land. We drug it on shore (I say we. I let them do it. I declared myself the cameraman). Everyone was looking at us like we were heroes (or a bunch of dumb asses). He got measured, tagged, and photographed (If I was the shark, I would consider myself screwed too). This guy drew a crowd like a celebrity. The innocent family running for their lives earlier decided they wanted to gather around it and pose for a picture with the shark. They did. After we pushed the shark back in, it wasn't too long that the family got right back in with it. Smart?
A while later, a little after dark, the second reel started moving and this was going to be my time to shine. I jumped at the chance to get this one, having already been part of the rest of the process, I didn't feel like I was cheating or anything. I jumped up and started cranking. In the meantime I was getting outfitted with various belts to keep the shark from taking the pole and to keep me from jabbing the pole into my nuts and started working it, only to discover that the shark caught on to the game. He left the bait. So, back in the kayak to take the bait out.
A little later, there was some more action on the rod. This time it was for real! On with the belts! On with the crank action! It seemed like it took for ever, me cranking while at the same time declaring that there was no way I was going to touch it! No Freakin Way!
It got closer and I got more tired only to eventually meet him face to face. They pulled him on shore, screwed him like they did the other one, and somehow convinced me it was okay to kneel by him and hold him by the tail while they took a picture. He flipped and wiggled a bit. I screamed like a school girl. They told me the picture didn't come out good and wanted me to touch him again. I compromised with just kneeling beside him. We pushed him back in. Okay, they did and I watched the shark try to give my friend a nibble. And then he swam away.
I caught a shark and grabbed him by the tail. He was 5'8" long. The effects of that day are lasting even two days later. I got a boost of self-confidence and my anxiety has diminished. Hey, I can do anything if I can reel in a big ass shark! No worries.
Friday, September 18, 2009
A little music to work with? Should this be an episode of this bird's for you?
I love listening to music. I can do almost anything to music. Except read, watch tv, or screw. We tried it with some 80's hair band once. My ADD kept me flipping back and forth between two different grooves ; ). Maybe I should have tried to do it to the rythm and sing along .
I seriously got off track just then.
I used to be able to read and listen to music, but that has changed since I got older. But, when I am typing and doing other kinds of work, I like to have some Pandora.com going on in the background.
Most people in my office don't mind. I have even asked and everyone is cool. It makes the work day go faster. I am an adjunct prof and I never know who I will see in the adjunct office.
Well, guess who comes in. The one person in the faculty that I have ever met that "can't concentrate when music is on."
I have seen her before, tall, lanky, beady little eyes peering through these glasses. She sat by me before, to use the computer right near me, after asking me, crowding my space. I actually have enough books to occupy the whole office.
When I politely asked her if she minded the music, she said Yes. DOH! What an idiot (I was for asking)! I should have known she was not cool enough to sit by me.
Welp, here I am a few weeks later, music turned low enough for me to hear in my 2 square feet of floor space and guess who walks in? This time, sitting on the other side of the room from me. It was her, the tall, lanky one with the beady little eyes and this time I notice her frizzy puff of hair and her red cart to haul her crap around the offices.
She didn't say anything when she walked in. She sat in her spot by the computer behind the partition. I hear a voice, i don't assume she is talking to me... maybe she is talking on her cell phone.... I hear it again, she said "excuse me" ... maybe the person on the line can't hear her... I hear it again, and this time louder, only to find the person with the beady eyes looking at me, peering from behind the partition that divides us. (AHHHHHH!) "Yes," I said. "I can't concentrate with music on." (YEAH BITCH! I CAN"T CONCENTRATE WITH IT OFF!).... "Okay, sorry. I'll turn it down."
It was a bit annoying. I got over it. But, a while later, because I was concentrating on my work, I turned around to notice that the wheel barrow was gone and so was that puffy haired beady eyed, lanky woman. Who knows how long she was gone and did she bother to tell me so I could turn the jams back on? No. How rude!
I seriously got off track just then.
I used to be able to read and listen to music, but that has changed since I got older. But, when I am typing and doing other kinds of work, I like to have some Pandora.com going on in the background.
Most people in my office don't mind. I have even asked and everyone is cool. It makes the work day go faster. I am an adjunct prof and I never know who I will see in the adjunct office.
Well, guess who comes in. The one person in the faculty that I have ever met that "can't concentrate when music is on."
I have seen her before, tall, lanky, beady little eyes peering through these glasses. She sat by me before, to use the computer right near me, after asking me, crowding my space. I actually have enough books to occupy the whole office.
When I politely asked her if she minded the music, she said Yes. DOH! What an idiot (I was for asking)! I should have known she was not cool enough to sit by me.
Welp, here I am a few weeks later, music turned low enough for me to hear in my 2 square feet of floor space and guess who walks in? This time, sitting on the other side of the room from me. It was her, the tall, lanky one with the beady little eyes and this time I notice her frizzy puff of hair and her red cart to haul her crap around the offices.
She didn't say anything when she walked in. She sat in her spot by the computer behind the partition. I hear a voice, i don't assume she is talking to me... maybe she is talking on her cell phone.... I hear it again, she said "excuse me" ... maybe the person on the line can't hear her... I hear it again, and this time louder, only to find the person with the beady eyes looking at me, peering from behind the partition that divides us. (AHHHHHH!) "Yes," I said. "I can't concentrate with music on." (YEAH BITCH! I CAN"T CONCENTRATE WITH IT OFF!).... "Okay, sorry. I'll turn it down."
It was a bit annoying. I got over it. But, a while later, because I was concentrating on my work, I turned around to notice that the wheel barrow was gone and so was that puffy haired beady eyed, lanky woman. Who knows how long she was gone and did she bother to tell me so I could turn the jams back on? No. How rude!
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Anxiety Sucks.
It is day two. It probably won't be too reasonable to do this everyday. Maybe every other day or two or three days a week will be fine.
Anxiety sucks. I have learned to function with it. I have learned to put it aside while practicing what it is I want to do professionally (counselor, ironic huh). But, it still does not change the fact that it is there, taunting me. If there is something to worry about, I will find it. I will think of it. It will find me wherever I am.
Did I lock the door to the house? This question can hit me anywhere. I sometimes make it to the corner and have to turn back, step out of the car, march up the sidewalk and check the knob and the dead bolt. I can only think of once or twice in my life that I actually had to lock it. In the area of the door, it has become better. Sometimes I would check it two or three times before I could pull out of the driveway and many neighbors have been inconvenienced by a phone call from another town or while I am stuck in a class or a meeting asking them to check my door. "Hey bro.... Yep, I do only call you when I need something.... Yep, its the door again... Thanks." I am lucky to have good neighbors.
What worries me most right now is my job situation. I am in a place professionally that I haven't been in a long time... satisfied. I am also in a place financially that I have been in since I resigned from my full time teaching position... sinking. You never would have imagined it, but high school teachers actually make more than community college professors where I am from and being an adjunct makes it even more desperate.
It is often compounded for me when my wife is not happy in her position and I am in no place to help. I wish sometimes that I could tell her to quit and get a part time job that is more suitable for her, but she is the main bread winner at the moment and I am depending on her until I get back to a good place and can give her a break to fulfill her dream. I often wish that I had thought more about making money than about helping people. I could have been a mechanic or plant worker with plenty of experience and seniority right now to make a stable living and support a family. Go to work, come home, sit back, and enjoy.
I know it will work out in time, but in the mean time I have learned the error of my ways. Plan ahead... You will have a family and you will need to support them... or marry for money : ).... Nah.
But, next time I have a decent paying full time job, I will not leave until I have found another one. On the other hand, I have been able to do a lot that I have always wanted to do as a result of quitting. Life is a double edged sword sometimes.
Anxiety sucks. I have learned to function with it. I have learned to put it aside while practicing what it is I want to do professionally (counselor, ironic huh). But, it still does not change the fact that it is there, taunting me. If there is something to worry about, I will find it. I will think of it. It will find me wherever I am.
Did I lock the door to the house? This question can hit me anywhere. I sometimes make it to the corner and have to turn back, step out of the car, march up the sidewalk and check the knob and the dead bolt. I can only think of once or twice in my life that I actually had to lock it. In the area of the door, it has become better. Sometimes I would check it two or three times before I could pull out of the driveway and many neighbors have been inconvenienced by a phone call from another town or while I am stuck in a class or a meeting asking them to check my door. "Hey bro.... Yep, I do only call you when I need something.... Yep, its the door again... Thanks." I am lucky to have good neighbors.
What worries me most right now is my job situation. I am in a place professionally that I haven't been in a long time... satisfied. I am also in a place financially that I have been in since I resigned from my full time teaching position... sinking. You never would have imagined it, but high school teachers actually make more than community college professors where I am from and being an adjunct makes it even more desperate.
It is often compounded for me when my wife is not happy in her position and I am in no place to help. I wish sometimes that I could tell her to quit and get a part time job that is more suitable for her, but she is the main bread winner at the moment and I am depending on her until I get back to a good place and can give her a break to fulfill her dream. I often wish that I had thought more about making money than about helping people. I could have been a mechanic or plant worker with plenty of experience and seniority right now to make a stable living and support a family. Go to work, come home, sit back, and enjoy.
I know it will work out in time, but in the mean time I have learned the error of my ways. Plan ahead... You will have a family and you will need to support them... or marry for money : ).... Nah.
But, next time I have a decent paying full time job, I will not leave until I have found another one. On the other hand, I have been able to do a lot that I have always wanted to do as a result of quitting. Life is a double edged sword sometimes.
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