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Showing posts from 2014

A clerk today said

I was talking to a clerk at a store where I buy things. I said I had worked on Friday, but I took Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off. She knows I work at Court Square Tavern. "It's a good thing you didn't have to work there on Christmas Eve," she said. "It would be so sad and depressing to be with all of those people who don't have families." I laughed, felt sad for a second because I chose not to be with my family and I won't be with my American children until Wednesday.  Christmas is the hardest time to be alone, but that's how I was. And I put the time to good use. So, what she said didn't bother me, nor did I take it personally. Nor did I tell any of my story to her. There's no need! I had a great time, and look forward to the opportunity to be with my family again in the future.  I write these things out to help process them. To keep some sort of a record. After all, this is my spot for mundane thoughts in a dastar

Reset

This is the time of year when it could be either AM or PM when the clock strikes 6:54. I know, though, that the eastern sky will begin to turn a dark light blue to begin a mild winter's day in Virginia.  I've already run two miles. I woke up at 3:30, read for a while, and then couldn't get back to sleep. So, at 5:30, I decided to get up and walk to the gym. It was pleasant to be there with four or five other people. I hope to see them again. This is the time at which I have to do right by myself and carve out a new habit. I remember what it felt like five years ago when my life had begun again and I was alive! I was a year out of my separation and everything was going great! The fall of February 2010 had not yet happened, with the long slow climb towards where I am now.  I am happier than I have been for a while. You might not get that, given the context of recent posts. I was at the tavern on Friday and it was awful, but Saturday and Sunday were spent in near-so

Boxing Day at Court Square Tavern

It's a Friday night at Court Square Tavern and here I am behind the bar for the first time in a long while. I didn't go out of town so I could work this shift, but maybe that was just an excuse to justify staying at home by myself for Christmas. I don't know. I'm trying not to be negative, but it's hard to avoid feeling like the wind hasn't blown my way for a while. And being here feels like another confirmation. I want things to be better. I want to do things differently. The new year is coming, but why put off change until then? I don't know. I really don't. I just know that this may be the last time I'm behind the bar here, and I'm completely okay with that. Sure, I have visions of buying this place, but I'm not sure that will ever come to fruition. I don't know if it would be a very good idea, though it still appeals to me. Who knows? I don't. I've been here for an hour and there's only been one party. I don'

Mind your F's and R's

I feel sorry for anyone who has to be in the same room as me when I'm working. Anytime I have to type an R or an F I have to slam my fingers into the keyboard contact, as the physical keys disappeared a long time ago. So, I have this strange beat I have to keep in order to keep my mind working on a narrative.  I'm working as I type this, listening to a meeting from two weeks ago. I don't want to be writing this, and it's very boring, and it is my Christmas present to myself to say this. I will get no satisfaction from publishing a story that I predict ten people will read. I wish I could write something different, but I'm getting paid to do this, and I'm going to be happy when it's done. And I have to watch what I say. What if I got fired simply for expressing myself? My entire life would change, and I can't  have that happen. I have to mind every single keystroke, every single thing I say, because I can't have anything change at this tim

Important questions

Who are you? Are you an individual, or part of a system? How did you get here? What do you hope to do with your time on earth? Do you believe everything you hear? Are  you happy? Do you think the thoughts in your head are your own, or did they come from somewhere else? What is the purpose of your dreams? Can you control them? Do you remember them? Have you ever had the same one more than once? Have you imagined that entire worlds live on in the dust we breathe, living on a timescale much faster than ours? Have you ever thought that life might live at other dimensions we cannot comprehend?  Do you like to challenge yourself, or do you just like to relax? Do you like to learn new things? How often do you question the basic assumptions that govern the things you do in your life? Do you know what your reset button would be? Does hopelessness ever creep into your soul and you lose all sense that anything can ever get better? Does every failure carve a new line into

Making therapy

I spent 30 minutes before work today building the plastic city I'd begun making with my son at the weekend. I had a vision of how I could connect a new platform, and so I took the time to implement it.  I then took a random scoop of Legos to work and spent part of the day building a vehicle for an Emperor who takes the form of a parrot. He just got stuck in that form, and that's what he does. He also has a little car that can take him to diplomatic ports of call.  These things have made me happy and I am looking forward to more of it in the next 28 hours. 

A renumbering

I have changed the name of this blog to reflect where I think I might be in the grand scheme of things, population wise, given that I'm now older and closer to being the oldest person on Earth. I don't think it's an entirely accurate number, but it's a lower number. I want to post more here, like I have done today, because I want to say something publicly about the things that trouble me. I can't be as specific as I would like for reasons that are evident to me but likely not to others. I want to be able to take my time and turn it into words that may give insights to others in the future.  I live in a shadowy mind that doesn't always reveal what it's thinking. I am more than just one me. I live in a world with more than 7 billion others, that number always counting up as our species continues to grow, aided by technology and a general sense of progress. But there is a disquiet in so many of our souls. Each of us has had our hard times, and I&#

What I didn't do

If the legs don't move swiftly and the body's temperature doesn't rise as a result, things that should not anger me do so. Right now I feel uncomfortable in my own skin because I choose poorly, chose not to get myself out there.  So as a result, my mind fights itself and the demons are all around me. Except, they are not demons. They are just my thoughts and I'm not well-equipped to name them by some other name on these days when I give myself over to laziness.  In other words, it's up to me to overcome this, to overcome this feeling that I know hits every year. I would have thought by now that certain memories would have lost their teeth, but that has not been the case. The reverse may be true. With time they only grow sharper and more easily find their targets. So, will I move the legs tomorrow, knowing this may be the only way to advance without retreating? 

The grayed out sky

The water pours in, endlessly, bathing me in a sea of regret. The holiday approaches and I can't seem to escape the feeling of isolation that's on its way. One solid day of solitude, coming right up! I had hoped this would be a better December than the others, but no matter what something seems to always go south and I'm stuck with myself, barreling closer and closer into a lifetime that seems to be stuck in isolation.  It won't always be this way. But how does it stop? How do I get out of this well and into the next orbital? Why can I not store up the energy? Why won't lightning strike? Seems these days like the colors have faded from the sky, from the landscape, from the air. I know why this, and know how I could change things... but the remedy would be worse than the daily reality. It's not that I am not courageous. It's that I am no longer reckless. So, I shall withstand this time. It's the dark time, the holidays. I shall withstand the r

The writer's impulse vanquished

At least once a day, I get this firm sense that I need to string words together in order to capture a feeling in my brain, an opinion, a thought, a fault line. I begin to type to organize my thoughts, and I begin to feel the rhythm pulsing throughout me. I am on my way to saying something! And then, the gravity of reality asserts itself again and I pull back and the thoughts collapse into a string of doubts and I remember all the reasons I need to stay quiet. And I'm left as an island of light in a sea of impenetrable darkness. This won't always be the case. 

Head above water

I am taking in air. I have a steady view of the horizon. I wait and watch for activity. I didn't expect adulthood to be so lonely. I didn't expect to be spending this much time by myself waiting for something to happen. I don't have much hope there will be anything else but this gray fog of purpose from now until the end. I either made all the wrong choices or I am predisposed to sabotage everything that does happen.  But I am taking in air. I have a horizontal view of a world that is steadier than it seems. I activate my waiting and watching sensors.  I am in this for the long haul. 

Sudden downtime

I have my children every other Saturday, and I usually work on the one they are with their mother.  Today, however, is the first off-Saturday in several months where I don't have anything to do. I don't have a catering gig and the plans I had made to go away were canceled. I don't have anything to do or anywhere I have to be until sometime on Monday.  But here I sit, paralyzed, not quite knowing what I'm allowed to do. I doubt I'll leave the house.  The blinds are closed. There's a world out there, but I'm not feeling very good about venturing out into it today. I'm a bit hurt remembering all of the bad decisions I've made in my life. If I stay here, I won't have to make any choices. 

The censored version of what I want to say

I don't like division. I don't like cleavages in society. I want everyone I come into contact with to have the same chance of happiness and success as I do.  I'm scared to say any of this publicly. I don't like to have defend what I think is a central tenet of humanism, so I don't put myself out there.  I am tired of that, but it's how I have to be. I have so many things I want to say, and want to communicate in new ways. But for now, I realize I have strengths that require me to stay silent. 

Commentary on recent events

I'm sitting at Court Square Tavern waiting for a story to come back so I can post it to Charlottesville Tomorrow. I'm not especially happy with the story as I had to write it on deadline and I didn't have time to squeeze more details and context into an article that I suspect many people won't understand or read.  I hope they read it. And I hope they'll ask me questions. Life is complex, life is multi-faceted, life is much more than anything I think it to be.  I'm sitting here and there's a cable person on talking about national news. I pay attention to national news, but I don't write about them, and I don't comment. I pay attention to state news, but I don't write state news.  My realm is local government in the City of Charlottesville and Albemarle County. And, I'm hoping that people will have questions for me.  I'm sitting here waiting, and then I'll go home to an empty house except for the cats. I am the only cu

Re-reading Red Mars

I'm re-reading Red Mars, which tells the story of the colonization of the red planet. Kim Stanley Robinson is one of my favorite authors because he can put you in the shoes of a person standing on another world. That's useful to me because I live in a part of the world with four seasons, and we're currently sliding into one of the four that affects my moods. The way I can fix that, though, is to realize how magical it is to be alive on a planet that is powered by a gigantic furnace 93 million miles away. No matter how sad I get, no matter how disappointed I am, no matter how much negativity my species is capable of, I am always able to put that to the side when I can take a parallax view and set my mind to right. I really recommend the book, too.

The penning in of the new season

What started as a dull ache in my the upper left corner of my torso is slowly changing into a pain that is likely going to last for the next two weeks. All of the stresses I have have a physical outlet now, pulsing. This is the second time this has happened in as many months. I've been relaxed lately. It's the best way to be happy. It's not always possible, of course, because there are always obstacles that must be navigated. Some days the going is easy, and other days are more challenging.  And now here is this pain to remind me not to let my guard down, not to allow myself to get lulled into a hazy sense of justified sloth.  This is a new season. Gloomier. There's a need to be more awake, more attentive, and this is harder because of the new pain cycle I'm going to go through over the next few days. I'm sick to my stomach, I'm shaking with nervousness. and I'm convinced that waking dreams have haunted me. 

A thing to say!

Well, this blog is more or less moribund now that I am no longer as bound to publicly proclaim the things that are happening in my life. I would get in trouble if I wrote freely, and I would prefer not to define the parameters of that particular peril. Instead, I know I want to begin to write publicly again in a playful place that is mine. I am beginning to have old interests rekindled and I hope to reinvent myself a little in the coming months and year. I want to do something new while also doing my existing work even better than I've done before. I want to own my moment. We live in a world that seems out of control, where we all feel a slip could come at any time now. Will the volcano in Iceland blow up? Will we be at war with a country many of us have always feared we might end up in conflict with? Will we snap at ending a sentence with a preposition? I don't have any of the answers to any of these questions, but I know I do have answers on the things that happ

Devo Song of the Day: Snowball

Another song and a quick story. I came to Devo late in my life, but at a time when I still felt pretty lost. I still feel lost now. Somehow this song captures all of the failed romances I've had in the past. And I heard it for the first time when I was pursuing something with someone new, and I heard the lyrics different then - especially the 'eyes were made for looking' portion of the song. This conjures up the myth of Sisyphus, and I discovered it at a time my tastes had been influenced by LCD Soundsystem. Those songs reflected more positive times, and as I entered in a more romantically unproductive time, Snowball took on a much more somber note. And I'm better for having it in my mind. Live version:

Devo Song of the Day: Gates of Steel

I'm actually not going to write about the song directly. At least, not at first. For some reason, I feel by writing headlines that advertise daily content, I should go ahead and get on the bandwagon.  After all, this is a place where I write things. I have this little white box that welcomes me when I am alone at night, after I have finally finished work for the day.  I don't feel free.  What is freedom? There are degrees, I suppose. I write this from a safe place compared to what I see in many parts of the world. But, I still feel like I'm not quite able to do what I want to do. What do I want to do? At the moment, it seems like an irrelevant question.  At the moment, I'm relaxed listening to music, reflecting on where I am in this moment.  To me, freedom is able to be able to capture these things, these meaningless words that make up a version of my memory of who I was. But I don't feel free. Challenge me.

Devo Song of the Day: Beautiful World

When I began this informal series of journal entries about Devo songs, I didn't expect to go to their later era so quickly. But today I think it's more than appropriate today to highlight this track from the 1981 album New Traditionalists .  Within the last little while, I dated this woman for over a year but we broke up and got back together a few times. It happens. When we broke up for the final time, I ended up using the emotions to create personal music that got out the emotions I had to express at the time. I still was interested in her, though, but now she's less than two months away from getting married to Jennings, an absolutely awesome person who fits her much better than I ever could.  Before they got engaged and when they were still two months into their courting period, I went to her sister's engagement party. This was right about the time my Devo infatuation was about a month old, and I was anxious to spread the word but I thought it best to just

Devo Song of the Day: Turn Around

When I was a seven-year-old kid, my brother or sister purchased Devo's "Whip It" as a 45. The song was a big hit, and somehow they got a copy of it. That 45 must have been played a hundred times in my house in Lynchburg. The B-side, however, was not. "Turn Around" was not on the radio, and I don't think any of us felt the need to play it. Why would we? It wasn't hip. It wasn't cool.  As I grew up, I forgot entirely about Devo, and what I thought was just a complete one-hit wonder. I remember Weird Al did a parody song called "Dare to be Stupid" that helped confirm this sense that Devo was just a joke, and not one that had any sort of longevity to it.  Somewhere during college in the early 1990's, I heard Nirvana's cover of the song, and thought it was great. It reminded me of the single, which was probably gathering dust in my parent's basement.  I wish I could say that Devo helped pave the way for me to enjoy

Rough thoughts on making music

I am not a trained musician. This fact becomes blatantly clear to me in those moments when I'm listening to things I've created and I'm trying to analyze whatever it is I'm trying to record. I seem to have this conviction that I should press the red button every time I'm equipped correctly and I have something to say. Since 2009, my recordings have been just as important as my written journals to my mission to record as much of my life as possible. I've learned to use my guitar as a way to prompt myself to wax lyrically about how I felt on that particular evening. These audio time-stamps define who I was in snippets when I feel free to say exactly what I want to say.  But, are they anything anyone would want to listen to?  I'm not sure. I'm not sure at all. I am reluctant to post new things to my soundcloud account  because I don't know how best to explain the context for why whatever I post is important to me. Everything I do makes

A requiem for old paper

On December 16, 2007, the president of CARS sent me a letter thanking me for my $30 donation. At the time, my son was less than two months away from being born, and I was eight months into my job at Charlottesville Tomorrow . I still lived under the impression I was going to be in a marriage with her, but now I don't remember sending them this money, nor ever making such a gift. Why them? I also can't imagine spending $30 on a charity at this moment, seeing as I owe WTJU $60 for the pledge I made back in April.  Into the recycling bin with this letter, and many more pieces of paper, as it's now almost seven years later and I have this tremendous need to purge the relics of the past that remain in my house, even though my life has moved on.  Underneath the letter from Larry Claytor  is a handwritten note from a Charlottesville Planning Commission meeting from a date unknown. Bill Emory is listed as being a participant, as are Cheri Lewis and Mike Farruggio . E

Hope for a new direction while realistic about goals

When I got on the scale this morning, I weighed 190 pounds. If I was in England, that would be 13.6 stone.  Either way, I'm 25 pounds overweight, and it shows. I have less confidence. I'm sluggish. I'm most often depressed. I have become very good at making excuses for not exercising.  This wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to let myself go like this. I wasn't supposed to ever let myself give up my best anti-depressant.  But, I did. And now I have to reach within to try to stop making excuses. And I have to improve. Or, it's only going to get worse.  Let's go back for a moment to the last time I was 190, putting aside for a moment that I've been at this heavier amount for at least six months now. Maybe longer. I don't know. I sort of stopped caring about my health and fitness last fall, and that's now carried over to my mind, which has dealt with this years losses by simply retreating. I've created this pr

On being cool

It's 1:16 in the morning. I couldn't sleep. I've been in a terrible depressive cycle of late. I got off work and just wanted to go to bed. I'm out of my routine due to overwatching the World Cup. It's summer and I'm jittery and I'm not taking care of myself properly. My next birthday is approaching and I don't know what to do in order to get myself out of a rut I've been in for most of this year.  Now it's 1:17 in the morning. My happiest moment today was when I finally was able to make a decision to turn the air conditioning on. I tend these days to not be able to make even the simplest choices if it doesn't relate to either of the work I do. When I'm not at work, I tend too just lose all sense of focus. Across town, my American children are asleep at 1:18 in the morning. When they're here, I am able to make choices. The lethargy might not be fully gone, but I feel like I have a sense of purpose when I am with them. When th

World Cup 2014 begins

In the months leading up to today's beginning of the World Cup, I've not at all been excited. Since Qatar was chosen for 2022, I've had a really bad taste in my month about FIFA, and I've tuned completely out. I was certain that the World Cup would begin and I would have no interest in it whatsoever. I've been concerned about the ethics of spending billions of dollars on stadiums in a country that perhaps could use that money somewhere else. But, not today. Today I'm scrambling to find out how I'm going to watch as many of the matches as possible while still working. This is the first World Cup in 20 years that is in my time zone, and I had gotten used to watching at odd hours. At the moment, I'm mostly struck by how little has changed in my life in the last four years. I'm in the same job. I'm still a middle-aged single dad. I'm still tinkering with music and don't have the time to really devote myself to the craft. But for the n

Honoring Catering

What a lovely event I worked tonight. It was a celebration of a woman who died in January. She was the matriarch of a family of four who had retired with her husband in the Shenandoah Valley. I didn't know her, but I was glad to be part of a time when family and friends came together to honor her. I didn't want to work tonight, and barely made any money after paying my sitter. But you know what? Sometimes service isn't about making money. Sometimes it's about being in the right place at the right time to learn a little bit about other people, and to be there for them when they need people who care to be present for them. I'm honored to have played this very small role in a family's life, the same way I'm honored to be there when people get married, when people graduate, when people have a need to celebrate. The best thing tonight was coming home and being able to tell my daughter all about it. She's one of the most important people in my life,

Another pause from Court Square Tavern

I may have worked at Court Square Tavern for the last time, but I'm not really sure. I don't have any shifts scheduled as I want downtime on my Friday nights so I can enjoy life a bit. It's nice to have two nights a month where I can go out and socialize. I need this. I'm unsettled about what this might mean, to be honest. The place is not what it used to be, and I'm lamenting that a chapter in my life has closed. Again. Without going to that, I'll refer you an improv that leaked out of me about three hours before I went in that night. In the song, I'm drawing upon all the unknowns currently facing me. How am I going to get through this life? What's it going to be like? Will I find another place I can call home? I don't know. But I'm glad I have music to help me sort it out in my head.

Reflections on being at this stage of my journalism career

Soon I will buy a book because of a review written by Siva Vaidhyanathan . The book is called Should I Go to Grad School? and the pages tell the story of 41 people who faced that decision. I'm curious to know more, because after reading the piece I'm somehow wondering why my own answer has always been no. I met Siva once at an event at the University of Virginia a few years ago based on his book,  The Googlization of Everything: (And Why We Should Worry) .  He is an incredibly engaging media studies professor who can explain the complexities of this ever-changing communications landscape. During the University's crisis in 2012, he became a leader who explained precisely why the situation going on was important to the future of universities across the nation, and perhaps the world.  I've read many of his articles, though I'll confess I tend to skim them because my own attention is so focused on work I do covering local government in Charlottesville and Albem

A musical confession and the beginning of a new era

I first began recording things when I was a little kid growing up in Lynchburg. My friend Jeffry Cudlin and I made comedy tapes and radio parodies on a little cassette recorder. This may have been sparked by listening to radio dramas that were on NPR at the time, including Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Star Wars, and the Lord of the Rings. For Jeffry, he was doing parodies of easy listening stations. As we grew older, this converted into making music together. Jeffry was in charge of the music, and sang whatever I could off the top of my head. His talents are infinite compared to mine, and I showed no aptitude to learn a single instrument. At one point he gave me lyrics to sing, but we ended up going to different colleges and I stopped being able to learn easily from him.  And, that's where I am at today. With others, Jeffry and I ended up making a lot of music together in 1998 when I moved to Arlington for that purpose. Of course, this never took the form of actual

The Night of the Ten Mile Run

I woke up about 14 hours ago. I put on clothes I had laid out the night before. I even pre-pinned my bib, which turned out to be a mistake because one of the pins lied when it said it was of the safety type. I woke up about six hours after I had gone to bed after a night in which I went out and enjoyed myself. I reconnected with an old friend and had a great time speaking with her, a fellow single parent with whom I have a lot in common. I stayed out past my rightful bed-time, but I didn't care.  I hate waking up early, but I had absolutely no trouble getting up for this race. This was the fifth year in a row I was set to run it, and that's something that allows me to feel confidence in myself. No matter how inconsistent I might seem to myself, there are certain things in my life that I never fail to accomplish. I fell asleep last night before UVA lost to Michigan State in the Sweet Sixteen game. I put my head down and suddenly it was three in the morning. I never s

On the Eve of the Ten Mile Run

Five years later, I've regained all the weight.  I'm no longer the slim person I became in the months following the end of my marriage. I am in the worst shape since that time, and no longer feel motivated to work hard to exercise my body for the sake of my health. A year or so ago, I was still motivated. I spent the spring working out eight times a week at least. I was swimming, lifting weights, and running. I got back in really good shape, but did not get back in the habit once I came back from England in late July.  Slowly I've stopped making the time to get in shape. There are many reasons for this. I'm a single father, and my children are at my house a lot more than they used to be. I'm also a hard-working journalist and stories often pop up, which means I often change my plans for work. But, there's a much more important explanation.  I stopped believing in myself.  Without going into the details, I pursued a relationship with som