I've been fighting my flight mechanism all day. I'm so stressed out that I just feel like I'll never get on top of things. Everyone at work is asking me stoopid questions or give me extra things to do. My boss suddenly wants to start using some computer software that is on another computer. At least he's finally getting interested in the stuff, but When he grabs a whole box of software and brings it up to his office my internal alarm bells start ringing.
I agreed to install a small exhibition about the 25th anniversary of a local music award program. I realize now that I have ABSOLUTELY NO TIME for it. But I can hardly bail out on it.
One class in my hated masters program is dragging and I'll be starting another class in a week and a half. It will be the first time I've had two classes at once. Oh boy.
We're throwing our annual "Freedom Party" this weekend, and I have no time to put anything together. It'll just have to be Dean's dip and Saudi conspiracy theories. (Sorry, inside joke that I'll try to explain at a later date. Stay tuned faithful readers. Yeah right.)
And then my personal life has made me a wreck. I'm waking up in the morning imagining my brutal death and looking forward to it. Okay, it's not that dramatic, but when I get like this I lay in bed and imagine someone caving in the back of my skull with a large rock. Somehow I think it's unhealthy to have these vision, but I can't imagine why.
But the good news is that I saw Bettie Serveert again last night. Oh. My. God. They are so fucking great. It makes me feel like I'm twenty years old again. I think I might prefer to see them to even Blur. And that's blasphemy in my circle of friends. The only thing that would've been better is if Ms. stu had been there too. She was too tired to go. So I went by myself. That happens more and more lately.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Sunday, June 26, 2005
Conversations Over an Uneaten Dinner
I ate two bites of my meal. I wasn’t hungry when we got there and the stress and anticipation of the situation did nothing to improve my appetite. I hadn’t seen Madeleine in nearly nine years and yet there we were talking, eating (sort of), and laughing. In so many ways it felt incredibly comfortable, like we could’ve just picked up where we left off. Except we're both married to someone else. She has an eight year old daughter and a marriage in shambles. And I’m happily married. Besides, who knows where we really “left off” in 1996?
After her final letter in March of 1997 stating that we could no longer keep up our flagging correspondence and her decision to end any and all contact I acted as though she had died. Looking back now, that coping mechanism may have been naïve. I had just started my relationship with the future Ms. stu and I’ll admit to a sensation of relief when Madeleine said we could no longer write or contact one another. Contact had been slim and spare for over six months as it was, but the set-in-stone manner of her letter allowed me to finally move on completely. So she died in a figurative way and I mourned her death and focused on a new life at my new school and a blossoming relationship with the future Ms. stu.
But now she’s back. She’s not just alive, but she lives only a matter of miles from me and my new life. And now my former life grinds against my new one like two granite slabs.
We stayed at the restaurant for about an hour and then walked around the old neighborhood. We went down past the beach where we used to swim at midnight and walked for nearly two hours down by the tree lined creek that makes you feel like you’re a hundred miles from the city—until an airliner roars over head and literally shakes you back into reality.
The conversation flowed through some expected subjects. Favorite memories, how our families are doing, what is going on in our lives now—but couched within these were the hints of unfinished business. She said that she always knew it was only a matter of time before we met again and had these conversations. To me it seemed impossible that we should meet again. I had moved on and put her in the ground. How could we possibly meet again? Sure, I thought we might accidentally cross paths at a grocery store or something, but not even knowing where she lived, and assuming it was not here, I figured this was remote at best.
We couldn’t stop talking, until I had to go and we artificially ended the conversation. There was much left unsaid. I never asked her if she was still a born again Christian (a major factor in our break-up, or so I believe), and I hadn’t yet comprehended the timeline of her pregnancy and the end of our contact. She got pregnant in matter of weeks after she returned to Washington. We exchanged some letters and had phone conversations while she was pregnant, yet she never told me. I’m having a hard time dealing with this. Is it as simple as that she felt she needed to move on? Was she too ashamed to tell me? Did she think it would hurt me too much? Did she feel as thought it was none of my business? I don’t have the answers yet. In a recent e-mail she told me she wants to tell me. Ultimately it probably doesn’t matter, but a large part of me really wants to know.
I feel really, really bad for how this is affecting Ms. stu. I have been very up front with her about what has been going on because I don’t want to hide anything. At the same time I feel as though I shouldn’t be so open. The feelings are raw and unprocessed. I know she is confused by it all and more than a little threatened. I don’t want to do anything that could hurt her. I love her so much and she and I are so wonderful together. Yet it hurts her. But at this point I feel as thought it is something I need to follow through on.
Tonight I had a very intimate conversation with my two good friends, Joe and Mike. I needed to get a fresh perspective on what is going on. Neither of them knew Madeleine or knew me when I was with her. Ultimately they suggested that I don’t tell Ms. stu as much about what is happening. I don’t think I’ll follow their advice. I can’t hide anything from her and still feel like I’m being faithful. She deserves better than that.
After her final letter in March of 1997 stating that we could no longer keep up our flagging correspondence and her decision to end any and all contact I acted as though she had died. Looking back now, that coping mechanism may have been naïve. I had just started my relationship with the future Ms. stu and I’ll admit to a sensation of relief when Madeleine said we could no longer write or contact one another. Contact had been slim and spare for over six months as it was, but the set-in-stone manner of her letter allowed me to finally move on completely. So she died in a figurative way and I mourned her death and focused on a new life at my new school and a blossoming relationship with the future Ms. stu.
But now she’s back. She’s not just alive, but she lives only a matter of miles from me and my new life. And now my former life grinds against my new one like two granite slabs.
We stayed at the restaurant for about an hour and then walked around the old neighborhood. We went down past the beach where we used to swim at midnight and walked for nearly two hours down by the tree lined creek that makes you feel like you’re a hundred miles from the city—until an airliner roars over head and literally shakes you back into reality.
The conversation flowed through some expected subjects. Favorite memories, how our families are doing, what is going on in our lives now—but couched within these were the hints of unfinished business. She said that she always knew it was only a matter of time before we met again and had these conversations. To me it seemed impossible that we should meet again. I had moved on and put her in the ground. How could we possibly meet again? Sure, I thought we might accidentally cross paths at a grocery store or something, but not even knowing where she lived, and assuming it was not here, I figured this was remote at best.
We couldn’t stop talking, until I had to go and we artificially ended the conversation. There was much left unsaid. I never asked her if she was still a born again Christian (a major factor in our break-up, or so I believe), and I hadn’t yet comprehended the timeline of her pregnancy and the end of our contact. She got pregnant in matter of weeks after she returned to Washington. We exchanged some letters and had phone conversations while she was pregnant, yet she never told me. I’m having a hard time dealing with this. Is it as simple as that she felt she needed to move on? Was she too ashamed to tell me? Did she think it would hurt me too much? Did she feel as thought it was none of my business? I don’t have the answers yet. In a recent e-mail she told me she wants to tell me. Ultimately it probably doesn’t matter, but a large part of me really wants to know.
I feel really, really bad for how this is affecting Ms. stu. I have been very up front with her about what has been going on because I don’t want to hide anything. At the same time I feel as though I shouldn’t be so open. The feelings are raw and unprocessed. I know she is confused by it all and more than a little threatened. I don’t want to do anything that could hurt her. I love her so much and she and I are so wonderful together. Yet it hurts her. But at this point I feel as thought it is something I need to follow through on.
Tonight I had a very intimate conversation with my two good friends, Joe and Mike. I needed to get a fresh perspective on what is going on. Neither of them knew Madeleine or knew me when I was with her. Ultimately they suggested that I don’t tell Ms. stu as much about what is happening. I don’t think I’ll follow their advice. I can’t hide anything from her and still feel like I’m being faithful. She deserves better than that.
Friday, June 10, 2005
Maybe speed doesn't make you skinny
On Wednesday I gave a presentation about local punk music history to an undergraduate class. I can't tell you how much fun I had. Shortly after I graduated from college I took a job as an historic site guide at our state capitol. To this day I think it was the funnest job I've ever had. Part of the what I liked about it was people asking me all sorts of questions and the ego rush I would get when they treated me like an expert. This presentation was one of those rare occasions.
I know enough about research and serious study on an issue that the more you learn the more you realize how little you know. This is definitely the case with my knowledge of local punk history. I interviewed and met with a lot of people that were in the bands and influential in making the local scene. I always felt like I was in a submissive position, because these people were there and they lived it. I was playing with Star Wars toys when Tommy Stinson was pulled out of junior high school to tour the country in a van.
Anyway, I was surrounded by a bunch of people who knew little or nothing about the topic, and they knew that I knew something about it. The instructor told me that he hadn't seen the class this animated all term. That was nice to hear.
After I gave my Power Point presentation (not very punk rock, is it?), they asked me questions for about a half hour. I was a little surprised at how little they knew about "punk" in general. After the presentation and about twenty minutes of questions one girl asked in a very confused manner, "so, what did they get out of all of this?"
But my favorite question of the day was about Bob Mould and Grant Hart of Husker Du. She asked, "If they did so much speed and pills how come they were so fat?" Touche.
Photo: Greg Helgeson (used without permission).
I know enough about research and serious study on an issue that the more you learn the more you realize how little you know. This is definitely the case with my knowledge of local punk history. I interviewed and met with a lot of people that were in the bands and influential in making the local scene. I always felt like I was in a submissive position, because these people were there and they lived it. I was playing with Star Wars toys when Tommy Stinson was pulled out of junior high school to tour the country in a van.
Anyway, I was surrounded by a bunch of people who knew little or nothing about the topic, and they knew that I knew something about it. The instructor told me that he hadn't seen the class this animated all term. That was nice to hear.
After I gave my Power Point presentation (not very punk rock, is it?), they asked me questions for about a half hour. I was a little surprised at how little they knew about "punk" in general. After the presentation and about twenty minutes of questions one girl asked in a very confused manner, "so, what did they get out of all of this?"
But my favorite question of the day was about Bob Mould and Grant Hart of Husker Du. She asked, "If they did so much speed and pills how come they were so fat?" Touche.
Photo: Greg Helgeson (used without permission).
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Insomnia
The weather has turned hot and muggy here. I have a hard enough time getting to sleep without adding suffocating humidity to the mix. Oh well.
Tomorrow morning I'm giving a presentation to some university students on local rock history. A couple of years ago I developed an exhibit on the subject and it did pretty well. But I hadn't done much with the subject for the last three years. In the last few months I found myself involved in this presentation and committed to working a small exhibit for the 25th anniversary of a local music award program. I guess I've also done some half-assed work maintaining the archives for a legendary local music club.
Yesterday I went to a conference in which I was invited to serve as a panelist and give an "informal" presentation for five minutes. I took the moderator at his word and jotted a couple of notes down about the project that I'm involved with for the organization's project. The moderator didn't moderate anything. He gave a presentation about the project and everyone else came with a powerpoint presentation---and I had my two sided sheet of paper with some notes on it. I hate looking unprofessional. I hate it. I did okay and cracked a few jokes and was complimented on the presentation. But I've learned my lesson---always follow up on these things.
Well, Madeleine's story took another strange turn. The upshot is that she's separating from her husband and moving back in to town--- at least for the summer. I'll try and blog on it later.
Tomorrow morning I'm giving a presentation to some university students on local rock history. A couple of years ago I developed an exhibit on the subject and it did pretty well. But I hadn't done much with the subject for the last three years. In the last few months I found myself involved in this presentation and committed to working a small exhibit for the 25th anniversary of a local music award program. I guess I've also done some half-assed work maintaining the archives for a legendary local music club.
Yesterday I went to a conference in which I was invited to serve as a panelist and give an "informal" presentation for five minutes. I took the moderator at his word and jotted a couple of notes down about the project that I'm involved with for the organization's project. The moderator didn't moderate anything. He gave a presentation about the project and everyone else came with a powerpoint presentation---and I had my two sided sheet of paper with some notes on it. I hate looking unprofessional. I hate it. I did okay and cracked a few jokes and was complimented on the presentation. But I've learned my lesson---always follow up on these things.
Well, Madeleine's story took another strange turn. The upshot is that she's separating from her husband and moving back in to town--- at least for the summer. I'll try and blog on it later.
Monday, June 06, 2005
My 2005 AL All Star Ballot
First Base: M. Teixeira, TEX
Second Base: A. Soriano, TEX
Third Base: A. Rodriguez, NYY
Shortstop: M. Tejada, BAL
Catcher: J. Mauer, MIN
Outfielder:V. Guerrero, LAA
Outfielder: J. Jones, MIN
Outfielder: I. Suzuki, SEA
DH: D. Ortiz, BOS
I'm not sure why they don't let the fans vote for pitchers. The biggest long shot in the bunch is Jacque "Kid Dyno-mite" Jones (a nick name I have thrust upon him and have yelled at the top of my lungs at the Metrodome for the past four seasons). Oh well, I'm too old to really care, but I'm trying to update the blog at least once a week.
I'll try and blog an update on my ex-girlfriend's re-emergence, but it's still developing and getting a little bit strange!
Second Base: A. Soriano, TEX
Third Base: A. Rodriguez, NYY
Shortstop: M. Tejada, BAL
Catcher: J. Mauer, MIN
Outfielder:V. Guerrero, LAA
Outfielder: J. Jones, MIN
Outfielder: I. Suzuki, SEA
DH: D. Ortiz, BOS
I'm not sure why they don't let the fans vote for pitchers. The biggest long shot in the bunch is Jacque "Kid Dyno-mite" Jones (a nick name I have thrust upon him and have yelled at the top of my lungs at the Metrodome for the past four seasons). Oh well, I'm too old to really care, but I'm trying to update the blog at least once a week.
I'll try and blog an update on my ex-girlfriend's re-emergence, but it's still developing and getting a little bit strange!
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
Thoughts on Turning Thirty
I turned thirty years old yesterday. The day itself passed rather unremarkably, but my friends and wife threw me a nice surprise party two weekends back and I had lunch with my family on Sunday and visited my in-laws on Monday. Mostly what I got was lawn furniture. How’s that for a sign of aging?
The age doesn’t really bother me. I’ve got a few gray hairs, but I still look pretty good and I don’t exactly feel as though my life has peaked. At least it better not have. Just last week I got carded at a bar when ordering my drink. The bartender said, “Oh my god, you look so young!” And she was probably only in her mid-20s.
But I have now officially live a little while. I have a proper amount of experiences to draw upon. I ruminated today about whether or not a person is the sum of their experiences or if they are the same person as they day they were born. Nature or nurture? On the one had you have the existentialist argument that says all life is random, we all affect one another in ways we both intend and don’t intend to. On the other hand you have the Calvinist dogma of life in pre-destination.
The answer, if there is one, is likely somewhere in the middle. When I really think about it I favor that I am the sum of my experiences. My relationship with my wife has much to do with my relationship with other women in my life—my old girlfriend, my sister, and of course my mother. I believe I am a good husband because of what I was taught and observed in my other relationships.
At the same time I know that my personality is not remarkably different from when I was a child. If you factor out changes in personal taste and education the comparison is that much closer. (Although I may be the ultimate American for saying this, but I do think one can sometimes be defined by their choice in possessions. I am a marketer’s dream!) When I was a child I always wanted to please people. I’m the same way today. I’ve always had moderately poor self-esteem. My ego has always been large and fragile.
What I want most is to be the sum of my experiences. If my life’s purpose is to be a cog in a machine than that doesn’t seem appealing to me. I think that is why I’ve have largely come to reject religion. (I don’t know if I’ve ever admitted that before, the bluntness of the statement might make it false.) I want to believe that I can make something of my life and have an impact that is of my own creation.
Thirty years into it I think I’ve done okay. I’ve got a wonderful marriage to a beautiful and talented wife. I’ve got good friends and my career isn’t so bad when I take a couple of steps back and look at it. Not a bad position to be in, indeed.
The age doesn’t really bother me. I’ve got a few gray hairs, but I still look pretty good and I don’t exactly feel as though my life has peaked. At least it better not have. Just last week I got carded at a bar when ordering my drink. The bartender said, “Oh my god, you look so young!” And she was probably only in her mid-20s.
But I have now officially live a little while. I have a proper amount of experiences to draw upon. I ruminated today about whether or not a person is the sum of their experiences or if they are the same person as they day they were born. Nature or nurture? On the one had you have the existentialist argument that says all life is random, we all affect one another in ways we both intend and don’t intend to. On the other hand you have the Calvinist dogma of life in pre-destination.
The answer, if there is one, is likely somewhere in the middle. When I really think about it I favor that I am the sum of my experiences. My relationship with my wife has much to do with my relationship with other women in my life—my old girlfriend, my sister, and of course my mother. I believe I am a good husband because of what I was taught and observed in my other relationships.
At the same time I know that my personality is not remarkably different from when I was a child. If you factor out changes in personal taste and education the comparison is that much closer. (Although I may be the ultimate American for saying this, but I do think one can sometimes be defined by their choice in possessions. I am a marketer’s dream!) When I was a child I always wanted to please people. I’m the same way today. I’ve always had moderately poor self-esteem. My ego has always been large and fragile.
What I want most is to be the sum of my experiences. If my life’s purpose is to be a cog in a machine than that doesn’t seem appealing to me. I think that is why I’ve have largely come to reject religion. (I don’t know if I’ve ever admitted that before, the bluntness of the statement might make it false.) I want to believe that I can make something of my life and have an impact that is of my own creation.
Thirty years into it I think I’ve done okay. I’ve got a wonderful marriage to a beautiful and talented wife. I’ve got good friends and my career isn’t so bad when I take a couple of steps back and look at it. Not a bad position to be in, indeed.
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