Hey everyone, the new Mayan calendars are out!
OK, so the Mayan calendar ended and we didn't. That's alright, I didn't get raptured last year, survived various planetary alignment, June 6, 2006, and that lame Y2K "bug". The last time someone told me the end was near, and it was actually near, it was the girl with the English accent living inside my GPS. When she starts delivering prophetic end-time messages, I'll consider it.
Meanwhile...
I'm noticing that these holidays have become a season of replacement parts. When I was younger, the question I would ask myself was, "what do I want?". Now, the question rattling through my head when someone (typically my mother) asks me what I want becomes, "what do I need?". I've started to crave practicality.
When did that happen?
Monday, December 31, 2012
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Early Mourning
Sure, it's Christmas morning. I would always get up early as a kid, no hesitation. It was after I had kids that I got up earlier.
Much earlier.
The compulsion to get out of a perfectly warm bed has long since dropped a few lines on my to-do list, but here I am anyway, blogging at crap-o'clock on the 25th of December. And all because I have kids. But not just because I *have* them, no.
It's because they're right there. Literally. Since I became a father, I haven't been home for Christmas morning more than once. Every other time, we're staying with family. When my oldest was past the phase where he wouldn't sleep anywhere strange for more than two hours, his brother entered it. I woke at something like 2 this morning because a toddler decided my face was warm and not quite drooly enough. Meh, life story time.
So much of my life I just didn't do anything, half because I was afraid I would fail, half because I didn't think I'd like it, and half because I was afraid I would succeed. Wait, let's back up:
I used to be afraid of heights.
I remember way back in grade school, we had a drill where everyone had to jump out the back door on the bus. Literally, jump. There were people right there, but I was terrified. People were laughing at me, but I didn't care, I was frozen in horror at the concept of even a split-second free fall. Later, in that same grade school, I visited a friends, and he had a tree house (of sorts). I could climb up, no problem. Coming down, though... same problem as before. I didn't see how high up I was.
Even though I wasn't.
It was an odd thing, this fear of heights wasn't just heights, it was falling. I couldn't stand the idea of a diving board, but a glass elevator up a skyscraper was fine. It all came to a head one summer day, forever ago. I was at as amusement park and met an attraction that hoisted you up on a cable about 200 feet, and swung you. My sister was there, and we opted to take this somewhat fun looking ride. We suited up, and they began to lift us. At my side was the cord I was supposed to pull when they gave the signal, beginning our ride. It was at the moment they started to lift us that I realized something. Something horrifying.
That's exactly what I was afraid of my entire life. That which fed me terror was staring me in the face, and I had fed myself to this beast. There was no backing out without enduring painful, excruciating humiliation. The cord was on my side, and there was only one of them. What happened next was entirely up to me. I'll admit, I started to panic, but didn't let it overcome me. Instead, I told my sister that I was afraid.
That was step 1.
I'll never forget what she told me that day. It wasn't some huge, soul warming moment that I can cherish forever. It wasn't some grand, poetic moment that can't be excluded from "Karl: the Movie" without enraging fans of the book. In fact, it was nothing overly consequential. In fact, I'm not even going to tell you what she told me. I'm telling you what it did. I, a grown man, was afraid of heights, and my little sister didn't judge me for it.
That was step 2.
I pulled the stupid cord. Not because I wasn't afraid any more, but because I realized I didn't need to be. My head was taller than that stupid bus door, that tree fort wasn't build higher than 4 feet off the ground, and that cable could have swung a 1964 Buick without so much as a groan.
I didn't leave that amusement park any less afraid of the world than before. In many ways, having kids now, I'm actually more afraid of the world. But there I was, dangling a couple hundred feet over a small lake, knowing that the moment the signal came, I had an immediate choice. To let that one fear win again, cripple, and humiliate me yet again.
Or punch it in its stupid face. Looking back after all these years, I realized something. I didn't decide to pull that cord at step 2. It was when I was willing to tell my sister that I was afraid at all. I wanted to overcome that fear, and I didn't care if she knew I had it. The shackles of some ridiculous phobia had become worse than admitting it was there. I admitted my fear to her, and nothing bad happened at all.
That was the day I became willing to face my fears.
Merry Christmas.
Much earlier.
The compulsion to get out of a perfectly warm bed has long since dropped a few lines on my to-do list, but here I am anyway, blogging at crap-o'clock on the 25th of December. And all because I have kids. But not just because I *have* them, no.
It's because they're right there. Literally. Since I became a father, I haven't been home for Christmas morning more than once. Every other time, we're staying with family. When my oldest was past the phase where he wouldn't sleep anywhere strange for more than two hours, his brother entered it. I woke at something like 2 this morning because a toddler decided my face was warm and not quite drooly enough. Meh, life story time.
So much of my life I just didn't do anything, half because I was afraid I would fail, half because I didn't think I'd like it, and half because I was afraid I would succeed. Wait, let's back up:
I used to be afraid of heights.
I remember way back in grade school, we had a drill where everyone had to jump out the back door on the bus. Literally, jump. There were people right there, but I was terrified. People were laughing at me, but I didn't care, I was frozen in horror at the concept of even a split-second free fall. Later, in that same grade school, I visited a friends, and he had a tree house (of sorts). I could climb up, no problem. Coming down, though... same problem as before. I didn't see how high up I was.
Even though I wasn't.
It was an odd thing, this fear of heights wasn't just heights, it was falling. I couldn't stand the idea of a diving board, but a glass elevator up a skyscraper was fine. It all came to a head one summer day, forever ago. I was at as amusement park and met an attraction that hoisted you up on a cable about 200 feet, and swung you. My sister was there, and we opted to take this somewhat fun looking ride. We suited up, and they began to lift us. At my side was the cord I was supposed to pull when they gave the signal, beginning our ride. It was at the moment they started to lift us that I realized something. Something horrifying.
That's exactly what I was afraid of my entire life. That which fed me terror was staring me in the face, and I had fed myself to this beast. There was no backing out without enduring painful, excruciating humiliation. The cord was on my side, and there was only one of them. What happened next was entirely up to me. I'll admit, I started to panic, but didn't let it overcome me. Instead, I told my sister that I was afraid.
That was step 1.
I'll never forget what she told me that day. It wasn't some huge, soul warming moment that I can cherish forever. It wasn't some grand, poetic moment that can't be excluded from "Karl: the Movie" without enraging fans of the book. In fact, it was nothing overly consequential. In fact, I'm not even going to tell you what she told me. I'm telling you what it did. I, a grown man, was afraid of heights, and my little sister didn't judge me for it.
That was step 2.
I pulled the stupid cord. Not because I wasn't afraid any more, but because I realized I didn't need to be. My head was taller than that stupid bus door, that tree fort wasn't build higher than 4 feet off the ground, and that cable could have swung a 1964 Buick without so much as a groan.
I didn't leave that amusement park any less afraid of the world than before. In many ways, having kids now, I'm actually more afraid of the world. But there I was, dangling a couple hundred feet over a small lake, knowing that the moment the signal came, I had an immediate choice. To let that one fear win again, cripple, and humiliate me yet again.
Or punch it in its stupid face. Looking back after all these years, I realized something. I didn't decide to pull that cord at step 2. It was when I was willing to tell my sister that I was afraid at all. I wanted to overcome that fear, and I didn't care if she knew I had it. The shackles of some ridiculous phobia had become worse than admitting it was there. I admitted my fear to her, and nothing bad happened at all.
That was the day I became willing to face my fears.
Merry Christmas.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Forever and a day
A few years ago, my sister accomplished a crazy large project where she scanned over twenty years worth of family photos. Everything was labelled; date and place. In the past few weeks, I decided to separate the ones with just me, and see what was going on. From baby pics to wedding pics.
That was a mistake.
That was a mistake.
Friday, June 1, 2012
The endless cycle
I have a tendency to take summer courses. That doesn't leave much time between semesters (A week and a half at best), and this time I didn't get to enjoy it. Now I'm knee-deep in a math class that thankfully, wonderfully, joyfully, is taught by someone that speaks English as a first language.
Sadly, the opposite seems to be true at UB. So far the courses in my department have been taught by professors with a mastery of the English language, but many courses out of the department have not fared so well.
Anyway, right now: math. Up next: statistics. Then: Fall semester. At that point I'm almost done, save for one required course that's only offered in the spring. Otherwise I'd cram it in there somewhere and be done with it all by December. As it is, I have to wait. I'm hoping it's scheduled in the evenings, that way I can seek out a relevant job to fill in the time. (Job + full course load = bad idea. Job + one class = good idea, especially if they're related)
With my luck, it will probably be 4 days a week at 11AM. I guess I'll find out later this fall.
Sadly, the opposite seems to be true at UB. So far the courses in my department have been taught by professors with a mastery of the English language, but many courses out of the department have not fared so well.
Anyway, right now: math. Up next: statistics. Then: Fall semester. At that point I'm almost done, save for one required course that's only offered in the spring. Otherwise I'd cram it in there somewhere and be done with it all by December. As it is, I have to wait. I'm hoping it's scheduled in the evenings, that way I can seek out a relevant job to fill in the time. (Job + full course load = bad idea. Job + one class = good idea, especially if they're related)
With my luck, it will probably be 4 days a week at 11AM. I guess I'll find out later this fall.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Sleep Paralysis
So there I was, in bed with a sky full of stars above me. In my peripheral vision someone was moving about, but I couldn't tell quite who, or what they were doing. I think there was also a cat loitering about. My wife was there, next to me, as is quite normal at 4AM. My right arm was draped outside the bed, and when I tried to move it, something became quite obvious.
I couldn't move it. In fact, I couldn't move at all. I was very aware of my surroundings, and suddenly very aware that they were... wrong. It was as if one eye was awake, and the other was asleep. I was seeing what was real, *and* I was seeing the dream at the same time. I was familiar enough with sleep paralysis (and oddly alert enough) to realize that I was likely experiencing just that. I tried asking my wife if she could shake me out of it, but I couldn't even move my jaw. Or my tongue.
Ok, irritated moaning it is. I'm not quite sure how long I was making that sickly noise, but I heard her asking if I was alright. Eventually she shook my arm-
And the entire world snapped back to normal. I know my brain is wired strangely, but whoa.
I couldn't move it. In fact, I couldn't move at all. I was very aware of my surroundings, and suddenly very aware that they were... wrong. It was as if one eye was awake, and the other was asleep. I was seeing what was real, *and* I was seeing the dream at the same time. I was familiar enough with sleep paralysis (and oddly alert enough) to realize that I was likely experiencing just that. I tried asking my wife if she could shake me out of it, but I couldn't even move my jaw. Or my tongue.
Ok, irritated moaning it is. I'm not quite sure how long I was making that sickly noise, but I heard her asking if I was alright. Eventually she shook my arm-
And the entire world snapped back to normal. I know my brain is wired strangely, but whoa.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Today I learned:
If I get up with the kids in the middle of the night when they cry, my wife will let me sleep in and take care of them in the morning.
If I have a bag of marshmallows with me, my oldest is a complete angel.
Turns out I'm the kind of guy that needs something to do. Not having classes for 5 weeks (or a job) was nice at first, but I-AM-BORED and can't wait to get back to it. For the most part, I already knew that, but it's really hammering my brain. There's only so much I can fix and clean.
Frankly, I like this warm January. Not a flake of snow on the ground. I typically walk to class, so I hope it lasts.
If I have a bag of marshmallows with me, my oldest is a complete angel.
Turns out I'm the kind of guy that needs something to do. Not having classes for 5 weeks (or a job) was nice at first, but I-AM-BORED and can't wait to get back to it. For the most part, I already knew that, but it's really hammering my brain. There's only so much I can fix and clean.
Frankly, I like this warm January. Not a flake of snow on the ground. I typically walk to class, so I hope it lasts.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Another New Years Day post.
My wife and I do this thing every new years where we each write up a list of the top ten best things about the past year, and another ten things that will be awesome about the next year. Then we'll compare the previous years lists to what actually happened.
I'm 50/50 this year. Not bad. Without digging up the lists:
I no longer share a building with a neighbor that smokes the nastiest smelling skunk weed in town.
I had private study space on campus all year. Didn't see that coming, but I blame it for my GPA.
That's all. Like said, I'm not dredging up the lists. Though one important thing, I actually feel like I got my head on straight. I know, it seems like most people are like this, but it's completely new to me. I can think clearly, have attainable goals broken down into manageable chunks, etc.
And it's weird.
I'm 50/50 this year. Not bad. Without digging up the lists:
I no longer share a building with a neighbor that smokes the nastiest smelling skunk weed in town.
I had private study space on campus all year. Didn't see that coming, but I blame it for my GPA.
That's all. Like said, I'm not dredging up the lists. Though one important thing, I actually feel like I got my head on straight. I know, it seems like most people are like this, but it's completely new to me. I can think clearly, have attainable goals broken down into manageable chunks, etc.
And it's weird.
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